Holding Yu Ji's slender and soft body in his arms, Roy kissed her forehead and cheeks, his hand gently stroking her silky smooth hair as he pulled the fox fur coat over them, wrapping them both together.
Yu Ji closed her beautiful eyes and leaned against his chest. Neither spoke. Under the bright moon and the clear flowing river, amidst the cold northern night wind, they embraced like this for the entire night.
...
The next day, the seventy-thousand-strong army set out.
Roy stood on the northern bank of the river, seated atop his steed Hei Zhui, watching the endless stream of soldiers crossing the river. Unlike modern soldiers, ancient armies did not march in uniform steps. Their battles were fought hand-to-hand, blade-to-flesh, unlike modern warfare where pulling a trigger could decide the outcome.
If modern armies required endurance, ancient armies demanded explosive strength—because most men would exhaust themselves after a period of fierce combat and needed to be rotated out for fresh troops. Moreover, there were no martial arts masters here. Anyone who could kill one or two enemy soldiers in the midst of battle and survive was already worthy of being a low-ranking officer.
During the Warring States period, knowledge and culture were monopolized by the aristocracy. Social classes were rigid, and bloodline was highly valued—the poor could never break free from their station. But the Qin state rewarded military merit above all else, regardless of wealth or status. As long as one killed enemies on the battlefield, they could earn military honors, promotions, and wealth. Naturally, countless Qin men joined the army, fighting desperately to change their lives and destinies.
With such motivation, how could the armies of the other six states possibly match Qin's?
Roy silently observed these Chu soldiers from horseback. They were thin and short—in this era, simply having enough to eat was a luxury, let alone nutritious meals. Yet their eyes burned with vigor, their spirits high, clearly eager for the coming battles.
These soldiers had followed Roy through countless victories, never tasting defeat. Many low and mid-ranking officers had risen through battlefield achievements, setting an example for the rest.
Though Roy ruled with an iron fist—sometimes brutally so to maintain his fearsome reputation—his cruelty was never directed at commoners, only the aristocracy.
In life, the people suffer; in death, the people suffer.
To be born in this era of war was already misfortune enough for the common folk. Roy had no intention of making their lives worse. At the very least, he wanted those at the bottom to have food to eat and clothes to wear under his rule—not luxurious, but enough to survive.
"Dangyang Jun! General Pu!"
"We are here, Overlord! What are your orders?"
At Roy's shout, two generals rode forward.
"I grant you twenty thousand soldiers. Take them to Julu immediately. Do not engage Zhang Han's main force. Instead, locate Qin's grain supply convoys and seize as much as you can. If you find any poorly defended Qin cities, attack them and take their grain stores!"
The people of Zhao were not Roy's subjects—he cared little for their lives. To feed his army, he would strip Zhao bare.
"...Our army's provisions are running low. We must strike the Qin forces with one decisive blow. Otherwise, our momentum will wane after the first attempt and exhaust by the third. If we wait until supplies are completely depleted, mutiny will surely break out in the ranks. Your mission is crucial—you must succeed! If accomplished, when we reclaim Zhao territory, I shall reward you with great honors!"
"Yes, Overlord!"
Dangyang Jun and General Pu were overjoyed. Although Roy ruled with extreme harshness, punishing even the slightest mistakes in ways that caused immense suffering, he was also scrupulously fair in rewards and punishments. As long as one achieved great merit, he would never stint on rewards. This wasn't like letting Pei Gong advance west into Guanzhong and enfeoffing her as the King of Han—such a major affair. For military merits like these, the Overlord surely wouldn't go back on his word.
Dangyang Jun and General Pu accepted their orders and departed, selecting twenty thousand soldiers to set out immediately.
At present, Zhang Han's main forces were besieging Julu and wouldn't easily dispatch their entire army, only sending detachments to harass. And as long as the King of Zhao wasn't a fool, he would definitely tie down the Qin's main forces, waiting for Roy to come to his rescue.
If he failed to pin down the Qin army and their main forces turned to attack Roy, then unless Roy wished to suffer heavy losses in direct confrontation, he would immediately retreat back to Chu. In that case, the King of Zhao would be doomed.
Thus, the King of Zhao had only one path: to hold the Qin forces in place, preventing their reinforcement, while awaiting Roy's advance to Julu. Then the situation would shift from the King of Zhao being besieged by Qin to him and Roy encircling the Qin forces—his only chance of survival.
Roy had calculated this precisely. After sending envoys to explain the stakes, he thus dared to rampage freely through Zhao territory.
Once the seventy thousand troops had fully crossed the river, Roy ordered the soldiers to rest, preparing to advance on Julu at dawn the next day.
"All these feudal lords have come to Zhao's rescue, yet they just watch from the ramparts, too afraid to engage the Qin army. Truly laughable."
In the command tent, Roy listened to his subordinates' reports and snorted coldly.
His generals dared not speak, keeping silent for fear that a single misspoken word might earn them a caning—a terrifying punishment that would leave one bedridden for a month.
The Overlord of Western Chu was tyrannical, but his unbroken string of victories meant that even as resentment festered among his subordinates, none dared voice their anger.
During this late Qin period, the old nobility of the six states had all risen to restore their kingdoms. By now, rebel forces from Qi, Chu, Yan, Han, Zhao, and Wei were already active, alongside peasant uprisings like those of Chen Sheng and Wu Guang—the entire Central Plains was a patchwork of warlords.
Even if these rebel leaders were fools, their advisors would surely be wise enough to realize that if Zhang Han crushed Zhao, the entire realm would be imperiled.
Zhang Han had already defeated Xiang Liang, his prestige at its peak. If he then conquered Zhao, gaining both Zhao territory and Guanzhong's support, the entire northern Central Plains would fall back under Qin control. Attacking south from there, Qin would surely reunify the six states once more.
Thus, the feudal lords had all sent troops intending to aid Zhao. But the Qin army's might had cowed them—none dared fight Zhang Han's forces, all seeking to preserve their own strength. Many armies that had arrived before Roy simply watched as Qin attacked the King of Zhao without lifting a finger. Naturally, Roy mocked them when he learned of this.
"Very well. Since they lack the courage to act, let them witness the might of Chu's brave men. This also gives me justification to incorporate all their forces under my command—to lead the feudal lords of this realm!"
Upon hearing Roy's words, his generals were greatly invigorated. If the Overlord could unite the feudal lords under his rule, the next step would surely be to become the supreme ruler of the realm. Those subordinates who had pledged allegiance early would then rise to prominence alongside him.
"Pass my order: tomorrow at dawn, slaughter all remaining livestock in the army to give the soldiers a full meal. Then sink the boats, smash the cooking utensils, and burn down the camps. Each soldier shall carry three days' rations—victory or death!"
"Yes, Overlord!"
Roy was determined to burn his bridges, ensuring these lands would all belong to Chu!