The morning mist had barely faded from Mount Jinghu when the first lecture was called to session. Despite the cool morning breeze, the Hall of Strategic Purity was built to inspire awe. It was an open air pavilion, nested in the upper ring of the mountain.
Pillars of spirit-tempered cedar wood rose into the sky, lacquered in the Lin clan's colors—rich white and silver streaked with lilac. The gleaming pavilion was of pale, almost translucent marble, its tiered seats facing a vast latticework window that framed a perfect, breathtaking view of Mount Jinghu's misty peaks and the Mirror Lake below.
Scrolls bearing historical military campaigns hung from the rafters, fluttering softly in the wind. A shallow incense brazier at the center burned a faint trace of sandalwood and ginseng, said to heighten focus.
At the highest dais, on a solitary, carved wooden seat, general Lin Yuehan was already present. Clad in her training armor—stripped of battlefield embellishments but no less commanding—she read from a faded, leather-bound manuscript of ancient battle records and strategies. She was a picture of serene, untouchable authority. But her gaze flicked up time to time to examine the arriving disciples.
Her attendants stood still as statues. No one dared Interrupt the general's morning reflections.
But just then— a soft stir of the air disrupt the general off her session.
Even before Lin Yuehan raised her eyes, she felt the shift—like sunlight hitting still water, rippling just beneath the surface.
When Lian Zhiqiu entered, the morning light seemed to catch her. Dressed in the simple, elegant uniform of a new disciple—pale lavender robes with a purple color trim over a soft white under-robe, bound with a soft silvery sash —the severe, dangerous edges of the woman from the previous day seemed to have vanished. The soft colors complemented her ethereal beauty, making her look younger, softer, almost harmless. Her long hair, half-tied back with a silver ribbon, revealed the clean lines of her cheekbones and the cold curve of her silver gaze, framing a face that was calm and fresh as the dawn. She looked every inch the obedient daughter of a merchant—unassuming, gracious…
…and yet, yet there it was again. That weight. That presence. Not oppressive, but impossible to ignore.
Yuehan looked up from her book, her gaze was drawn by a subtle shift in the hall's light. But her eyes narrowed, just slightly. She watched as Lian Zhiqiu walked across the flagstone floor and, rather than joining the front row where most aristocrats flocked—like a normal daughter of a aristocrat, she settled herself quietly at the back. A shadow in silk. Like a ghost among peacocks.
When her eyes landed on Zhiqiu, for a reason she could not comprehend, her heart gave a sudden, sharp jolt, her breath catching for a fraction of a second. Her robe color, Yuehan noted, brought a strange charm to her already alluring beauty. It was not the calculating, piercing pressure she'd felt yesterday—more like an untouched snowfield beneath morning light.
'god heavens' was the most unexpected, unprofessional thought that flashed through her mind at that moment.
" What the— what is wrong with me…. She's a woman—damn it"
A faint warmth crept up her neck, and she scowled, annoyed at her own reaction, and forced her attention back to her book.
The elderly instructor for the morning—a former quartermaster named Elder Weng, sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued—stepped into the hall and rapped her cane on the stone tiles.
"Disciples. Eyes forward."
Everyone rose and bowed in respect. Most sat down again in neat rows. But the lectures didn't start right away.
"Lady Bai Suwei—You grace us with your presence at last." Elder Weng's voice cut through the hall like a cold wind.
Bai Suwei swanned in, dressed in snow-blossom pink robes with pearl-stitched hems. Her hair towered with ornaments. Her minions trailing behind her like silken ribbons. Her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"My apologies, Elder," she said, the tilt of her head calculated to the angle of flattering disobedience.
"Late is late," the Elder said, eyes sharp. "See that it doesn't happen again. And where is your uniform?"
"Uniform- uni— Ahhh…. Ehm…My-my apologies, elder. T-This won't happen again"
Suwei dipped a shallow bow and took a seat—front row, naturally—flanked by her loyal minions.
"Today's topic, Applied basic Formations and Command Response," Elder Weng began, unfurling a large map scroll across the front stone.
She launched into the basics—how a general chooses formation layouts depending on terrain, troop morale, and weather – starting with the most classic troop mobilization, Five-Point River Formation.
LiuYan sat quietly, her face unreadable. The sound of quills scratching on bamboo slips echoed softly.
After an hour of theory, Elder Weng gestured toward the scroll.
"Can anyone identify the primary weakness of this formation?"
Before anyone else answer, Bai Suwei rose gracefully. "It is vulnerable to a flanking maneuver from high ground," she answered, her voice loud and clear. Elder Weng nodded…. slowly.
"Young Miss Bai is as brilliant as she is beautiful!" one of her minions cheered. But elder Weng's eye twitched in annoyance. "A sufficient, but incomplete, answer. Please refrain from shouting in the Hall of Purity." Suwei's smile twitched. Her face clouded with displeasure at the mild rebuke.
Just then a tall figure emerged from the corridor at the entrance of the hall. The room stilled like glass. Matriarch Lin stood at the entrance, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. "Elder Weng, greetings" she said, her voice like cracking ice, calm but iron-clad, "Please— allow me."
The instructor bowed and stepped aside.
The Matriarch took the floor, her lecture immediately shifting to deeper, more complex strategies. Suwei and her circle quickly grew bored. One of Suwei's attendants, Meihua, tried to stifle a yawn, but the Matriarch's eyes snapped to her.
"It seems my lecture is not engaging enough," she said, her voice dangerously soft. "Perhaps a more practical application of study should do much better. Lotus General, you will question them. Start with the basics. Let us see what they have truly learned."
Yuehan closed her book and rose gracefully. Her gaze swept over the disciples, hands behind her back.
"young master Yao Ming," she called. Her voice cool and commanding
"Young master Gao Fei."
"young miss Qin Ruo."
One by one, she began to ask questions posing battle scenarios. From ambushes in mountain passes to miscommunication between lieutenants during sandstorms. Each more difficult than the last. Most of the disciples stammered, blushed, and failed. Some floundered or gave textbook answers. Only a handful from military families managed to offer decent replies—tactically sound, but clearly untested in fire.
Finally, Yuehan's gaze settled on the quiet, beautiful woman in the back row. Her heart gave a sudden thump as her voice came out.
"…young miss Lian Zhiqiu."
A ripple spread through the room.
JiLan looked up, her expression composed.
"When executing a Feigned Retreat against a enemy cavalry who had broken through your vanguard under fog cover what is the signal for the counter attack.?"
Murmurs. A few turned to look. JiLan was quiet for a breath longer than normal. Suwei's minions snorted.
"She doesn't know," one whispered.
"Does she even know what cavalry is?"
"What makes her think that a daughter of a merchant could wield a sword? More over know battle strategies" Another giggled.
Elder Weng made a noise of displeasure, but a voice came out— loud and clear—before she could speak.
"The question is— a bit tricky," JiLan said calmly. "If you follow doctrine, such as 'The General's Art of War', specify Short rhythm drum beats to signal fallback and reroute, slow bells for medic evacuation. And to use war hounds if trained." she began, her voice calm and clear.
"Correct," Yuehan said, ready to move on.
"However," JiLan said smoothly, "in fog, that's suicidal. You'll trample your own ranks."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"So….?" Yuehan asked, leaning forward. Her eyebrows slightly raised. LiuYan's silver eyes directly met Yuehan's amber ones.
"In the chaos of a battle, with the screams of the dying and the roar of spells, a horn blast can be missed. One should know that a visual signal, like a crimson sky-flare, is far more reliable."
A stunned silent fell over the entire hall.
"…Indeed ," the general said, a new, sharp interest in her voice. "Most wouldn't think to use sky flares. That trick's not in any scroll I've seen."
JiLan didn't answer. But Yuehan wasn't done.
"Ok then….next question. How does one manage supply lines during a three-week siege while fending off nocturnal guerrilla attacks in hostile, mountainous terrain?"
Han JiLan didn't hesitate. She laid out a flawless, multi-point strategy covering everything from fortified supply depots and armed convoys to deploying counter-insurgent scouts and using misinformation to set traps.
Then came another question.
And another.
Enemy archers from behind. Siege warfare with poisoned supplies. How to re-capture a fallen commander's body without losing morale.
Each answer came slower—but with restraint. JiLan gave the theoretical answers. Not the brutal, field-tested ones etched into her bones. She wore her knowledge like she wore her robes, elegantly concealed.
By the sixth question, whispers had spread.
"This girl's insane…She answered the vice-commander scenario…"
"Is she from a military family?"
Yuehan was no longer just interested; she was shocked. The depth of this woman's knowledge was terrifying— just like her beauty. For the first time in years, she felt the faint, thrilling prickle of a potential rival. This exquisite, unknown merchant's daughter was a strategic genius. Her answers were not just correct, they were brilliant, nuanced ones that spoke of a mind that thought beyond books. Thus Yuehan's voice softened each time she asked a question.
The Matriarch Lin, however, looked deeply suspicious.
"Enough," she interrupted. Her tone was perfectly smooth.
"Miss Lian, Since you seem to know so much—here's one for you."
She turned to the scroll.
"We— the warriors speak of formations as living things – a head to strike, a body to withstand, and a tail to sweep. We speak of the vanguard as the post of glory and the rearguard as the post of honor. But there is another position, one not found on any map or in any standard scroll. It is a position of absolute finality."
She let the silence hang in the air.
"Consider the 'Coiling Dragon's River' formation, a grand defensive-turned-offensive line. Tell me, in such a formation, where does the commander place himself if his only intent is to become the final, unbreakable lock? The position from which he will either shatter the enemy's charge or be shattered himself, ensuring the army's escape or its final, vengeful strike. What is this position called, and what is its principle?"
Han JiLan knew the answer. The mind of Shen LiuYan, the Phantom General, had solved the problem in a heartbeat. But Lian Zhiqiu could not. To answer would be to admit to a lifetime of command experience she wasn't supposed to have.
She bowed her head respectfully. "I apologize, Matriarch. Such a scenario is far beyond my humble knowledge."
"Hah! I knew it..!" Meiling whispered loudly. "All book smarts, no real talent!"
The Matriarch's gaze was unreadable. She turned to Yuehan. "General Lin. The answer?"
Yuehan stepped forward, her eyes still fixed on the woman in the back row. She bowed to the sect leader before answering.
"The position you spoke of in the 'Coiling Dragon's River' formation is known as the 'River's Heart'1 ,It is not in the vanguard, nor the rearguard, nor the center mass."
"The Coiling Dragon's river formation relies on four hardened divisions acting as 'stones' in a river, forcing the enemy to split their charge. The commander places himself with a personal guard between the first and second stone. This is the River's heart. From here, he is a lure. The enemy, seeing the commander, will inevitably try to punch through 'gap' to decapitate the army. But it is a trap. The moment they commit, the commander's personal guard acts as the 'lock,' holding them just long enough for the first and second divisions to pivot and crush the enemy vanguard between them like a vice. It is the ultimate sacrificial position because the commander becomes both the bait and the anvil upon which the enemy's finest are broken. If the lock fails, he is the first to be overwhelmed, but his death buys the army the precious seconds it needs to reform or retreat. It is a noble, unyielding strategy."
It was the correct, brutal, experience-based answer. The matriarch nodded, but her gaze never left Zhiqiu.
Yuehan's dominance was re-established. But as the lecture concluded, her gaze drifted back to the enigmatic Lian Zhiqiu. The woman was a puzzle, an impossibly brilliant mind hiding behind a veil of feigned ignorance. And Lin Yuehan was more intrigued than ever.
" Finally….a worthy opponent…. It's gonna be a hell of a ride— miss Lian…."
Author's note:
1. THE WHOLE FORMATION BASICALLY FOLLOWS THE FUNCTION OF A REAL HUMAN HEART. THE COMMANDER'S POSITION BETWEEN THE STONES REPRESENT THE WALL BETWEEN THE TWO ATRIUMS. JUST LIKE THE WALLS OF THE VENTRICLES, THE 2 'STONES' AT THE BACK ARE THE STRONGEST. THE PERSONAL GUARDS REPRESENT THE TRICUSPID AND MITRAL VALVES OF THE HEART.