337.
Debate Inside the Tent — Yoon Dam's Warning**
The air inside the command tent was cold.
The fire burned and wine was being poured, yet the atmosphere itself had cooled.
Chen Youliang's advisers sat in a circle, discussing the next move, but the debate had stalled at a single point: how to deal with the repercussions of Zhang Shicheng's hesitation.
A question without an answer sharpens people's nerves.
Yoon Dam rose straight from his seat.
He was not large of build, but his voice carried the urgency of a blade's edge.
"Your Majesty, now is not the time to increase speed."
"Adjust the timing of the Yingtian campaign until Zhang Shicheng moves."
Chen Youliang raised an eyebrow.
"Adjust the timing? For what reason?"
Yoon Dam drew a deep breath.
He had to speak the right words here.
Right words are not always accepted, but every other choice demands a higher price.
"Zhang Shicheng reacts only when we engage head-on.
He's the sort who exploits opportunity.
We must secure a clear commitment to a joint advance."
Yoon Dam's hand cut through the air, as if drawing a line upon it.
"He will watch the situation and only release troops at the moment defeat becomes obvious—just enough to seize profit.
The instant we attack Yingtian and force the gates open, he will quietly expand his own domain amid the internal and external chaos."
His tone hardened further.
Softened words soften judgment.
"That is not an alliance—it is plunder.
Your Majesty's victory would be built atop another's deception."
One adviser spoke up.
"Still, the flow of time favors us."
Yoon Dam turned to him.
His gaze was cold and clear.
He knew well how easily the phrase time is on our side dulls judgment.
So he cut it off sharply.
"Time does not choose sides by itself.
The force that draws time to our side comes from human choice and action."
Chen Youliang stood with arms crossed, sunk in thought.
His expression was tangled with competing threads—the desire of a would-be emperor weighed against the real dangers surrounding the throne.
"So you're saying we should choose to pause now?
That stopping itself is a strategy—until Zhang Shicheng approves the alliance and moves in earnest."
Yoon Dam nodded.
"If we land at Yingtian immediately and smash the gates, Zhang Shicheng's silence will turn into outright betrayal.
Zhu Yuanzhang will no longer fear his rear and will concentrate all his strength against us."
He drove each word in clearly, like hammering nails.
"We must slow the entire schedule until his cooperation is certain.
If he does not clearly commit, postpone the Yingtian campaign.
If we don't, Zhang Shicheng's fisherman's gain will cut down the shoots of our victory."
Heavy silence fell again inside the tent.
The request had already been delivered, yet Zhang Shicheng still had not moved.
The only answer was to attempt persuasion once more.
Among the three heroes of the late Yuan, Zhang Shicheng was the weakest.
Avoiding battle, preserving forces, and extracting profit suited his position—it was the survival strategy of the weaker party.
Somewhere nearby, the soft sound of a cup being set down echoed.
At last, Chen Youliang slowly nodded.
His eyes returned to calm.
"Very well. I will persuade Zhang Shicheng myself."
He took a breath and made the decision explicit.
"Otherwise, the timing of Yingtian will be pushed back.
Our victory is not a single battle—it is completed only when every promise is kept."
Yoon Dam quietly exhaled.
Yet a faint shadow remained at the corner of his mouth.
Relief mixed with unease—proof that he was seeing this war clearly.
"Your Majesty," he said softly,
"time does not help us on its own."
Chen Youliang laughed low.
"That much I know."
But he showed no sign of fully shouldering the weight of those words.
That was both his strength and his weakness.
His answer was closer to Yes, you're right than I will do exactly as you say.
Beneath his smile lay a thin layer of contempt for Zhu Yuanzhang.
Yoon Dam read that thinness clearly.
Thin arrogance is the first thing to tear in war—and it tears easily.
Outside the tent, torches flickered through the darkness.
To seal the crack created by Zhang Shicheng's hesitation, they would have to move human hearts once more.
Unifying hearts is far more difficult than crossing blades.
Yoon Dam had known that with his body for a long time.
Torches split the darkness, casting long shadows that flowed along the ramparts.
Chen Youliang sat alone on horseback.
Battlefield dust still clung roughly to his armor, and traces of blood remained soaked into the edge of his cloak.
His eyes had passed beyond the excitement of battle and settled into the cold focus of a man designing an empire.
When word arrived that the larger framework toward Yingtian was wavering, he turned his horse at once and headed for Zhang Shicheng's tent.
The resolve to bind with words whatever could be bound with words rode in his steps.
Words sometimes last longer than blades.
And they leave wounds that last longer.
As he reached the tent, Zhang Shicheng's guards blocked his path.
"Who goes there!"
The shout quickly died.
The guard's gaze snapped into order.
Chen Youliang's name had already spread deep through the region.
A name alone can straighten a man's posture—even at night.
When the tent flap opened, earth-colored smoke filled the space.
The scent of burning poppy resin mingled strangely with the smell of war.
Zhang Shicheng stood beside an incense burner.
Worn weapons, maps, and dispatches lay scattered nearby.
His face was composed, but the lines at his eyes revealed years spent calculating ahead of events.
"Zhang Shicheng!"
Chen Youliang's address echoed lightly within the tent.
"Forgive the late visit, but the matter is urgent."
Zhang Shicheng lifted his head slowly.
"An honor that Your Majesty comes in person.
Won't you share a cup?"
The words were deferential; the posture, guarded.
Chen Youliang swallowed a mouthful of thin wine, set the cup down without savoring it, and went straight to the point.
"We agreed to attack Yingtian together.
Letters of cooperation have already been exchanged.
Now it is time to act."
He allowed no pause.
If given space, Zhang Shicheng would slip through it.
"Unless we apply pressure simultaneously and strike Zhu Yuanzhang's center, the meaning of this war is halved."
Zhang Shicheng straightened his shoulders.
"I understand Your Majesty's intent.
But we have always prioritized tangible benefit.
A reckless charge brings us no profit."
A sharp smile touched Chen Youliang's lips.
"You speak of profit? Then I will answer with calculation."
He used the language Zhang Shicheng knew best—
interest and accounting.
"When Yingtian falls, the granaries of Jiangsu and Anhui will be in our hands.
Those resources will be divided, and your share will go to the alliance."
He paused, then added one more sentence.
"Regardless of imperial titles, we can design a system that shares real authority."
Zhang Shicheng rolled his cup between his fingers, letting out a cold laugh.
"Fine words.
But will words alone hold soldiers, officials, and walls together?"
His gaze sharpened.
"When Yingtian opens, what becomes of my cities and my people?
Will your throne not become the blade that swallows us?"
Chen Youliang's eyes hardened.
He stepped closer—pressure born not of words, but of presence.
"Zhang Shicheng.
I won't declare the timing of an imperial title now.
But there is one thing I can say clearly."
Zhang Shicheng's breath shortened.
His hand rested on the map.
"What price must I pay?"
Chen Youliang drew a small seal from his robe.
A modest piece of metal, yet the inscription upon it carried a promise of power.
A seal is heavier than words—and more easily betrayed.
Which is why it weighs even more.
"A share of maritime trade rights.
And autonomy over your territory."
He pronounced the words distinctly.
"After Yingtian is secured, interference in your direct taxation and troops will be minimized.
If needed, I will issue a written guarantee."
At the explanation of benefit, Zhang Shicheng's eyes flickered—
not with desire, but with calculation.
Still, he avoided an immediate answer.
He rose and stepped outside the tent.
Torches swayed in the night wind.
As the flames wavered, so did the balance of his thoughts.
Slowly, Zhang Shicheng smiled.
Calculation, unease, and deceit mixed together.
"A sweet promise.
Sweetness always comes with a moment when payment is due."
He tilted his head.
"If I bind my hand, my power may be safe.
But who wins after that?
Can you guarantee that outcome?"
Chen Youliang stepped closer still and extended his palm.
The shape was a handshake—but also a warning.
Refuse, and you become an enemy.
Accept, and you become bound.
"This is not a simple request, Zhang Shicheng.
It is an offer—and a boundary.
If you do not join now, Yingtian will move into its next phase.
In that gap, others will move to seize your interests.
Then you may become the fisherman's prize yourself."
He did not hide it to the end.
"That is why I came in person.
The choice is yours—and the result follows that choice."
Zhang Shicheng stopped and turned back.
Firelight wrapped one side of his face, then withdrew.
He was a man of keen and ruthless calculation.
That night, a brief tremor passed through his eyes—not fear, but the cost of choosing.
"Will the autonomy you guarantee remain even if you change?
And if the promise breaks, do I have means to strike back?"
Darkness settled over Chen Youliang's face.
His voice dropped, edged with steel.
"If a promise is broken, an appropriate price follows.
I will stand on the side of keeping my word.
If betrayal occurs, responsibility will be paid in blood.
I am not a man who warns with words alone."
The tent grew still, as if holding its breath.
This was the moment when words outweighed blades.
Everyone knew that breaking a promise could topple a state.
After a long silence, Zhang Shicheng scanned the map.
Each small fortress marked people, grain, and blood.
At last, he nodded slowly.
"Very well.
I will provide initial support.
Not a full mobilization, but at the critical moment I will move part of my forces to disperse the enemy's vanguard."
Then came the condition.
"When Yingtian opens, the guarantee must be publicly proclaimed in a form I recognize.
If that proclamation is not fulfilled, I will execute my conditions.
Do you understand?"
A bright smile spread across Chen Youliang's face—
not joy, but the smile of a deal concluded.
"I understand.
The terms will be recorded in writing, with public proclamation and witnesses."
He grasped Zhang Shicheng's hand.
It was a sign of alliance—and an act of measuring each other's wrists.
"Alliances stand on trust, and sometimes on fear.
What you wanted was proof.
I give it to you."
Their hands clasped beneath the firelight, trust and suspicion mingled together.
Outside the tent, Chen Youliang mounted his horse.
Yoon Dam lightly tapped his shoulder—relief and exhaustion in his touch.
Chen Youliang looked up at the night sky, where the torches had thinned.
As the hooves struck sand, the dying embers of Taiping receded, and a new shadow stretched long toward Yingtian.
That shadow was a road—
and at the same time, a blade.