Chapter Seventeen: The Escape

Ji Cang watched helplessly as the remaining followers of Liu Huzi slipped into the mountain forest like fish plunging into the sea. In less than a moment, they had vanished from sight. Unable to contain himself, he tore off his hat and hurled it to the ground. "Damn it!"

Ji Cang was not the only one infuriated; all the officers and soldiers of the Third Division who had participated in this operation felt the urge to curse aloud. By rights, they should already be back in Yancheng, sleeping beside their wives. Yet, because Young Master Mu had pursued glory and acted recklessly, Liu Huzi seized the opportunity to escape the encirclement, rendering all their efforts wasted.

Mu Chengyao, seasoned and experienced in real combat, had prepared a thorough plan before setting out. Every man was assigned his task, and his subordinates, who had served alongside him for years, worked together with seamless coordination. With such a crack team to suppress bandits, everyone believed it would be effortless.

But into this mix came Young Master Mu.

Originally, Mu Chengyao had placed Mu Fusheng at his side, ensuring that he could observe how he formulated battle plans, commanded on the spot, and managed sudden developments. The Marshal hoped Mu Fusheng would learn by following him, so Mu Chengyao arranged for him to be in the position most conducive to learning. However, Mu Fusheng saw this as deliberate exclusion, denying him a chance to claim military merit. He stubbornly insisted on facing the bandits directly.

What could Mu Chengyao do? He had no choice but to comply with the young master's demands and rearrange the assignments.

During the pursuit of Liu Huzi, the other officers, having worked together for many years, operated with intuitive understanding; they knew what to do even without explicit orders. Mu Fusheng, on the other hand, had never been on a battlefield before and lacked this tacit bond, always finding himself a step behind and constrained at every turn. This only deepened his resentment toward Mu Chengyao, convinced the latter had secretly instructed everyone to exclude him.

Mu Fusheng seethed with frustration, unable to swallow his pride. So when Mu Chengyao ordered his guard regiment to feign defeat and lure the enemy deeper, Mu Fusheng ignored the command and charged straight ahead. The guard regiment fell into Liu Huzi’s ambush, suffering heavy losses, while Liu Huzi seized the chance to lead his followers out of the incomplete encirclement.

Mu Chengyao could only adjust his strategy, ordering some to clear the battlefield while the rest continued the pursuit.

But Liu Huzi was cunning, leading them on a wild chase, setting false trails, and splitting his men to draw attention in different directions. Liu Huzi himself, with his trusted followers, concealed their tracks and fled toward Yancheng. The pursuit lasted a day and night, but the gap widened until, at last, they reached the mountain forest where dense trees and undergrowth masked all traces. They eventually lost him completely.

“Boss, Liu Huzi’s disappeared again. Chasing like this isn’t working—how long are we going to keep this up?”

Mu Chengyao was studying the map. He didn’t bother correcting Ji Cang’s bandit-like address, simply pointed to the map for him to look. The map had Liu Huzi’s escape routes marked out: starting in Tongcheng, he had fled north, sometimes veering off but always returning to the main path. Ji Cang found the spot on the map where Liu Huzi had been lost, and his gaze followed upwards to a city Mu Chengyao had marked prominently.

“Impossible!” Ji Cang’s first reaction was disbelief—how could Liu Huzi’s target be Yancheng? That would be running straight into the gunfire. Yet years of trust in his leader were ingrained; wherever the boss pointed, he followed. He didn’t ask Mu Chengyao how he’d determined this, just said, “Boss, what do we do now? Should we wait near Yancheng?”

“Wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Before Ji Cang finished speaking, the adjutant came to report, “Commander, Young Master Mu is here.”

Mu Chengyao withdrew his gaze from the map, expressionless. No one could tell what he was thinking, but Ji Cang frowned impatiently, realizing they were waiting for the young master.

“Mu Chengyao, what’s going on? I heard you lost Liu Huzi!” A group entered, Mu Fusheng at the forefront, and before anyone else could speak, he asserted himself.

Ji Cang let out a cold snort, loud enough for all to hear. All along, Mu Fusheng had done nothing but drag them down, and Ji Cang’s patience for the young master had already worn thin. Now, hearing Mu Fusheng ignore his own mistakes and focus solely on posturing, Ji Cang finally lost all tolerance. Normally, he would have snapped back, but remembering this was the army and the young master outranked him, he simply expressed his displeasure with a derisive snort.

When Mu Chengyao had previously cleared out bandits in the region, he’d encountered every sort of cunning and vicious outlaw. He had risen from a private to the Marshal’s confidant through sheer merit and skill, both militarily and socially. This was why the Marshal entrust Mu Fusheng to him, hoping his son’s first campaign would be a brilliant success.

Mu Chengyao’s habit was to always have contingency plans. Had Liu Huzi’s breakout been handled according to his backup plan, the bandit would have been caught by now. But the problem was, Mu Fusheng refused to let Mu Chengyao overshadow him and fought hard for command. A top graduate from a Japanese military academy, he believed his skills were superior and, when their predictions for Liu Huzi’s escape route diverged, insisted his judgment was correct, arguing his case in meetings regardless of orders.

A unit must never have two voices, especially during operations—it slows everything down. Mu Chengyao was the commander, Mu Fusheng the Marshal’s heir; neither could overrule the other. In the end, Mu Fusheng led his troops south in pursuit, speeding up their advance, but by then Liu Huzi had already vanished.

Mu Fusheng had decided in advance to confront Mu Chengyao, so if Mu Chengyao admitted fault, he could pin the blame for poor command on him, making Mu Fusheng’s own misjudgment less conspicuous. If Mu Chengyao argued back, attention would shift, and no one would mention Mu Fusheng’s errors.

But Mu Fusheng hadn’t anticipated Mu Chengyao’s silence. The latter simply stared at him, expressionless. Under those deep, inscrutable eyes, Mu Fusheng felt as if his every scheme was laid bare, as if Mu Chengyao were watching a clown perform, unmoved not out of deference but out of indifference.

Mu Fusheng felt suffocated, a force pressing him down so he could not raise his head. Hearing Ji Cang’s snort, as if shamed into anger, Mu Fusheng exclaimed, “Commander Mu, are these the men you’ve trained? No discipline, disrespectful to officers—is this your way of expressing dissatisfaction with the Marshal’s appointment?”

This was a direct attack, openly sowing discord between the Marshal and Commander Mu.

The officers were all taken aback, exchanging furtive glances. No one dared step forward and risk being caught in the crossfire.

Ji Cang cursed inwardly. The young master had little skill but was adept at sowing dissension—a true disciple of the Japanese.

He took a step forward, ready to bear the brunt, but Colonel Li Youguang of the Third Regiment of the Guard was quick to pull him back, signaling him to wait.

Mu Chengyao was mentally calculating Liu Huzi’s most likely destination. Mu Fusheng’s incessant prattle grated on him, and he turned impatiently. "Are you sure you want to discuss discipline with me?"

Mu Chengyao’s gaze was as cold and sharp as a blade, directed at Mu Fusheng. "As for your doubts, I’ll report everything truthfully to the Marshal when we return to Yancheng."

Mu Fusheng forced himself not to retreat, realizing he was once again being dominated by Mu Chengyao. His face contorted, eyes bulging as he shouted, “Mu Chengyao, what do you mean by that? How dare you look down on me!”

Mu Chengyao stared directly into Mu Fusheng’s eyes without saying a word. Mu Fusheng broke into a sweat and avoided his gaze before Mu Chengyao withdrew his eyes. "Do you still not understand why the Marshal wanted you to follow me? This is the army—don’t bring your politics here. Everyone present has fought with real blades and real bullets. Comradeship means trusting each other amidst carnage and bloodshed. Your petty schemes won’t work here."

"You want command? I’ll give it to you. Are you capable of holding it?"

Mu Chengyao remained expressionless, his voice steady and unhurried, but his words thundered in Mu Fusheng’s ears.

Having his face torn off in front of everyone, Mu Fusheng felt as if the gazes from all sides could pierce him, wishing he could disappear into the ground. Public humiliation was bad enough, but the one humiliating him was Mu Chengyao. Mu Fusheng, a favored son of heaven, had endured enough. In that moment, he forgot all restraint. "Mu Chengyao, don’t forget who promoted you! Without my father, what are you? Now you dare to put on airs in front of me. In the end, you’re just a guard dog raised by my family—what right do you have to lecture me?"

The officers were shocked.

Mu Chengyao, though young, had earned his military achievements by risking his life. Even those veterans who had followed the Marshal through countless campaigns could not deny his merit. To put it bluntly, it was already a slight that Mu Chengyao only commanded one division; with his abilities, he could go anywhere. If not for gratitude to the Marshal, he would not have stayed. If Young Master Mu showed such an attitude before even inheriting the Marshal’s position, what would happen once he did? Would the old guard be less than dogs?

As soon as Mu Fusheng spoke, his reason returned and he realized trouble was brewing. Yet he could not bring himself to apologize to these men. He wanted to storm out, but if he dared leave now, his father would have him at gunpoint, forcing him to apologize.

Even Colonel Li Youguang of the Guard looked displeased. Earlier, Mu Fusheng’s reckless disregard for advice had cost the Guard dearly, and several regimental commanders who had been seconded to Mu Fusheng’s command had found reasons not to attend this meeting. Li Youguang, being more tactful, knew that as Mu Fusheng’s men, the Guard’s officers could not all avoid appearing—such blatant disrespect would embarrass the young master. He swallowed his discontent and followed along, at least preserving appearances.

Seeing Mu Fusheng and Mu Chengyao at such an impasse, none of the Third Division spoke up. Li Youguang, unwilling as he was, had to step forward and mediate, braving the sharp looks from his peers. "Gentlemen, please, the Chief of Staff is still young. He came with high hopes, eager to serve the nation, but met with setbacks—naturally, he’s frustrated and misspoke. We’ve all been young and hot-headed. Let’s be understanding."

His words were hardly helpful. Why did Mu Fusheng misspeak, if not due to his own actions? Mu Chengyao was the same age as Mu Fusheng, yet never lost composure.

Nevertheless, open hostility would benefit no one. Mu Fusheng had the Marshal’s backing and might not care, but for Mu Chengyao, it was another matter. The Third Division’s officers, concerned for their leader, all chimed in.

"Li’s right. Think back to our younger days—one disagreement and we’d be brawling. The Chief of Staff is a scholar, unlike us rough soldiers."

"Exactly, young men are bound to be impulsive. We understand."

"It’s normal to be upset after a failed campaign. Once the anger’s vented, it’s over."

Mu Fusheng hurried to accept the olive branch, "Commander Mu is correct—I was all theory and no practice. My words were out of line just now; I hope the commander and everyone else won’t mind."

Everyone assured him they did not.

Mu Chengyao took note, raised his hand to quiet the room, and all fell silent.