The silence atop the walls of Tran Bac City was so heavy that one could hear the north wind shrieking through the battlements. Mong Phong and his vice generals stood as still as stone statues, the eyes of veteran generals who had spent their lives on the battlefield now holding a shock they could not conceal.
Below, the people of the Black Wind Tribe had reached the base of the wall. They had cast aside all their weapons, piling them into a great heap. Their chieftain, a burly man, stepped forward. His hands were bound to the brocade-robed messenger who was incessantly cursing. The chieftain then dropped to one knee, bowing his head deeply toward the battlements.
"The sinners of the Black Wind Tribe come to surrender!"
Without a single soldier. Without wasting a single arrow. With only a few paper kites, animal hides, and a psychological gambit, a young Army Inspector who had never seen battle had forced a ferocious tribe—the eternal nemesis of the Tran Bac Army for decades—to personally bow in submission.
This scene, for Mong Phong and the soldiers accustomed to trading blood for victory, was more world-shaking than any grand battle.
Within the Central Command Tent.
The atmosphere was even more solemn than on the city walls. The Black Wind Chieftain and Marquis Vinh An's messenger had been escorted away. Only Mong Phong, the two vice generals, and Tran Kien remained.
Mong Phong sat in the head seat. He said nothing, merely using a coarse cloth to repeatedly wipe a massive, pitch-black great-saber resting on the table. The saber was ancient, its body engraved with two powerful seal characters: "Army-Breaker." This was the Army-Breaker Saber, a top-grade magical artifact that had followed him through life and death for fifty years, slaying countless foes. It was his lifeblood and his pride.
The two vice generals stood beside him, not daring to breathe loudly, their gazes toward Tran Kien incredibly complex. Their disdain had vanished entirely, replaced by deep respect and a sliver of fear. This youth's stratagems were truly too terrifying.
Tran Kien remained seated, quietly sipping tea as if the one who had just performed an earth-shattering miracle was not him. He did not act triumphant. He was waiting. Waiting for the choice of this veteran general.
After a long while, Mong Phong finally set the saber down. He raised his head, his tiger-eyes locking onto Tran Kien.
"This old man has lost," he said, his voice raspy yet decisive. "I, Mong Phong, have always been a man of my word. Since I gambled, I must accept the consequences."
He stood up, solemnly raising the Army-Breaker Saber with both hands, and stepped before Tran Kien.
"From this day forth," he said, each word landing like a sledgehammer, "this saber is yours. And the entire Tran Bac Army—all thirty thousand men—shall obey your command!"
A Great General at the peak of the Foundation Establishment Realm was bowing to an Army Inspector in the Golden Core Realm. If this scene were spread, it would surely shake all of Dai Viet.
Yet Tran Kien did not reach out to take it. He also stood, but he took a step back, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply to Mong Phong.
"Great General, this absolutely cannot be!"
"What?" Mong Phong frowned. "Do you look down on this old man's saber?"
"It is not that," Tran Kien shook his head. "The Army-Breaker Saber is the soul of the Tran Bac Army, the symbol of the indomitable will of thirty thousand border soldiers. It has fused with the Great General's blood, qi, and spirit; it is an inseparable part of you. My talent is meager and my virtue shallow; how could I dare accept such a divine weapon?"
"I won this game not through my own talent," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "But through the prestige the Great General and the Tran Bac Army have accumulated over centuries. It was the fear of the Tran Bac Army's might that served as the final spark, causing the Black Wind Tribe to collapse from within."
A single sentence that was both humble and incredibly flattering. The anger and unwillingness in Mong Phong's heart instantly dissipated by half.
"I came here," Tran Kien continued, his gaze turning sharp, "not to seize military power from the Great General. I came to do something else."
He pointed to the military sandbox. "The Black Wind Tribe was merely a minor sacrificial pawn on the board. The one who truly wishes to destroy the Tran Bac Army and the entire northern border is the one sitting comfortably in the capital!"
"Marquis Vinh An!" Mong Phong hissed through gritted teeth.
"Indeed," Tran Kien nodded. "He colluded with foreign tribes, providing weapons and grain in a plot for rebellion. The messenger surrendered by the Black Wind Tribe is the ironclad evidence!"
"I do not need the Army-Breaker Saber," he looked straight into Mong Phong's eyes. "What I truly need is the Great General's trust! The cooperation of the thirty thousand soldiers of the Tran Bac Army! So that together, we may lay out an even grander game—not just to wipe out bandits, but to uproot the cancer that is rotting the Dai Viet Imperial Court!"
Each word was heroic and righteous, striking straight at the heart of the veteran general who had spent his life being loyal to the nation.
Mong Phong was stunned. He looked at the youth before him. He no longer saw a calculating Army Inspector. He saw a heart burning with patriotism and a monumental strategic vision.
He was completely won over.
"Ha ha ha ha!" He suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly, a hearty laughter devoid of any grievance. "Excellent! Truly excellent! This old man indeed did not misjudge you! From now on, you and I shall be brothers! This game at the border shall be directed entirely by your hand!"
He no longer used formal addresses; he called him "Brother."
Tran Kien knew he had succeeded. He had not just won a gamble; he had subdued the heart of a fierce tiger.
"Then," he smiled, a smile full of confidence. "Big Brother, our play... should begin, should it not?"
He leaned close to Mong Phong's ear, whispering his next plan. As he listened, Mong Phong's tiger-eyes shone brighter and brighter.
That night, news was secretly transmitted from Tran Bac City: Army Inspector Tran Kien, due to a disagreement with Great General Mong Phong, has been stripped of all power and placed under house arrest.
Simultaneously, the messenger of Marquis Vinh An, after being "brutally tortured," "luckily" escaped from the dungeon, carrying a piece of vital "military intelligence" as he fled back toward the south.
A game without gunpowder had quietly turned to a brand new page.