Chapter 22: First Blood
The column of 25,500 troops arrived at the Northern Front of Xia after two grueling weeks of forced march. The terrain was rugged, the air sharp with the cold of late autumn. The front line was currently held by a thin shield: approximately 5,000 local clan levies and meager border garrisons, exhausted but defiant.
The arrival of the Emperor and the Imperial reinforcements was a visible injection of life, replacing panic with hope.
The Divine Emperor Xuan Tian floated high above the camp, watching the activity with the detached curiosity of a spectator.
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
> "Learn up, boy. You're my entertainment, not the other way around. I am a god; I will not spoon-feed you war strategy."
>
Li Feng (mental): Yeah, yeah, I know. I just asked for advice. Oh, wait, I know how your advice works. Charming the Dowager, are we?
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
> "I see you're deflecting. You're not charming the Dowager? A white sable coat and tea set are highly suspect, Emperor."
>
Li Feng (mental): I am not charming the Dowager! It was human empathy!
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
> "You say this all the time, and you end up doing the opposite. Really, did you do the opposite? Should I tell the Empress to ask what you did to the Jin Consort right after that?"
>
Li Feng (mental): Shut your mouth! I have a war to fight!
The Chokepoint
Grand General Zhang Yun met Li Feng with a salute of profound respect, though his eyes held a careful, professional skepticism toward the young Emperor.
Li Feng, while not an Imperial genius, possessed a modern mind for logistics and geography. He unfurled the operational map. The northern border was a maze of hills, but his finger traced a clear geographical inevitability: the Northern Duke of Tang would send his main thrust through the Iron Gate Chokepoint to secure access to the plains.
Grand General Zhang Yun suggested massing the forces defensively at a larger, more traditional fortress ten miles away.
Li Feng:
"General, the Duke must take the Chokepoint to sustain an invasion. If he bypasses it, his supply lines are cut. It is a logical necessity, not a choice."
Grand General Zhang Yun (firmly):
"Your Majesty, tradition dictates we defend the fortress. It is fortified. The Chokepoint is open ground."
Li Feng did not override him arrogantly. He needed the General's experience and the stability he represented.
Li Feng:
"Very well, General. We will split the risk. You will take 12,000 troops and the local levies to reinforce the Fortress. I will personally lead 12,000 troops to secure the Chokepoint. We will maintain a reserve of 2,000 troops at the main camp to protect the supplies, the clan heads, and the wounded."
The General stiffened slightly at the Emperor's decision to personally lead a forward unit, but the logic of the split command was sound. The risk was shared.
First Blood and Retreat
Within hours, Li Feng's command—a mixture of Imperial regulars and freshly trained recruits—marched into the Chokepoint.
Li Feng was in the thick of the command, his heart hammering against his ribs. His instinct was right: a significant contingent of the Northern Duke's vanguards, numbering roughly five thousand, was indeed attempting to rush the position.
The skirmish was immediate and brutal. Arrows rained down; steel met steel. Li Feng, protected by his personal guard, directed the battle lines with cold, analytical focus.
He was correct in his prediction, but war was not simply a map.
The casualties mounted with sickening speed. The men he had inspected just days ago were now bleeding onto the freezing earth. Li Feng watched as a soldier directly beside him took an arrow to the throat.
The sight of the spilled blood—thick, visceral, and instantaneous—hit him with the force of a physical blow. The repulsion he felt was intense, dragging him back to the modern world where life wasn't cheap.
When the enemy vanguard broke off after failing to secure the position, the air filled with the cries of the wounded. Li Feng's flank had held, but the cost was nearly one thousand dead and critically injured troops.
Li Feng, his face pale beneath the grime, saw the raw figures. Continuing the skirmish to "win" a few extra yards would cost another thousand lives.
Against every military instinct preached by the generals, against every political calculation, Li Feng gave the order, his voice tight:
Li Feng:
"Order a controlled retreat. Fall back three li and establish defensive perimeter. Save the wounded. Do not lose the line, but do not lose more men."
The retreat was orderly but swift. The Generals under him—veterans who expected a fight to the death to secure the Emperor's political capital—looked at him in disbelief.
Back at the main camp, Li Feng dismounted. He was steady, holding himself together by sheer force of will, but his clothes were splashed with the blood of others. He had survived his first battle, but the victory felt meaningless next to the smell of death.
The Divine Emperor watched him, silent for once.
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
> "So. The boy is growing on his own terms. That was mercy, not strategy."
>
Li Feng walked toward his tent, the weight of a thousand dead souls pressing down on him.
The Emperor has retreated, valuing lives over a quick, brutal victory. This sets the stage for political fallout and comparison with the Second Prince. The
next chapter will focus on the immediate aftermath.