A divine healer, a general, a young marquis! Who can rival them!

The day for the troops to set out was set for the eighth day of the tenth month.

On the day the decision was made, the central command tent was filled with the same old arguments: how many men to send, which route to take, and how many groups to divide them into. The three captains each held their own opinion, arguing from dawn until late afternoon.

Yang Hu listened all morning and only mentioned three things.

The first thing was to send out 2,000 troops, without including a single wounded or sick battalion. The second thing was to take the old road on the eastern slope of Black Stone Ridge, not due north. The third thing was also the one he mentioned taking the longest.

"Loss limit: 120."

The tent fell silent.

Captain Pang was the first to react: "General, you mean... come back when there are 120 dead or wounded?"

"Not dead or wounded," Yang Hu said. "They are those who cannot be moved, cannot be carried, and must be left behind. Once we have 120 of them, no matter where we chase them, turn back."

"What if you're about to take a bite?"

"Turn around too."

The captain's lips moved, but he ultimately did not ask any more questions.

A captain at the stables couldn't hold back any longer: "General, the Ministry of War's document states that a victory report must be submitted within one month. At this rate, we won't even get a single head. When the report is submitted, and the Ministry of War asks questions..."

"If the Ministry of War asks, I will answer."

He didn't look up when he said this, still flipping through the battle damage register. He had read those five words, "The deadline for reporting a victory is one month," no less than ten times last night. Each time he read them, the matter in his mind became clearer: if a victory could be reported, it would be at the cost of his brothers' lives; if a victory could not be reported, it would be at the cost of his own official hat.

The captain remained silent.

Cui Ting watched from the side without saying a word. He had gone over the document with Yang Hu last night and knew that the man understood the significance of this trip better than anyone else.

After the banquet ended, the real preparations began.

The first thing Yang Hu wanted was horse feed.

"The grass is withered," he said to Cui Ting and the stable manager. "Eighty li north of Black Stone Ridge, in October the grass is just stalks. The horses aren't getting enough to eat, they can't run, they lose weight, and they get sick. How many horses did they lose in previous military campaigns?"

The stable manager was taken aback for a moment: "Reporting to the general, he's probably just gotten too thin from running around and can't get up after lying down. In the army, it's called 'falling fat'."

"Bring beans," Yang Hu said. "Two thousand men, with twelve thousand horses. Each horse will carry two liters of beans per day for twelve days. Beans are lighter than grass, so each pack horse can carry four hundred catties."

"Then we'll need thirty packhorses specifically to carry the bean feed."

"Carry".

"General, you should bring less arrows and dry rations."

Bring less.

The stable manager opened his mouth. Thirty packhorses specifically to carry beans—this was unprecedented in the vanguard. In previous years, packhorses carried arrows, dry rations, and medicine; who would use thirty horses to carry food?

The second thing is feet.

He ordered his men to inspect all the shoes of two thousand people. The inspection revealed that the soles of 30% of the shoes were worn thin, and 15% were torn.

"In October, the borderlands are bright during the day but freezing at night," Yang Hu said to the three captains in the central command tent. "If your feet get wet, they'll freeze at night. If they freeze all night, they won't be able to walk the next day. People who can't walk have to be carried. It takes two people to carry one person, and three people can't fight."

He divided the two thousand pairs of shoes into three categories. The worn ones were replaced, the thin ones were patched, and the ones still wearable were covered with a layer of dry straw. The 180 pairs of shoes to be replaced were old boots found in the warehouse, and the work of patching the shoes was assigned to the kitchen and the supply train, to be completed within three days.

"Hawthorn?"

"Put a layer of dry straw inside your shoes to keep them dry," Yang Hu said. "Every day before we camp, we must dry our shoes and foot cloths before we are allowed to sleep. I will write this into the marching order."

The third thing is water.

"After leaving the border, there are only three places to get water along the way." He spread out the map and pointed to three points. "I don't allow anyone to drink directly from these three places."

"General, the water bags we brought for the march are only enough for three days."

"Then stop every three days," Yang Hu said. "I'd rather be half a day slower than drink anything raw."

"Boil it," Yang Hu said. "Each team will be given a pot. When setting up camp, boil water first, then fill the water bags with it to drink the next day. If it doesn't boil, it's better to drink less."

"You'll still get thirsty even if you drink less."

"If you're thirsty for one day, you can still walk the next day," Yang Hu said. "If you drink untreated water and get an upset stomach, you'll have to lie down the next day. You can choose between the two."

Captain Pang, who was listening nearby, suddenly spoke up: "General, I have a question."

"speak."

"These three things are all good," Captain Pang said slowly, "but all three require manpower, packhorses, and time. Military campaigns are about speed and surprise attacks. How can we launch a surprise attack with only thirty horses to carry beans, two thousand fires to dry shoes, and dozens of pots to boil water?"

These words were absolutely true, and everyone inside the tent nodded in agreement.

Yang Huxian did not answer.

He spread a piece of paper on the table and wrote three lines.

First line: In previous years, troops were dispatched before winter. Three campaigns were launched, resulting in 170 kills and 431 casualties.

Second line: Of the casualties, 106 died in battle, 114 were disabled by frostbite, 37 fell behind due to weight loss, and 174 died from illness or serious injuries.

The third line: those who died in the war accounted for 73%.

He pushed the paper over.

"These three numbers are copied from the five-year battle damage register of the former battalion."

Captain Pang looked down at the paper. He read it very slowly, from the first line to the third, and then back again to the second.

"Colonel Pang just asked how we plan the attack," Yang Hu said. "I don't plan to attack this time. The barbarian cavalry can travel thirty li a day, we won't be able to catch them. Since we can't attack them, there's only one thing we can do on this trip: bring back everyone who needs to be brought back."

"Then the good news..."

"This trip will not bring victory."

The moment those four words were uttered, everyone in the tent froze.

"General," Cui Ting finally spoke, "if we fail to report a victory, what will happen to the Ministry of War..."

"I will report the facts to the Ministry of War," Yang Hu said. "We dispatched 2,000 troops, covered the number of days of the journey, the number of enemy groups encountered, the number of soldiers killed, and the number of soldiers lost. We will not conceal anything."

The captain at the stable couldn't hold back any longer: "General, reporting battle reports like this will get you into trouble!"

"Bear the burden."

After saying this one word, he folded the paper with three lines of numbers written on it twice and put it into his sleeve.

No one spoke again inside the tent. Captain Pang stood up, cupped his hands in greeting, and was the first to leave.

The night before the troops were to be dispatched, Yang Hu finished writing the military orders, which consisted of nine articles.

The first six rules are standard military practices, while the seventh, eighth, and ninth rules are new: when setting up camp, first dry your shoes; when setting up camp, first boil water; when setting up camp, first treat the wounded and sick.

After reading the nine points, Cui Ting asked, "General, did you put these three points at the end because you were afraid the other generals would disagree?"

Yang Hu said no. He put it at the end because it's the last thing you're likely to forget when camping each night.

On the morning of the eighth day of the tenth month, two thousand people left the camp.

At the head of the procession was Captain Pang's battalion, followed by the supply train, with thirty packhorses carrying beans and fodder in the middle. Behind each train was a pot hanging, its bottom clattering against the saddle along the way.

Su Heng rode beside Yang Hu without saying a word the whole way. She only spoke when they reached three li outside the gate.

"You went here knowing you wouldn't be able to deliver anything."

"The document stated that I had no choice but to go."

"So what are you going to do?"

Yang Hu glanced back from his horse. Behind him, a column of two thousand men stretched out in the greyish-white morning light, all the way to the gate of the camp.

"Take them out first," he said, "then figure out a way to bring them back."

Su Heng didn't ask any more questions. She followed this man from Qing Shi Kou to Hei Shi Liang, and she already understood what was implying in his words: he wasn't without a solution, but the solution wasn't yet ready to be spoken.

Qin Ying did not come along. Her leg needed another month to heal, so Yang Hu settled her in the innermost tent of the new camp, where she lived with the three survivors from the ravine.

On the night before she left, she only gave one sentence.

Yang Hu pondered those words all the way on horseback.

She said: "The victory in the battle beyond the Great Wall lies in the return journey, not in the journey itself."