Unexpectedly, Second Master Liang actually intended to submit it. The commander was momentarily stunned.
Watching the attendant behind Second Master Liang swiftly approach with the scroll in hand, he thought—if this bookworm dared to present it, how could he not dare to accept it?
The commander reached out, took it, and immediately unrolled it to read. He laughed, "Scholars truly are remarkable. While the rest of you only know how to clamor, he can actually put it in writing—"
A nearby officer leaned back in his chair and chuckled, "Sir, let's hope you can understand what he's written."
Though they were superior and subordinate, they were brothers who had faced life and death together, so casual banter was commonplace. The commander wasn't offended and retorted, "I am an educated man, you know—" Then, turning to Liang Ji, he added, "If I don't understand, I'll simply ask. Liang Ji will surely explain it clearly."
Laughter once again filled the tent. Second Master Liang remained seated, neither pleased nor angered, and nodded calmly. "This humble officer will, of course, explain."
The commander read on, his laughter gradually fading. No longer jesting, his gaze sharpened, and his expression grew thoughtful.
The other officers, noticing the change, also quieted down and exchanged glances—
Was it written well or poorly?
One officer couldn't resist urging, "Sir, how is it, really?"
The commander snapped out of his reverie, his eyes sweeping over the group before finally settling on Liang Ji.
"Indeed, a scholar is a scholar. To think military strategy could be played with such finesse," he said.
Was this—praise? Everyone instinctively turned to look at Liang Ji.
Liang Ji sat upright, clasped his hands in salute, and replied, "You flatter me, sir. I merely discuss tactics on paper. Whether it succeeds depends on you implementing it effectively."
The commander gave him a deep look, then turned back to the others and cleared his throat lightly.
"Gentlemen, I have a new idea—ahem—" he began, pointing toward Liang Ji at the end, "—inspired by Liang Ji. Let's all hear it out—"
…
…
Liang Qiang did not see his father again. With duties piling up, after that brief encounter in the camp, he was dispatched on another assignment—to stand guard at a different outpost.
Liang Qiang lay in a wind-whipped ravine for three days. On the fourth day, he was finally recalled to camp, where a scene of wild celebration greeted him.
"Great victory, great victory!"
"Western Liang has retreated a hundred li!"
Soldiers, stained with blood, galloped on horseback, raising their swords and spears in triumphant cheers.
Liang Qiang watched blankly. What did this great victory have to do with him?
"Liang Qiang." An officer who usually spared him no more than a glance suddenly called his name after a few soldiers whispered to him.
Liang Qiang looked over.
"Is Liang Ji your father?" the officer asked, his expression one of surprise.
Liang Qiang tightened his grip on his weapon. A chill shot up his spine. Though he had yet to face the Xiliang soldiers in battle and had achieved no merits, he knew that a great victory was often built upon the flesh and blood of many soldiers—
Could his father have become part of the flesh and blood that forged this triumph?
"Yes," he heard his own hoarse voice reply.
"Impressive!" The officer clapped his hands. "One of the key battles in this victory was commanded brilliantly by your father. His tactics turned the tide, making our forces unstoppable. He has rendered great service!"
The chill in his spine shot straight to his head. Liang Qiang felt as if a fire had ignited within him. His father—had achieved merit!
Military achievements were the best credentials in the army.
Though it wasn't his own accomplishment, in an instant, everyone knew him. Even those companions who had previously acknowledged him but never paid him much attention now stared at him intently."Scholars truly are different, they even know how to fight."
The murmurs around him had turned into admiration, no longer the mockery from before.
Liang Qiang couldn't say he was unhappy, but he wasn't exactly overjoyed either. The military achievements belonged to his father, not him—just like how the Liang family's prestigious reputation in the past came from his uncle's household, not his own, and could be taken away at any moment.
"Liang Qiang." A nearby officer suddenly called out, "Would you dare join my vanguard camp?"
Liang Qiang raised his head without hesitation: "I would be honored."
The officer laughed heartily and said to Liang Qiang's commanding officer: "Let us have him. I want to see if the son truly follows the father's footsteps."
The commanding officer waved his hand with a smile: "Take him, take him. With some tempering, he might indeed become a fine blade."
Things had truly changed. Before, the commanding officer couldn't be bothered with him, let alone cared whether he was a fine blade. Now he was generously letting him go. Liang Qiang clasped his hands in salute: "I will not disappoint your expectations, sir."
Such is the power of military merit—he finally had the chance to earn recognition through his own efforts.
......
......
Deep in the night, Second Master Liang returned to his quarters, the scent of alcohol still lingering on him.
Although officers were forbidden from drinking during wartime, this battle had dealt a heavy blow to Western Liang. Garrison General Chu Ling had his deputy personally deliver a cart of wine and meat as rewards.
This time, Second Master Liang wasn't seated at the far end but beside the commanding officer, surrounded by admirers, thoroughly enjoying the treatment.
"Sir, please freshen up with this." His attendant smiled as he handed him a steaming towel.
Second Master Liang took it and pressed it to his face, exhaling deeply: "These people can really drink. It's not drinking—it's pouring. I shouldn't have sat next to the commanding officer."
The attendant helped him remove his outer robe, chuckling: "This wine was bestowed specifically for you, sir. Of course you should sit in the place of honor. In the army, it's that simple. Besides the wine, your military merits will be reported to the court for promotion and ennoblement. Next time, even without drinking, you'll still be seated beside the commanding officer."
Second Master Liang remained silent with the hot towel over his face, as if asleep.
The attendant went to fetch sobering soup and called softly: "Sir, drink this before resting, or you'll still have a headache tomorrow."
A voice came from behind the towel: "I'm not drunk."
That's what all drunk people say, the attendant smiled to himself.
"I'm perfectly sober." Second Master Liang said, removing the towel to look at his attendant with clear eyes. "You—who exactly are you?"
The attendant was in his thirties, ordinary-looking like all orderlies serving officers. Holding the sobering soup, he froze for a moment before smiling again.
"Sir, you're truly drunk," he laughed. "I'm Li Fang."
Of course Second Master Liang knew his name. When his old friend Cai secured him this minor official position, worried he'd be lost in the army, he had provided this attendant as well.
"Li Fang, who sent you to help me?" he asked, seeing Cui Zhen about to speak, he raised his hand to stop him. "Don't say it was Official Cai."
At this, he smiled faintly.
"Even if Official Cai were standing here before me, I'd still ask him—who is he really?"
"I'm not drunk—on the contrary, I'm clearer than ever. This battle achievement, these military strategies—I couldn't have written them, you couldn't have written them, and Official Cai couldn't have written them either—"
"So, who did?"
The attendant Li Fang smiled and said: "Although sir knows nothing, by mentioning the word 'help,' you've already understood everything."Although this sentence said nothing, it had already confirmed all of Second Master Liang's speculations. He rubbed his face heavily with his hand—so there was no such thing as a desperate situation turning around; all paths were arranged by others.
"Who is it?" he asked again.
Li Fang shook his head with a smile. "I beg your pardon, but I cannot say."
Second Master Liang understood this type of person—if they refused to speak, no one could force it out of them.
"Then what does he want?" Second Master Liang asked, staring intently at Li Fang. "Our Liang family has nothing left."
Except for a heart full of resentment.
Could it be that the person behind this sought the Liang family's resentment? If so, then that person must share the same enemies as them.
Who were the Liang family's enemies? The heartless former Crown Prince who had discarded Minister Liang like trash, the Xie family who sought to uproot them over a failed marriage alliance, and the Chu family whose petty quarrel had triggered it all.
Li Fang smiled and shook his head. "That person only asks Second Master Liang to serve the nation and its people by slaying enemies and achieving merit."
Second Master Liang laughed mockingly. He understood now—what that person sought was not the current Second Master Liang, but the Second Master Liang after he had achieved glory.
And what did he want?
He wanted everything the Liang family possessed.
Because everything the Liang family would gain would be obtained through him.
It was an unfavorable transaction, but—who could refuse such temptation?
Tonight's minor victory alone, with its flattering congratulations, was enough to intoxicate without drinking—how long had it been since he last tasted such a feeling?
Even during the Liang family's peak, Second Master Liang had never enjoyed such glory; he was merely Minister Liang's younger brother.
Li Fang stood nearby, watching Second Master Liang's shifting expressions, and set down the sobering soup. "My lord, please drink the sobering soup first. Do not torment yourself."
Second Master Liang remained silent for a moment before reaching for the sobering soup. "Thank you," he said.
After speaking, he lowered his gaze.
What he accepted was not just the sobering soup, and what he thanked for was not merely the soup—this was his acceptance.
Li Fang straightened up and said with a smile, "Moreover, when you achieve merit here, you can also assist Young Master Qiang."
Qiang! Second Master Liang looked up again, his expression tense.
"Is Qiang going to the battlefield to kill enemies?" he asked.
As an officer, he could earn merit through planning and commands, but Qiang was different—Qiang had to personally engage in combat to gain glory.
Fighting on the battlefield inevitably meant risking death.
After asking this, Second Master Liang smiled bitterly.
Hadn't they left the garrison that night precisely to fight and kill enemies?
Why was he worried now?
Second Master Liang finally lowered his gaze again and sighed softly.
"Second Master, do not worry," Li Fang said with a smile. "A tiger father does not beget a dog son. Young Master Qiang will surely make a name for himself in his first battle."
...
...
The battle came without warning.
Unlike standing guard, where they only needed to sound the alarm upon seeing enemies without engaging, being scouts was different—they had to track the enemy's movements and then charge into fierce combat.
Amid the roars and screams around him, whether from the horse's jolting or dodging a spear, Liang Qiang felt the world spin. He barely managed to stay on his horse and had just steadied himself when—splash—hot blood sprayed across his face.
A companion beside him screamed and fell, while Liang Qiang found himself face-to-face with a menacing Xiliang soldier.
The Xiliang soldier swung a blood-stained long blade at him.
At this moment, Liang Qiang should have raised his own blade to block the attack, then countered with a slash to unhorse the Xiliang soldier.This was a scene he had rehearsed and imagined countless times.
Yet when it truly unfolded before his eyes, his hands seemed beyond his control—the blade weighed a thousand pounds, and the horse beneath him bucked wildly, threatening to throw him off—
Life and death hung on a single moment. In that brief lapse of focus, the Xiliang soldier’s long blade was already upon him.
It’s over,
Liang Qiang thought.
The next instant, blood sprayed once more, the clash of weapons screeched in his ears, and he even saw sparks before his eyes—but it was not he who fell. It was the Xiliang soldier.
The soldier’s long blade had been blocked, while another blade sliced through his neck.
As the Xiliang soldier’s ferocious face vanished from sight, Liang Qiang glanced to his side. Unnoticed by him, two comrades had drawn near, flanking him protectively.
“Kill!” they roared.
With that cry, the two swept Liang Qiang and his horse along, charging toward the Xiliang soldiers on the other side.
Amid the chaos of battle, Liang Qiang followed their lead—raising his blade, striking, shifting formations, and pressing the assault—
It felt like an eternity, yet also like the blink of an eye, when the field of corpses signaled the end of the fight. In the distance, a large contingent of troops galloped closer.
Seeing only three survivors among the fallen, the leading officer’s expression shifted between grief and fierce joy.
“Well done, well done!” he shouted. “For ten of you to triumph over dozens of Xiliang soldiers—this is a great victory!”
His gaze settled on the three. Two were familiar, weathered faces—the fiercest warriors in the army. Their survival was no surprise. What drew his attention was the third: a young officer drenched in blood, his strikingly handsome and fair face impossible to overlook—
“Liang Qiang!” the officer called out.
The young officer seemed lost in thought, jolted back to awareness by the shout. He spurred his horse, and the beast let out a sharp whinny.
“Truly, a mighty father breeds no weak son! Impressive!” the officer laughed heartily. “You are worthy to be a fierce commander under my banner!”
A fierce commander? Gripping his long blade, Liang Qiang felt his hands tremble. He couldn’t help but glance at his two companions. Their faces were expressionless; they did not look at him, merely raising their blades in unison with the officer’s laughter.
“We fear not death!” they roared. “Slay the enemy!”
Slowly, Liang Qiang raised his own blade, his own hoarse voice joining in: “Slay the enemy!” “We fear not!”
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