Xu Ping was in the makeshift camp a few leagues away from Liang Cheng, far from the clamor of the battle that had already been decided. The night was silent, interrupted only by the crackling of campfires and the murmuring of his men. Sitting on a fallen log, with a scroll spread across his knees, he reviewed the numbers that would define his future. The air smelled of ash and damp earth, and the night's cold crept under his armor, but Xu Ping paid no mind. His thoughts were occupied with calculations and strategies, with plans that had to be drawn with the precision of a master chess player.
He had four thousand men. It was not an insignificant number, but compared to the imperial legions that had razed Liang Cheng, it was merely a shadow of a true army. However, what gave him hope was the quality of his troops. They were not mere soldiers but veterans hardened by years of war. Many of them had been low-ranking officers in the former rebel army, men with experience in leadership and discipline. They knew how to survive in the worst conditions, how to fight when the odds were against them, and how to keep morale high even in the darkest moments.
"Though we have lost the city, we have not lost the ability to rebuild," Xu Ping thought as he traced lines over the map before him. Liang Cheng was irretrievably lost, but the war was far from over. He needed to regroup, find a new foothold, and, in time, go back on the offensive. The map in his hands was filled with markings and annotations, each representing a possibility, a risk, an opportunity. To the west, several days' march away, there was a rebel city that still resisted the imperial advance. It was no impregnable fortress, but it was a place where they could regroup, reorganize, and plan their next move.
Xu Ping lifted his gaze from the map and observed the men around him. The camp was a chaotic place, full of activity despite the late hour. The wounded were being treated by makeshift medics using bandages and herbs to ease their pain. Other soldiers gathered in small groups, sharing stories and scarce food. Some slept on the ground, exhausted from battle, while others stood guard, their eyes scanning the darkness for threats. Despite the defeat, there was a sense of unity, of camaraderie, that Xu Ping knew was invaluable.
"Commander," a voice said beside him. It was Li Wei, one of his most loyal officers. "The men are restless. They need to know what the plan is."
Xu Ping nodded, understanding his subordinate's concern. The morale of an army was just as important as its weapons, and at that moment, his men needed clear direction. He stood up, carefully rolling up the map, and walked toward the center of the camp. The soldiers turned as they noticed his presence, their eyes filled with expectation. He took a deep breath before speaking, making sure his voice was firm and resolute.
"Brothers," he began, and the murmuring of the camp faded. "Today, we have lost Liang Cheng, but we have not been defeated. We are still here, we still have our weapons, and most importantly, we still have the will to fight. But to win this war, we must be wise. We cannot stay here waiting for death. We will march west, to a friendly city, where we can recover our strength and prepare for the counterattack."
A murmur spread through the crowd. Some nodded, others seemed uncertain, but no one objected. Xu Ping continued:
"We are soldiers, but we are also the seed of a new army. No matter how many enemies stand against us, as long as we remain united and strong, we will return and reclaim what is ours. Rest tonight, for at dawn, we march. The road will be long, but every step we take will bring us closer to our true victory."
His words had an effect. Some soldiers struck their weapons against the ground in approval, and though exhaustion still showed on their faces, there was now a new glimmer of determination in their eyes. Xu Ping knew he could not afford to waver. Every word he spoke, every decision he made, had to convey confidence and certainty. His men followed him not only for his skill as a strategist but because they believed in him, in his vision of a future where the rebellion would triumph.
He returned to his place by the fallen log, but this time he did not sit. He gazed up at the starry sky, searching in the constellations for some kind of sign, some omen to guide him. He knew this was only the first step of a long journey, but it was a necessary step. Liang Cheng was lost, but the war was far from over.
"Commander," another voice called out, this time softer. It was Mei Ling, one of the few women in the camp and one of his most brilliant strategists. "Are you sure this is the right path?"
Xu Ping looked at her, noting the concern in her eyes. Mei Ling had been one of the first to join the rebellion, and her intelligence and insight had been crucial on more than one occasion. "There are no right or wrong paths in war," he finally replied. "There are only decisions, and we must live with the consequences. But I do believe this is our best move. We need a safe place to regroup, and that city to the west is our best option."
Mei Ling nodded, though her expression remained thoughtful. "The imperials won't let us go so easily. We'll have to move fast and carefully."
"I know," Xu Ping said. "That's why we need everyone to be ready. Make sure the wounded are prepared to travel and that supplies are well-distributed. We cannot afford to waste time."
Mei Ling nodded again and walked away, leaving Xu Ping alone with his thoughts. The weight of leadership was something he carried with pride but also with a deep sense of responsibility. Every life in that camp depended on his decisions, and he could not afford to fail.
He spent most of the night reviewing the map and plotting alternative routes in case the imperials blocked their way. He knew the journey would be dangerous, but he also knew they had no other choice. At dawn, the camp came alive again. The men dismantled the tents, gathered their belongings, and prepared for the march. Xu Ping mounted his horse and took his place at the front of the column, looking westward.
"Move out!" he commanded, and the army began to march.
The journey was difficult from the start. The terrain was rough, and the fear of being discovered by imperial patrols kept everyone on high alert. But Xu Ping did not allow fear to paralyze them. He knew that the key to survival was to keep moving, to advance without hesitation until they reached their destination.
As they marched, he began to notice small details that gave him hope. The men, though weary, maintained their discipline. The officers carried out their orders with precision, and the younger soldiers followed the example of the veterans. It was a miniature army, but an army nonetheless.
By the end of the first day of marching, they camped in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Xu Ping sat by a fire, listening to the sounds of the camp around him. He knew the challenges they would face in the coming days would be immense, but he also knew that as long as they had a purpose and a leader to believe in, his men would keep fighting.
The war was far from over, but Xu Ping was determined to see it through to the end. And as he watched the fire's flames flicker, he knew that no matter what happened, his legacy would live on in the hearts of those who followed him.