Chapter 58： Yan Zhenqing’s Lament for His Nephew

　　When the others had withdrawn at his signal, Liu Chengyuan leaned in, murmuring something low into Tian Liangqiu’s ear. The older man listened, brow furrowed, his thoughts a tangle of doubt and necessity. "" bold notion, but whether it shall carry us forward or lead us further astray, who can say? Still, we’ve little else to wager with. Let it be so.” And with that, he rose and, without summoning a servant, accompanied Liu Chengyuan to the door himself.　　At first light the following morning, An Qingxu’s army arrived, banners flaring and drums like thunder—come to issue their challenge. From the ramparts, Tian Liangqiu surveyed the spectacle: a vast host stretched across the hills, an unbroken tide of armour and steel, with An Qingxu and Cui Qianyou riding at its head. Then came the jeers—crude, unrelenting. At An Qingxu’s command, the enemy soldiers roared out insults, dragging the names of Tian Liangqiu, Xiao Xin, Li Chengguang, Wang Sili, Huoba Guiren, and even their forefathers through the mire, each insult more vile than the last.　　Huoba Guiren, crimson with fury, reached for his sword. “Let me take the gate, I’ll have blood for this.” But Wang Sili raised a hand in caution. “It’s bait, A ploy to draw us out. We are better served behind high ramparts and deep trenches. Let them rage and starve beneath our walls—when their supplies run dry and their spirit falters, then we strike. One battle, and it will be enough.”　　Tian Liangqiu stroked his beard thoughtfully. “And yet was it not Chengguang who warned us but days ago? The enemy is no longer feinting. Their battering rams are ready, their siege towers raised, and catapults well-positioned. They mean to take the walls by force. Besides”—he cast a dark glance toward the horizon—”these barbarians grow brazen. Their slanders are beyond vulgar. Perhaps it would not be amiss to let General Huoba ride out and teach them a little caution. A sharp blow might blunt the edge of their enthusiasm.”　　Huoba Guiren, a man of the Tujue, was no stranger to the frontier’s hard discipline. Once a trusted captain under Geshu Han and now Governor of Huoba Prefecture, he had won distinction in countless border skirmishes and was invested with the title of General of Chariots and Cavalry. Now, astride a restless charger, he was a sight to behold—his curved sabre of the Tujue gleaming at his side, a red-lacquered bow slung across his back, his whole bearing one of indomitable strength. With but a thousand horsemen at his back, he rode out through the gate to meet the challenge head-on.　　From the ran