Chapter 60： Li Guangbi’s Campaigns Against Shi Siming

　　Yang Muzhi turned to Li Guangbi, his expression grave beneath the glint of his helm. “Shi Siming’s iron cavalry is fierce beyond measure”, he said, his voice low but clear. “Should we charge them headlong, we risk crumbling like dry earth beneath a hammer’s fall. As The Art of War cautions, when an army is held too long in the field, its blade dulls, its edge turns. To assault a city is to sap one’s strength. War is as water, and water seeks the low ground, flowing not against the stone but around it. So too must the soldier shun the solid and strike where the line falters, not where it holds.”　　Li Guangbi paused, frowning slightly as he mulled over his companion’s words. Something in the logic eluded him, as if the answer hovered just beyond reach in the dusk of thought. “How does one strike at the hollow and avoid the solid?” he asked at length. “How might we dull the rebel’s blade and blunt their charge? I would hear it in full, if you please.”　　Yang Muzhi inclined his head, his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon. “There are four ways,” he said slowly, as though reciting a lesson learned not from scrolls but from the bitter tuition of the field. “To triumph over cavalry with infantry is no small thing, but it can be done. First: by standing in disciplined array. Second: by arming the vanguard with long spears. Third: by unleashing the bow and the crossbow. And fourth: by raising barriers, both seen and unseen.” He turned to face the general then, his manner humble but steady. “If you will place your trust in me, my lord, then this humble servant would offer not merely counsel, but command — and take his place beside you when the storm breaks.”　　At this, Li Guangbi struck his thigh with sudden resolve, the sound echoing like a drumbeat of approval. “Splendid!” he exclaimed. “But the field is no place for silk robes and bare flesh — arrows, blades, and stones fly without mercy. You’d best visit the armoury and choose a suit of mail that fits you well.”　　Yang Muzhi smiled, a quiet light kindling in his eyes. “I am deeply honoured, General,” he replied with a courteous bow. “But I am but a humble scholar, not one to trade blows upon the front line. Steel and armour were never mine to bear. Your thought is enough.”　　Li Guangbi could not help but marvel aloud. “Sir, you are truly a rare spirit — a scholar untouched by the harshness of war, yet welcomed by the army without need of sword or shield. In my eyes, you are the very embodiment of Zhuge Liang reborn.”　　Clad simply in a flowing robe of deep blue, Yang Muzhi bore a black banner in his hand as he followed Li Guangbi up the city tower. His bearing was