Before the invention of the steam engine, communication in ancient times was incredibly difficult. During times of chaos when states ruled independently, official decrees were often ineffective, and the speed of information transmission became even slower.

If Zhu Xiang stayed in Xianyang and didn’t deliberately seek information, he could go his whole life without knowing what was happening outside the state of Qin. Even if he did try to inquire, with how slowly news traveled among the people, information dissemination had to be measured in half-year intervals at best.

The use of sowing discord is a form of intelligence warfare.

There were many famous schemes of sowing discord during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, but only in the later Warring States era did the state of Qin use them frequently—and with unfailing success. All of this was built upon Qin’s immense national strength.

Qin spared no expense building roads across its territory, established a system of relay courier stations, and maintained permanent intelligence agents in other states.

Behind every scheme of discord was an astronomical cost in manpower and material.

Short-term intelligence campaigns could be supported by “faith” and individual brilliance, but Qin’s normalized and systematized intelligence operations—its schemes of discord—would have been nearly impossible without its overwhelming power.

After building the structure of its intelligence operations, what Qin needed next was a truly skilled commander—someone like Fan Ju, and after him, Cai Ze, who would carry Fan Ju’s mantle.

Fan Ju didn’t bother to hide this kind of top-secret information—normally accessible only to the King of Qin and the Crown Prince. Instead, he sat cheerfully with a sweet milk tea in hand, smiling as he told these classified tales to little Ying Zheng like bedtime stories.

Ying Zheng sat on Fan Ju’s lap, cheeks puffed out with crisp dates. Every time he swallowed a mouthful, he’d nod seriously, indicating he was listening attentively.

Bai Qi occasionally added details—after all, warfare also relied on intelligence, and he often worked with Fan Ju. Xunzi, on the other hand, muttered disapprovingly from time to time, calling it “devious,” yet still incisively pointed out some shortcomings in Qin’s intelligence communication system.

The three elders gave a joint lecture to Ying Zheng.

Zhu Xiang sighed inwardly.

Travel times were measured in months, and Qin’s information transmission was also measured in months. That was already the limit during the Warring States period.

But for him, waiting for news from friends and elders still felt painfully long. He missed the modern world, where a single phone call or text could bring someone close in an instant… well, now even the older generation used WeChat video calls, so you could see someone’s face anytime.

Fan Ju, a strategist famous for his skill in sowing discord, did far more than plot behind the scenes. His biggest workload came from gathering and organizing intelligence—he was, in essence, the head of Qin’s intelligence operations.

After finishing his explanation of Qin’s regular intelligence-gathering methods, Fan Ju began talking about Lian Po and Li Mu.

But he didn’t start with the State of Zhao—he started with Yan and the Xiongnu.

The most critical part of this scheme of discord wasn’t in Handan, but on the border of Yan, with the southern invasion of the Xiongnu, and with Cai Ze.

Cai Ze had gone on a diplomatic mission to Yan and did something completely unexpected by the scholars of the world—he helped the new King of Yan consolidate his throne, and then took the king’s decree north to the Great Wall to assist in the defense effort.

He brought grain and supplies from Qin to the Yan border army, temporarily acted as commander-in-chief, and coordinated seamlessly with Zhao’s general Li Mu to launch a decisive counterattack—driving back the opportunistic Xiongnu invaders.

Together, they annihilated over 100,000 Xiongnu, seized vast numbers of cattle and sheep, and not only temporarily resolved the crisis of Yan’s border troops running out of food and pay, but also dealt a devastating blow to the Xiongnu’s strength.

It was said that this time the Xiongnu king, seizing the opportunity, had gone all in—hoping to completely destroy the Yan Great Wall defensive line. With this defeat, the Xiongnu might plunge into internal turmoil. For the next ten years, they would likely be unable to mount another large-scale war like this one.

The new King of Yan, moved to tears, clasped Cai Ze’s hands and begged him to stay in Yan as Chancellor. He even offered to grant him a noble title and a fiefdom spanning a hundred li.

But Cai Ze replied,

“I am a subject of the King of Qin. I came to assist Yan only under the orders of the Qin King. Please forgive me, but I must decline.”

The people of Yan were deeply moved. Even the aged ministers who thought the country doomed were practically blinded by their tears.

People across the land were stunned. What kind of virtuous gentleman was this? Even the post of Chancellor of Yan and a hundred-li estate could not sway him. His loyalty was solely to the Qin King. But wait—that King of Qin wasn’t he supposed to be a ruthless tyrant, feared and reviled?

Later, some said that Cai Ze was a friend of Zhu Xiang, and the Qin King had traded Handan for Zhu Xiang’s loyalty, not only because of the abilities and virtue Zhu Xiang demonstrated at Changping, but also because Cai Ze lobbied the Qin King to save his friend.

Other rumors claimed that Cai Ze, in order to rescue his friend Zhu Xiang, had lobbied not just one, but several kings, and that in the end, it was the Qin King who helped him succeed. That was why he now followed the Qin King with utter devotion.

“Such righteousness from Lord Cai!”

“Is that true?” asked Li Mu’s deputy, curious.

Cai Ze replied, “It’s true that I lobbied many people to help Zhu Xiang. But I didn’t join Qin because of him. I had already decided to join Qin while still in Handan. Only Qin would not look down on me because of my appearance.”

Li Mu now bore several fine scars on his cheeks, giving him a more weathered and hardened look than a year ago.

He added quietly: “Cai Ze once sought a post in Handan, but the Zhao nobles drove him out of the city.”

Cai Ze nodded: “Zhu Xiang took me in.”

Even now, Cai Ze still found it unbelievable. Even though he had been expelled from Zhao, he was still technically a scholar, while Zhu Xiang was a commoner. But Zhu Xiang had a natural charisma that made people forget his humble origins. Cai Ze never thought twice about working as a bookkeeper for someone like him.

When Cai Ze later learned that Prince Xia Tong had voluntarily worked as a bookkeeper in Zhu Xiang’s household, he had a strange sense of comic defeat—like, “I lost.” A noble Qin prince had thrown away his pride just to recruit a talented man. Xia Tong really was well-suited to be a ruler.

Li Mu’s subordinates sighed repeatedly. The short-sighted nobles of Zhao’s capital really had no eye for talent.

Li Mu stared into his wine cup and said in a low voice: “I didn’t expect you would come help me.”

Cai Ze smiled and shook his head: “I didn’t come to help you—I came for Qin. With Yan in decline, all the other states want a piece of the pie. But with Zhao between Qin and Yan, and Qin currently focused on agriculture and building national strength under Zhu Xiang’s leadership, we can’t join that scramble. So His Majesty will not allow Yan to fall.”

He took another sip of wine and added: “Besides, the Xiongnu have already seized too much territory amidst the chaos of the Warring States.”

The turbulent times had offered the Xiongnu far too many opportunities. Many of the Zhou dynasty’s former territories had been taken by them. Qin, Zhao, and Yan had all built sections of the Great Wall, stationing elite troops there long-term.

Although most of the time those border troops were left untouched, the Warring States era was now nearing its end. When the security of a royal lineage was at stake, even border defenses could be abandoned.

When Lian Po was attacking Yan, he had written to Li Mu, urging him to keep an eye on the Xiongnu’s movements.

Li Mu had already mentally prepared himself to bear the burden of defending both Yan and Zhao against the Xiongnu on his own. The arrival of Cai Ze truly let him breathe a sigh of relief.

Even if Cai Ze hadn’t come, Li Mu still would’ve won—but it would’ve been a bitter victory, with far heavier casualties among his troops.

“I also came this time to invite you to join Qin,” Cai Ze said bluntly, showing no fear of the many Zhao generals nearby.

Li Mu shook his head: “I will not join Qin. I must stay here and defend Zhao.”

Cai Ze replied calmly: “I know. But the King of Zhao will order you to go to Qin.”

Li Mu’s tone was just as calm: “A ruse of sowing discord?”

Cai Ze said: “Sowing discord works only when there’s already a crack to exploit. If there’s no rift, how could a ruse take hold? Try telling the King of Qin that Zhu Xiang is plotting a rebellion.”

To everyone’s surprise, none of Li Mu’s deputies were angered by Cai Ze’s words. One of them even asked curiously: “What would the Qin King say? Would he say that Lord Zhu is so virtuous, he could never betray him?”

Cai Ze shook his head with a bitter smile: “No. The Qin King would just pat little Zheng on the head, who’s sitting on his lap, and ask suspiciously, ‘You’re this young and already want to be King of Qin?’”

The Zhao generals were stunned.

Even Li Mu was briefly speechless—then he put down his cup, leaned on the table, and burst out laughing: “True! Zheng’er is Zhu Xiang’s only descendant. If Zhu Xiang were to rebel, it’d obviously be to put Zheng’er on the throne.”

Cai Ze added: “You should already know that Prince Zichu is actually Xia Tong, Zhu Xiang’s friend.”

Li Mu sighed: “Yes. Lord Lin told me.”

At the mention of Lord Lin, Li Mu’s fists clenched.

Cai Ze continued: “If Zhu Xiang ever did plan a rebellion, it’d probably be because Xia Tong had overworked himself running state affairs and could no longer keep up.”

Li Mu shook his head: “Even so, Zhu Xiang would never rebel. I simply cannot imagine such a thing. Zheng’er, though… that boy just might. Is he really doing well?”

Cai Ze replied: “You still worry about him? The first time he met the King of Qin, he yanked the king’s beard. That kid’s bravery has been spoiled rotten. Zhu Xiang is especially good at caring for elders—besides Lord Wu’an and Lord Ying, now even the Qin King and Crown Prince often go to Zhu Xiang’s house to relax. There are actually more doting elders around Zheng’er now than there were in Handan.”

Li Mu sighed: “I see… Yes, Zheng’er is certainly a very lovable child.”

Cai Ze said: “His Majesty has already played his move. You just wait for the result. If the King of Zhao ignores the ruse, then stay here and take care of yourself. We’ll meet next time on the battlefield. But if the King of Zhao falls for it, we’ll go drink at Zhu Xiang’s house together. Zhu Xiang even made a special request to His Majesty that, when you arrive in Qin, you’ll be posted to guard the northern Great Wall against the Xiongnu. You won’t have to worry about fighting against Zhao.”

“Zhu Xiang is thoughtful,” Li Mu said.

“And you’ve given me a heads-up—I won’t sit around waiting to be scapegoated.”

Cai Ze said: “Of course. Feel free to bribe some of the king’s favored courtiers to speak on your behalf. If your money isn’t enough, I can lend you some.”

Li Mu finally couldn’t hold it in and rolled his eyes hard at Cai Ze.

The other Zhao generals burst into laughter, though perhaps the northern frontier’s bitter cold added a note of melancholy to their mirth.