Volume One: At the Foot of Mount Zhongnan Chapter Twenty-Seven: Genius? Monster?

The next day, Li Xuanba and Mingyu went together to train the children. Seeing each child well-disciplined, obeying commands, physically robust, and having grown much taller, Li Xuanba nodded in approval. He then selected five simpler and less varied moves from the eight forms of the Li family saber technique to teach the children.

As the village did not have enough sabers suitable for children, they had to use bamboo swords instead. Watching the children practice their sword swings with meticulous seriousness, Li Xuanba turned to Mingyu and asked, “Your methods for strengthening the body and training are indeed effective. Where did you learn them?”

Li Mingyu dared not reveal the truth, so he made up a story: “I figured it out myself. One day, I saw Little Black push himself up with his front paws, muscles bulging, and his massive body rising effortlessly, so I imitated him. Then I noticed how frogs leap, their thigh muscles flexing powerfully, so I mimicked frog jumps too. I didn’t know if it would work at first, but I tried it out on the children. After half a year, the results were remarkable. When they’re a bit older, I plan to have them practice climbing, leaping, stealth, and camouflage.”

Li Xuanba was puzzled, “Training soldiers is one thing, but why teach these skills? They’re not often used in battlefield formations.”

Inwardly, Li Mingyu thought, “These are essential courses for special forces tactics a millennium from now. Without mastering climbing, leaping, stealth, and camouflage, how could anyone carry out decapitation missions or covert raids?” But he couldn’t explain this to his master, so he continued to fabricate, “When I watched Little Black hunt, he always lay in wait, creeping close to his prey, and only when he was within range would he burst forth and seize its throat in a single strike. As for venomous snakes, they conceal themselves among dry branches and leaves, remaining motionless for days, and only strike when their prey draws near unsuspectingly, delivering a fatal bite. Since beasts and serpents hunt this way, I thought if we could train soldiers to do the same, wouldn’t it make us invincible?”

Li Xuanba laughed, “So after all that, you’re trying to raise assassins and spies.”

Li Mingyu shook his head, “Master, that’s too simple an interpretation. My idea is to train them into warriors who can wield the lance on horseback and draw the bow on foot, who can fight ten men at once, whether mounted or on foot. In battle, they could charge with armor to take the enemy commander’s head, executing decapitation tactics, or break through to cut off supply lines, or infiltrate enemy camps to assassinate officers, causing confusion in their chain of command. If nothing else, they could penetrate deep behind enemy lines to cause chaos, set fires, spread rumors, and disrupt the enemy’s morale and order. I call this set of tactics ‘special operations.’”

Li Xuanba, hearing this, drew a sharp breath. “Penetrating deep behind enemy lines? That’s not so simple. What if the enemy sends a large force to encircle you? How do you manage supplies?”

Mingyu smiled coldly. “As for supplies, I’d follow the example of Huo Qubing from the Han dynasty—live off the enemy. There’s only so much grain; if we can seize it, we do. If not, we burn it. With no food, we incite the local populace to rebel and create chaos for the enemy.”

Li Xuanba inhaled sharply. “Burning all the grain to force the people into revolt—that’s a vicious tactic! You’d better not say such things openly. If word got out, you’d be condemned as heartless.”

Li Mingyu was unfazed. “In war, all means are fair. It’s a matter of life and death; there’s no room for sentiment. Besides, such tactics are only for use against foreign enemies, not our own people.”

Hearing that these ruthless measures would not be used against their own, Li Xuanba was somewhat reassured, but pressed on, “And if the enemy sends troops to surround you? If you lack the advantage of terrain and are encircled, how would you escape?”

Mingyu replied confidently, “If they send a small force, I’ll destroy it. If it’s a large one, I’ll evade. In short, it comes down to sixteen words: When the enemy advances, we retreat; when the enemy camps, we harass; when the enemy tires, we attack; when the enemy withdraws, we pursue.”

Li Xuanba was stunned by the concise wisdom. “Those sixteen words are profound and summarize the art of war. Mingyu, you never studied military strategy or tactics—how did you come up with such principles?”

Mingyu thought to himself, “This is the essence of guerrilla warfare, distilled from decades of campaigns by the Chairman, building on the strategies of the ancients. Of course, it’s ingenious.” Seeing his master’s suspicion, he improvised, “Though I haven’t studied military texts, you always say that books are dead but principles are alive. Blind faith in books is worse than no books at all. By learning from history and the ancients, one can grasp the essence without reading strategy manuals.”

Li Xuanba was amazed. “Learning from the ancients? Besides Huo Qubing, which other historical figures?”

Mingyu, relieved he had prepared for this, replied, “The decapitation tactic comes from Xiang Yu, the Hegemon of Chu. You recounted from the Records of the Grand Historian how, as a child, his uncle Xiang Liang tried to teach him to read and to fence, but he soon lost interest. Xiang Yu said, ‘Reading is only for remembering names, fencing is for fighting one man at a time. I want to learn how to defeat ten thousand.’ So Xiang Liang taught him military strategy, which he studied enthusiastically, albeit only superficially. Still, Xiang Yu mastered the art of applying his strengths—his unmatched physical might and personal valor inspired eight thousand followers to fight to the death for him. Liu Bang had countless strategists and fierce generals, yet at the Battle of Pengcheng, fifty thousand Han troops were routed by Xiang Yu’s thirty thousand. Xiang Yu’s consistent tactic was to seek out the enemy commander, acting as the spearhead and breaking through, with the Chu army following to expand the victory. No matter how the opposing formations shifted, as long as no one could resist Xiang Yu’s charge, he would slay their general or tear through their ranks, shattering their morale and forcing defeat.”

After a pause, Mingyu continued, “As for guerrilla tactics, they also come from the ancients—Peng Yue, one of the Three Great Generals of early Han. He repeatedly cut off Xiang Yu’s supplies in Liang, forcing Xiang Yu to always guard against him. Peng Yue’s guerrilla tactics kept Xiang Yu’s unrivaled strength from being fully used; the strategy of retreating when attacked made him elusive, wearing out the Chu forces. Fighting on three fronts—Liu Bang’s frontal defense, Han Xin’s flanking maneuvers, Peng Yue’s raids—ultimately led to the famous encirclement and downfall of Xiang Yu.”

When Mingyu finished, Li Xuanba laughed heartily. “Excellent! Excellent! My disciple, you have learned so much from your reading and drawn such insights! You are right—to learn from history is to make it your teacher. My efforts were not in vain!” Then he shifted his tone, “Although your so-called ‘special operations,’ ‘decapitation tactics,’ and ‘guerrilla warfare’ have historical precedent and make sense, their application depends on adapting to circumstances. As you said, blind faith in books is folly; rigid adherence to theory makes one a paper strategist like Zhao Kuo.”

Mingyu recognized his master’s kind intentions and replied, “Please rest assured, Master. Whether my ideas are truly effective remains to be seen. But I understand your point—just as in martial arts, one should not rigidly follow set forms; adaptability is the key.”

“Good. As long as you understand that.” Li Xuanba nodded. “Your ideas seem promising and may indeed open up new methods of warfare. But war is a matter of life and death; caution must always come first. Fortunately, you are still young—these theories need to be refined and perfected. Next time I see your second uncle, I’ll discuss them in detail with him. He’s a master of military strategy and will surely have unique insights.”

“Yes, Master. Truth comes from practice. I’m certain I’ll convince my second uncle,” Mingyu replied with full confidence. After all, though ancient and modern warfare differ, tactics are timeless; they’re not bound by the era. In fact, special operations in cold-weapon times could be even more disruptive, exhausting, confusing, and demoralizing to the enemy than in modern conflicts. Modern professional soldiers’ psychological resilience is far beyond that of ancient conscripts; in ancient times, morale was paramount. If you could shatter the enemy’s spirit, they would lose before the battle even began.

Li Xuanba, struck by another thought, said, “So your physical training methods are based on observing animals and learning from nature?”

Li Mingyu felt a bit embarrassed but couldn’t reveal the truth—how could he explain his transmigration? So he forced himself to reply, “Exactly. Just as Hua Tuo devised the Five-Animal Exercises for health by observing animals, I believe nature is the best teacher.”

Li Xuanba fell silent, deeply astonished. How old was this boy? Yet he could learn from nature, observe keenly, and derive principles of physical training from animal behavior.

Martial arts, after all, originated as methods of combat, developed by countless sages for survival against beasts and men, often by observing and imitating animals—monkey, tiger, eagle, snake, and so forth. But those were all grandmasters who had immersed themselves for decades.

Yet this boy was not only a martial arts prodigy, but also seemed to grasp military strategy intuitively, drawing such profound principles merely from reading the Records of the Grand Historian. Li Xuanba’s feelings were mixed—he’d grown up in a family steeped in military tradition, was well-read and adept in martial arts, and prided himself on his ability, but compared to his disciple, both his martial and strategic talents seemed worlds apart.

What he did not know was that any modern person could say what Li Mingyu had just said—such is the advantage of a millennium’s worth of knowledge. He thought his disciple was a genius, but Mingyu had just been improvising so as not to arouse suspicion.

Li Xuanba pondered, “Just what kind of prodigy have I taken in? Could he be an immortal spirit in human form? There’s a Daoist sage in the village—perhaps I should have him take a look?”