Mythical Qin: I, Gao Yao, will never be a eunuch!

Chapter 1171 Han Xin's Scheme, the State Army Attacks!

Seven days later, at Cangshan, the rebel camp.

After half a month of expansion, the camp is now taking shape. Wooden fences stretch for miles, and tents stand like mushrooms after rain, roughly estimated to accommodate at least fifty to sixty thousand people. The camp is well-organized, with dedicated cooking areas, living areas, training areas, and even a simple clinic and school.

Han Xin stood on the watchtower, overlooking the entire camp. Behind him, more than a dozen generals stood at attention.

"General, breaking news." The scout captain presented the intelligence: "Emperor Qing has appointed Qin Ye as the General Who Pacifies the West, commanding 100,000 troops from Zhenjiang and Guangling. He departed from Jiangnan three days ago and is expected to arrive in the western border in ten days."

"One hundred thousand against twenty thousand..." The lieutenant smiled bitterly. "General, how can we fight this battle?"

Han Xin did not answer directly, but instead asked, "How is the situation regarding the gathering of refugees?"

"The number has reached over 80,000, of which about 30,000 are able-bodied men and women, and the rest are the elderly, women, and children," reported the clerk in charge of civil affairs. "Regarding food, the official granaries of Qingyuan and Pingyang prefectures have a total of 200,000 shi of grain, which, at the current consumption level, can last for two months. However, if we continue to expand recruitment, I'm afraid..."

"Continue recruiting," Han Xin said decisively. "Order all camps to accept any refugees who come to join us. I have my own way of dealing with the food problem."

"But General, the Qing army is approaching. How can we fight with so many old, weak, women and children?" a young general couldn't help but ask.

Han Xin finally turned around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd: "Who said they were going to lead them into battle?"

Everyone was taken aback.

"Our 20,000 soldiers are elite troops," Han Xin said, walking to the sand table and pointing to the terrain of the western border. "And the 100,000 troops from Qing are provincial troops. Do you know the difference between provincial troops and border troops?"

He asked himself and answered: "The border troops are stationed on the border year-round, constantly facing the threat of war. They are well-trained and have strong combat capabilities. The state troops are different—Jiangnan has been peaceful for a long time, and the main tasks of the state troops are to suppress bandits, crack down on smuggling, and maintain local order. They may be well-equipped, but they lack practical experience and, more importantly, the determination to fight tough battles."

Han Xin's fingers moved across the sand table: "I've studied Qin Ye. He's from a collateral branch of the Qin family, rose to power through family connections, and has never independently commanded a large army in battle. This time, leading an army of 100,000, his plan must be a safe and steady advance, using his strength to intimidate others."

"So we..." the lieutenant said thoughtfully.

"So we need to make him think that we are really just a bunch of rabble." Han Xin's lips curled up slightly. "Issue the order: starting tomorrow, all drills in the camp will be for show. The ranks will be uneven, the commands chaotic, just like a bunch of refugees. Also, send out a few small teams to pretend to plunder nearby villages—remember, it's a pretense, no harm is allowed, just create chaos."

The generals looked at each other, but out of trust in Han Xin, they replied in unison, "Yes, sir!"

Han Xin continued his deployment: "The first and second battalions will secretly move to the northern foothills of Cangshan Mountain, setting up numerous flags to create the illusion that the main force is there. The third and fourth battalions will break up into smaller units and lie in ambush in the mountains along the official road from Qingyuan County to Pingyang Prefecture. The fifth battalion..."

He assigned tasks one by one, considering every detail carefully. After the generals had received their orders and left, only Han Xin and his deputy remained on the watchtower.

"General," the lieutenant lowered his voice, "has His Majesty given any new instructions?"

Han Xin took out a secret letter from his bosom and handed it to his deputy. The letter contained only eight characters: "Show weakness to the enemy, and observe their strengths and weaknesses."

"What His Majesty wants is not only to distract Emperor Qing, but also to find out the true strength of the Qing State Army." Han Xin put away the secret letter, his gaze deep. "In this battle, we may lose, we may retreat, and we may even lose everything we have now. But one thing must be done—to let the Lord know the strength of those 100,000 state troops."

The lieutenant replied solemnly, "Your subordinate understands."

Han Xin looked eastward, towards the capital, which was also the direction of Gaoyao.

"Your Majesty, this is a risky move," he muttered to himself. "But... isn't risky moves more interesting?"

Below the camp, refugees were receiving their daily rations. Children chased and played in the open space, women gathered to mend clothes, and several elderly men taught people to read in a makeshift school. It all seemed so unreal—in this chaotic world, there was still such a haven of peace.

But what they didn't know was that a storm was about to break. One hundred thousand soldiers, twenty thousand elite troops, eighty thousand refugees... the fate of everyone would be rewritten in this storm.

Meanwhile, Gao Yao had already been back in the capital of Qing Kingdom for quite some time. Since his quiet return, he had kept a low profile, spending most of his time in the kitchen of Gao's Restaurant, seemingly becoming a chef who lived a life of seclusion.

Beneath the calm surface, undercurrents never ceased. The news of Fan Xian's death, like a dark wind, quietly swept into the capital of the Qing Kingdom. Initially, only a handful of high-ranking officials and nobles knew of this shocking news; some were shocked, some were suspicious, and some secretly plotted. But this news could not ultimately be kept from Gao Yao—he had been operating in the capital for many years, and his spies had already infiltrated every corner.

Gao Yao stood before the kitchen counter, his cleaver swiftly slicing a block of tender tofu into thin strips. Upon hearing the news, his blade didn't even pause. He wasn't surprised by Fan Xian's "death." Although his presence altered some details, the tide had turned, and Fan Xian had still chosen this path of feigned death.

"Whether it's a real fake death or a fake one," Gao Yao thought to himself, "for Emperor Qing, this is the real test."

He knew the difference: if Fan Xian faked his death and continued to serve Emperor Qing in secret, it would just be a play between the royal father and son; but if he faked his death only to investigate Emperor Qing in secret, it would be the prelude to the father and son turning against each other.

The information provided by Gao Yao—the part he told Fan Xian himself, the information conveyed through Di Renjie, and the secrets told by Xiao En, an old man who had personally seen Ye Qingmei—was enough for Fan Xian to piece together the general outline of the matter.

All that remains is final confirmation. And faking death is undoubtedly the best opportunity to conduct an investigation.

Gao Yao gently placed the sliced ​​tofu into the water, watching the strands unfurl. He continued cooking, not as a leisurely pastime, but as a unique form of cultivation. Since breaking through to the Grandmaster realm again, Gao Yao had become increasingly aware of the importance of cultivating his mental state.

His Dragon Elephant Prajna Skill had already reached the pinnacle of external martial arts, but precisely because of this, he needed even more inner balance. During his years in the Great Qin world, he had fought countless battles, personally ending the lives of no fewer than ten thousand. That murderous aura, no matter how much he tried to conceal it, had become part of his very being. Ordinary martial artists could hardly detect it, but fellow Grandmasters could sense the bloodlust that had seeped into his very bones.