Chapter 66 Outwitted

He unfolded the bamboo slip and scanned its contents. The frivolous expression that had moments ago lingered in his eyes instantly turned ice-cold.

Noticing the change, Yang Mu immediately asked, "Your Grace, what has happened?"

Zhao Ang did not answer right away. Instead, he read the slip carefully from beginning to end, the chill in his eyes intensifying.

Slowly rolling the slip back up, he raised his gaze toward the distant horizon, his voice low and stern, "Uncle Yang, we have been set up."

"Set up?" Yang Mu was stunned, his expression turning grave on the spot. "Your Grace, what does this slip say?"

Zhao Ang handed the slip to Yang Mu, his voice weighed down by suppressed fury, "Read it for yourself."

Yang Mu took the slip, unfolded it, and his face instantly turned ashen.

The slip clearly detailed a conspiracy: the Duke of Dingguo had been colluding in secret with the barbarian tribes. To eliminate Zhao Ang through barbarian hands, he had even orchestrated the cutting off of the grain supply routes, forcing the Black Tiger Army into total isolation.

What was even more infuriating was that the slip also mentioned that the Duke of Zhenguo, Zhao Rong, had been placed under house arrest in the capital on charges of "treasonous plotting."

The Duke's estate was under strict surveillance, and all communication with the outside world had been severed.

As Yang Mu held the slip, his hand trembled slightly. He ground his teeth and said, "That old fox, the Duke of Dingguo! How dare he collude with the barbarians and frame the Duke of Zhenguo! Your Grace, we cannot let this go!"

Zhao Ang's gaze was frosty, his fists clenched tightly as he spoke in a low voice, "This is not merely a frame-up... This is an attempt to completely uproot the Zhao family."

Zhang Shan, standing nearby, was equally enraged. "Your Grace, these people are vicious beyond measure! The Duke of Zhenguo has been utterly loyal to the imperial court, yet they still resort to such venomous cruelty!"

Zhao Ang took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his nerves.

He turned to Yang Mu and Zhang Shan. "Uncle Yang, Zhang Shan, pass down the order to the entire army: begin preparations immediately, and set out for the capital within three days."

***

In the northern frontier after a heavy snowfall, the weather was bone-chilling, yet the atmosphere within the camp grew tense and heavy at Zhao Ang's command.

The soldiers of the Black Tiger Army hurriedly checked their armor and sharpened their blades, throwing the entire camp into a flurry of activity.

Meanwhile, Yang Mu and Zhang Shan stood outside Zhao Ang's main tent, exchanging glances.

"Zhang Shan, His Grace is in such a rush to return to the capital to report for duty, but do you think this journey will be peaceful?" Yang Mu sighed, his tone laced with anxiety.

Zhang Shan patted the long saber at his waist and lowered his voice. "Uncle Yang, I am not afraid of fighting, but returning to the capital this time will not be simple. His Grace always acts carefree on the surface, but he is astute at heart. On this road back to the capital, not only will we face those old foxes from the imperial court, but an even greater trap is likely waiting for us."

Just as the two were conferring in low voices, Zhao Ang's lazy voice drifted from inside the tent: "Uncle Yang, Zhang Shan, what are you standing there for? Come inside and speak."

The two exchanged a look and stepped into the tent.

Zhao Ang was seated beside a low desk, toying with a smooth, warm jade pendant with a casual expression. A newly unfolded map lay spread across the table, and his gaze occasionally swept over it as though plotting something.

Yang Mu bowed respectfully and spoke in a low voice, "Your Grace, the troops have finished preparations and are ready to set out for the capital at any time. However..."

Zhao Ang raised his head, a playful smile playing at the corners of his lips. "However what? Uncle Yang, speak your mind."

Hesitating for a moment, Yang Mu finally said, "Your Grace, if this subordinate may speak boldly, our return to the capital this time is bound to be fraught with danger. If you bring the entire Black Tiger Army back with you, it will be far too conspicuous. When the time comes, those people in the imperial court will undoubtedly find an excuse to strip away your military power. Once that happens, you will truly be beyond saving."

Hearing this, Zhao Ang raised an eyebrow and looked at Yang Mu with a half-smile. "Uncle Yang, what an amusing thing to say. The Black Tiger Army is the blade of the Zhao family. Now that the northern frontier has just been pacified, if I, the commander-in-chief, do not return to the capital with my troops to report, wouldn't it make me, Zhao Ang, look guilty?"

Zhang Shan hastily chimed in, "Your Grace, Uncle Yang doesn't mean to suggest you have anything to feel guilty about; rather, we need to leave ourselves a way out. Just think about it—that old fox, the Duke of Dingguo, certainly won't let us off easily. Every step of the way back to the capital will likely be riddled with ambushes."

Zhao Ang narrowed his eyes, a hint of coldness creeping into his gaze. "Zhang Shan, are you suggesting I leave the Black Tiger Army behind in the northern frontier for someone else to control?"

Zhang Shan waved his hands frantically. "No, no, not at all! What I mean is that we could leave a portion of the troops stationed in the northern frontier, at least to let them know that the blades here are still grasped in our hands."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Ang chuckled softly, casually placed the jade pendant back on the table, and slowly stood up. His gaze swept across the map, his tone unhurried yet carrying a sharp edge.

***

"Uncle Yang, Zhang Shan, I understand your concerns. Those people in the imperial court have long been waiting for me, Zhao Ang, to lose my military power so they can rest easy. But let me tell you this: upon returning to the capital this time, not only am I taking the Black Tiger Army with me, but I am also going to make them understand that this army is the lifeblood of the northern frontier and the blade of the Zhao family."

Yang Mu frowned and said, "Your Grace, this subordinate understands your words, but if the imperial court insists on forcefully reorganizing the army..."

Zhao Ang gave a cold laugh, the chill in his eyes fully exposed. "Forcefully reorganize? They had better see if they have the guts for it! Every single man in the Black Tiger Army was brought up by the Zhao family. If anyone dares to lay a hand on my troops, they had better figure out whether they have the life to catch this falling blade!"

Zhang Shan grinned broadly. "I love hearing Your Grace say that! Which of our brothers in the Black Tiger Army isn't fiercely loyal? Even when we reach the capital, those old foxes won't be able to push us around easily."

Yang Mu sighed, ultimately saying no more.

Zhao Ang waved a hand, a trace of banter returning to his tone. "Uncle Yang, Zhang Shan, don't be too high-strung. No matter how much those people in the imperial court scheme, they are merely trying to set a trap for me, and I, Zhao Ang, am not someone so easily tripped up."

With that, he raised his gaze toward the outside of the tent, his eyes profound. "This time when I return to the capital, I will protect not only the Black Tiger Army, but also my Zhao family. The Duke of Dingguo and his little tricks—I will make him pay the price."

The winter snow of the northern frontier was biting, yet the camp of the Black Tiger Army maintained flawless order.

The soldiers were clearing away the remnants of war; some were repairing armor while others inventoried the armory. Though bustling, the camp exuded an immovable, mountain-like calmness. The Black Tiger Army, this elite force cultivated by generations of the Zhao family, had not only gained total control of the northern frontier but now displayed an unstoppable momentum under Zhao Ang's leadership.

Zhao Ang stood upon a temporary raised platform, overlooking the entire camp. Amidst the wind and snow, his cloak billowed loudly, making him appear majestic and unfathomable.

"Your Grace," Yang Mu walked up from below the platform, handing over a document that resembled a memorial, "this is the final text of the bilateral agreement. The barbarians have already signed it, guaranteeing they will not cross the control line by even half a step."

Zhao Ang took the document, casually flipped through it, and a slight smile curved the corner of his mouth. "Not cross the control line? With this retreat of theirs, I doubt they will recover their vitality for the next thirty years."