Chapter Fifty-Two: The Armory

When Li Wenyuan heard this, he furrowed his brow. “Are you saying your Commander Liu died unjustly? What do you mean by that?”

The chief scribe replied, “General, my master guarded Wuwei County for years, never once neglecting his martial training. He was in excellent health. True, he suffered somewhat from acclimatization in his first years, but long since recovered. Only recently, he led troops on a patrol along the Great Wall, fought off a band of Turkic raiders, and returned victorious. There was no sign that he would suddenly fall gravely ill and die.”

Li Wenyuan asked, “Then tell me everything that happened, in detail and without omission, before and after Liu Su’s sudden death.”

He then drew the scribe aside to a secluded corner, seating them and instructing his guards to keep watch so no one could overhear.

The scribe began, “General, after Liu Su returned triumphant, Li Gui, who was temporarily left in charge of Wuwei County, proposed a victory banquet at the Triumph Tavern in the city. Liu Su was in high spirits, having defeated the Turkic bandits and secured peace in Liangzhou for several months, so he gladly accepted. That evening, Li Gui and Liu Su shared a table, while the other officers sat at the remaining ones. Throughout the feast, Li Gui continually pressed Liu Su to drink, using all manner of persuasion. Liu Su, suspecting nothing, drank freely. Before long, he was thoroughly drunk and had to be helped back to camp by his personal guards. I have never cared for such occasions, so I excused myself and left with them. On the way, Liu Su vomited several times, complained of stomach pains, and went to the latrine. He kept shouting that he was unbearably hot and wanted to remove his clothes. When we held him down, I touched his skin—it was cold to the touch. At the time, I thought little of it, blaming the night air. Back in camp, Liu Su fell into a deep sleep, his face still contorted with pain, clearly from his stomach. After settling him, I left for my own quarters and continued my unfinished work late into the night, finally falling asleep at my desk. The next morning, with the sun already high, there was still no sign of Liu Su. Together with his guards, I went to wake him—only to find he was no longer breathing.”

The scribe paused to gather his thoughts.

“Did you call for a coroner to examine the body?” Li Wenyuan asked.

“We did, but the coroner claimed it was an unusual illness, with no sign of poisoning,” the scribe replied, shaking his head.

“Let me guess—the coroner is also gone from the city? Dead, or simply disappeared?” Li Wenyuan said with a wry smile.

“No one knows whether the coroner is dead or alive—he has vanished without a trace,” the scribe replied, astonished at Li Wenyuan’s insight.

“Li Gui is meticulous—catching him out will not be easy. I understand the situation now and will look into it thoroughly,” Li Wenyuan assured him.

Unexpectedly, the scribe fell to his knees. “General, your righteousness moves me. I owe everything to Liu Su’s promotion—I would have died on the battlefield as a common soldier otherwise. Now he has died unjustly. I will risk everything, even death, to get to the truth. Thank you for hearing my plea. I swear, whatever I know, I will tell you without reserve.”

Li Wenyuan quickly helped the scribe to his feet. “As commander, it is my duty to be responsible for everything that happens here. There’s something else I must ask you: if one wished to hide a large group of blacksmiths, is there anywhere near Wuwei County suitable for such an operation?”

The scribe bowed his head in thought for a long time. “To the north, Wuwei borders the Great Wall, frequented by armies and merchants—there’s nowhere to hide people, much less a group of blacksmiths. West of the city, across the Shiyang River, one enters the Qilian Mountains. While people could hide there, it would require enormous effort to transport ore and coal—hard to go unnoticed. South of the city are the main roads leading inland, both old and new, but there’s no cover there either. That leaves only the Tengger Desert to the east.”

“The desert? How would people get water to drink, or for forging iron? Would they rely entirely on supplies from outside?” Li Wenyuan frowned.

“The desert does sometimes have meteorite iron ore, and I recall reading in old texts of a place called Moon Lake in the desert, with clear waters—enough to sustain ironworks,” said the scribe.

“Have you ever been there?” Li Wenyuan asked.

“No, I wouldn’t dare venture deep into the sands. Anyone unfamiliar with the desert would surely perish,” the scribe shook his head emphatically.

Li Wenyuan nodded. “You may go. I’ll consider the matter further.”

The scribe bowed and left to report to Xue Renyue. Li Wenyuan sat in his chair, eyes half closed, his mind racing. This was not the modern age—every weapon was made by hand, so production capacity was limited. If Li Gui had ambitions of independence, he would certainly prepare in advance, hoarding weapons and armor. In the Western Regions, it would be easy to muster a force of a hundred thousand able-bodied men without impacting food production. Yet the imperial garrisons in the entire region numbered only seventy or eighty thousand. Even if Li Gui controlled them all, he would still lack arms and equipment for thirty thousand more.

Now Liu Su’s suspicious death, Li Gui’s secret dealings with the Turks, and his agents collecting money everywhere—all this, and yet not a shred of evidence that could directly condemn Li Gui. He covered his tracks flawlessly. Since there was no other opening, Li Wenyuan decided to start with the search for the arms workshops.

With that, he gave some instructions to Xue Renyue for him to follow up when he had time, then, taking his guards, returned to camp to find Zhang Juntao.

“Juntao, have all the camp arrangements been made?” Li Wenyuan asked.

“General, everything has been taken care of. The soldiers have the day off and are off enjoying themselves,” Zhang Juntao replied with a smile.

“Good. I promised them a proper rest. These men are truly remarkable, all thanks to you,” Li Wenyuan said.

“The last time you said something like this, it was because you wanted me to help you stage a little drama with the troops. Are you planning something again?” Zhang Juntao laughed.

“Juntao, send all our scouts into the Tengger Desert. I want to know if any large convoys are heading in. If so, track them—find a route to the area near Moon Lake where they might be secretly forging weapons,” Li Wenyuan said, seeing Zhang Juntao had already guessed his intentions.

“General, you attach such importance to this remote spot—do you think this is where Li Gui’s armory is hidden?” Zhang Juntao asked with a frown.

“I can’t be certain yet, but it seems highly likely. This is our only possible breakthrough—we cannot afford any mistakes,” Li Wenyuan affirmed.

“Rest assured, General. I’ll lead the team myself,” Zhang Juntao replied, nodding.