The dawn over Fengze Lake shimmered with grandeur. Golden ripples danced beneath a crimson sky as the sun breached the horizon, casting the mountains and marshes into ruddy silhouettes. Reeds swayed like waves of molten bronze. Around the vast lake, a crescent of war tents, chariots, banners, and spears stretched endlessly. The low bellow of horns mingled with whinnying horses as a scarlet courier galloped through the reeds like a skiff cutting through waves.
Pang Juan had just settled at his long table to dine when hooves thundered outside his tent. Before he could rise, guards announced: "Courier from Anyi!"
The messenger strode in, presenting a bronze tube. "An urgent decree from the king."
Pang Juan unsealed it, revealing a sheepskin scroll: *"To Our Lord Pang Juan: Chancellor Gongsun Cuo is gravely ill. You are hereby appointed Royal Envoy to receive the five monarchs and oversee alliance preparations. 8th Year, 4th Month, 6th Day."*
Suppressing elation, Pang Juan replied stoically, "Inform His Majesty: Pang Juan shall uphold his trust." He handed the courier a bronze tally as receipt.
Within half an hour, two command banners unfurled outside Pang Juan's tent: *"Envoy of the Six-State Alliance – Pang"* and *"Supreme Commander of Wei – Pang."* A bronze chariot flanked by 100 armored knights rumbled forth, preceded by a crimson banner. Clad in resplendent armor and a radiant scarlet cloak, Pang Juan mounted the chariot, his steward bearing a gold-sheathed sword. "Inspect the grounds," he ordered.
Surveying the sprawling camps, Pang Juan's pride swelled. *Heaven favors me,* he mused. Gongsun Cuo's sudden illness—timed perfectly to remove the meddling chancellor from alliance affairs—felt like divine intervention. The old fool's peace treaty with Qin after his humiliating capture at Shaoliang had nearly derailed Wei's ambitions. Now, with Gongsun sidelined, Pang Juan could steer history.
He swiftly reshaped the alliance's symbolism. Gongsun's egalitarian circular camp layout became a hierarchical square: Wei's tents occupied the northern "throne" position, flanked by Qi and Zhao to the east, Yan and Han to the west. Chu, as the second strongest, faced Wei from the south. A thousand soldiers rearranged the site by midmorning.
Next, Pang Juan lined the approach road with 2,000 armored knights spaced in pairs—each holding a red banner and bronze axe. As sunlight glinted off the forest of blades, a scout galloped in: "Marquess Zhao approaches!"
First Arrival: Han – The Austere Strategist
A green banner emerged down the road. Han's procession was laughably modest: a creaking wooden chariot draped in iron sheets, pulled by two dappled geldings. Marquess Zhao of Han, clad in plain hemp robes and a bamboo crown, resembled a scholar more than a monarch.
"Envoy Pang Juan greets the Marquess of Han," Pang Juan announced, masking disdain.
Han Zhao's reply was tepid: "Congratulations on your envoyship, General."
"Chancellor Gongsun's illness compels my humble substitution," Pang Juan demurred, invoking Gongsun's ties to Han.
"Am I the first?"
"Your foresight honors us, Marquess."
Han Zhao's lip twitched. "Proximity demands punctuality." He closed his eyes, ignoring Pang Juan's escort.
As they passed through the axe-lined corridor to Han's designated camp—a cluster of green tents encircled by chariots—Pang Juan noted the marquess's calculated indifference. *A mouse pretending to be a dragon,* he scoffed inwardly.
Second Arrival: Yan – The Arrogant Antique
Dust swirled as blue-and-red banners heralded Yan's arrival. King Wen of Yan, draped in furs despite the heat, rode a gilded chariot fit for Zhou royalty. His disdain for Wei's "vulgar" arrangements was palpable.
"Where is your king?" Yan Wen sniffed.
"His Majesty arrives tomorrow. I serve as his proxy."
"Proxy? The alliance remains unratified. Who named Wei hegemon?"
Pang Juan's retort cut smooth: "Did Yan not endorse Wei's leadership in correspondence? Or has age clouded Your Grace's memory?"
Yan Wen flushed. "Such insolence! We depart—"
"A pity," Pang Juan interrupted. "Wei planned to gift Yan… *Zhongshan.*"
The king froze. "Zhongshan's lord is here?"
"Dining with our king as we speak."
After a loaded pause, Yan Wen laughed coldly. "Let us witness Wei's… generosity."
Third Arrival: Zhao – The Brash Wolf
Hooves thundered as Zhao's cavalry arrived—200 wolf-pelt archers flanking Marquess Cheng, his scarred face twisted in a grin. "Where's your 'Hegemon King,' Pang? Let's carve up Qin and be done!"
Pang Juan dismounted, bowing deeply. "Marquess Cheng's vigor humbles me."
"Save flattery. Heard you've been dangling Zhongshan before Yan. Careful—wolves bite when teased."
"Zhao's 200,000 armored riders fear no traps."
Cheng roared, slapping his sword. "Well said! Let's drink to *real* power!"
As Zhao's entourage stormed off, Pang Juan mused: *A wolf indeed. But even wolves starve without prey.
Fourth Arrival: Qi – The Young Phoenix
Purple banners signaled Qi's approach. King Wei of Qi—a lithe figure in simple robes—exuded magnetic vitality. At 28, his reforms had already revitalized Qi: slashing taxes, recruiting talent, repelling Chu and Yan.
"General Pang!" The king leaped from his chariot, clasping Pang Juan's arm. "Join Qi as Chancellor for three months. I'll grant you three counties—Tianke Marquis!"
Pang Juan chuckled. "An 'Heavenly Guest Marquis'? Your wit dazzles, Majesty. Should Wei send me as envoy, I'll savor the title."
"Then await my summons!" With a conspiratorial wink, Qi's king rode off to tour the lake, leaving Pang Juan equal parts amused and unnerved. This one bears watching.
Absence: Chu – The Silent Storm
By dusk, Chu's banners remained absent. Pang Juan dismissed his aides. "Recall the honor guard. Dine and rest."
"But if Chu arrives—"
"Chu *wants* us to wait. Let them stew in their pride."
As troops dispersed, Pang Juan gazed at the darkening lake. Five monarchs housed, one defiant—yet all danced to his tune. For now.
Returning to his camp, Pang Juan dined as usual—a cauldron of Lake Fengze mutton, no wine, no side dishes. Years of austere training in the mountains had honed his disdain for lavish meals. To him, lingering over elaborate banquets squandered precious time. A military commander needed only dried meat, bread, and water; he never indulged in private feasts even as Wei's Supreme General. While Wei's elite snubbed his asceticism, soldiers revered him for it. Yet Pang Juan cared little for praise or scorn. In this age of blood and steel, victory alone mattered. A single defeat could turn adoration into mutiny.
His tent defied convention: the front chamber held only a sandalwood desk for military tokens and thirteen stone stools for war councils. The rear chamber, thrice as large, housed a cot, scrolls stacked like battlements, and his masterpiece—a ten-paneled map of the Warring States, carved on wooden slabs. Guarded like a state secret, this map had earned his mentor Ghost Valley's rare praise. Tonight, his gaze lingered on Qin, the western thorn—weak yet surrounded by five powerful neighbors, its barren hinterlands offering no allies.
"Report!" A scout burst in. "Chu's king hunts thirty li from camp, avoiding the main road. His intent is unclear."
"He'll arrive within two hours. Withdraw surveillance."
As the scout departed, Pang Juan smiled thinly. King Xuan of Chu—that posturing simian—delayed entry to feign superiority. Such pettiness typified Chu: a realm vast as five Yellow Rivers, yet ruled by nobles who clung to barbaric titles like Lingyin (Prime Minister) and Da Jiangjun (Grand Marshal). Even Wu Qi, the reformist genius, had been torn apart by Chu's backward clans.
At dusk, Wei's cavalry arrayed outside the summit grounds, banners rippling in sunset hues. As Pang Juan's chariot emerged, dust clouds signaled Chu's approach.
"Where is the king?" the protocol officer whispered, noting the empty royal carriage.
Ignoring him, Pang Juan bowed deeply. "Supreme General Pang Juan, envoy of the Six-State Alliance, welcomes His Majesty of Chu!"
Inside his grotesquely oversized chariot—pulled by six horses to accommodate his bulk—King Xuan snorted. Wei's king hadn't come to greet him, but this "Alliance Envoy" title soothed his pride. He heaved upward, crushing two maidservants beneath his girth as he rose like a monolith.
Wei's honor guard stifled laughter into sneezes. Unfazed, Pang Juan declared, "By Wei's royal decree, this envoy invites His Majesty to rest. A banquet awaits at the Hour of the Dog."
King Xuan puffed his chest, bellowing in thick Chu dialect, "Our gratitude to Wei's king! Lead onward!"
His carriage rumbled into camp, the king's eyes glinting with triumph. Let others mock his theatrics—today, Chu would claim its rightful place.