Weak Points and Strong

R each the field first and wait, and you meet the battle rested. Reach it second and rush to fight, and you meet it worn out. So the good commander draws the enemy to him and is never drawn to the enemy. Dangle an advantage, and he comes to you on his own. Threaten him with harm, and you keep him from coming at all. Whoever reaches the battleground first and waits for the enemy is at ease; whoever reaches it later and hurries into battle is worn out. So one good at war brings the enemy to him and is not brought to the enemy. You can make the enemy come of his own accord by showing him an advantage; you can keep him from coming by threatening him with harm.

Strike where he does not rush to defend; rush to where he does not expect you. March a thousand miles without exhaustion by marching through country empty of the enemy. Be certain to take what you attack by attacking what he does not defend. Be certain to hold what you defend by holding what he cannot attack. Come out where he will not rush to meet you; rush to where he does not expect you. To march a thousand miles without wearing out is to march through ground with no enemy in it. To attack and surely take it is to attack what he does not defend. To defend and surely hold it is to defend what he does not attack.

So against a good attacker, the enemy does not know what to defend. Against a good defender, the enemy does not know what to attack. Subtle, subtle, until you have no form at all. Silent, silent, until you make no sound. This is how you hold the enemy's life in your hand. So against one good at attack, the enemy does not know what to defend; against one good at defense, the enemy does not know what to attack. Subtle, subtle, to the point of no form; mysterious, mysterious, to the point of no sound — thus one can become the arbiter of the enemy's fate.

“The army's form is like water. Water avoids the heights and rushes to the low. War avoids the full and strikes the empty.”

Make him show his form while you keep yours hidden, and you are whole while he is split apart. You concentrate into one; he divides into ten. Then you bring ten against his one — many against few. Strike the few with the many, and the ground where you fight has been narrowed to your measure. Make the enemy take on form while we remain formless: then we are concentrated and he is divided. We are one whole; he is divided into ten — so we use ten to strike his one. Then we are many and he is few, and to strike the few with the many means that what we fight is constrained and small.

Keep secret the place where you mean to fight. Not knowing it, he must prepare everywhere; preparing everywhere, he is weak everywhere. Guard the front, the rear runs thin. Guard the rear, the front runs thin. Guard everywhere, and you are thin everywhere. The few are those who prepare against others. The many are those who make others prepare against them. The place where we will fight must not be known. If it is not known, the enemy must prepare in many places; preparing in many places, he will be few at any one. Prepare the front and the rear is few; prepare the rear and the front is few; prepare left and right is few; prepare right and left is few; prepare everywhere and everywhere is few. The few are those who prepare against others; the many are those who make others prepare against them.

Know the place and the day of battle, and you can march a thousand miles to meet it. Know neither, and your left cannot save your right, your front cannot save your rear — let alone across miles of distance. By my reckoning, however many troops the enemy fields, what good are mere numbers to victory? Victory can be made. However many he is, you can leave him no fight to give. Know the ground of battle and know the day of battle, and you can travel a thousand miles to meet it. Know neither the ground nor the day, and the left cannot save the right, the right cannot save the left, the front cannot save the rear, the rear cannot save the front — let alone when the far parts are tens of miles off and the near ones several. By my reckoning, though the men of Yue have many troops, how does that add to their victory? So I say: victory can be made. Though the enemy is many, you can leave him unable to fight.

So probe him, and learn where his plans gain and where they lose. Provoke him, and learn the pattern of when he moves and when he sits still. Force him to show his form, and learn which ground means life and which means death. Test him at one point, and learn where he is strong and where he is stretched thin. So assess him and learn the gains and losses in his plans; rouse him and learn the principle of his movement and his stillness; force him to take on form and learn which ground is death and which is life; probe him and learn where he has surplus and where he falls short.

Bring your own form to its limit, and you reach no form at all. With no form, the deepest spy cannot make you out and the cleverest mind cannot scheme against you. Out of the enemy's own shape you fashion the victory, and lay it before your men — and none of them can see how it was done. Bring the forming of your forces to its extreme, and you arrive at no form. With no form, even a deep-planted spy cannot peer in, and even a wise man cannot plot against you. Out of the enemy's form you work out victory and set it before the masses, yet the masses cannot understand it.

Everyone sees the form by which you won; no one sees the form by which you shaped the winning. So never repeat the tactics that won you a battle. Let your form answer the situation without end, as the situation has no end. Everyone knows the form by which I won, but none knows the form by which I made the victory. So a battle is not won the same way twice; one's form responds to circumstances without limit.

The army's form is like water. Water avoids the heights and rushes to the low; war avoids the full and strikes the empty. Water shapes its course to the ground; you shape your victory to the enemy. So war keeps no fixed configuration, as water keeps no fixed form. To change with the enemy and take the victory from him — that is what looks like the work of a god. The army's form is like water. Water's form avoids the high and runs to the low; the army's form avoids the full and strikes the empty. Water shapes its flow according to the ground; the army shapes its victory according to the enemy. So the army has no constant configuration and water has no constant form. To be able to change along with the enemy and seize victory is called divine.

虛實 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

凡先處戰地而待敵者佚，後處戰地而趨戰者勞。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · The Art of War 孫子兵法