Xie Xuanying was leading troops for the first time. Ordinarily, he should have followed behind Jiang Yi and first learned some experience in marching and fighting. When the Marquis of Changping fought the pirates in Dengzhou, he brought his sons along, teaching them while letting them gain practical battle experience.
With an elder watching over them, they could learn, could make mistakes, and could correct them.
The emperor’s arrangements could not be said to be lacking in thought, but Jiang Yi had his own difficulties – before Xie Xuanying arrived, he had already deployed the navy, using their strengths to counter the enemy’s weaknesses. He had originally thought the one coming would be Second Young Master Xie, who would be fully capable of keeping up with his plans.
The reason for not using cavalry was mainly because the cavalry of the guard stations were truly not up to standard.
Shandong had horses, but raising horses and knowing how to ride them were two different things. There were plenty of people in the guard stations who could not even ride smoothly. However, because pirates frequently raided, the navy’s training was actually passable.
As a result, Xie Xuanying had no choice but to lead troops independently.
Without an elder to watch over him, without a superior to command him, all decisions had to be judged by himself.
Success would make him a young hero; failure might mean death here.
In a very brief instant, Xie Xuanying felt lost: he seemed to realize that he might be standing at a fork in life’s road – one path leading to life, the other to death.
But it lasted only an instant, no longer than a dragonfly skimming the water, and the bewilderment disappeared.
Here and now, he sat astride his horse for the sake of a bright future, for the sake of marital harmony, for the future he sought.
It had never been about failure.
He had never considered failure.
“Forward. Take the Shimen Mountain route,” Xie Xuanying said. “Pay no attention to those scattered soldiers.”
Li Bowu was alarmed. “Young Master, you must not!”
It was Centurion Zheng who spoke up in explanation instead, “Even if they are bandits, the bait ahead is too obvious. They may well be trying to make us underestimate the enemy and change our route. The terrain over by Cai Mountain is less perilous than Shimen Mountain – we would likely let down our guard and fall into a trap.”
What he said was not without reason, but Li Bowu put Xie Xuanying’s safety first and felt it was too risky.
“Young Master…”
“Straight ahead.” Xie Xuanying paid no attention whatsoever to his subordinate’s words. “Quickly.”
Li Bowu had no choice but to shut his mouth.
Although he had never served in the military, he knew that military orders were as immovable as mountains. No matter how inconceivable the commanding officer’s orders might be, once an order was given to do something, everyone else had to obey even if dissatisfied – otherwise it was insubordination.
The group set out again.
The dispatch riders continued to scout ahead, but thereafter found no trace of enemy soldiers.
Xie Xuanying kept his spirits taut, constantly wary of the situation on both sides.
Not long after entering the mountains, banners appeared fluttering in the distance, horn calls faintly audible, and the shadows of trees on the hills to both sides swayed as though a great many figures were hidden behind them.
Li Bowu’s heart tensed first, fearful of falling into a trap, but he quickly relaxed again.
Too obvious.
Even if bandits knew nothing of warfare, they had certainly done plenty of highway robbery – they would not fail to know how to conceal their tracks.
Such deliberate display must be a bluff.
Sure enough, although loose stones rolled down from both sides as they passed through the narrowest passage, there were not many of them, and everyone was already prepared, so almost no damage was done.
And the one the enemy most wanted to attack was surely Xie Xuanying, clad in armor and riding a fine horse.
As he passed, a great quantity of rocks came tumbling down, but Xie Xuanying controlled the reins, and the fine horse named Winter Night Snow leapt and ran nimbly, perfectly evading the stones that grazed past.
Good skill. Li Bowu silently praised him and glanced at the youth galloping ahead.
He paid little attention to the fallen stones, and his face showed no fear or relief afterward; his gaze was fixed straight ahead, his peripheral vision swiftly sweeping both sides, his eyes alert and calm.
Even knowing he was only nineteen and not yet capped, Li Bowu still felt a subtle thought rise in his heart.
Perhaps, compared to his elder brother, the legitimate eldest son, the third young master was more like the late Marquis.
But was there really not the slightest nervousness in Xie Xuanying’s heart?
Of course not.
After all, he was only nineteen – in fact, his nineteenth birthday had not yet passed.
The lives of two thousand people rested on one pair of shoulders; it was impossible not to be nervous. But as the commanding officer, Xie Xuanying instinctively concealed his negative emotions.
He had to believe in his own judgment; he had to press forward without wavering.
As long as he was at the very front, those behind him could feel at ease – this awareness mattered more than any talent for marching and fighting, more than his identity as the legitimate eldest son.
It was called responsibility.
An hour later, the main force galloped through the narrow mountain road of Shimen Mountain, and Xie Xuanying suddenly reined in his horse.
“Centurion Zheng.”
Centurion Zheng’s spirits lifted. “Here.”
“Take your men up the mountain and capture the people in the hills,” he said.
Commander Wu, who had not spoken before, now opened his mouth to ask, “General, if the enemy is not at Shimen Mountain, they must be lying in ambush over by Cai Mountain. Shall we double back and catch them off guard?”
Xie Xuanying looked at them and said slowly, “Then take a hundred men and go take a look over by Cai Mountain – but I do not think the bandits are there.”
Surprise showed on Li Bowu’s face. He had assumed Xie Xuanying agreed with Centurion Zheng’s judgment – that Shimen Mountain was the bait and the real main force was at Cai Mountain.
Neither?
Commander Wu’s expression turned serious as well. “I will go at once.”
The main force found a position easy to defend and hard to attack, and dismounted to rest for the time being. Horses could not keep running at high intensity or they would lose condition, so the men could gnaw on dry rations as they pleased, but the horses had to recover their strength in good time.
White clouds drifted across the sky; the autumn wind rose.
Xie Xuanying stroked Winter Night Snow’s mane, slowly sorting through his thoughts.
The sound of hoofbeats drew near.
Centurion Zheng was the first to return with his men, dragging several prisoners behind the horses – their weapons and rattan armor removed, hands bound, with varying degrees of scrapes and bruises on their bodies.
“Did you question them?” Xie Xuanying asked.
Centurion Zheng drew a deep breath and said, “Yes. There were only about a hundred of them in all, split between here and Cai Mountain – all of it was a bluff.”
His cheeks burned, and he tried hard to ignore the shame and vexation in his heart. But the more he tried to forget, the more unforgettable it became – the argument he had had with Li Bowu before setting out, and even more, the delight that had welled up when Xie Xuanying agreed with his choice.
Nothing wounded one’s pride more than believing oneself to have seen through the enemy’s plans first, only to discover it was merely one part of the enemy’s scheme.
In that moment, the sense of superiority brought by being one of the emperor’s personal guards finally faded a little.
Centurion Zheng began to face his enemy squarely.
They were indeed only bandits, but when it came to experience against foes, they might well have more than he, a mere centurion, did.
Yet Xie Xuanying did not notice his subordinate’s inner turmoil. He said, “Keep questioning them – why they sent so few men.”
Centurion Zheng nodded and conducted the interrogation himself.
The rebels were a disorderly rabble and naturally could not withstand interrogation, yet they could provide no valuable clues.
They knew only that they were to lie in ambush here and make it look as though a large force had gathered in this place; what the Left and Right Protectors actually intended, they had no idea.
At this time, the troops led by Commander Wu also returned.
They too had captured scattered rebels, but only a few dozen, and when questioned, they knew nothing at all.
Both men felt they had been toyed with. “General, how shall these people be dealt with?”
Xie Xuanying said, “They are all expendable pieces; nothing can be learned from them. Kill them.”
“Yes.”
They gestured to their subordinates.
The blades fell.
Heads rolled.
Blood dyed the earth red.
A drop of blood splashed onto Xie Xuanying’s boot.
He looked down and caught a glimpse of several withered, sallow faces – evidently they had once been laboring common folk, living hard lives with their faces to the yellow earth and their backs to the sky.
Then came drought, famine, plague, rebellion.
They joined the rebels. They died here.
His heart felt slightly uncomfortable, in a way he could not ignore.
No womanly softness. Xie Xuanying reminded himself that since they had joined the rebels, they deserved to die; he must not pity the rebel army.
Setting aside his ill-timed emotions, Xie Xuanying gave a brief order. “Move out. We must reach Sishui tonight.”
Sishui County lay south of Shimen Mountain, with a small patch of plains in between, surrounded by mountains on all sides. With no tourism development at present, there was little farmland and poor transportation – it was easy to imagine it was a poor county.
Seeing the barren farmland, the emotions Xie Xuanying had just suppressed surged up again.
After thinking for a moment, he said, “Pass the order down – no trampling on the farmland.”
The formation shifted slightly.
Li Bowu asked, half flattering and half in earnest, “How do you know there is no ambush at either place?”
“The enemy’s movements are somewhat strange.” Xie Xuanying did not keep them guessing. “They took Xintai too hastily.”
Centurion Zheng said, “The bandits intend to advance westward; holding Xintai would make their movements more convenient.”
“But when they attacked Xintai, Commander Jiang was already mobilizing troops. They could infiltrate Yanzhou and abduct Prince Lu without anyone noticing – clearly their followers are widespread, so it should not have been difficult for them to get word.” Xie Xuanying pondered. “Mengyin’s position is easier to defend. Why would they still expend troops to take Xintai, which is easy to lose?”
Li Bowu ventured. “The Wusheng Cult is nothing but a disorderly rabble. The Left and Right Protectors are merely bandits who live by plunder. They must have coveted Xintai’s wealth and goods, and so struck one big score before the government troops arrived. That way, even if they failed, they could take their gold and silver, hide their names, and live as wealthy men.”
Xie Xuanying, a newcomer, still thought seizing Xintai was rash – could Commander Jiang not see it too? He must have seen it, only that like Li Bowu, he believed it was only natural for bandits to be rash.
What vision could they have?
What understanding of the bigger picture could they have?
And yet – was that really so?
“Perhaps I am overthinking.” Xie Xuanying’s brows furrowed slightly. “Something about this is not right.”
Xintai County.
In the main hall of the county magistrate’s office, the table was covered with fine dishes and wine.
The Right Protector sat boldly in the seat of honor and laughed heartily. “Scholar Tang, if this plan succeeds, you will be a great meritorious official of our Heavenly Kingdom, and the Hierarch will surely reward you richly.”
In the lower seat sat a scholar dressed in a Daoist robe, about twenty or thirty years old, with rather rough features. His blue cotton robe had been washed so many times it had turned white, with several patches visible in inconspicuous places, and the scarf on his head had also faded. He radiated shabbiness from head to toe.
His face was stiff as he tried hard to squeeze out a smile, yet could not conceal the worry in his heart; his expression looked rigid and forced.
“What?” the Left Protector asked. “You lack confidence?”
Scholar Tang gave two dry laughs. “A petty trick – I only fear the other side will not fall for it.”
“You overestimate those court-appointed officials.” The Right Protector sneered. “I have heard that the capital has sent a greenhorn to lead the troops – said to be the Marquis’s son, but in truth he has never fought a battle at all. Maybe when he sees a dead man he will first wail and cry, then run home to his mother, hahahaha.”
The Left Protector smiled. He was somewhat calculating and analyzed. “Leading troops for the first time, he will either greedily seek merit and advance rashly, hoping to use our heads to rise in rank and make a fortune, or he will fear this and fear that, hesitant and afraid to act. No matter which kind of man he is, he will always fall into our trap.”
Scholar Tang was drenched in cold sweat. “Heh heh, heh heh.”
“As long as we can delay him for two days, our chances of victory grow greater.” The Right Protector smacked his lips, a fierce look appearing on his face.
At this moment, a subordinate ran in swiftly.
“Protector, the government troops are here!”
“How did they come?”
“By boat – many people on the boats.”
“Good, let them come.” The Left Protector stroked his beard. “As we discussed before, prepare to withdraw.”
“Yes.”
