Chapter 690: Traces

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spn“Where will the Tatars be? This general believes they must be hiding in the Xiashuihai area!”

“Just look at the sand table — east, south, and northwest of Xiashuihai, there are mountains everywhere, with plenty of grassland and water sources inside, and it’s not far from Guihua City. If they want to flee, this area would definitely be their first choice.”

Gao Shiyin bellowed as he spoke, waving his fists to reinforce the force of his argument.

Wen Fangliang looked at the sand table; he did not reject Gao Shiyin’s opinion.

He merely said: “Brother Gao has a point, but the Xuanwu Army has already set up a stockade by Xiashuihai, and the garrison has not spotted any Tatar riders nearby. This stockade is very critical — if they were close by, how could they resist harassing it? Besides, the Sharp Sentinel Battalion has also scouted the surroundings and entered the mountains, and so far no Tatar riders have been seen.”

Gao Shiyin disagreed: “Just because the Sharp Sentinel Battalion hasn’t encountered them doesn’t mean the Tatars aren’t over there. That area is huge — how much ground can the Sharp Sentinel Battalion even cover?”

Xie Yike was displeased and shouted: “Old Gao, are you doubting the ability of my Night Scout brothers?”

Gao Shiyin froze, then hastily waved his hands: “No, no, no, absolutely not — I have no intention of doubting Brother Xie’s ability. I’m just saying that area is too large, and the Sharp Sentinel Battalion doesn’t have that many troops, so it’s understandable they haven’t finished searching yet.”

He squeezed a smile onto his face and grinned at Xie Yike, but with his face full of brutish flesh, trying to put on a gentle expression looked, no matter how you saw it, rather bizarre.

Seeing his expression, everyone burst out laughing. Xie Yike was not a petty person either, so he let it go and didn’t hold it against Gao Shiyin.

At this moment, inside the main hall, the senior generals accompanying Wang Dou — Wen Fangliang, Gao Shiyin, Li Guangheng, Zhao Xuan, Zhong Diaoyang, Xie Yike, Wen Daxing, Shen Shiqi, and also advisor Qin Yi and others — were debating where the Mongolians of Guihua City had fled to.

The current situation: the originally planned five stockades were all established. The Western Expedition Army had also captured the empty city of Guihua. Now the Datong New Army was stationed inside Guihua City; Han Chao’s cavalry, Zeng Jiuyi’s newly attached Mongol cavalry battalion, and Wang Pu’s main-force battalion were searching everywhere for enemy traces. The Sharp Sentinel Battalion of the Jingbian Army and others were also scouting everywhere.

For the Jingbian Army, the tragedies of past generations campaigning on the steppe naturally could not be repeated on them. However, if the war beyond the frontier dragged on for too long, the gains would not outweigh the losses. Given the combat strength of Wang Dou’s forces, they did not fear a decisive battle with the Tatar slaves, so as long as they found the enemy’s lair, victory was theirs.

But those Mongolians had vanished like bubbles, disappearing somewhere unknown on the steppe.

As the generals debated, Wang Dou sat in his seat, merely listening calmly. His broad, thick hands rested on the armrests, occasionally tapping a few times. Behind the wall of his seat hung a huge banner of the sun, moon, and surging waves.

On a small chair beside his seat, his son Wang Zheng sat obediently at his father’s side, listening with great interest to the generals’ discussion below.

On this expedition beyond the frontier, these military academy cadets had also accompanied the army to observe. Their participation had won the approval of all the officers — the military academy could not just teach theory; practice was also needed.

Of course, Wang Dou had not brought them along for sightseeing. After returning, they would have to write down their insights and experiences, which would be assessed and factored into their grades. To cultivate his son’s experience, he also often let him sit in on military councils, and the generals were likewise happy to see the young general grow up quickly.

A gust of autumn wind seeped through the cracks of the building. The weather was gradually turning cold, but inside the hall it was still heated, the sounds of debate unceasing.

“This general believes that the main Tatar slave force is definitely not within the range of the five stockades. Otherwise, with the sharpness of our scout riders, how could we not discover any trace at all? They moved their main force — hundreds of thousands of cattle and horses, numerous tents and baggage — if they were within the five-stockade range, avoiding our army’s eyes and ears would be far too difficult.”

Wen Fangliang insisted on this point. What he said made it hard even for Gao Shiyin to refute. Indeed, if the Tatars were near the five stockades, for example in the Xiashuihai area, after scouting for so long, how could no trace at all be found?

“Then where are the Tatars?”

Gao Shiyin frowned in frustration and cursed bitterly: “Rat-coward Tatar soldiers, all they do is run. If they’ve got the guts, let them fight a real battle with real blades.”

Emotional cursing was useless; in the end, they still had to analyze the enemy situation. Zhao Xuan suddenly said: “Could they have fled westward, to the Hetao region?”

The generals paused, then shook their heads. Guihua to Hetao was not close. The Tatar main force had moved with women and children, with cattle and sheep — how fast could they possibly move? Go take a look: how far can those cattle and sheep travel in a day?

If they had truly fled that way, traces would have been discovered long ago.

Li Guangheng, who normally did not voice his opinions, now spoke: “This general feels that the Tatar slaves might be hiding right in the Great Qing Mountains. North of Guihua City is the Great Qing range, stretching over a thousand li east to west — it’s easy to hide a large force there, and it would also explain why they move so quickly.”

“Moreover, north of the Great Qing Mountains is the plateau, not far from the great desert. If the situation turns unfavorable, they can flee to Mobei. Captain Zhong’s side has also sent word that the slave chieftain Jirgalang has led elite riders into the desert, possibly to receive them.”

Zhao Xuan asked doubtfully: “Flee to Mobei? If they wanted to flee, they would have fled long ago. After the proclamation was issued, judging by their behavior, they were determined to stay in Monan. If they run now, how could they be willing?”

He continued: “Besides, the Mobei region is even more bitterly cold, with few places of rich water and grass, and those are all occupied by various khans. If they go there, they’ll either submit to a large tribe and be swallowed up, or they’ll have to fight and struggle for territory. How could that be as comfortable as Monan?”

Li Guangheng said: “Times have changed. They can’t defeat our Jingbian Army, so they can only run. Let’s wait and see — if in the coming days they don’t harass the five stockades or threaten our supply routes, then they’ve fled.”

Everyone in the hall fell into thoughtful silence. Li Guangheng’s argument made a great deal of sense. Although the Sharp Sentinel Battalion and the Western Expedition Army had also scouted the Great Qing Mountains, this area was even vaster than the Xiashuihai surroundings — easy to hide in, and quite difficult to scout thoroughly.

If the Tatar slaves were hiding in the Great Qing Mountains, they could still threaten the garrison of Guihua City and the nearby stockades. If they moved east from the plateau, they could also threaten “Yuanyang Stockade” and “Dongyang Stockade.” And if the situation turned unfavorable, fleeing to Mobei would be just as easy.

The men in the hall began whispering among themselves. There were always traces to be found, and considering Jirgalang’s entry into the desert, it seemed the Tatars had finally shown their hand.

Gao Shiyin slapped his thigh forcefully and shouted: “Brilliant! So that’s the Tatars’ intention. Old Li, you really have strategic insight.”

Wang Dou shook his head slightly. Gao Shiyin’s mouth always offended people without him realizing it — his words made it sound as if no one else had any strategic insight.

He looked toward Wen Daxing: “Brother Wen, does the Intelligence Division have any news?”

Wen Daxing inclined his body and said respectfully: “Grand General, the Tatars are vicious. The Intelligence Division originally had some agents inside the city, but when the Tatars withdrew, to cover their tracks, they massacred all the Han people inside and outside the city. Some of our brothers likely fell victim. However, some agents are fluent in Mongolian and hold Mongol identities — if they survived, news will come soon.”

Wang Dou’s fingers tapped lightly; his eyes narrowed habitually.

He pondered for a long while, then finally said: “The Staff Division is to issue a military order: Han Chao’s forces on the western front are to concentrate some strength and search the Great Qing Mountains north of Guihua City. Our army’s Sharp Sentinel Battalion is likewise to concentrate all Night Scout warriors and search every part of the Great Qing Mountains with full effort. The remaining troops are to stand by. Once the Tatar slaves’ lair is found…”

A cold light flashed in his eyes: “With the force of thunder and lightning, we shall annihilate them before breakfast!”

The generals rose with a roar, clasped their fists, and shouted: “We accept the order!”

…

Wang Zheng looked at his father with admiration. He considered himself quite commanding — Zhong Yiyuan, Han Hou, Han Si, Wen Wentao, Gao Dexiang, they all listened to him. But the way his father was — that was true authority, commanding ten thousand troops, keeping a bunch of unruly, fierce generals completely obedient, and deciding a grand strategy with just a few words.

Children always worship their fathers. But although Wang Dou did not deliberately flaunt it or express it sternly, Wang Zheng always felt a faint, solemn authority emanating from his father. Even as his son, he dared not get too close.

This left his little heart with some regret. Sometimes he even envied Xie Tiandi — when his uncle came home, he always grinned and joked with him, the two of them playing together like buddies. With his own father, that just wasn’t possible.

Fortunately, on this campaign with the army, he had more time to be close to his father, who even kept him at his side to teach him. He couldn’t help feeling secretly delighted.

After the generals withdrew, Wang Dou looked at his son and smiled: “My son, having listened to your uncles’ military council, what have you understood?”

Although Wang Zheng had matured somewhat, in front of his father he was still just a little kid. He wanted to show off a bit, to make his father look at him with new respect, but after stammering for a long while, he just scratched his head and said: “Your son is ashamed… it seems like I understood something, but I can’t put it into words…”

Meeting Wang Dou’s gaze, he finally lowered his head: “I don’t understand.”

Wang Dou smiled: “Not understanding is fine. Keep everything you’ve seen in your heart, and gradually you’ll understand in time.”

He added: “As for what you observe and learn, let your father give you a few words.”

A guard brought brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Wang Dou’s brush flew like dragons and phoenixes as he wrote several large characters: “Learn in order to apply!”

Wang Zheng accepted it delightedly — this was a gift from his father. He looked at the characters leaping vividly from the paper, carrying a momentum as if swallowing mountains and rivers. Though he didn’t know how to appreciate calligraphy, he still felt it was written beautifully and said with admiration: “Father’s handwriting is truly excellent. Who taught you?”

Wang Dou said: “My former teacher.”

“Teacher?”

Wang Zheng said: “Do you mean Great-Grandfather?”

He had heard his grandmother say that his grandfather Wang Wei had fallen ill and died when Father was little, and that Father’s martial skills had all been taught by Great-Grandfather. He hadn’t expected him to be accomplished in both civil and martial arts.

At his son’s words, Wang Dou smiled faintly and did not answer.

He looked at his son, watching him joyfully take the calligraphy sheet, flipping it over and over. Compared to the mischievousness of his childhood, he now showed some steadiness. It seemed the military academy’s education was effective. Yet after all, he was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, without the experience of arduous pioneering. He needed careful guidance, lest he become a profligate son.

Moreover, as a father, he always hoped his son would inherit his will and thoughts. Now was the right time — let him teach him well.

Looking at Wang Zheng, Wang Dou thought again of his other children, and of Xu Yue'e — she too had given birth, to a son.

Through letters back and forth, she said she had named their son Wang Yi. Wang Dou agreed, yet felt some guilt in his heart. When she gave birth, he had not been by her side. After the son was born, he had not even seen what he looked like. He owed them, mother and son. (To be continued…)

Xiaoshuo Wang