Chapter 292: Pidao — He Battalion Commander Is Back!

The soldiers in the tent heard the order and moved to drive the man out.

Ji Bai said, "I have come with courtesy before force, Regional Commander Mao. You had best weigh your options carefully."

Mao Wenlong had already drained his noodle soup, slammed the big bowl down on the table with a crack, and wiped his mouth carelessly: "Are you threatening me?"

"Indeed." Ji Bai was perfectly composed. "The Helmsman and the Commander were concerned that Pidao is also home to Great Ming common folk, and that you, Regional Commander Mao, are stationed deep in enemy territory, guarding the border for the state — that is the only reason they have not struck immediately. Otherwise, once the gunboats arrived, Pidao would be reduced to ashes in an instant."

Mao Wenlong's gaze sharpened: "Speaking to me like this — are you not afraid of death?"

Ji Bai grinned: "Since when has the Nan'ao Foreign Affairs Bureau harbored cowards who fear death?"

Mao Wenlong was choked speechless. He still remembered vividly how powerful Lin Qian's navy had been at the great victory at Fuzhou.

Though he had not fought in person, he could glean something from the battle reports and the accounts of those who had been there.

Especially the battle at Changsheng Island, which dealt a heavy blow to the Jianzhou barbarians, nearly wiping out the Plain Blue Banner entirely.

And going back further, there was the great victory at Zhenjiang — Lin Qian destroyed an entire city with a single ship and killed Amin, one of the Four Great Beiles, with a single cannon shot!

Even the very beginnings of Pidao were established by Lin Qian.

In recent years Lin Qian had raised his forces in the southeast. Though he was a rebel by the greater righteousness, his naval strength had only grown.

He had heard that a few months ago, Lin Qian had captured Zhoushan and annihilated the entire Zhejiang navy.

Faced with such astonishing strength, even Mao Wenlong, commanding more than two hundred warships, had no confidence of prevailing.

But as a Ming general, he was already deeply suspected by the court; Pidao was remote and overseas, the court did not want to govern it, and the Joseon court provided no support.

If he now threw in his lot with Lin Qian, how was that any different from committing treason on the spot?

Thus, no matter how Ji Bai urged him, Mao Wenlong would not agree.

And Ji Bai's attitude gradually hardened: "To speak frankly with you, Regional Commander, our forces have already taken Jiao Island and Shinmi Island. From now on, all matters in the Bohai and Yellow Seas will be decided by our forces.

If you obey our orders, Pidao may yet be preserved. Otherwise, the destruction of Pidao is merely a matter of a few rounds of bombardment."

"Oh?" Mao Wenlong laughed in fury. "Pidao has been an established garrison for ten years now. I have heard countless threats from Jianzhou barbarians and Joseon envoys, and not one has ever come true. Do you take my tens of thousands of naval troops on Pidao for decoration?"

"Tens of thousands?" Ji Bai sneered. "Pidao was built single-handedly by the Helmsman. During the Fuzhou campaign, the Helmsman personally came ashore to survey the island. Do you think I don't know how many soldiers you truly have?

At that time, the entire island's naval forces numbered no more than five thousand, with no more than three hundred warships — fewer than ten Fujian junks with three masts or more, and cannons were scarce indeed.

In our Nan'ao, a ship without cannons doesn't even count as a warship."

"You have some nerve! Do you truly think I wouldn't dare kill you?" Mao Wenlong slammed the table hard, rattling the noodle bowl to one side — not a single drop of soup spilled, for he had drunk it all dry.

Ji Bai stiffened his neck, about to retort, when a soldier suddenly reported from outside the tent: "Regional Commander, the beacon at Tan Island has signaled — a large fleet is approaching us."

"What?" Mao Wenlong stared at Ji Bai, his heart filled with shock and uncertainty.

The Nan'ao navy had recently thrown Joseon into utter chaos, but because the major annihilation battles had all been fought on the southern side of the peninsula, far from Pidao, and because Joseon was under Jianzhou control and had cut off communications with Pidao, Mao Wenlong knew nothing of it.

Ji Bai said calmly: "Before I came ashore, some in our forces suggested simply opening fire and blasting Pidao flat. But the Commander said the people of Pidao are righteous warriors against the Jin, and we must not rashly resort to arms — that is why I was sent to visit.

Whether you will join Nan'ao in the great plan against the Jin, or stubbornly resist and be blasted to powder — Regional Commander Mao, you had best think clearly."

Mao Wenlong shot Ji Bai a glare, said nothing more, and strode out of the tent. He climbed halfway up the mountain and gazed toward the southeast.

There, between the vast sea and sky, a column of black smoke shot straight into the clouds — the beacon fire from Tan Island.

And on the sea west of the beacon station, a fleet was sailing toward them — only six gunboats, seemingly very few in number.

But compared against the beacon on Tan Island, one could see those six ships were astonishingly large — even a Number One Grand Fujian junk would look pitifully small beside them.

Before the Fuzhou campaign, Lin Qian had once sailed the Tianyuan to the island.

On that occasion Mao Wenlong had seen the Tianyuan's scale with his own eyes; its majestic hull had left an extremely deep impression on him.

Of the six ships coming now, the Tianyuan was not among them — instead there were three new vessels of similar size to the Tianyuan, and the other three were also towering great warships.

Did the Nan'ao navy build ships, or breed them? Even breeding warhorses wasn't this fast!

"Regional Commander, what do we do?" The question came from Mao Yongshi — originally named Kong Youde, an iron mine worker from Tieling. In the first year of Tianqi, after Liaoshen fell, he and his fellow townsman Geng Zhongming were brought to Pidao. Skilled in horsemanship and archery, he was adopted as a foster grandson by Mao Wenlong, renamed Mao Yongshi, and now served as Assistant Regional Commander of the Dongjiang garrison.

Mao Wenlong pondered for a long while, then gritted his teeth: "Tell the brothers to prepare for battle!"

"Regional Commander—" Kong Youde was greatly alarmed. As a man of Liaodong, he naturally knew the might of the Nan'ao navy. Pitting the Dongjiang garrison's meager strength against them head-on was nearly like throwing an egg at a stone. He was about to urge caution.

Mao Wenlong knew full well he was no match either. But first, as a Great Ming Regional Commander, even when facing a powerful enemy, he had only the duty to die for his country, not the shame of clinging to life.

Second, Mao Wenlong had built the Dongjiang garrison on three-way maritime smuggling trade with Joseon, the Jianzhou barbarians, and the Great Ming. Accepting the rebels' terms would be no different from abolishing the garrison entirely.

Third, though the Dongjiang garrison's warships were inferior to the enemy's, the entire island was mobilized for war — men, women, old and young together numbered in the tens of thousands. However strong the enemy's cannons, they could not possibly blast tens of thousands of people to death.

As long as he held Pidao and waited for the Denglai navy to come to their aid, there might yet be a thread of hope.

Therefore, Mao Wenlong said in a stern voice: "This is my military order!"

"Yes." Kong Youde clasped his fists, rushed down the hillside, and shouted the order: "All troops, prepare for battle!"

The Dongjiang garrison operated on a system of unified military and civilian mobilization. At Mao Wenlong's command, the common folk emerged from their hovels, clutching all manner of crudely made weapons, and took up positions at the island's strategic points.

Aboard the Zhulong, the officers lowered their telescopes.

Meng Tingchuan said indignantly: "I said sending the Foreign Affairs Bureau to negotiate would ruin things. Now not only will the enemy not surrender, they're united in opposing us."

Bai Qing said: "The Helmsman once said that Mao Wenlong is loyal to the Great Ming, yet also has the temperament of a warlord. Whether for public or private reasons, he would not surrender easily. We can't blame the Foreign Affairs Bureau entirely."

Meng Tingchuan remained unconvinced, clearly still nursing a grudge over Ji Bai nearly getting him killed during the mission to Joseon.

The helmsman said: "Commander, give the order to open fire."

But Bai Qing shook his head and said: "The people of Pidao are all Great Ming common folk — many of them were rescued by us from Zhenjiang back then. They have lived behind enemy lines for so many years, enduring immense hardship. How can we simply kill them?"

The helmsman said: "We've already offered courtesy before force. Mao Wenlong is stubborn as a rock, refusing to surrender no matter what. What else can we do? Opening fire now would already be the height of benevolence."

Bai Qing frowned in deep thought for a long while, then asked his personal guard: "On this expedition, did we bring the cloth-armored vests?"

The guard clasped his fists: "The Helmsman specifically instructed it — they've all been brought."

Bai Qing said: "Fetch them. Pick ten good men and have them put on the cloth armor. Also dig out the old waist tokens from back then, and take that great banner with the He character from my captain's cabin — hoist it on the eagle ship!"

"Yes!" The guard received the order and carried it out.

The helmsman was shocked: "Commander, you— what are you planning to do?"

Bai Qing said calmly: "The Dongjiang garrison was originally built by the Helmsman. It has since changed its nature. Today, I intend to take back what was lost!"

"No!" the helmsman said resolutely. "You are the fleet commander—you cannot do such a thing. Let me go!"

Bai Qing smiled and said, "I am Zhao Qian, a Company Commander under Battalion Commander He of the Ming navy. Do the common folk recognize who you are?"

Back when Lin Qian led his men in "surrendering" to Ma Chenglie, he had obtained household registrations and identity waist tokens for every single one of them.

The name on Bai Qing's waist token was "Zhao Qian," Company Commander of the navy. When she first came to Liaodong that year, it was under the name Zhao Qian that she had dealt with the common folk.

As they spoke, a personal guard had already brought the cloth-faced armor up to the aft deck, and Bai Qing, with the guard's help, began donning the armor.

The helmsman was still trying to dissuade her, but Bai Qing merely gave her orders: "Send word to the Lingcang—have Bailangzai take over as fleet commander, and the helmsman shall temporarily assume command of the Lingcang!"

"But—" The helmsman hesitated greatly.

Bai Qing had already finished putting on her cloth-faced armor. She took the helmet and set it upon her head; beneath the spear-point atop the helm, her eyes shone with fierce valor.

Seeing that Bai Qing's mind was made up, the helmsman saluted solemnly with cupped hands: "Your subordinate obeys!"

A messenger was then dispatched by boat to relay the order.

Moments later, Bai Qing and her personal guard climbed down the ship's side ladder and boarded the hawk boat.

Once aboard, Bai Qing looked up and saw that at the top of the hawk boat's mainmast, a wooden pole had been lashed on, and upon that pole, a great banner bearing the character "He" fluttered wildly in the wind.

Gazing at that great banner, Bai Qing called out in a loud voice: "Set sail!"

Halfway up Pidao's hillside, Kong Youde shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed at the distant sea. Seeing only a single small boat approaching, he muttered, "What's the meaning of this? Negotiating again?"

Mao Wenlong was also full of confusion. He narrowed his eyes and looked out to sea. Today the weather was fair and the sea sparkled with light, dazzling him so that he could not see clearly for a moment. When he finally adjusted to the glare and made out the banner on the boat, his face changed drastically, and he hastily said, "Send out troops! Sink that ship!"

Kong Youde found it utterly baffling. That small boat was clearly not coming to fight—what sense did it make to sink it without even hearing what the enemy had to say?

But when he too made out the banner on the boat, his eyes flew wide open and cold sweat broke out all over him. He hurriedly said, "Your subordinate will personally lead the men out!"

Kong Youde picked out a dozen or so personal guards and boarded a Cangshan boat. By the time the mooring lines were cast off, the sails raised, and the boat underway, the hawk boat was already less than a li from shore.

Many common folk on the shore had made out the banner on the boat and began whispering among themselves.

Sweat streamed down Mao Wenlong's forehead.

Aboard the Cangshan boat, Kong Youde bellowed orders to his soldiers to work the vessel: "Close in quickly!"

The soldiers drew their waist sabers, murderous intent radiating from them, and soon the two boats were within two hundred paces of each other.

The soldiers stared for a moment, then suddenly someone cried out in surprise: "He? That looks like the He banner! It's Battalion Commander He's ship!"

The other soldiers had been focused on the enemy deck's numbers and equipment; at these words they swept their eyes over the banner on the pole and broke into delighted expressions, shouting loudly: "It truly is the great He banner!"

"Has Battalion Commander He come?"

"Battalion Commander He has remembered us!"

Every soldier on Pidao was a Liaodong commoner—people Lin Qian had ferried to the island, boatload after boatload, from Liaodong. The islanders kept the debt of their lives firmly in their hearts.

Even though Mao Wenlong had later rescued many common folk from Joseon and Liaodong and settled them on Pidao, Battalion Commander He also had the great victory at Fuzhou to his name, and his renown was even greater.

The only ones on the island who were completely Mao Wenlong's own trusted men were the two hundred he had originally brought to launch the surprise attack on Zhenjiang.

Even Kong Youde's personal guards, upon seeing the great He banner, were deeply stirred, waving and cheering repeatedly, heedless of military discipline.

This enraged Kong Youde, who drew his saber and shouted: "That is the enemy using a false name! Brothers, do not be deceived! Anyone who fears battle and shirks combat will face military justice!"

At these words, the soldiers on the boat fell silent as cicadas in winter.

As the two boats converged, the hawk boat made a sharp turn to port, its hull gliding elegantly to one side, deftly avoiding the Haicang boat.

Kong Youde stood frozen on the deck.

And in the instant the two boats crossed paths, his personal guards got a clear look at the enemy's vessel type and the clothing of the soldiers on deck.

Someone shouted excitedly: "A hawk boat—this is a hawk boat! Only Battalion Commander He has these ships!"

Another said: "They're all wearing cloth-faced armor—they must be Battalion Commander He's personal guards!"

Watching the hawk boat race toward the shore, Kong Youde could only let out a helpless sigh.

As the hawk boat drew nearer, more and more common folk saw the great He banner. The crowd, full of anticipation, leaned out from streets and alleyways, gazing toward the shore.

Some of the bolder ones even ran straight to the dock to welcome the boat, only to be driven off by Mao Wenlong's adopted sons and grandsons.

Soon the hawk boat reached the pier, and Bai Qing stepped down from it with her personal guards, her cloth-faced armor clinking with every step.

The common folk around them—and even Mao Wenlong's adopted sons and grandsons—all watched them, not daring to make a move.

Bai Qing removed her helmet and walked slowly toward the crowd. Her movements seemed casual and carefree, but inwardly she was nervous as could be.

She did not have the helmsman's gift of never forgetting a face, and was desperately scanning the crowd for someone she recognized to call out by name and break the deadlock.

But after looking for a long while, she could not spot a single familiar face.

Her expression remained unchanged, but inwardly she was beginning to panic.

Suddenly someone in the crowd called out in surprise: "Company Commander Zhao?"

Like a stone cast into a lake, sending ripples spreading outward, the crowd suddenly erupted. Faces lit up with joy as they shouted "Company Commander Zhao!" and then set down their weapons and pushed forward.

Even the soldiers and common folk farther away, hearing the shouts, put down their weapons and crowded toward the dock.

On the hillside, Mao Wenlong watched a single banner bearing the character He bring down the Dongjiang garrison he had labored so hard to build, and could only raise his face to heaven with a helpless sigh.

Truly, one wrong step led to a thousand more.

From the great victory at Zhenjiang and the founding of the Dongjiang garrison onward, Lin Qian had been one step ahead of him in everything, one measure stronger.

If not for Lin Qian, he would have been the hero of the Zhenjiang victory; he would have been the one to save the tens of thousands of Liaodong refugees; he would have been the one the people of Dongjiang adored.

He felt he had always lived in Lin Qian's shadow.

Later, when he learned that Lin Qian had raised troops in rebellion, he thought for a time that he had finally stepped out of Lin Qian's shadow—but only today did he realize it had all been an illusion.

Before the dock, more and more common folk were recognizing Bai Qing.

It was not that Bai Qing's face was particularly distinctive—rather, the fact that she, a woman, insisted on claiming to be a Company Commander of the Ming army had left too deep an impression on the Liaodong people.

Three-legged toads are easy enough to find, but a female Company Commander—there was probably only one in the whole world.

In the first year of Tianqi, when Liaoyang and Shenyang had just fallen, Bai Qing had been sent to Liaodong specifically to gather refugees and settle them on islands such as Guanglu Island and Changshan Island.

After the fall of Zhenjiang, Bai Qing had frequently shuttled back and forth between the Yalu River and Pidao—managing the transport of the people, and also managing the settlement on Pidao.

When it came to time spent in contact with the Liaodong refugees, Bai Qing had far more than Lin Qian.

Even if Lin Qian himself came, fewer people would recognize Lin Qian than would recognize Bai Qing.

Seeing more and more commoners gathering around, Bai Qing finally recognized a few familiar faces and greeted them warmly.

"Little Dog? Is that you, Little Dog? Your hair's grown out—I almost didn't recognize you!"

Bai Qing enthusiastically greeted a man, then looked him over from head to toe.

"You were only ten back then, and now you've grown into a man in the blink of an eye! By the way, what about your little yellow dog?"

The one called Little Dog was a man of twenty. He had been only ten when he first came to the island, and when Bai Qing rescued him from the Jurchen farm, he had been clutching a little yellow dog tightly, refusing to let go no matter what.

Bai Qing had no choice but to let him board the ship along with the dog, and later his nickname became Little Dog.

Because the Jurchen had shaved his head back then, now that his hair had grown back and nearly ten years had passed, Little Dog's appearance had changed greatly.

Back then, the boy would rather die together with his little yellow dog than board the ship alone—that stubbornness had left a deep impression on Bai Qing, which was why he could barely recognize him.

Hearing this, Little Dog grew extremely agitated and burst into tears on the spot: "Benefactor, you still remember me! Ah——Little Yellow——it——it's dead——"

Too overcome with emotion, Little Dog wailed loudly, unable to finish his words.

The neighbors around him who knew him darkened their expressions and explained: "Joseon cut off Pidao's grain supply, and the court's grain couldn't be shipped through either. Even the warhorses on the island were slaughtered for food——let alone a dog——ah——"

Someone said: "It's good that it died. Once dead, it won't go hungry anymore. Maybe in its next life it'll be reborn in some land of fish and rice."

Another person wiped away tears and said excitedly: "Thank goodness Commander He still remembers us. Company Commander Zhao, when will you take us away from this place?"

"What are you saying? Commander He let us live, and that's still not enough? How can you ask your benefactor for this and that? Company Commander Zhao just arrived on the island, and instead of hosting him, you're begging him to take you away—that's heartless talk!"

The one being scolded retorted: "Host him? With what? Have the wild vegetables on the mountain grown back, or has the tree bark grown out?

Are we supposed to host him with clay-eating earth?"

While they spoke, Bai Qing was also surveying the surrounding commoners. He saw that most had sallow, malnourished faces, were terribly thin, and wore tattered clothes. He couldn't help but find it very strange.

In the first year of Tianqi, when Bai Qing had been in charge of Pidao, it hadn't been like this—the people had never had trouble getting enough to eat.

Before the Battle of Fuzhou, when Lin Qian came ashore, he had seen that the people's lives were still passable.

How could it have become such a miserable sight just a few years later?

Bai Qing asked the commoners about this, and they all began complaining at once—some cursed the Great Ming court for abandoning them, some cursed the Joseon people for betraying their trust and cutting off the grain shipments, and some secretly cursed Mao Wenlong's men for hoarding goods to profiteer and forcing the commoners to sneak into Liaodong to dig ginseng.

After listening for a long while, hearing all kinds of complaints, Bai Qing couldn't sort things out. Just then, one of Mao Wenlong's adopted grandsons pushed through the crowd, walked up to Bai Qing, and saluted with cupped hands: "General, Commander Mao requests your presence."

Bai Qing turned and gazed out at the sea. He saw that the fleet had already stopped in the offshore waters, with the entire Pidao camp area covered by the broadside cannons. Xiong Beizi was also leading a company of marines ashore on the island.

But Pidao was, after all, Mao Wenlong's territory. He wouldn't dare lay a hand on Bai Qing in front of the islanders, but what would happen inside the tent was anyone's guess.

So Bai Qing refused the adopted grandson and told Mao Wenlong to come to the Candle Dragon that evening to talk.

Speaking of which, Mao Wenlong commanded tens of thousands of troops in the Dongjiang garrison, but in truth they were all half-soldier, half-civilian. Moreover, supplies were scarce and survival was a constant concern.

Against the Jianzhou barbarians, the soldiers and civilians could sustain their fighting through hatred, but facing their lifesaver, what fighting spirit remained?

Without the support of the common people, Mao Wenlong had only the two hundred household retainers he had originally brought, plus a few adopted sons and grandsons he had taken in.

Aside from that, he had no other regular troops.

The situation was perfectly clear. If Mao Wenlong fled, abandoning his post would be a capital crime in the Great Ming as well: either he would be destroyed along with everything else—Bai Qing wouldn't give him that chance—or, aside from suicide, the only path left was surrender.

Seeing that Bai Qing was unwilling to go, that adopted grandson could only return to relay the message.

In the evening, Mao Wenlong boarded the ship and looked around the Candle Dragon with obvious envy in his eyes, though he said nothing.

Walking all the way to the stern meeting room, Bai Qing and the others were already seated behind the long table waiting for him.

Mao Wenlong sat down and, after a moment of silence, said: "If I surrender, how will you treat the people of the Dongjiang garrison? Shipping grain from Nan'ao, over such a great distance—even by sea, I'm afraid——"

Bailangzai cut him off: "Pidao can't support this many people. We don't need this many infantry and civilians to pin down the Jianzhou barbarians.

The helmsman said that those among the Dongjiang garrison who wish to leave can be relocated to Dongning Island.

Those who insist on staying can be dispersed to Shenmi Island, Jiao Island, Geoje Island, Jeju Island, and other places."

Mao Wenlong gave a cold snort: "Armchair talk! Geoje Island sits right next to the Joseon Three Provinces naval headquarters. When I occupied Pidao, Joseon never stopped complaining. If you occupy Geoje Island, how could Joseon possibly tolerate it?"

"They're gone now." Bailangzai said coldly, sparing his words.

"What do you mean?" Mao Wenlong didn't understand.

"There's no Joseon navy there anymore. We cleaned them out." Bailangzai said flatly. "The Jeolla Province navy too—also cleaned out."

Mao Wenlong leaned forward: "What do you mean, cleaned out? Did you drive them back?"

"All their ships were burned, the naval camps burned to the ground, the cannon platforms demolished." Bailangzai said calmly. "We just didn't leave a garrison behind. Joseon might try to retake Geoje Island. If needed, we'll just clean them out again.

But the helmsman estimates that not many of Pidao's people will want to stay, so Geoje Island probably won't be needed."

"All burned? That was nearly three hundred warships! With just your six ships?"

Mao Wenlong's voice trembled slightly. His gaze swept over the Bai siblings, Wang Ruzhong, and the other ship captains.

Not a single person showed any change in expression—not the fear or shame of liars, and not even a trace of pride or arrogance.

"Six ships? Against three hundred?" Mao Wenlong repeated.

Everyone still showed no change in expression, as if quietly waiting for Mao Wenlong to continue, as if they didn't understand what he was marveling at!

Bai Qing parroted what he had learned: "In the Battle of Myeongnyang, the famous Joseon general Yi Sun-sin also faced three hundred Japanese warships with just thirteen panokseon. This is nothing special."

Mao Wenlong's brows knitted tightly, and he blurted out: "What nonsense are you spouting? It's true the Battle of Myeongnyang was won, but fewer than thirty Japanese ships were sunk—the main force was still intact! You burned all the enemy ships? Even ten Yi Sun-sins couldn't do that!"

Seeing Mao Wenlong so shaken, the others paid no mind to his disrespectful words.

Bai Qing said honestly: "Saying all were burned isn't entirely accurate——in fact, nearly half the ships were captured and are now anchored at Jeju Island. What was burned were the small boats that wouldn't come out of the naval base."

When Mao Wenlong heard the words "isn't entirely accurate," he secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but when he heard that nearly half had been captured, his eyes went wide again.

He was stunned for a long time. The Bai siblings exchanged glances, not understanding what this meant.

After a long while, Mao Wenlong looked Bai Qing in the eyes and confirmed once more: "Is this true?"

"Absolutely true! If you don't believe me, you can go to Jeju Island and see for yourself."

Mao Wenlong looked up at the cabin ceiling, let out a long breath, then broke into a smile. Gradually he began to laugh aloud, and the laughter grew louder and louder.

"Hahaha——good! Killed well!"

Yahei

Pearl

Pen