Chapter 530: Easy to Summon a God, Hard to Send One Away

When the morning sun of the second day rose as it always did, the Yongji Canal near Baiqiao Town still shimmered with red ripples, looking quite magnificent.

However, the officers and soldiers of the Yinqiang Xiaojie Army had no time to admire such a beautiful sight.

After a night of fierce combat, those who had survived the ordeal were stunned by the brutal scenes on the battlefield.

Many people were skewered together like meat on a stick, pierced by crossbow bolts fired from winch crossbows, wearing expressions of utter terror even in death, their eyes refusing to close.

From time to time one could see two people skewered on a single Duannao, pinned fast to the ground, unable to move.

It was hard to imagine what kind of agony these people had endured before dying.

And those corpses cleaved in two by modao, their deaths hideous to behold, kept appearing without warning before one's eyes.

Some were human, some were horses, mostly concentrated within the camp formed by the flatbed carts.

The flatbed carts as the last line of defense were even more formidable. Corpses were stacked higher than a person, like acrobats forming a human pyramid. Those with crossbow bolts in their necks, those with bellies pierced open, those missing their heads—missing an arm or a leg was commonplace.

They lay scattered in all manner of strange postures. Blood had thoroughly dyed the camp enclosed by the ring of flatbed carts red.

Not only that, there were actually quite a few wounded on the ground crying out in low groans, but without exception, they were all finished off with a single blade by the elite soldiers led by Che Guangqian in cleaning up the battlefield, without the slightest mercy.

This was the battlefield—kill or be killed, bloody and cruel.

The soldiers went to battle in this fearless manner, facing life or death, extraordinarily carefree.

Precisely because they took such great risks, they were also gradually gaining control of a status that military force alone could not shake.

"Hmm?"

Walking at the very front of the column, Che Guangqian suddenly caught sight, from the corner of his eye, of a very familiar-looking person carefully "worming" along the ground, slowly moving away with barely detectable movements.

He seemed to have only a minor injury like a broken leg or foot, or perhaps just a sprained ankle.

This person was hiding beneath a pile of corpses, apparently hoping to slip away unnoticed.

He hadn't expected to be spotted by Che Guangqian.

"Eh, isn't this Gele Khagan?"

Che Guangqian walked over to the man's side, squatted down, and carefully examined his face, suddenly realizing everything.

The position of the mole on this person's face was quite distinctive, unforgettable at a glance. Considering that there couldn't be many Uyghur khagans, nor could it be such a coincidence for one to appear on different people's faces, the answer was self-evident.

Che Guangqian hastily ordered his bodyguards to move aside that pile of corpses. Several of his men pitched in together, and before long they had dragged Gele Khagan out and brought him under control.

"General Che, is this fellow really the Uyghur khagan? He doesn't look the part, looking like a beggar."

One bodyguard leaned in and asked in a low voice.

"Last night the Uyghurs used every ounce of strength they had, determined to force their way through the crescent formation that the Jiedushi had set up.

If the Uyghur khagan hadn't been among them, the other commanders would certainly have preserved their strength, and upon hitting a wall they would immediately have pulled back.

So conversely, the Uyghur khagan must have been in the column—it was only a question of whether he had gotten away."

Che Guangqian gave a brief analysis, concise and to the point, the logic airtight.

If the Uyghur khagan hadn't personally overseen the battle, who would have fought so desperately to charge the formation! Actually, this sort of thing was obvious with a little reflection.

"The rest of you, continue cleaning up the battlefield. Finish off anyone who needs finishing—no Uyghurs left alive.

This general will take Gele Khagan to find the Jiedushi and secure merits for you all."

Che Guangqian laughed heartily and, slapping "Gele Khagan" on the face with his palm, teased: "Do you know why no one else came to attack us, and it just had to be your turn?"

"Why?"

Gele Khagan suddenly spoke up and asked.

Che Guangqian was taken aback—he had assumed this fellow didn't understand Chinese, but it turned out he could follow it after all.

"Because you're the stupidest ones, of course! They're all afraid of getting beaten, but not you."

Che Guangqian rolled his eyes, no longer bothered to waste words on this whatever khagan.

A man who had already died once, yet still didn't understand cause and effect. It seemed the leaders over in Uyghur territory were indeed not very bright.

No wonder they had been used as someone's tool.

Half a shichen later, Gele Khagan was brought aboard a grain transport. At this moment Fang Chongyong was reading through a ledger, which recorded how much provisions, how many arrows, how many spears, modao, and horizontal sabers and other items the fleet carried.

Though last night's battle hadn't lasted long, the consumption of various supplies was alarming, making Fang Chongyong's eyelids twitch wildly.

If he hadn't trusted Duan Xiushi's integrity, he would have suspected the fellow of embezzling military supplies.

If they kept fighting the way they had last night, they could sustain at most one more battle before running out of bed crossbow support. Two more battles, and they wouldn't even have arrows for the horn-bow crossbows.

It seemed this "Northern Expedition" had already entered its final act—he needed to find a way to get out.

"Eh? Who's this cripple?"

Glancing at Gele Khagan behind Che Guangqian, supported by bodyguards, Fang Chongyong asked without lifting his head.

"Reporting to the Jiedushi, he is Gele Khagan."

Che Guangqian said in a low voice.

"Which khagan was it again?"

Fang Chongyong, as an important person, forgot many things; the leaders of even the tiniest tribes in the north would from time to time style themselves "khagan," and Li Erfeng had also been called the "Heavenly Khagan."

Who the hell knew which nobody this cripple before him was.

"Jiedushi, the Uyghur tribal coalition—he's their leader, he calls the shots.

Back in Shuofang, you shot and killed his mount with a single arrow—that's the one."

Che Guangqian continued to remind him.

Only then did Fang Chongyong suddenly realize, recalling that embarrassing incident from before.

That time on the pontoon bridge, he had wanted to create a scene of "those who pass shall die by arrow," pinning an arrow into the wooden planks of the bridge.

To his surprise, he had instead blown off the head of Gele Khagan's mount with a single arrow!

If not for that scene, the Uyghurs wouldn't have hated Fang Chongyong to the bone, especially the person involved, Gele Khagan. Until the day he got even, he would remain the laughingstock of all the Uyghurs.

"What price did Huangfu Weiming offer you?"

Fang Chongyong handed the ledger in his hand to Duan Xiushi, looked at Gele Khan's face, and asked.

"The five prefectures of Hexi and Shuofang."

Gele Khan spat out a few words as if hoarding gold.

Although this sentence was extremely short, the content it contained was very rich.

Simply put, it meant that Huangfu Weiming, in order to reward the Uyghurs, was giving them the defense zones of both the Hexi Jiedushi and the Shuofang Jiedushi.

One had to admit, Huangfu Weiming's scheme of "driving tigers to swallow wolves" was workable—quite sinister and vicious.

Gaining the Hexi Corridor, the Uyghurs would appear to have gotten a great bargain on the surface, but they would inevitably become mortal enemies of the Tibetans who coveted the Hehuang Valley.

The two sides would no longer have any room for reconciliation; they could only fight to the death until one side submitted.

So Huangfu Weiming's move seemed generous, but in reality harbored malicious intent.

Of course, using one force against another to buy time for restoring national strength—this open stratagem could not be called bad. It was just that Huangfu Weiming still overestimated the Uyghurs.

In the Uyghurs' past clashes with the Tibetans, without outside intervention, no matter how many times they fought, the Uyghurs were always the losing side.

Therefore, whether this move of Huangfu Weiming's succeeded or failed, in the end it would become a joke.

Fang Chongyong sneered: "Your appetite is certainly not small, but are you worthy? The Tibetan military strength is more than ten times ours. You were utterly routed and scattered in this battle, yet you still want to occupy Hexi and Shuofang—aren't you afraid the wind will twist your tongue!"

Fang Chongyong's barrage of mockery left Gele Khan's face alternating between red and white.

The reasoning was indeed sound reasoning—a defeated general has no right to speak of bravery.

But Gele Khan, having lost the contest of strength, did not want to lose the contest of spirit, and stubbornly argued:

"You mounted ballistae on your ships and used box carts to form a defensive array!

That was trickery—winning without honor! If we had fought in an open and upright battle, you might not have won!"

Gele Khan, looking thoroughly unconvinced, threw back a retort at Fang Chongyong.

Hearing this Uyghur khan's words, Fang Chongyong, Che Guangqian, Duan Xiushi, and the others looked at one another in bewilderment, completely unable to believe that a person could be so obstinate to such a degree.

"You say we used trickery, and I say you had horses!

Why don't you give up your horses and fight us?"

Fang Chongyong looked at Gele Khan with the gaze one uses when regarding the mentally impaired and asked.

"Horses are a gift from Eternal Blue Heaven. Why should we not use them?"

Gele Khan continued to argue sophistically.

Fang Chongyong understood—you could never wake someone who was pretending to sleep. This kind of verbal sparring was meaningless.

"Tie him up securely and throw him in the river—suspend him from the boat so he doesn't drown. Let this khan cool his head in the river water.

Once he's cooled down and thought things through, it won't be too late to pull him back up."

Fang Chongyong waved his hand impatiently, too lazy to engage in any more petty arguments with this Gele Khan.

"Jiedushi Fang, wait…"

Gele Khan tried to say more, but was dragged away by the guards—Fang Chongyong had no desire whatsoever to waste words with him.

After Gele Khan was taken away, Duan Xiushi finally reported to Fang Chongyong with a grave expression: "Jiedushi, our army's consumption of arrows and other supplies is extremely high, and they are not easy to replenish. We should leave Hebei as soon as possible."

Duan Xiushi spoke a plain truth.

No matter which direction they went, leaving quickly would not be wrong.

They could still afford the consumption of rations and fodder, but they could no longer afford the consumption of military equipment.

"Wait one day first; we depart tomorrow.

The Uyghurs' actions this time were very strange. Later, I will thoroughly interrogate this Gele Khan."

Fang Chongyong said to the generals.

He thought to himself: The Uyghurs' move this time was very hasty, making it a bit hard to read the situation. Aside from wanting revenge, these people must have other reasons.

Before long, He Changqi and Wang Nande, who had been pursuing all the way, also returned, and brought back a piece of news that astonished Fang Chongyong:

The Uyghur cavalry's point of departure was very likely near Ye City—this was information obtained from interrogating prisoners.

The credibility was high, because He Changqi and the others had pursued a great distance, yet in the end still did not catch many of the Uyghurs who had scattered and fled.

Moreover, the thirty thousand cavalry led by Gele Khan were only a diversionary force on one route. Gele Khan's leadership within the Uyghurs was now in grave jeopardy. Among the Uyghur tribal alliance, there were many who were unwilling to submit to him.

The Uyghur cavalry had now arrived at the border between Henan and Hebei.

What intentions these people had—whether to go to Luoyang, to Guanzhong, or to cross the river southward—was entirely unknown.

In short, the situation in the realm was growing increasingly chaotic, and increasingly incomprehensible.

Fang Chongyong let out a long sigh.

Those who are clear-headed suffer—the upheavals of the Great Tang had only just begun, and were far from hitting bottom.

Regional military governors carving out their own domains, the Two-Tax Law, the massive transformation of grassroots social structure, the decline of the aristocracy accompanied by the rise of ya soldiers—these heavy dishes were still being prepared in the pot, not yet served on the table.

But not being served did not mean these things did not exist or had not happened—a series of major transformations were brewing.

Fang Chongyong had no way to discuss these matters with others, and could only keep them bottled up inside. Over time, this left him somewhat helpless and pained.

His mind preoccupied with a jumble of thoughts, the day passed quickly. By evening, Gele Khan, who had been soaking in the canal all day, had finally sobered up; changed into a dry set of hemp clothes, he was brought by guards into the cabin.

By now Fang Chongyong had already ordered someone to prepare a lavish meal for him.

Tender young lamb chops, date-roll fritters with golden fried skins, freshly pressed grape juice, and sesame flatbread coated on the outside with black sesame seeds—layer upon layer of dough and minced meat, with a universe of flavor within.

The other dishes each had their own distinctive character, with no repetitions.

Fortunately, Baiqiao Town was a trading town, not lacking these ingredients; otherwise, this spread of dishes would have been truly hard to come by.

Gele Khan sat down opposite Fang Chongyong with an embarrassed look on his face—this time he was thoroughly subdued.

No matter how much stubbornness remained in his heart, after a day of soaking in the river, it would dissipate like smoke.

As the saying goes: when one can no longer endure—then endure anew!

"Speak. You led troops to attack here last night—you must have covered a good several hundred li."

It couldn't possibly be just over some personal grudge, could it?"

Fang Chongyong asked in a low voice.

"Huangfu Weiming has already captured Luoyang."

Gele Qaghan said unhurriedly. This news was still top secret to the general public at present, but someone like Gele Qaghan, a high-ranking Uighur, would certainly have known immediately.

"I see. He must have promised you many extra benefits — for instance, if you served diligently, then when the time came he'd let you loose to plunder Chang'an, that sort of promise."

Fang Chongyong rested his chin on his hand and said thoughtfully.

Now it was Gele Qaghan's turn to lose his composure.

He hadn't even brought up the matter himself, yet the other party had actually guessed it — truly unbelievable!

"So you led your elite troops to sneak-attack us under cover of night.

On one hand, it was to give Huangfu Weiming an account — to prove you weren't just here to idle away your time.

On the other hand, it was also because Huangfu Weiming and his lot were already planning to march into Guanzhong. You were afraid of missing the feast, afraid the good things in Chang'an would be snatched up first by others, right?"

Fang Chongyong drove the blade in further.

These words so frightened Gele Qaghan that he couldn't help shivering.

One had to admit, Fang Chongyong was right again.

These Uighurs had originally come to sneak-attack Fang Chongyong and his men harboring the idea of "after defeating our old enemy, we'll go to Chang'an and loot our fill."

Failing to steal the chicken and losing the rice into the bargain was only due to an accident, but this kind of long-distance raid tactic was not wrong.

Li Baochen's betrayal of the Uighurs naturally also had selfish motives — it could be called killing two birds with one stone.

Gele Qaghan grabbed a roasted lamb chop and started gnawing on it. After finishing, he took a huge gulp of grape juice, then stuffed a flatbread into his mouth and began eating.

Whether this fellow was formidable in battle was still uncertain, but his manner of eating — that was truly like a dragon's roar and a tiger's howl, sweeping away the clouds.

Before Fang Chongyong had even picked up his chopsticks, he had already devoured seven or eight tenths of the food on the table, leaving not much behind.

Gele Qaghan gorged himself like this for a long time until his belly was finally full.

Only then did he let out a long sigh, staring straight ahead with both eyes fixed on Fang Chongyong, and said: "I'll fight you. If I lose, all past grudges are wiped clean. If we meet on the battlefield hereafter, I'll take a detour."

"If you lose, then you must release me. Do you dare or not?"

"Right now?"

Fang Chongyong looked at Gele Qaghan with a puzzled face. Could this fellow have mistaken him, a Military Commissioner, for a pretty-boy gigolo who only knew how to sleep with women and lacked the strength to truss a chicken?

If he wanted to pick a fight, this wasn't the way to go about it!

"Right now."

Gele Qaghan nodded very firmly.