Chapter 837: Zhou Cang

The spring in Liaodong was not very pretty.

Because the trees along the road had all been cut down, leaving it bare. In the distance, the small hills showed a clear boundary line: below, empty and barren; above, green shadows rustling, peach blossoms in wild profusion—all consumed for winter heating.

Yet spring in Liaodong was still somewhat beautiful. For the spring breeze carried the clean scent of earth and vegetation; children ran wildly playing, and across fields and ditches, all one could see were people tilling. The people labored, planting spring's toil for autumn's joy—and that too was beautiful.

Along the widened and reinforced straight road, a dense clatter of footsteps echoed from afar, raising dust whipped high by the wind. Then came dozens of soldiers, clad in light armor, carrying weapons; some bore large cooking pots on their backs, others heavy bundles—clearly food sacks. They were soaked in sweat, panting like oxen, yet their pace did not slacken; their legs moved mechanically, running as if their lives depended on it.

Not long after they passed, hundreds more came running—no one spoke; each was utterly spent.

Zhen Sheng rode his horse, advancing slowly with the General, gazing at the scattered, sprawling line of troops stretching at least three li ahead—he truly did not know what to say.

Only when the main column had passed and the dust had settled, leaving a few, then dozens, even solitary soldiers still trudging forward, did he bow his hands: "General, this kind of marching will leave your troops with little combat readiness."

"Meng Guang errs. I mobilize troops to Suizhong not to attack, but to defend—to prevent the Yellow Turban peasants from being misled by common fools and throwing away their lives. This marching is, in truth, training. Sun Tzu said: 'Be swift as the wind, still as the forest, predatory as fire, immovable as a mountain, elusive as darkness, devastating as thunder.' I deeply agree: the way of the army lies in observation, clarity, and motion."

"If we strike, our army moves swiftly—the enemy cannot perceive us, and we shall surely win. If we cannot win, our swift movement allows us to wheel and retreat, preserving our strength to seek better opportunities. Today's defeat does not mean tomorrow's. With a great army in hand, all under heaven is ours to go."

"This is the way of governing a state."

Wang Yan smiled, turned to look at the last two soldiers of the Zhenwu Guard who had finally reached his front, and cracked his whip sharply: "Zhang Xi, Liu Da—again it's you two lagging behind! If you can't catch up with your brothers ahead, you'll go hungry today—run faster!"

Hearing the General's words, the two grimaced but said nothing, faces as if facing death, and ran with all their might—going hungry was unacceptable.

The current army's quality was actually quite low. His most capable, highest-average troops were the Weiwu Guard and the Squad Leader Camp—the former fought the most, trained the harshest; the latter had spent a brutal winter out in the wilds, and could not help but become formidable.

The Zhenwu Guard was newly formed; though they had once received militia training, compared to the real demands of a mobilized militia, they fell far short—hence this scattered state. Moreover, the majority here were Wuhuan. Their discipline and organization were generally poor. Zhang Xi and Liu Da were Wuhuan—names Wang Yan himself had given them.

Of course, the main reason was that the Zhenwu Guard had been organized for too short a time, and they were busy farming—military law, regulations, and discipline were still not fully in place. After spring planting ended, they would deeply understand what an army truly meant—forcibly molded into one shape.

The journey passed in silence; the Zhenwu Guard marched two hundred and fifty li in two days—truly running until they dropped. Wang Yan, meanwhile, rode his horse, trotting along at a steady pace, taking four full days to arrive—mainly to inspect the people's farming and living conditions along the way.

During this time, the remnants of the Yellow Turbans arrived five li south of Suizhong, waiting for Wang Yan's arrival.

On the fifth day, General Wang Da finally sent a messenger across to announce his approach. He wore a dark blue outer robe, a belt with an eight-sided Han sword, black cloth boots, and rode a red-maned horse, accompanied by his personal guards and Zhen Sheng and others, riding forward.

The scene was still quite grand: ahead, all were soldiers, clad in coarse hemp, weapons discarded, sitting listlessly in groups, chatting idly. After all, they had come to surrender; moreover, they were half-starved and had waited days—how could they still have strength to fight?

Behind the soldiers came their families—mostly women, children, and infants, all in even worse condition. Wang Yan gazed far into the distance and saw not a single elder.

This was normal. After the Yellow Turbans' defeat last winter, they became bandits. Those who arrived first were surely from Youzhou and Jizhou. Youzhou had been looted clean by Wang Yan—every house empty. Jizhou had become a boiling cauldron; peasants either joined the Yellow Turbans or hid to survive—the grain was long gone.

Sending them to attack walled estates, the further south they went, the larger the clans and the stronger the fortresses. Though they could overwhelm a few with their numbers, the dead far outweighed the grain they seized. Though no one cared about lives, too many deaths dampened morale.

Raiding merchant caravans worked once or twice, but not over time. First, merchants could detour—if they couldn't detour, they simply stopped coming. Second, after robbing powerful clans, local officials would come to suppress them.

Thus, the past winter had been terrible for them—many died. Under such conditions, elders had no chance of survival.

Wang Yan dismounted, sat on the stool brought by his guards, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the cool air, casual and relaxed. He certainly didn't care for "etiquette"—he did whatever was comfortable.

Some etiquette was useful; some was not. Much of it was clan rule—not the etiquette of civilization or politeness.

Soon, two large, muscular men approached Wang Yan and bowed: "Pei Yuanshao and Zhou Cang pay homage to the Prefect. We've endured great hardship on our northward journey—please accept us. From now on, we shall serve you faithfully, even unto death."

Zhou Cang was not unfamiliar—he was the one who carried Guan Yu's blade in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Though his combat prowess was never described in detail, Zhao Yun slew Pei Yuanshao instantly, while Zhou Cang could exchange a few blows with Zhao Yun, fighting back and forth before escaping—his skill was still considerable.

As for Pei Yuanshao—he was background fodder. He tried to steal Zhao Yun's horse and was speared to death.

Among the Yellow Turbans, only a few were famous: Zhou Cang, Liao Hua, Guan Hai, Zhang Kai.

Guan Hai led tens of thousands of Yellow Turbans to besiege Kong Rong for grain, fought dozens of rounds with Guan Yu, and was cut down by his blade. As a member of the Three Kingdoms' elite fighting team, few could last dozens of rounds against Guan Yu.

Zhang Kai was simpler—he killed Cao Cao's father and stole much of the Cao family's wealth. This triggered the Xuzhou War, prompting Tao Qian to seek aid and allowing Liu Bei to take control of Xuzhou, indirectly propelling Liu Bei's early career to its peak.

General Wang waved his hand: "No need for formalities. Tell me your situation."

Zhou Cang spoke first: "Your Excellency, after our defeat with Zhang Bao, we gathered the remnants and took refuge in the wilds, surviving by raiding. But our comrades' families were too numerous to sustain. We barely survived the winter, then heard of your great achievements in Liaodong. We all came from the Yellow Turbans, and we heard you treat your soldiers and civilians well—so we came north to join you. Along the way, we gathered refugees and small bands of stragglers, until we reached this place."

"We total twenty-three thousand five hundred and twenty-three people: seven thousand soldiers, the rest women, children, and the elderly—fewer than five hundred. We have two thousand shi of grain, over two hundred horses, one thousand bows, twenty thousand arrows, and countless weapons. We sincerely offer our allegiance—please accept us."

With this opening, their relative status was clear. It made sense: Zhou Cang had greater martial skill and a more respectable bearing; his speech was clear, his facts precise, his resources laid bare, and he even flattered subtly—no wonder Guan Yu let him carry his blade.

"To join my domain, your military formations must be disbanded. It is spring planting season—no warfare. Too many soldiers are unnecessary. Moreover, your soldiers are yellow-faced and emaciated—they need proper rest to regain combat readiness. Thus, you two cannot hold high positions yet—but rest easy. If you seek high rank, you must earn it through merit. What do you think?"

Wang Yan's tone was good, his words cheerful. But in truth, Zhou Cang and the others had no choice.

They had endured hardship, traveled a thousand li, and reached Liaodong—if Liaodong refused them, they would die. There was no turning back—they had no food, and now was spring planting; to wait meant certain death.

Of course, such human resources could not be discarded. Though Wang Yan's domain relied on imported grain and careful overall logistics to barely survive, he now had books—not only could he seize the hidden libraries of powerful clans, but he could also harvest more grain than glass could yield. Moreover, in two months, the Pingguo salt fields would produce output: coarse salt for his domain, and fine salt to further exploit the aristocratic families.

The world was still relatively stable, grain production still assured—he could easily manage the past. When chaos erupted, he should be self-sufficient. After all, holding the vast Northeast Plain and failing to grow enough food to feed himself would be a joke.

Indeed, examining the final landscape of the Three Kingdoms reveals their foundation was land. Though all had collapsed financially, populations plummeted due to war, the land remained.

Cao Wei held North China and the Guanzhong Plain; Sun Wu held the middle and lower Yangtze Plain; Shu Han held the Chengdu Plain, the Land of Abundance. Zhuge Liang's Longzhong Plan stated: "Yizhou is a land of natural barriers, fertile for a thousand li, the land of heaven. Gaozu relied on it to establish his imperial legacy"—clearly, the Sichuan region was exceptional.

This is why General Wang was so fixated on his ancestral homeland. Otherwise, last year, besides hiding in the mountains as a bandit, he had no other path. To be recommended as a filial and incorrupt official? Impossible. To carve out a domain? He'd be attacked from all sides. To establish himself? The time and energy consumed would be too great—unprofitable.

So what did General Wang mean by speaking to Zhou Cang and Pei Yuanshao? Simply to test whether they were ambitious. If so—he'd kill them as a warning. If not—everyone would be happy.

So don't be fooled by the General's smiling face—no matter what these two say, the twenty thousand people behind them cannot leave. Say the wrong thing, and they die.

Fortunately, they said nothing, immediately knelt and bowed: "Lord, we are at your command!"

"Call me General," Wang Yan corrected with a pleased smile—he disliked "Lord." "General" carried more power—it constantly reminded him he was a great warlord.

"Yes, General!"

"Good, good, good." The General said thrice, then ordered: "From now on, the civilians have nothing to do with you two—I'll assign them. You need not rush. My domain's rules differ from the Han court. Behind me are newly trained militia. You two will start as common soldiers—learn my rules and laws. After autumn harvest, I'll assign you properly. Will you agree?"

"At your command, General."

They had come all this way, and Wang Yan's words were clear. They had accepted him as lord, knelt and bowed—so of course they'd do exactly as he said.

"Rise. No more such formalities in my domain. Kneeling and bowing are abolished. Remember: a man must stand tall under heaven."

"Yes, General! Stand tall under heaven!" Both shouted in unison, with great vigor.

They were both leaders, commanding twenty thousand people—they'd certainly eat well. Capable men, good or bad, always ate well—that was the law of survival. Otherwise, they wouldn't be so muscular and robust.

Like the Song and Ming eras, generals of this time were all large, burly, tall men—like Liu Bei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Gongsun Zan, none under 1.8 meters tall; clad in armor, they were imposing. Zhou Cang was no exception; Pei Yuanshao was shorter, but still about 1.78 meters—easily handling small soldiers like children.

"Bring men! Seize their weapons, grain, supplies, and horses. The Quartermaster, arrange latrine facilities. The cooks, boil porridge and fish soup. When the afternoon cools, march north to Tai'an. Assign civilian officials to follow—allocate land and housing, build new kilns, transport beams. Before houses are built, assign them large army tents for shelter. Quickly clear fields—do not miss the season."

He waved them off and issued a stream of orders. His guards obeyed, returning to the rear ranks to relay commands. Soon, soldiers who had surrendered their weapons advanced, organizing the Yellow Turban refugees; others returned to Suizhong to arrange supplies and grain.

Wang Yan's instructions covered broad directions, urgent details, and many unmentioned tasks—all fell to civilian officials and the Quartermaster. The current civilian officials were surviving bureaucrats and those who had performed well and been promoted by the General; the Quartermasters were the same. Their first task was to learn to read and write. After initial errors, they now could handle duties—diligent and conscientious.

He did not mention things like separating craftsmen to organize collective production, identifying literate men to handle basic administrative tasks, pairing men with wives and women with husbands—small matters, yet vital. These, civilian officials and Quartermasters could handle well—they had experience. When not at war, their main work was precisely these things.

"Under the General's command, there are indeed many capable officials." Seeing the various arrangements unfolding in orderly fashion, Zhen Sheng naturally offered his praise.

"Meng Guang bears heavy responsibility," Wang Yan shook his head with a smile, patting Zhen Sheng's shoulder. "You said ten thousand refugees are coming from the north—my granaries' grain will surely not suffice. Hasten the book trade. Whenever you secure grain, bring it here; I will pay high prices for it."

"General, rest assured—in no more than two months, merchant caravans will gather here in droves."

"Go now."

Wang Yan nodded with a smile, waved his hand, and Zhen Sheng went about his duties…

When Zhou Cang and others came to join, it was as if a switch had been flipped. As Zhen Sheng had said, over the next two months, thirteen thousand Huang Jin deserters and refugees arrived in Liaodong. All were settled in the Liaozhong region; the Liaodong Plain was beginning to take shape.

The population under General Wang's rule officially surpassed five hundred thousand, reaching over five hundred and ten thousand.

But because they had traveled far and arrived late, they missed the spring planting. No matter—except for toddlers who could barely walk, no one was idle; there was far too much work to do.

If they couldn't plant grain, they would clear land for rapeseed—harvested in two months, it could supply precious oil. They could also transplant rice seedlings, and by August plant a second crop of winter wheat, which could be ground into flour. Though Liaodong could not yet achieve flour abundance, the people would surely get to eat some fine grain.

This was farming work—but there was also house-building work, coal-digging work, wood-cutting for winter fuel work—endless tasks.

Taking advantage of this population surge, Wang Yan began large-scale troop reductions, removing all soldiers over thirty-two years old. As before, he established a department called "Jingwei," a police force—this served as veteran demobilization and simultaneously laid the foundation for a police system.

His police would never wield the authority of a county commandant; their duties were merely to resolve minor disputes, apprehend thieves, and maintain local order. The judicial system could not be built quickly—it required sufficient personnel.

Yet the people under his rule had few conflicts, for resources were centrally allocated, no market was opened, and everyone ate and wore nearly the same. Only when people began self-reliance would conflicts multiply.

Thus, the Jingwei had little to do—merely assisting civil officials, disciplining the lazy and idle, compiling statistics, and coordinating affairs. One further major duty: bearing children.

This was not taught by Wang Yan—he merely observed that since life had improved, people naturally wished to have more children to make life even better. Whether poor or rich, they believed in having many children, especially sons, for sons meant labor power and family strength—a simple, deeply rooted belief Wang Yan gladly encouraged.

Yet on the issue of male preference, he boldly proclaimed across time: "Women hold up half the sky." In truth, women had always done so—except among the wealthy clans, peasant women worked tirelessly, and their labor was never light. To fully unleash women's initiative, productivity must be liberated early.

Of course, women could not serve as soldiers—that would be handing warmth to the enemy—nor could they hold high office. But change must begin small, slowly elevating women's status: female civil officials, female teachers, female healers, and so on. Talented women would inevitably break through limits—this process must unfold naturally.

In this process, Wang Yan had long since selected cotton seeds and planted them on a plot near Pingguo. This was a guarantee for life in Liaodong—cotton robes, trousers, shoes, quilts—no more winter worries. More people could now work through winter. But cotton was still scarce; the army must be prioritized—whether for war or production, the army was the main force—only after them could the people benefit.

Huang Jin deserters and refugees still arrived from the north, but no longer in large groups—only small bands.

The grain problem was solved. Zhen Sheng was reliable—he sent agents everywhere to promote sales, taking orders while wealthy clans shipped vast quantities of grain northward, solely through papermaking and printing. At this time, this was a form of economic domination.

Thus, Wang Yan's first batch yielded over ten thousand bamboo slips. Meanwhile, Zhen Sheng bribed the Ten Eunuchs and smuggled books from the Secretariat, bringing several thousand bamboo slips to Liaodong.

Wang Yan found a large plot of land outside Tuhé City and personally designed a grand library. Construction had begun—but progress was slow, for most of his people were still unsettled; how could he himself launch grand projects, consuming scarce labor? Only dozens of workers were assigned, laboring slowly, bit by bit.

Amid this constant bustle, time reached August—the harvest season.

The Cai Yong whom General Wang had awaited for half a year finally arrived…