Chapter 141: Han

"No prisoners. Not a single one..."

The heavy casualties in the rear camp made Zhou Shixiang instinctively want to kill the prisoners. Only that could avenge the old, weak, women, and children who had died. Only that could ease the blazing fury of the front-camp soldiers.

As the situation came under control, many front-camp soldiers had already learned of their loved ones' deaths. Soldiers were human too.

A man does not easily shed tears, but faced with the bodies of his own kin, even the hardest heart could not remain unmoved, could not keep from breaking down in sobs.

Inside Yutai Temple and below Guifeng Mountain, the sound of soldiers weeping had already risen. The camp folk who had escaped death, after their first relief and joy, were once more stricken with grief and rage.

Some searched for fathers, some for mothers, some for sons, some for daughters... The mournful cries drifted across Guifeng Mountain, unbearable to hear.

Zhou Shixiang did not send anyone to stop the camp folk's wailing, nor did he order the weeping soldiers to put down their kin's bodies and return to the ranks. Zhou Shixiang was human too. He understood the taste of losing family, understood what they felt seeing their loved ones' corpses.

Military law would not be applied to this scene. Zhou Shixiang could only have the centurions draw soldiers who had no kin in the rear camp to carry out duties, leaving a little time for those men to weep their fill.

That day, had he not himself been stricken with grief before that empty grave outside Xinhui? He had not wept only because his tears had long dried up, his voice long cried hoarse.

But how to deal with the Qing prisoners became a great problem set before Zhou Shixiang. Executing all of them seemed the surest way to let his men vent their fury and give the common folk some small comfort, yet it was also the least profitable way of handling them.

The rear camp was left with only a little over two hundred able-bodied men, and the front camp's casualties were nearly a full camp's worth. Taking Guifeng Mountain was not the Taiping Army's final goal.

Its next target was the immensely strong city of Xinhui, then Xiangshan County, then the Qing forces in all of Guangzhou, even the Qing troops bearing down from all of Guangdong Province.

Zhou Shixiang therefore needed replacements, needed lives to fill the battles that would come one after another. With no flood of common folk eagerly enlisting, he could only be realistic: he needed these prisoners.

"Follow the Gaoyao example."

Zhou Shixiang glanced with some guilt at Tie Yi, who did not understand, shook his head, and ordered Shao Jiugong to escort all the prisoners to the Thousand Hands Hall.

After the 415 Green Standard prisoners and the 46 banner soldiers were brought to the Thousand Hands Hall, the Taiping Army immediately split them into two groups.

Among the captured officers, besides Battalion Commander Lin Youxian, who had been discovered playing dead, there was also the wounded Company Commander Wang Wu.

The Han Banners company captain Su Xianting had escaped, but his Goshiha Zhao Quan had not died; instead, one of his hands had been blown off, and he too had now been brought over. From the blood loss at the severed wrist, Zhao Quan's face was deathly pale.

Escorted by officers including Xiongwei Camp centurion Shao Jiugong, probationary centurions Wu Mazi and Wang Youxi, Xianzhen Camp centurion Tie Yi, and probationary centurions Zheng Tiezhu and Zheng Daniu, Zhou Shixiang, in martial attire, arrived at the Thousand Hands Hall.

After sweeping a glance over the banner soldiers with their heads hanging, Zhou Shixiang's gaze settled on the frightened crowd of Green Standard troops.

He took two steps forward and, without a word of preamble, said: "The Green Standard are all Han, and we of the Ming Taiping Army are Han as well. Therefore, any camp soldier willing to surrender will be taken in by the Taiping Army.

Those willing to surrender, kneel now. Those unwilling, remain standing."

"We surrender! We've long wanted to surrender!"

The moment Zhou Shixiang's words ended, the camp soldiers dropped to their knees in a great rustling wave, leaving only a few dozen still standing. The two Green Standard officers, Lin Youxian and Wang Wu, were among them.

"You refuse to surrender to me?"

Zhou Shixiang stared coldly at the few dozen camp soldiers who would not kneel. Under his glare, another seven or eight lowered their heads and knelt. Lin Youxian and Wang Wu still did not move. The former wore a strange expression; the latter's face was full of contempt.

"Will you surrender or not?"

Zhou Shixiang lightly raised his right hand and pointed at the contemptuous Wang Wu. He was going to kill the chicken to warn the monkeys.

"I am a fine, upstanding man! How could I surrender to a pack of bandits like you!"

Facing Zhou Shixiang's grim gaze, Wang Wu showed not the slightest fear. He sneered, thrust out his neck, veins bulging, and said proudly: "Alive, I am a man of the Great Qing; dead, a ghost of the Great Qing.

You bandit, don't expect me to surrender. Kill me or cut me to pieces as you please.

If I so much as frown, then I'm a whore's son!"

Zhou Shixiang's brows shot up. He clapped and praised: "Now there's a real man! You've got guts!"

The final syllable of "guts" still hung in the air when a long blade appeared in his hand. After the flash of the blade, a column of blood spurted from Hu Quan's neck. A second look, and the head had already rolled far away.

Zhou Shixiang sheathed his blade and glanced at Wang Wu's brow, praising with genuine admiration: "Not a single frown. Truly not a whore's son. Men, carry this brave fellow away and bury him properly."

"You... Ah!"

Lin Youxian was scared out of his wits by this sudden scene. With a thud he dropped to his knees, knocking his head against the ground without pause: "Spare me, General, spare me! This humble one surrenders! This humble one surrenders!"

"And the rest of you?"

Ignoring the kowtowing Lin Youxian, Zhou Shixiang pointed his blade at the camp soldiers still standing, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned, yet not a trace of a smile on his face. The look was truly savage and terrifying.

"We surrender! We surrender! We all surrender!"

"We are Han too! We never wanted to aid the Tartars in their tyranny! Now that the Ming's heavenly army has taken us in, we submit!"

These still-standing camp soldiers had wanted to surrender all along. Only because the two officers Lin Youxian and Wang Wu had not yet surrendered had they forced themselves to remain standing.

Now, seeing the Ming general cut down Company Commander Wang Wu with a casual wave of his hand, and seeing the battalion commander groveling on the ground like a spineless coward, who among them truly did not fear death, who truly wanted to die for the Great Qing?

At once, with a series of thuds, they all dropped to their knees.

The camp soldiers' performance greatly satisfied Zhou Shixiang. He nodded, and his gaze slowly settled on the faces of the 46 banner soldiers.

He could clearly see that these banner soldiers were hardly better than the camp troops. Right now, most of their faces were filled with terror.

Seeing Zhou Shixiang look their way, more than a dozen of them immediately knelt on the spot, crying out that they were willing to surrender, terrified that this murderous Ming battalion commander would make an example of them.

Zhao Quan, who was clutching his severed arm and gritting his teeth against the pain, saw this and, heedless of his wound, suddenly pointed with his other hand at the dozen-odd kneeling banner soldiers and roared: "You ball-less cowards!

In this world there are only Manchu warriors who die in battle, never Eight Banners men who surrender! All of you, get up!

Get up, all of you! Act like men, not like a bunch of women!

Get up!..."

But no matter how Zhao Quan raged and berated them, the kneeling banner soldiers refused to rise.

Two banner soldiers who had escaped with their lives on the rear mountain even turned and cursed Zhao Quan back, calling him disloyal, saying that if he had not blocked the path, the brothers would never have been captured by the Taiping Army.

Zhao Quan's bloodless face turned livid with fury.

"Shut up! All of you, shut up!"

Zhou Shixiang bellowed, and the banner soldiers at once fell obediently silent, leaving only Zhao Quan glaring at them, puffing with rage, looking as if he wanted to devour them.

Zhou Shixiang forced down the fury in his heart, looked Zhao Quan up and down, and said with no small sarcasm: "What Manchu warrior are you? You're plainly a Han!"

At these words, Zhao Quan exploded as if he had suffered some unbearable humiliation: "Bah! I, Zhao Quan, by the Prince's favor, long ago entered the Eight Banners. I am no Han! I am a bannerman! A bannerman!"

"So you're dead set on denying your ancestors?" Zhou Shixiang laughed instead of growing angry. "Pity that even in the Eight Banners, you're only a third-class Han bannerman. In the eyes of the Manchu Tartars, you're still a Han!"

"I am a bannerman, not a Han!" Zhao Quan's face flushed crimson.

"Fine. This battalion commander will take you for a bannerman. But this battalion commander refuses to believe that in this world there are only Manchu warriors who die in battle, and no Eight Banners men who surrender."

Before the words had fully left his mouth, Zhou Shixiang turned, took a matchlock from a Xianzhen Camp soldier, opened the fire tube, and touched it to the match cord. There was a thunderous "Bang!"

Zhao Quan's body jerked, then tilted and collapsed to the left, the ball having struck him solidly in the right leg.

Zhou Shixiang tossed the matchlock back to the soldier beside him and, without even glancing at Zhao Quan writhing on the ground, asked the stunned banner soldiers still standing: "Will you kneel or not?"

At that moment, Tie Yi handed Zhou Shixiang another matchlock, and Zhou Shixiang took it.

The instant they saw that matchlock pointed at them, and saw the wretched state of the shot Zhao Quan, the banner soldiers lost whatever courage they had left. They could no longer hold firm and dropped to their knees one after another, crying: "We surrender!

This humble one surrenders! This humble one surrenders!"

One banner soldier, who had gone over to the Manchus as early as the twelfth year of Chongzhen, did not kneel. His heart was in turmoil.

The Ming was finished, and the Southern Ming would not last many more days. If he truly surrendered now, he feared he would sooner or later be killed by Qing troops.

But if he did not surrender, the Ming general before him would kill him. What the hell was he supposed to do?!

After hesitating again and again, the banner soldier still could not make up his mind. But when he saw Zhou Shixiang, growing impatient, raise the muzzle of the matchlock and aim it specifically at him, he could no longer think twice.

He threw himself flat and kowtowed frantically, begging: "This humble one surrenders! This humble one surrenders!"

Inwardly, however, he was thinking only of saving his skin first. He could not truly surrender to this rabble of bandit soldiers.

No matter what, he would find a chance to slip away later. What he did not know was that most of the banner soldiers kneeling around him, crying out their surrender, shared the same thought.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to do that from the start?"

Zhou Shixiang turned his gaze to Zhao Quan, who was still struggling but had not uttered a single cry throughout. He felt some admiration, but still said mockingly: "You see, your companions have all knelt and surrendered to this battalion commander.

Among them, there seem to be no fearless Eight Banners warriors."

"You bastards... you disgrace your ancestors!

You are not worthy... to be called Eight Banners warriors! You... you cowards!

Even if the bandits... don't kill you now... they will torture you... torture you to death!" From the pain, Zhao Quan's voice had begun to stammer, but he still gasped and cursed on.

"Are you truly not afraid to die?"

Zhou Shixiang had no interest in watching Zhao Quan curse. He only wanted to know whether this Zhao Quan truly did not fear death.

"Bah!"

Zhao Quan glared fiercely at Zhou Shixiang. His eyes told Zhou Shixiang plainly: I am not afraid to die!

Zhou Shixiang sighed. "You are indeed a man. This battalion commander will give you one more chance. As long as you say you are Han, I will not only spare your life, I will even release you. Will you say it?"

"Hmph!"

Zhao Quan turned his head away and said nothing. The flesh of his face was twisted in agony, a ghastly sight.

At the sight, Zhou Shixiang gave a cold snort and said nothing more to him. He pointed the matchlock at Zhao Quan's left leg, lit the match, and a few seconds later the black muzzle spat out deadly flame. The lead ball bursting from the barrel instantly blew Zhao Quan's left leg to pulp.

"Ugh!"

Zhao Quan's left leg had been blasted into a mess of blood and flesh. At last he could not bear the pain and let out a loud cry, sweat beading on his forehead, yet he clenched his teeth and forced himself to hold on.

He would not let these Han people see him made a fool of! Death was nothing to fear; what he feared was that the name of the brave warriors of the Manchu Eight Banners would be disgraced by him!

"Will you talk or not!"

Zhou Shixiang paid no attention to whether Zhao Quan was in too much pain to speak at that moment. Expressionless, he simply asked him once more.

Zhao Quan was indeed a hard man. From his throat came a roar: "I will not! You vile Han curs, you bandits — the Great Qing will surely sweep you all away, hang your heads from the city gates as a warning to the crowd, exterminate your nine clans, and leave you no burial place for your corpses!"

"Bang!"

Another gunshot rang out, and this time it struck Zhao Quan squarely in the chest. The blast sent flesh and blood flying from his breast, blood gushing forth. In the blink of an eye, Zhao Quan stopped twitching and lay perfectly still.

"Carry him off and feed him to the dogs!"

Zhou Shixiang ground his teeth. He truly could not imagine how a Han man could so wholeheartedly die for the Manchus, still less how a Han man could truly disown his own ancestors, calling himself a bannerman at every turn — a bannerman!

After Zhao Quan's corpse was carried away, the camp soldiers and the bannermen alike remained kneeling there, not daring to move a muscle. The Taiping Army soldiers all around, for their part, felt their anger released.

They only regretted that the Battalion Commander insisted on keeping prisoners; otherwise the brothers would have set to work together and chopped these bastards into mincemeat, as an offering to the souls of their dead kin in heaven!

"Battalion Commander, shall we have them start now?"

Shao Jiugong looked darkly at the Green Standard soldiers. He could not wait to watch the fine show at Gaoyao city play out once more.

The muscles of Zhou Shixiang's jaw moved, and he spat out two words: "Do it!"

Wang Youxi, probationary company commander of the Xiongwei Battalion, hesitated and said, "Battalion Commander, these men of the Han Banners have already surrendered. Should we perhaps—"

Zhou Shixiang's eyes flashed with ferocity, and he said flatly, "Not one is to be spared!"

Wang Youxi shivered and did not dare to remonstrate further.

Zhou Shixiang then instructed Shao Jiugong: "After the camp soldiers have done their work, interrogate them separately. Any who laid hands on our old people and children — spare them not either!"

Shao Jiugong accepted the order. It was only right. In battle, between enemies, no amount of killing mattered, but to raise a hand against unarmed old people, women, and children was to deserve death.

"Move fast. The entire vanguard is to assemble in one hour." Zhou Shixiang suddenly turned his gaze toward Xinhui city in the southeast and said with finality, "No matter how many die, Xinhui city must be taken!"