Chapter 59: Section Seven

In the thickets beside the official road, ten iron bows had already been drawn into full moons. The fingers gripping the bowstrings trembled slightly, slowly adjusting their aim, and finally released all at once with a low shout.

The eight Later Jin riders had only just heard the shriek tearing through the air when one of them, three arrows buried in his body, tumbled from his horse. Another was struck in the face; that warrior clutched his face and screamed in agony, then fell backward and was thrown by his horse, writhing on the ground in pain. Two more were each hit by two arrows, but still struggled to cling to their horses’ backs, desperately hugging the horses’ necks.

Amid the mingled screams and whinnies, hoofbeats sounded ahead and behind them — ten mounted men appeared on each side, all dressed in the manner of Liaodong armed escorts, each with a white headband tied around his head.

Their appearance made the remaining warriors hesitate for a moment. In that instant, more arrows shot forth in an unbroken stream. One already-wounded Later Jin warrior took three more arrows and finally, strength gone, released his horse’s neck and plunged headfirst to the ground. Another man failed to swat the feathered arrows aside in time and took a hit under the ribs. He had just opened his mouth to cry out in pain when the next arrow struck him squarely in the throat. Blood sprayed several feet high, and he could make no further sound.

The three remaining men saw the danger and immediately spurred their horses forward. The one running at the very rear was overtaken by the pursuing arrows; several shafts plunged into his back in an instant, and he too released the reins and was dragged along the ground by his horse.

Seeing the last two men charging toward them, the ten riders all raised their blades and surged forward. The leader at the very front wielded twin swords. With a great roar, he let his right-hand sword fly from his hand — it streaked across like a shooting star and cleaved straight into the face of the foremost Later Jin rider. Immediately after, he leaned sharply to the left, his upper body now parallel to the ground, barely evading the blade that whistled past above his head. Gripping his remaining sword with both hands, he used the momentum of the horses crossing each other to slice through more than half the waist of the last man.

The riders behind him shouted in unison with admiration, then one after another let out sighs. As they split up to seize the now-riderless galloping horses and circled back, someone had already begun to grumble: “My lord, you didn’t leave a single one for us.”

The leader had already dismounted. He wrenched his sword from the skull of the Later Jin warrior who had died with eyes still open, wiped it on the corpse, laughed three great laughs, and only then sheathed his blade.

Looking closely at the cloth band on his head — though it was also white, everyone else had tied theirs properly in a knot at the front, while the leader had his tied crookedly beside his ear, with a large plum blossom tucked into it.

Over on the other side, the battlefield had also been cleared. A tall figure rode leisurely over on horseback and called out to the leader with a grin: “Company Commander He’s skill — I could watch it a hundred times and never tire of it.”

“My lord.” The leader was none other than He Baodao. He bowed proudly toward the man on horseback.

“Lord Huang.” He Baodao’s subordinates had already changed how they addressed Huang Shi. The unit was gradually growing into a feudal army in the traditional sense.

The Later Jin warriors were quickly stripped stark naked. The heads absolutely could not be taken, and not even socks or undergarments could be left on their bodies — all to make others believe this was the work of horse bandits.

“Company Commander He personally slew two foes.” As he spoke, Huang Shi had already pulled several iron pieces from his pocket — crudely forged knife-shaped badges, with a small nail with a curved hook on the back. Huang Shi picked out two and, with great solemnity, pinned them onto He Baodao’s clothing, arranging them in a row with the other little knives.

“Company Commander He’s squad killed two fleeing enemies and completed the blocking mission.” Huang Shi also swapped the star-shaped medal engraved with “Four” on He Baodao’s person for one engraved with “Six.” In his hand he still held a “Five” — that was for Yang Zhiyuan later. Yang had blocked in time; that the enemy had not fled in another direction was not Yang Zhiyuan’s fault.

From behind He Baodao came a chorus of complaints: “Lord Huang, our squad’s credit has all been taken by our lord alone.”

The grumbling continued to pour out from the rear: “It’s still better following Company Commander Zhao. Company Commander Zhao always hides at the very back, so the credit for killing the enemy all goes to his subordinates. Not like our lord — he takes it all!”

These words drew a burst of raucous laughter.

“The bodies have been dragged into the woods and will soon be eaten by wild beasts.” The “ideal commander” under He Baodao — Zhao Manxiong — came running over to report.

“Good.” Hopefully this would be enough to conceal the wounds. Huang Shi pinned a crudely made medal onto Zhao Manxiong, then stuffed a handful more into his hand: “Go and pin these on your subordinates.”

“Leave this place immediately.”

At Huang Shi’s command, the several dozen cavalrymen swiftly vanished, as agile as when they had appeared.

The land east of the Liaohe was originally Later Jin territory. The closer they got to Haizhou, the nearer they drew to the core region of Later Jin rule. The Guangning area was still teeming with bandits formed from scattered remnants of defeated troops, but here it was different — Huang Shi’s party was far too conspicuous. So they had changed into the attire of Liaodong armed escorts.

The detachment that had completed the ambush circled around several times and raced back to their secret campsite. Huang Shi could hear many of the soldiers left on guard humming a little tune. Had they been Chinese of the twenty-first century, they would have immediately recognized the melody as that of “My Deskmate.”

To boost morale, Huang Shi had already resorted to every means imaginable. He had long since adapted many popular songs into ditties. The effect was not bad, and the most popular among them was this one, “The Girl Next Door.” Of course, Huang Shi had changed “rubber band” to “cornbread” and “on the way home from school” to “on the way back from planting seedlings.”

“My lord, how was today’s harvest?” Jin Qiude, who had stayed behind, asked impatiently. Without any supply lines, the income from such ambushes was extremely important.

“Very good — seven warhorses, plus some weapons, dry rations, and four horse legs.” Huang Shi sat down happily and drank a large bowl of water. “How are the wounded and sick?”

“Not well at all.”

To guard against the spread of disease, Huang Shi enforced strict military discipline — hands had to be washed. This was an era without running water, and his unit was now essentially a roving band, with no possibility of a stable water source. The only thing Huang Shi could do was, whenever they encountered a water source, every one of his soldiers had to wash their hands, even if it delayed their march somewhat. In any case, they spent all day circling around, so the march was already slow enough.

After successfully crossing the Liaohe in secret from Sanchahe, despite all the health and hygiene measures Huang Shi adopted, illness had inevitably appeared in his army. Several men had still caught colds and ailments from unfamiliar water and soil — Huang Shi strongly suspected dysentery. To obtain supplies, Huang Shi had also been forced to slow their marching speed and launch periodic raids on small Later Jin detachments, which inevitably resulted in casualties.

For those soldiers whose illness was severe and who had essentially lost the ability to move on their own, Jin Qiude had hinted to Huang Shi that he should give them a swift resolution. But Huang Shi dismissed the suggestion with contempt. He knew full well that the soldiers following him now were true die-hard followers. These were subordinates truly worthy of trust. Abandoning them might allow them to move a little faster, but it would utterly destroy the army’s morale.

“My lord, at this moment, even if we abandoned them, or sent them on their way, the other soldiers would have no complaints. Everyone is only thinking about how to march faster.” Jin Qiude still had not given up on his idea.

Huang Shi glanced at this stubborn homicidal maniac and still shook his head.

Jin Qiude grew furious: “My lord, the benevolent do not command armies!”

Huang Shi ignored Jin Qiude and turned his head to ask Zhao Manxiong beside him: “What do you say?”

Zhao Manxiong thought for a moment: “My lord, your subordinate believes that we have already penetrated deep into enemy territory and have no real path of retreat. Even if some harbor discontent, they will not desert.”

“I don’t see it that way. Your insights somewhat disappoint me. Our army left Guangning and endured a thousand hardships to go to Lüshun — for what purpose? If merely reaching Lüshun were the goal, then what you say would be correct. But we have suffered so bitterly — was it all just to flee to Lüshun?”

Huang Shi set down his water bowl in indignation:

“The sick soldiers are men who gave up reaching Liaoxi safely and risked death to follow me, Huang Shi, on this expedition deep into Liaodong. If I abandon them today, the other soldiers indeed will not say anything, but their hearts will scatter. Once we reach Lüshun and word of this spreads, who will still be willing to serve me, Huang Shi?”

Although Huang Shi would rather take two days to cover one day’s march than abandon a single sick man, death still came to visit his unit. Huang Shi properly buried the bodies, erected grave markers, paid his respects with military honors before all his subordinates, and buried their Guangning pacification medals in front of the markers.

After the salute, his personal guards marked the detailed locations of the bodies on the map. Huang Shi said he would certainly return to pay homage to these loyal subordinates.

Using the dead to win hearts was a decent method, but its effect was more easily realized in the future than in the present. If men continued to die, Huang Shi could not guarantee that the army’s morale would not disintegrate.

Since he was unwilling to let his own men die, then others would simply have to die in their place. After the second soldier died, Huang Shi immediately organized a night raid on a small village. Not a single person in the entire village had a chance to escape the layered nets Zhao Manxiong had laid. Once the villagers ceased resisting, Huang Shi’s unit obtained long-missed hot water, hot meals, and warm bedding.

Jin Qiude proposed burying all these villagers who had provided assistance alive. Zhao Manxiong volunteered to go dig the pit.

“What about the young women?” Zhao Manxiong asked as he was leaving.

“Of course they go into the pit together. Do you want to let them go report us?” Jin Qiude answered immediately with a disdainful snort.

“Hmm, what I meant was, why not wait until tomorrow morning to bury them, and let the soldiers relax a bit tonight.”

Jin Qiude shot back: “What if tomorrow the soldiers can’t bear to bury them?”

Zhao Manxiong looked greatly surprised: “Aren’t you here?”

Not long after Zhao Manxiong left, a sudden uproar broke out outside. Just as Huang Shi and Jin Qiude were looking at each other in bewilderment, He Baodao strode in with great, sweeping steps, head held high. One hand was dragging Zhao Manxiong by the collar, and Yang Zhiyuan, who had been standing guard outside, followed the two of them in.

“My lord,” He Baodao hurled Zhao Manxiong forcefully to the ground, his tiger-like eyes wide with fury, his hair bristling with rage. “My lord, was this order truly given by my lord?”

The moment Zhao Manxiong hit the ground, he burst into a violent fit of coughing. Jin Qiude sprang up as if jabbed by a needle, his cold, sinister gaze circling over He Baodao from head to toe.

Huang Shi slowly rose to his feet: “The order was given by me.”