Chapter 134: Capturing the Bandit

Inside a thatched shed on the mountainside outside the northern mouth of Black Water Valley, Sun Chuanting was playing Go with Yang Mingsheng, with the occasional raindrop dripping from the roof of the shed.

Yang Mingsheng placed a white stone and then looked up into the valley. Shrouded in a curtain of rain and mist, the unbroken line of thatched sheds along the mountainsides on both sides stretched deep into the valley beyond what the eye could see. Beneath the sheds, the Qin soldiers sat chatting idly, some maintaining their bowstrings, others resting with their eyes closed. Five days earlier, the Qin army had broken camp and come to Black Water Valley, and after selecting favorable terrain, they had been waiting for the arrival of the Dashing King's camp.

Yang Mingsheng turned his head to look at Sun Chuanting, who was twisting a black stone in his fingers and pondering deeply, and spoke with concern: "Your Excellency, the heavy rain has already fallen for four days, yet there is still no sign of the bandits. Could it be that the Dashing King has gone to attack Hanzhong? Wouldn't your arrangements then come to nothing?"

Sun Chuanting thought for a long while before finally setting down the black stone in his hand. He looked up and smiled: "Boxuan, your skill at nurturing your composure is still somewhat lacking! The road from Shiquan to Hanzhong is long, narrow, and perilous—easy to defend and hard to attack. If the Sichuan army's commander is no fool, he will naturally come out of Hanzhong and choose a strategic position to hold. If the bandits head west and see that it would be difficult to break through, they will surely retreat without battle. That the Ziwu Valley has a road leading to Xi'an is no secret. Among the Dashing King's bandits there is no shortage of clever men, and they will surely choose the easy and abandon the difficult! Even if you and I were placed in the bandit camp, we would make the same choice!"

Yang Mingsheng cupped his hands and smiled: "Thank you for your instruction, Governor! Your student naturally takes Your Excellency as his model, imitating Your Excellency's steady and solemn bearing in every way. Unfortunately, like the man of Handan who tried to learn the walk of the people of Handan, I have failed to grasp the essence!"

Sun Chuanting laughed heartily: "Boxuan, your words are like a painting unfurling before my eyes—I can vaguely see Boxuan on all fours, crawling forward! Hahaha!"

Yang Mingsheng smiled wryly: "Your Excellency, please do not tease your student. Your Excellency's learning spans the four seas, and your wisdom runs deep. Your student has profited greatly by attaching himself to Your Excellency's side. If I can but learn two or three parts in ten, I will be fully content!"

Sun Chuanting put away his smile and spoke: "Fangchen has already gone to the capital to sit for next year's spring examination. Barring any mishap, he will surely pass with distinction next year! You, Yichen, and Lüzhong are all men I have high hopes for! You must all work harder, and pass the examinations at the earliest opportunity, so that you may have the chance to display your talents!"

Yang Mingsheng was about to reply when the sound of horse hooves came from the direction of Black Water Valley. The two men looked down and saw, through the rain and mist, the figure of a soldier wearing a straw rain cape on horseback.

Before long, the rider reached the foot of the mountain where Sun Chuanting was, dismounted, and climbed up the slippery stone steps.

Sun Chuanting smiled: "It must be that the Dashing King has arrived!"

The man climbed up the slope and entered the rain shed. Still wearing his straw cape and rain hat, he dropped to one knee, raised both fists above his head, and reported in a loud voice: "Reporting to the Governor, the vanguard of the Dashing King has arrived! About ten li from Your Excellency's position! Regional Commander Zhou requests instructions on how to meet the enemy!"

Sun Chuanting shouted sternly: "Let their vanguard pass, and strike at their middle section! Tell Zhou Yuji that in this battle, he absolutely must not let Gao the Dashing escape! If alive, I want to see the man! If dead, I want to see the corpse! Otherwise, he should bring me his own head!"

Liu San led his two thousand roving bandits at the front to show the way, while Guo Tianxing led his troops as the vanguard following behind, entering the Ziwu Valley from Shiquan and then turning into Black Water Valley. Then Gao Yingxiang led the main force into the valley. Pushing carts and carrying loads on shoulder poles, the tens of thousands of men and horses took half a day to fully enter the valley.

Not long after the entire army had entered Black Water Valley, a mass of black clouds gathered over the gorge and a light rain began to fall. Gao Yingxiang ordered full speed ahead, fearing that if the rain grew heavier, the warhorses and carts would have difficulty moving.

Before long, the black clouds that had just covered the gorge gradually spread across the entire sky, and the drizzling rain turned into a torrential downpour. The relatively broad mountain road became a sea of mud, and the column, stretching more than twenty li long, immediately slowed its pace.

By this time, the vanguard had already advanced more than thirty li, and turning back was no longer easy. They could only press forward stubbornly, hoping only to exit Black Water Valley as soon as possible.

When they made camp for the night, the tens of thousands of men and horses could only pitch their tents in the mud and water. The heavy rain had soaked the trees through, and there was no dry wood to be found for building fires to boil water. Fortunately, the bandits had brought steamed flatbreads prepared earlier, and they drew cold water from the Ziwu River on the west side of the road, eating one mouthful of water with one mouthful of bread. Before lying down to sleep on the damp ground, many thought that when they opened their eyes tomorrow, the sky would have cleared.

Who would have known that when they woke the next morning, the heavy rain would still be falling without pause, showing not the slightest sign of letting up.

Amid the shouts and curses of the various leaders, large and small, the roving bandits had no choice but to continue forward while cursing loudly.

By the fourth day, the Dashing King's camp had run out of food.

Although they had seized a good deal of grain after sacking three county towns, at the same time even more refugees had joined them, whether forced or willingly. The roving bandit force, originally only a little over ten thousand strong, had rapidly swelled to more than thirty thousand—a full doubling. With that many more mouths to feed all at once, it was as if the grain they had recently plundered had been plundered in vain.

Gao Yingxiang had originally thought they would exit Black Water Valley in three days, then immediately take Xingping County and have food again. But here it was already the fourth day, and they still had not exited Black Water Valley.

He wanted to send someone to urge the vanguard to speed up their march, but the soldiers and carts ahead had blocked the road so completely that the time spent going back and forth might as well have been spent marching forward.

Gao Yingxiang had the few hundred sacks of dried flatbread that remained brought to his central camp, then ordered the moldy, rain-soaked flatbread distributed to the leaders of the units, telling them that each man could only eat half a flatbread per meal. These several thousand veterans of his central camp were the foundation of his power—he could let anyone go hungry, but not them. As for the fate of everyone else, he cared not at all.

Nearly half of the more than two thousand warhorses had also collapsed. They could have been slaughtered for meat, but where was one to find dry firewood? Gao Yingxiang could only give up the idea with great reluctance. The remaining warhorses had also lost serious condition and could not be ridden for some time—they could only be led along on foot.

The starving bandits could only continue forward. Gao Yingxiang sent men to announce everywhere that tomorrow they would exit Black Water Valley, and then after taking the county town, everyone could eat whatever they wanted to their heart's content.

This tactic worked. The resentment that had been steadily rising among the soldiers quickly subsided, and every man thought only of getting a shield and eating his fill once they entered the city.

On the fifth day, when Guo Tianxing sent word that they were about to exit Black Water Valley, Gao Yingxiang, having caught a chill from the rain soaking him, lay collapsed on a stretcher.

He was not the only one. After days of marching in the rain, one in ten of the tens of thousands in the force had fallen ill, and several hundred had simply pitched forward into the mud as they walked and never risen again. The fighting strength of the entire roving bandit force had plummeted sharply. Even if most of them made it out of Black Water Valley, they would likely need several days of rest before they could recover.

Liu San led his nearly two thousand exhausted men into the official army's ambush zone. The rain and mist obscured their vision, and the bandits no longer had the energy to send scouts up the mountainsides. Moreover, they had never imagined the official army would be waiting for them here. Thinking only of getting out of the valley as quickly as possible, the bandits had completely lost their vigilance, and continued their winding march under the watchful eyes of the official soldiers on the mountainsides on both sides.

When the bulk of Gao Yingxiang's central force had fully entered the ambush zone, a shrill bugle call sounded, and from the mountainsides on both sides, a rain of arrows descended along with the raindrops.

The thatched sheds the official army had erected kept their bowstrings from getting wet. Though the arrows carried somewhat less force than usual, they were more than sufficient to kill and wound the bandits, most of whom wore only cloth armor and cloth clothing.

Stunned by the sudden hail of arrows, the bandits could only scatter and take cover amid screams of agony. Their own bowstrings had long since been soaked through, and they were utterly unable to return fire. The official army's thousand archers found this easier than shooting at practice targets—with such dense crowds, there was no need to aim; they only had to shoot straight into the mass of men.

After the archers had loosed eight volleys, the short, sharp bugle calls changed to a long, sustained note. More than ten thousand Qin soldiers, led by their respective officers, holding spears and blades, walked slowly down from the rain sheds toward the foot of the mountain.

At the mouth of the valley, Xu Zhong and Liu Yingjie received the signal and led their men charging into the valley.

The reason the official soldiers walked slowly was that the ground was too slippery—especially descending from the mountainside. If they tried to launch a full charge, they would certainly fall flat on their backs.

To prevent the official soldiers from slipping on the wet mud, Yang Mingsheng had devised a method—tying ropes to their shoes. Several coarse ropes were bound tightly around the soles, so that when the foot pushed against the ground, it could grip more firmly.

This method was simple and workable. After testing, as long as one did not run at full speed, the chance of falling was greatly reduced.

Most of the bandits had not eaten for more than a day, and after several days of heavy rain, the temperature in the mountains had dropped considerably. In their half-frozen, half-starved state, the bandits had no ability to resist. Facing the official army covering the mountainsides, only Gao Yingxiang's central camp put up fierce resistance. The rest of the bandits either scattered in all directions or knelt on the ground awaiting death.

Luo Shifang led several hundred men from one side of the mountain toward the Dashing King's central camp troops, while on the other side, another several hundred advanced toward the bandits. The two groups formed a pincer movement.

The original four thousand or so veterans of the Dashing King's central camp reacted as soon as the official archers loosed their third rapid volley. Some hid behind rocks and trees, some raised shields for cover, and some simply used the bodies of their fallen comrades as shields. The two volleys of several hundred long arrows facing them had killed only a little over a hundred soldiers.

Before the official soldiers coming down could form up their ranks, the bandits, expending the last of their strength, surged forward to meet them. The two sides quickly became locked in chaotic melee, with a steady stream of official soldiers continuing to descend from the mountain and join the fray.

The Qin soldiers, who had never seen such a large-scale battle, began to panic after more than a hundred of their number were cut down and stabbed by the veterans of the Dashing King's central camp. Some were already turning to flee.

Luo Shifang did not use the long spear he would have employed in cavalry combat. Instead, he wielded a long iron staff, weighing around twenty jin.

He strode swiftly through the crowd to the very front of the formation, swung the iron staff in a full circle with both hands, and swept it horizontally. With several cracking sounds, the fierce bandits in front of him fell to the ground with broken bones and snapped sinews, unable to rise.

Immediately after, he brought the iron staff down hard on the head of a bandit. The man's skull shattered instantly, white and red brains splattering in all directions, and his body toppled backward to the ground.

Seeing how ferocious he was, the bandits around him instinctively shrank back to both sides. The official soldiers behind Luo Shifang, seeing their commander display such might, felt their flagging morale surge at once. In their blank minds, the movements they had drilled in training came back to them. At the shouts of the Platoon Officers, the official soldiers formed up into ranks that were not entirely neat, and advanced with gleaming, cold, ten-foot-long spears held level before them.

The battle was essentially over after about an hour. The bandits had neither strength nor morale. After the veterans of the Dashing King's central camp had been largely slaughtered by the encircling official soldiers, the remainder knelt and begged to surrender. But among them, there was no sign of Gao Yingxiang.

Zhou Yuji, gripping his blood-dripping saber, briefly interrogated one of the central camp leaders, then with a single stroke cut off his head. He called out, and several hundred soldiers followed him, running in the direction from which the bandit army had come.

Gao Yingxiang lay in a cave on the mountainside several li away. Beneath him, the simple stretcher was spread with several sheepskin pads. Hun Shìwàn and Gao Ying'en crouched at his side, while several hundred personal guards were stationed outside the cave on alert. At the foot of the mountain, several dozen warhorses still fit to run were tied to the trees, watched over by several dozen bandit soldiers.

Hearing the faint shouts of battle in the distance, Gao Yingxiang struggled to open his tightly shut eyes. Two patches of red flush rose on his cheeks, which had thinned rapidly over the past few days.

He had been burning with high fever since last night, and his mind had become hazy and confused. With no medicine and no doctors, Hun Shìwàn and the others were helpless. Seeing that the heavy rain still showed no sign of stopping, and that if he continued on through the rain he would surely not hold out, the guards had found this cave and temporarily left him here to rest and shelter from the rain—which, by luck, had also allowed him to escape the official army's ambush.

The corner of Gao Yingxiang's mouth twitched, and a bitter smile appeared on his face. He spoke with difficulty: "I never thought we would be ambushed by the official army. It seems this place will be where I, Gao Yingxiang, am buried! You two take the men and go—if you delay any longer, it may be too late!"

Gao Ying'en, tears streaming down his face, said: "Elder Brother, say no more! Save your strength! I'll take you away right now!"

Having spoken, he stood up and shouted toward the mouth of the cave: "Some of you, come carry the Dashing King!"

Several guards slipped into the cave, bent down, lifted the stretcher, and carried it outside.

Just then, several whistles sounded from the foot of the mountain, followed immediately by several screams of agony.

Hun Shìwàn and Gao Ying'en's faces changed: the official army had caught up!

By the time Zhou Yuji and his soldiers fought their way to the vicinity of the cave, the original several hundred bandit soldiers had been reduced to a few dozen, and moments later they were cut down to the last man. The rest had long since fled over the mountains with Hun Shìwàn. Inside the cave, only Gao Ying'en and Gao Yingxiang, lying on the stretcher, remained.

Before the government troops arrived, Gao Yingxiang watched Hun Shìwàn abandon him and leave, his heart filled with both grief and helplessness. This was a sworn brother who had always treated him with utmost respect, calling him "Dashing King" at every turn—only now, when the moment of crisis came, did his true nature reveal itself.

He looked at his younger brother with a gaze mixing affection, pleading, and reluctance, and spoke in a weak but firm voice: "Third brother, kill me! You go quickly! Leave some descendants for the Gao family!" He had already imagined what kind of fate awaited him once he fell into the hands of the court.

Gao Ying'en naturally understood his elder brother's meaning. There had been three brothers in their family; the second had died young, and their parents had passed away when he was five years old. It was Gao Yingxiang who had raised him from childhood, the two of them clinging to each other as they struggled to survive in this world.

He too could not bear to see his brother—who had loved him like a father—fall into the hands of the government troops, for that would be a tremendous humiliation for his proud elder brother. Gao Ying'en's eyes brimmed with tears, and his arms trembled as he raised the long blade.

He thought of the hardships of following his brother from place to place since childhood, scraping by for a living; he thought of the care and protection his brother had shown him over the years; he thought of the wealth and glory, the fine wine and beautiful women they had enjoyed since taking up arms. Scene after scene from the past flashed through his mind. His body shook violently like a leaf in the autumn wind, tears streaming down his face unbidden—he simply could not bring himself to do it!

With a clang, Gao Ying'en threw down the long blade and threw himself upon Gao Yingxiang, wailing loudly. In his heart, a trace of regret arose: if his brother had never rebelled, the two of them should have lived a life that, though hard, was free from want. They would both have had children by now, and then would come weddings and funerals, until the day they grew old and died. Had he known this would happen, how he regretted it now!

When Zhou Yuji escorted the Gao brothers before Sun Chuanting, Sun Chuanting clasped his hands behind his back, glanced at the closed-eyed Gao Yingxiang on the stretcher, and suddenly burst into loud laughter toward the sky—laughter filled with the satisfaction of having achieved his ambitions.

And so, the banner figure of the roving bandits, the great bandit Gao Yingxiang who had run rampant across the Great Ming for nine full years, vanished like smoke and dispersed like clouds, becoming the stepping stone for the promotion of civil and military officials led by Sun Chuanting.