Chapter 93: Outside the City

A few li outside the south gate of Shouzhou, the camps of two hundred thousand roving bandits spread across the hills and fields, filled with every manner of tent and thatched shed. Inside the camp, the bandits gathered in small groups of three or five—some drinking and making merry, some gambling at dice, some listening to tunes and watching plays, some laughing and roughhousing, some sound asleep inside their tents. The whole camp was as lively and bustling as a market fair.

At the center of the camp stood a great tent—the command tent of Gao Yingxiang, the Dashing King. Inside this tent, large enough to hold a hundred or more people, Gao Yingxiang, Zhang Xianzhong, and the principal bandit chieftains were drinking and discussing matters.

Because the weather was hot, all several tent flaps had been rolled up. Everyone inside had bared their upper bodies—some wore only a pair of knee-length shorts. As they grew flushed with wine, a gust of cross-draft wind blew through, drawing loud cries of comfort from the crowd.

Gao Yingxiang set down his wine bowl, glanced sidelong at Zhang Xianzhong, who was hunched over the table wolfing down food, and spoke: "Jingxuan, once we take Shouzhou and seize the grain, I plan to head straight west, take Yingshang and Yingzhou, then enter Henan. That's where we can really stretch our legs. What are your intentions? Continue to combine forces with me, or split off and go elsewhere?"

Zhang Xianzhong straightened up, chewing a piece of half-cooked beef as he mumbled indistinctly: "Dashing King, old Zhang's meaning is this—after we finish Shouzhou, let's make a trip to Fengyang. Fengyang has no city walls. We can plunder it once more to replenish our military pay and provisions, and conveniently combine forces with Yaotiangdong and Old Ma. After looting Fengyang, we head east a ways and take a prefecture or county or two, making the court think we're aiming for Nanjing. The guard station troops of the Southern Metropolitan District have long since rotted away. By then the court will have to shift troops from the Central Plains to protect Nanjing. In Henan, aside from Lu the King of Hell being able to fight, the rest of the government troops are useless. As long as we draw Lu the King of Hell away, we feint one way then swing back into Henan—won't we be able to hit whoever we want!"

Gao Yingxiang pondered for a moment and felt that what Zhang Xianzhong said did make sense. Since he had risen up, the only place he had suffered a great loss was at the hands of Lu Xiangsheng. Against any other government troops, he, Gao Yingxiang, truly had not a shred of fear. If Zhang Xianzhong's ruse of feinting east while striking west succeeded, Lu Xiangsheng would very likely be transferred to the Southern Metropolitan region. Jiangnan was the court's vital grain and tax heartland—not a hair's breadth of error could be allowed there. Once Lu Xiangsheng left Henan, one great thorn in his side would be gone. He could then swing back into Henan, rally the refugees, and take Kaifeng by storm—that would shake the whole realm.

But although Zhang Xianzhong's scheme was good, following it made him look inferior. If he acted entirely according to the other man's plan, wouldn't that make him, the Dashing King, look utterly incompetent?

Gao Yingxiang snorted and said: "Those civil officials at court are each as cunning as a ghost. Jingxuan, your plan isn't bad, but I don't think it'll fool those big scholars. To the east are all rivers and ponds. My ten-odd thousand elite cavalry can't stretch their legs there. If we happen to run into Southern Metropolitan troops who can actually fight, it's not worth getting bogged down. If you want to fight, you lead your men east. I'll still turn west and head back to Henan. I don't fear Lu the King of Hell!"

How could Zhang Xianzhong fail to see through his little scheme? He knew the man was narrow-minded and could not tolerate anyone being better than him. But who could blame him—the man's strength was formidable? Circumstances outweighed the man. In the current situation, he still had to rely on Gao Yingxiang for shelter from the storm. If he split his forces now, the court would spare no expense to hunt him down and exterminate him. Burning the imperial ancestral mausoleum was a crime worthy of exterminating nine generations of one's family.

As thoughts raced through his mind, Zhang Xianzhong slapped his thigh and laughed: "Right! The Dashing King is truly brilliant! I forgot about those ten-odd thousand elite cavalry under your command! The Southern Metropolitan region is indeed thick with river networks—truly no place for cavalry to show their worth. Old Zhang thought wrong! No wonder all the righteous armies of the realm look to the Dashing King as their leader—it's because the Dashing King sees things clearly! Old Zhang admires you!"

Gao Yingxiang raised his wine bowl and took a drink, a smug smile spreading across his face: "I, Gao Yingxiang, went from a horse-trading merchant to commanding tens of thousands of elite troops today. It wasn't through reckless charging—it was through this!" He set down his bowl and tapped his head with his finger, then continued.

"I've read military classics too—I have strategies in my breast. I'm not bragging—look across the whole Great Ming, there aren't many who understand strategy and can command thousands upon thousands like me! Don't look down on me, Jingxuan—you served in the army, but weren't you just a squad leader? Compared to me, you're still lacking. Hahahaha!"

Zhang Xianzhong sneered inwardly: This old man at least studied a few years in a private school, and after joining the army experienced no small number of battles—marching, forming formations, pitching camps, all of it I know like the back of my hand. You're a horse trader. Besides writing your own name, you claim to have thoroughly read military classics—can you even recognize the characters in them? Have you no shame? And 'understanding strategy'—pah! The only reason you've gathered so many men is that you throw money around like water. Otherwise, who'd be willing to follow you?

The other chieftains in the great tent were all loudly drinking and laughing, and no one paid any attention to the conversation between the two great leaders.

Zhang Xianzhong smiled: "In this life, old Zhang only admires one man—the Dashing King. I'll follow the Dashing King! Wherever the Dashing King goes, I go!"

Gao Yingxiang nodded approvingly: "Jingxuan, I, Gao Yingxiang, will make this pledge here—if I truly succeed one day, I'll make you Grand Marshal of All the Realm's Armies!"

Zhang Xianzhong was utterly contemptuous inside, but on his face showed boundless gratitude as he solemnly clasped his hands: "The Dashing King's words warm old Zhang's heart. Nothing more to say—whenever the Dashing King gives an order, I'll never be half-hearted!"

Gao Yingxiang nodded with a slight smile: "The urgent matter at hand is taking Shouzhou. We've been here two days already. The army just reported that our grain is running low. Two hundred thousand men consume a tremendous amount each day. The wealthy folk around Shouzhou already brought their families and property into the city ahead of time. I reckon that once we take Shouzhou, we won't have to worry about grain for a month! So then, Jingxuan, I'll entrust the heavy task of storming the city to you. I need to muster the elite cavalry to deal with the government cavalry coming up behind us. I give you my guarantee—after the city falls, three days without sheathing our blades!"

Zhang Xianzhong cursed inwardly, knowing that Gao Yingxiang was dissatisfied with how he always hung back during battles to preserve his strength. This time the man was determined to bleed some of his forces. But the two had just been chatting so warmly, and the man was even prepared to become emperor and make him Grand Marshal—this time he truly could not refuse again, or Gao Yingxiang would really turn hostile.

"The Dashing King can rest assured—I will take Shouzhou as quickly as possible! Only, my men are short on weapons and arrows. I hope the Dashing King can replenish them! I'll return to camp at once to prepare. The moment the Dashing King's supplies arrive, I'll lead the men to storm the city immediately!" Zhang Xianzhong rose to his feet and declared with fervent passion.

Gao Yingxiang was furious inside. As his power had grown, every bandit chieftain who came before him flattered and fawned, and no one dared disobey his orders. This had gradually fostered in him a habit of giving arbitrary commands, so what he hated most was people making demands in his presence. Only this Yellow Tiger repeatedly defied him in roundabout ways. Now that he saw no way to dodge this time, the man opened his mouth demanding this and that. Gao Yingxiang truly wanted to draw his blade and chop him down. But with government troops at his rear and a fortified city ahead, this was truly not the time to turn hostile. Fine—he would endure for now. Once the city fell, he would certainly send someone to find an opportunity to kill him!

Gao Yingxiang stood up and waved his hand magnanimously: "All the righteous armies of the realm are one family. A few weapons and armor are nothing! Jingxuan, return to camp and prepare—I'll have them sent to you right away! But I want to see Shouzhou broken within two days. If not, Jingxuan, military orders are no joke!"

Zhang Xianzhong bowed his head and clasped his hands: "The Dashing King can rest assured! Shouzhou will be taken within two days!" With that, Zhang Xianzhong grabbed his armor from beside him. Without donning it, he summoned Sun Kewang, Li Dingguo, and his other adopted sons, and they hurriedly left the feast.

Once outside the great tent, Li Dingguo gave a whistle. A dozen or so personal guards who had finished their food and drink and were resting in the shade hurriedly rose, sprinted to the thatched shed where the horses were tethered, and led out each man's mount. Zhang Xianzhong draped his armor over the front of the saddle, then swung up onto the rear half of the saddle, grabbed the reins with both hands, and kicked his legs against the horse's flanks. The yellow-maned steed shot forward, and the men behind hastily mounted and followed. The party of a dozen or so riders galloped straight for their own camp.