Chapter 110: Follow Me

Because he did not wish to alert the Hu people, Diwu Lun had the Company Commanders and the centurions each carry out the pre-charge mobilization separately.

To the Boar-Rush Braves, with a 99% illiteracy rate, slogans like "avenge our fallen compatriots" were empty, grandiose nonsense.

What did "compatriots" mean? People who lived in the same county, the same township, even the same village ward, who spoke the same dialect and understood each other perfectly — those were compatriots. Men from Tewu County, after long association, had some feeling for each other and barely counted, but once you crossed the river boundary, they were complete strangers with no ties to you.

In other words, only those who ate from the same battalion, the same company, the same cook-pot were true comrades; all those so-called friendly forces could be seen as enemies grabbing for your territory.

The reason they had all crossed the river together was not because of some ethnic hatred, nor because their hearts ached at the people's suffering and they rose up in righteous fury — it was because the Boar-Rush Braves' great benefactor, Diwu Lun, had been the first to board the boats!

And so, when Centurion Zang Nu dutifully tried to rouse them in the same manner Diwu Lun used when giving the soldiers ideological guidance during mealtimes, the Boar-Rush Braves' reaction was…

"Oh."

By contrast, in the Seventh Biao, Brother Biao simply slapped the faces of soldiers who looked dazed after learning they were to attack, roughly jolted them awake, and cursed: "Without our lord, you lot would long ago have starved to death by the roadside. How has our lord ordinarily provided for you? Today, dying once to repay our lord — what of it!"

And you know what, after taking a slap and being stung by those words, when the Seventh Biao asked them if they were fired up, the soldiers' reaction was a roaring howl: Fired up!

The sovereign of the state is a lord, the sovereign of the commandery is a lord, the sovereign of the county is a lord — is a Marshal not a lord? Dying for one's lord they understood. Pleading for the people? They were the people; saving themselves was just fine. Recalling past bitterness to savor present sweetness? The more they thought about it, the sweeter were the days brought by Marshal Boyu.

All they knew was that when Diwu Lun gave a speech, they had to clap with all their might to give Marshal Boyu face; as for the content, they couldn't understand it anyway — in one ear and out the other.

"The Seventh Biao will supervise the battle from the rear — anyone who hesitates and fails to advance will be executed!"

Getting the Boar-Rush Braves to think was exceedingly difficult, but they were perfectly willing to carry out simple orders. Diwu Lun could only laugh and sigh — after more than half a year of training, this was the result. He didn't know whether to be pleased or depressed.

But it did not affect this day's battle. As one company after another received their orders, and as First Cockcrow's wooden mallet struck the waist drum with a heavy blow, Diwu Lun raised his shield, switched to his saber, and took the first step.

"Gentlemen, follow me!"

Boom-boom-boom-boom — First Cockcrow swung both arms, jogging behind Diwu Lun, the wooden mallet striking the sheepskin drumhead with a rapid yet powerful beat.

But not as fast as the soldiers' footsteps. With Marshal Boyu leading the way, anyone who failed to keep close was an ingrate! A son of a slave-girl! And would be despised by the whole battalion.

The young gallant Meng Ze, standing behind the Fifth Battalion, had barely blinked when he saw the Fifth Battalion's several hundred men suddenly charge out. Without the slightest hesitation, he too raised his blade, still wet with blood.

"Sons of the west bank, we cannot let the Tewu men look down on us! Keep up — fight the Hu bastards to the death!"

Although Diwu Lun led the charge, his heart was still somewhat fearful. As he ran, he kept his shield raised to protect his forehead. He was fully armored, his fine lamellar coat proof against stray arrows, but his face was utterly exposed, and he was deeply afraid of being struck by a stray arrow and dying on the spot.

But after only ten paces, that fear became unnecessary.

Someone came charging up beside him, panting heavily, drew level with him, then suddenly accelerated and surged past!

Zheng Tong, the centurion of the shield-and-saber company, was the first to overtake Diwu Lun. Though he was not tall, his strides were long. Even more astonishing, the fellow had at some point shed his heavy lamellar armor, letting arrows graze his cheeks. That desperate, life-staking drive was exactly like the time he had been the first to raise his blade and execute the personal guards under Ru Chen.

Then a second, a third, a fourth — Diwu Lun's pace was not slow, yet his own subordinates left him behind one by one. His personal guards in their lamellar armor also strained forward, forming a moving human wall ahead of Diwu Lun, using their bodies to block the incoming arrows for him!

The Boar-Rush Braves were unwilling to "fight for the common people," but they were perfectly willing to "fight for Marshal Boyu." They all considered it a disgrace to stay behind Diwu Lun. Human hearts are flesh; after half a year of kindness that had subtly transformed them, how could they feel no gratitude?

They still could not advance at a rapid pace in neat, uniform ranks, but they were very good at a free-form charge — just bring out the same drive they used when fleeing, wasn't that enough?

Yet they were still afraid. Because of that fear, Zheng Tong, running at the very front, opened his mouth wide and began to yell. As if contagious, one after another, company after company, they all erupted in howling roars!

"Ahhh!"

…

To the dumbstruck Xiongnu, these weird shouts to bolster courage sounded like the furious roars of men who feared no death!

Their shock was like watching an iron turtle that moments ago had let you bully and provoke it without any reaction suddenly stretch out its limbs and come charging wildly at you.

In an instant, the roles of attacker and defender reversed.

The Hu cavalry had had it too easy these past few days. Though they were winning, they had won themselves into a disorderly rabble. These three or four hundred riders came from different tribes and had no unified command whatsoever; they pursued only out of greed and instinct, chasing with reckless abandon.

Because the Boar-Rush Braves lacked cavalry, the Hu had grown so complacent they had dismounted to shoot on foot. Even now, some still tried to draw their bows and fire to intimidate the enemy.

But scattered, sporadic shooting was no match for the power of a unified volley. One man fell, and nine came charging forward. The Xiongnu began to panic and hurriedly scrambled onto their horses, hastily wheeling around to flee.

For a moment, chaos reigned: horses collided, some men fell from their mounts and were blocked by others behind them who had no idea what was happening, so frantic they drew their blades and hacked away.

By the time they reached a consensus to retreat toward the West Canal, the Boar-Rush Braves had already charged to within a few dozen paces. What followed was a chase: the horses gradually picked up speed, while the Boar-Rush Braves' strength waned after their sprint, and the distance slowly widened.

Among the Hu riders were a few experts capable of the skill of twisting in the saddle to draw and shoot while galloping. Had they possessed three or four hundred such elite riders, Diwu Lun's troops would likely have been kited for quite a while and suffered heavy casualties.

Unfortunately, most were herdsmen temporarily summoned from various tribes. Terrified by the fearless charge bearing down on them, all they wanted now was to take their plunder and go home.

But the West Canal, so shallow when they had crossed earlier, now seemed an impassable chasm. The Hu riders, fleeing too frantically, tumbled head over heels on the sloping ditch embankment. The canal was thirty to forty paces wide, the water reaching the horses' bellies, making a swift crossing impossible; they could only wade through slowly.

The smarter ones had already galloped along the embankment to either side, but they were immediately slammed into by a company of riders. It was Wan Xiu, following Diwu Lun's orders, leading soldiers who could ride and using horses requisitioned from the common folk to play the role of cavalry, tangling with this small band of Xiongnu.

Meanwhile, the majority of the Hu riders just blindly crammed into the ditch. For a moment, the West Canal looked like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

Although the Hu who had fled early spurred their horses up onto the west bank of the West Canal, most were still struggling with the mire in the canal. The trampling back and forth had turned the canal bed into soft mud, and the horses' hooves were stuck fast. Just as their anxiety peaked, the Boar-Rush Braves reached the canal's edge!

The three-hundred-pace, nearly four-hundred-meter sprint had left everyone gasping for breath, but the chase had shown the Boar-Rush Braves that the Xiongnu were just as cowardly and terrified as themselves, no better than bandits. Carried by sheer momentum, they leaped down from the canal bank, plunging into the utterly disordered mass of Xiongnu and beginning an utterly disordered melee.

When Diwu Lun, panting heavily, reached the canal's edge, this was the scene he saw:

The Hu and the Boar-Rush Braves were locked in a chaotic brawl in the canal. The Xiongnu, mounted on their horses, no longer had time to draw their bows and could only desperately swing the straight-bladed swords in their hands downward, but their blows merely struck the wooden shields of the shield-and-saber soldiers.

The spear and halberd soldiers seized the moment to arrive, exploiting the advantage that an extra inch of reach brings an extra inch of strength. Raising their long spears as if poking ripe pears from a tree, they skewered the trapped Hu riders, who could neither advance nor retreat, and pulled them off their horses one by one.

Zang Nu arrived shortly after with the crossbowmen, knelt on the embankment to draw the strings, raised their crossbows, and aimed at the Xiongnu who had reached the opposite bank and were trying to draw their bows to counterattack. A volley was loosed. Within fifty paces, the Hu barbarians fell almost the instant they were hit, and could only abandon their comrades and retreat, wailing.

As for Diwu Lun, his personal guards blocked and shielded him, refusing to even let him set foot in the water.

The last to charge howling into the canal and join the fray were the young gallants led by Meng Ze. These hot-blooded youths vented all the frustration of two days of wandering and fleeing upon the bedraggled Xiongnu, beating the drowning dogs with gusto.

Their equipment was poor; when their farming tools snapped, they stabbed with small knives and bit with their teeth. After his weapon accidentally flew from his hand, Meng Ze pinned a Hu rider beneath him, clenched his fist, and smashed it hard into the man's face! Then he grabbed the foreigner's braids and held his head under the water until he drowned!

As this utterly chaotic battle drew to a close, Diwu Cai Ji had already pecked another Xiongnu Cai Ji to death, stood up, shook the water droplets from his feathers, raised his head high, and crowed!

The originally fairly clear canal water was churned into thick mud. Dead men and dead horses lay across the ditch, as if forming a dam of corpses, so that the Northland West Canal, which had flowed unimpeded for two hundred years since the Qin dynasty, was blocked and ceased to flow!

But this was no time to clear the battlefield; Hu riders were still visible in the distance. Diwu Lun could only shout for the Boar-Rush Braves to restrain Meng Ze and the other young gallants, who were still seeing red and punching dead Hu corpses, and to help their wounded comrades withdraw first. He then organized the disordered soldiers, reforming ranks a hundred paces east of the West Canal and taking stock of casualties: over ten dead, several dozen wounded, most of them bruised and swollen from running too hard and falling.

"Magnificent!"

Diwu Lun, who throughout the whole affair had not even gotten his shoes wet and had only fired a few crossbow bolts, looked at his soldiers and exclaimed with emotion: "You have been called Boars and Rush Braves, likened to wild boars that fear no death when facing the enemy. Only today have you truly become brave warriors!"

Among the five hundred-odd men, only a few were so terrified their legs cramped and they failed to join the charge, and were executed by the Seventh Biao. Whether that was unjust or not is another matter.

Punishment must be dealt to those who deserve it, and rewards must not be neglected either. The court's rewards were empty promises — even Diwu Lun's own title of "Baron" had yet to be implemented, let alone for ordinary soldiers; no wonder the new army had no interest in meritorious service. So Diwu Lun had to pay out of his own pocket. Besides promising to slaughter sheep and feast the soldiers when they returned to their garrison, he also pledged that when the force expanded, the non-coms and officers who distinguished themselves today would be promoted and receive extra grain and vegetables each month. And if any of them married a local girl in the future, Diwu Lun beat his chest and promised that he would cover the betrothal gifts!

At that moment, Meng Ze, covered in blood and mud, came with Wan Xiu to pay his respects to Diwu Lun. Without a word, he first prostrated himself and performed the triple kowtow.

"Had it not been for you, General, the ford would surely have been lost. Today, I, Meng Ze, would have died in vain under the Hu barbarians' arrows — if not shot dead, then stifled to death by sheer frustration."

"We light-fellows from Lian County and Lingzhou have talked it over — we wish to join your command, General."

"I am no general." Diwu Lun looked at Meng Ze. As a rule, he would not take in light-fellow rogues; he preferred honest, dull-witted slaves, miners, and farmers.

But today was different. Meng Ze and the others had proven their courage. What was more, although the Fifth Battalion had now won the trust of the special-arm troops, the three counties west of the Yellow River still had no foundation. Crossing the river today, the common folk were more guarded than glad, and they truly needed some recruits of west-bank origin to join them.

Yet this lad Meng Ze pushed his luck, pressing Diwu Lun further: since the Xiongnu had turned out so feeble, why not let the Fifth Battalion use them as the vanguard and reclaim their homeland in one stroke!

Diwu Lun only laughed. "Among the common folk at the ford, how many are like you, willing to turn around and strike back at the barbarian caitiffs?"

Meng Ze hesitated. "Just now, those who joined the troops in killing the caitiffs numbered several dozen, but earlier, those who blocked the barbarian riders along the canal numbered several hundred…"

Diwu Lun had someone give him a suit of armor. "Go and ask around. I'll take every last one. If you can muster fifty men, I'll appoint you squad leader. If you can gather a hundred, I'll make you a centurion!"

Meng Ze had plenty of nerve. He lifted his head. "And if I bring five hundred?"

"Then I'll make you a Company Commander!"

Meng Ze was overjoyed. He acknowledged the order and left. Diwu Biao cursed that the young whelp was climbing the ranks fast, then walked over and asked, "Clan head, are we truly to continue advancing west?"

"Am I Han Wei the Barbarian-Swallowing General?" Diwu Lun shot back at Diwu Biao. He was Diwu Lun, and he would certainly not let a small victory go to his head, growing arrogant and rashly pressing forward.

Diwu Lun gave the order: "All of you, go among the common folk and requisition carts and wagons. East of the West Canal, throw up a simple rampart. The barbarian caitiffs may have been beaten back with over two hundred slain, but they could return at any moment. We will dig in right here. If the Xiongnu dare cross the canal again, I'll drive them into the water every time!"

Diwu Lun calculated the time. With those pitiful few boats, it would likely be nightfall before the several thousand civilians could all be ferried across to Tewu County.

This was also why he had Meng Ze recruit locals from the west bank.

Diwu Lun raised his head and looked at the noonday sky. "Once the common folk have safely withdrawn, once it is dark, then we can strike with our minds free of distraction, riding the night to give the barbarian caitiffs who still dare linger a great surprise!"

…

At the same time, separated by a single river, several dozen li to the south, the gates of Tewu County seat were likewise shut tight, as if facing a mighty foe.

From the city wall, Xuan Biao, the County Magistrate, and the County Sheriff watched from afar as Lu Fang — who had already begun loudly proclaiming his own "return from the dead" — appeared outside the city with over four hundred followers, a crooked, scrawled "Han" character painted on a tattered sheet of red cloth.

Xuan Biao's father, Xuan Bing, had chosen seclusion rather than serve as an official of the Xin Dynasty. Xuan Biao knew his father's heart still clung to the Former Han.

Yet now, seeing so fine a character so wretchedly defiled, even Xuan Biao, who always presented himself as a refined and cultured civil clerk, could not help but spit down from the wall and curse.

"That character."

"Are you even worthy to use it?"