Chapter 238: Kill Our Way to Chang'an

Birds of a feather flock together, and things divide by kind — if a faction had no inner cliques, that would truly be a bizarre wonder.

Though they had only been on the rise for a few years, Diwu Lun's army already contained several distinct cliques.

The three thousand Boar-Rush Braves veterans who followed him earliest were now split in two: half remained in New Qinzhong, and who knew if they still bore Diwu Lun's stamp; the other half had gone with Wan Xiu to Wei, where they received allotted land in Wu'an County. Though Wan Xiu disliked strife, his subordinates — especially those led by the Seventh Biao — often styled themselves Diwu Lun's own direct-line troops.

The six thousand refugees recruited in three waves after arriving in Wei, most of them trained by Ma Yuan, formed the largest bloc. Many common soldiers from convict and refugee backgrounds had also become company-grade officers and now began to reckon seniority, ranking themselves by the three recruitment waves of the second, third, and fourth years of Dihuang.

At the very bottom of the contempt chain were the two thousand Gengshi defeated troops whom Geng Chun and Peng Chong had brought to Hebei — they too formed a faction of their own.

This time, when Diwu Lun selected elite troops to come west, all three factions had men among the chosen.

The simple and honest Qin He understood none of these subtleties, but if one had to classify him, Qin He belonged to the "Boar-Rush clique."

He was a common soldier whom Diwu Lun had taken in at New Qinzhong — utterly ordinary. Later, after going to Wei, he had fought as a lowly foot soldier in the battle of Wu'an; after the battle he was allotted over thirty mu of land and promoted to Corporal.

Qin He had not originally been chosen among the eight hundred. A comrade from the same company, who had married in Wu'an and was about to become a father, begged him to take his place, and Qin He agreed. Qin He was still single; though he owned land and a small house, he still had not managed to find a wife in Wu'an. His comrades all said he was too wooden and, to be fair, rather ugly — a real disadvantage.

"Can a handsome face fill your belly?" Qin He would retort every time, drawing a burst of laughter from everyone.

Following Lord Diwu, they had crossed Henei, climbed the Taihang range, forded Puban, and arrived at Hongmen — a place the Boar-Rush Braves veterans knew all too well and hated with a passion.

Qin He was a man of Guanzhong to begin with, and he had actually brought a brocade coat back with him — only, where was his native soil now?

It had been many years since the Xin Dynasty's property taxes destroyed his family and scattered them to ruin. His parents were dead, and he had no idea where his elder sister's family had fled to. Appointed as a platoon officer in charge of fifty men, Qin He could not help scanning the crowds, hoping to glimpse one or two familiar faces.

After the eight hundred platoon officers were each put in charge of sections of the forty thousand new recruits, Diwu Lun ordered the officers to talk often with the new soldiers, to draw close to them through shared backgrounds and hardships. Only then did the recruits learn that their superiors also came from bitter origins, and they envied their present circumstances, sighing:

"Had we known, we should have fled to Hebei back then!"

Though Qin He was not much of a talker, he showed real concern for the new recruits. After spending over half a month with them, he at last began to hear a few honest words from them.

"Just as we were unwilling to go north back then, among the new recruits, no one at all wants to go south to fight." On the night before they marched out, after finishing his camp inspection, Qin He found it hard to sleep. He gathered with a few Boar-Rush Braves comrades around a fire and spoke his thoughts.

In the Xin Dynasty, soldiering held no future. The Qin and Han military-merit system existed in name only; even if you took a head, the credit went to your superior or your superior's superior — it had nothing to do with you. At most you got a few coppers for your pains.

And never mind that Xin Dynasty coinage had lost nearly all its value — Wang Mang had promised every common soldier a reward of four thousand cash, yet not a single coin had actually been handed out. In truth, Diwu Lun had deliberately withheld it all; anyway, any blame could simply be dumped on the Emperor and the court!

"Tomorrow — no, today we march out. The rations haven't been cut, the sandals have been replaced with new ones, yet morale keeps sinking lower." A comrade poked at the fire with a stick and grumbled, "How are we supposed to fight this war?"

"As long as we follow Lord Diwu, we can always fight." After receiving his land, Qin He felt boundless gratitude and trust toward Diwu Lun.

Back when they went from Guanzhong to New Qinzhong, and then from New Qinzhong to Wei — who hadn't been full of complaints? Yet in the end, hadn't everyone been properly settled?

"This time is different. I've heard that going south to fight the Greenwood men has already cost over a hundred thousand lives."

"Who's harder to fight, the Greenwood or the Red Eyebrows?"

After a round of idle talk, everyone felt this campaign was deeply uncertain. Quite a few of them were willing to go through fire and water for Lord Diwu, but the forty thousand new recruits could not.

Compared to the risk of dying at any moment from a stray arrow or an enemy blade, trudging over a thousand li just to fill one's belly in the army no longer seemed so appealing.

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One comrade made a prediction: "Those fifty men under me — penned up here at Hongmen they've had no way to flee, but once we're on the road tomorrow, half of them will want to run! One pair of eyes trying to watch fifty pairs of legs — it's going to worry your father to death."

Qin He shared the same anxiety. Unless Lord Diwu announced that fewer than ten desertions would not count as a crime, everyone would be implicated. A thousand words and ten thousand phrases could only turn into one line, half self-comfort: "Don't worry, Lord Diwu will surely have a way!"

"Lord Diwu hasn't paid any attention to army morale, and the various Colonels and Majors have gone even further in indulging it. If someone doesn't want to fight, far from stopping them, they let them spread it freely." The platoon officers, still ignorant of the high command's intentions, could not puzzle it out no matter how hard they tried.

Even more, Diwu Lun had also ordered the platoon officers to actively discuss with the new recruits the oppression they had suffered under the Xin Dynasty authorities, deliberately stirring up their resentment against the Emperor and the court.

The group chatted a while longer and then dispersed. With the first crow of the cock, Qin He realized he had dozed off; at least he had slept a little — today's long march demanded full alertness.

He rose from the barracks and counted the new recruits again, finding that many of them lay with eyes open, unable to sleep. The looks in their eyes varied — dread, fear, inner turmoil — in short, no good feelings at all. There was even a young lad, barely more than a child, who wept as he packed his kit.

Only one big-hearted fellow consoled the others: "Once we're really on the battlefield, if you're hit in a vital spot, at least you die quick — isn't that better than starving to death as a famine refugee?"

"I'm just afraid we'll drop dead from exhaustion on the march," someone said sourly.

"I come from refugee stock — I'm not afraid of walking, only of hunger," the recruit muttered.

That day's meal was prepared especially early. Besides fragrant millet rice and steaming hot soup, every man was even given a piece of meat!

Chewing the fat in their mouths, officers and recruits alike all sighed that this was likely their last good meal.

At this time, the higher-ranking officers — the Majors and Company Commanders — also returned from the command tent meeting.

Unlike the low morale at the bottom, their faces carried excitement and tension. They in turn summoned the centurions and platoon officers for smaller meetings, passing down Diwu Lun's orders level by level.

"Good news — tremendously good news."

"We are not going south!"

"What?"

Qin He was utterly shocked when he heard it.

"You are to summon your Sergeants and Corporals at once, inform them of this matter, and then pass it on to the common soldiers — not a single word is to be omitted!"

Qin He repeated it several times before he could memorize Lord Diwu's exact words, but it did not matter if he forgot — while everyone sat in groups eating, orderlies had already entered every camp enclosure and were loudly reciting Diwu Lun's words.

This was no polished proclamation of the sort Feng Yan would write, full of literary flourish, classical allusions, and long, complex sentences. Words meant for the rank-and-file soldiers were best kept as simple and clear as possible.

"The Xin Emperor is fatuous and cruel, trusting wicked ministers and levying incessant taxes, destroying your families and ruining your lives. He settled refugees and distributed gruel, yet ordered it boiled with grass, wood, and earth to fill the belly — countless died. You were conscripted to march south to war, but corrupt officials withheld your pay and grain, cutting off our army's provisions. Truly, they want the horse to run yet won't let it graze — this war cannot be fought!"

These were all real events that had reduced the new recruits to their present plight. Whether forcibly conscripted or driven by desperation as refugees to avoid starvation, every single grievance struck a raw nerve.

Some shed silent tears; others seized the moment to hurl down their chopsticks and shout approval.

"Right! This war cannot be fought!"

The orderlies ignored them and continued reading loudly: "Therefore Lord Diwu has resolved to follow the will of Heaven and the hearts of the people, and will not lead you gentlemen south to your deaths!"

Under Diwu Lun's deliberate indulgence, the unwillingness to trudge all the way to Nanyang to fight had been festering in the army for over half a month. Some men had lain awake whole nights over it. Now, hearing these words so abruptly, they felt as if granted a great amnesty, and cheered without end.

The shouts rose and fell from camp to camp. The yellow headscarves that Diwu Lun had long since distributed to every man were flung high into the air.

The new recruits jumped and rejoiced, but Qin He and the other platoon officers looked at one another. "Marching south was an imperial decree. If we refuse to go, that is defying the decree — that is rebellion, isn't it?"

Yet they were even more delighted: "Rebellion is wonderful!"

…

After the morning meal, as the sky was about to brighten fully, the drums beat in waves. Every camp assembled in turn on the plain by the Xi River, surrounding the high platform where Wang Mang had once ascended to review the Boar-Rush Braves and had even conducted China's first manned flight experiment.

Diwu Lun stood atop the platform, gazing at the new recruits whose formation now looked quite passable. His words had already reached every man's ears; only one last seasoning was needed to fully ignite their indignation.

Over forty thousand men — only from up here could he make them all see him.

But that still wasn't conspicuous enough, so Diwu Lun reached out and asked a nearby personal guard for a garment.

"Give me the robe."

A bright yellow robe was draped over Diwu Lun's shoulders. In this era, yellow clothing carried no special significance — he simply wanted to be seen.

Red was also eye-catching, but the Liu Han dynasty ruled by the virtue of fire, its color being red. Wearing that could easily cause confusion and misunderstanding, and Diwu Lun had no desire to be inexplicably rumored as a great Han loyalist who'd been lying in wait since the womb.

The soldiers farther away could only see that small yellow dot moving at the edge of the high platform, as if waving its arms and shouting rousing words.

The voice was relayed down from the platform by strong men arrayed in formation, like ripples spreading when a stone is cast into water, passing bit by bit into every battalion and every company.

"Lord Diwu says: since we are no longer going south, the Emperor will send troops to slaughter us all. To flee now means death; to rise up in great numbers may mean survival. With no other choice, he will simply lead us all to strike back and raise our banner here and now."

"And march west! Fight our way to Chang'an! Slay the corrupt officials and treacherous sycophants! Trample the bones of the high ministers to dust! Throw open the state granaries and treasuries, and seize back the coin and grain that rightfully belong to the people — the countless livelihoods and provisions extorted away by cruel officials!"

"Seize it back!"

The crowd roared with fervor, and the rest simply shouted along. Only after they'd finished yelling did it hit them — we're really rebelling!

But even those with objections were already swept up in the surging tide of indignation.

What was shouted next was Diwu Lun's slogan: "Tang and Wu's revolution, punishing the tyrant alone." That was meant for the ears of the educated. Common folk might not even know the Shang or Zhou dynasties — what the hell would they know of Tang and Wu?

So it had to be more down-to-earth.

"Suppress the Xin, pacify the people!"

"I am the 'Grand General Who Pacifies the People'!"

Suppressing the Xin was the means; pacifying the people was the goal. Simple and easy to grasp.

No one started by shouting death to the Emperor right away. Though discontent with Wang Mang had long been simmering, in the hearts of most common folk, the Emperor was still an existence akin to a god. Even the Greenwood and the Red Eyebrows had initially just fled into the mountains because they couldn't survive, with no thought of rebellion — when they captured high officials, they even let them go.

They had to start by killing the greedy petty clerks, the commandery and county chiefs, the Three Excellencies and Nine Ministers — working their way up step by step. Only at the very end would these mud-legged peasants dare to risk their single wretched hides and raise a rough hand against the lofty old Emperor himself!

By then, the slogan would become: "Kill Mang, pacify the people!"

Amid these shouts, the crowd could only watch as soldiers escorted a man onto the platform.

Who was that?

"It is the treacherous minister at the Emperor's side, the palace eunuch, Wang Ye!"

"It was this wretch who gave the disaster-relief grain to the high ministers and the rich, leaving the refugees with nothing but boiled grass and wood to make gruel."

"That gruel — I ate it before I joined the army."

"I ate it too!"

"My wife ate that stuff and died of bloating within days!"

In an instant, the crowd's fury erupted: "Kill him!"

And Diwu Lun granted their wish.

Wang Ye had already had several fingers chopped off by the Seventh Biao. Pale from blood loss, he raised his head and saw, against the backdrop of the sunset clouds, Diwu Lun draped in a yellow robe, holding that woodcutter's axe, standing before him with a smile.

"Palace Attendant, you shall be the first person slain by this axe, this battle-axe. What an honor!"

"Diwu Lun, His Majesty misjudged you. Can you face His Majesty?"

Diwu Lun shook his head. "Then we must first ask: has His Majesty faced the people of the realm?"

Wang Ye pursed his lips, as if about to cry, or as if about to say something, but it was drowned out by the roar of approval!

The axe was raised high by Diwu Lun, then swung down fiercely! Again and again, until Wang Ye's neck was hacked open, blood spurting onto the yellow robe and nearly dyeing it red.

As the eunuch's corpse was rolled off the platform and his head hoisted high upon a banner, the atmosphere reached its peak.

No one knew who started it — a voice rose from among the thousands of soldiers, was gradually imitated, and then shouted in chaotic unison.

"Long live!"

Hongmen was drowned in this simple, repeated cry.

"Long live!"

Amid the repeated cries of "Long live!", when Diwu Lun descended from the platform, Liangqiu Ci was already paralyzed on the ground, scared witless. He saw Diwu Lun still gripping that axe, Wang Ye's blood clinging to it and spattered across the yellow robe.

"General Liangqiu."

Diwu Lun smiled and handed the axe to a personal guard. "What do you think now? Do you wish to join me in suppressing the Xin and pacifying the people, to accomplish great things, or..."

Diwu Lun's gaze flicked toward the head hanging on the banner behind him — or would he rather go keep the lonely Wang Ye company?

The events of this day had utterly stunned Liangqiu Ci. His whole mind was reeling, and he could only think to himself: "I recall someone once told me that Diwu Lun's face bears the lines of hidden virtue, a sign that brings calamity to his masters. I never imagined that now even His Majesty would be brought low by it!"

He dared not voice this, however, and merely bowed his head to the ground before Diwu Lun. "Liangqiu Ci shall follow wherever the General's horse's head points!"

This man knew quite a few people in the circles of the Six Commandants' officials and powerful families. Having him coordinate with Feng Yan to see if they could pull in more friends would serve as a fine horse's skeleton.

The three armies were assembled, morale was roused, and now every second counted for the coming battle. Diwu Lun reckoned that with Wang Ye gone the whole night, Chang'an likely already knew he had rebelled.

Wan Xiu finished reorganizing the troops and came to report. He and young Geng had been promoted on the spot to "Assistant General."

"Grand General, General Geng's vanguard has already reached Xinfeng County!"

The grand objective they proclaimed was to fight their way to Chang'an, but before that, there were obstacles.

Over two hundred years ago, when the Qin dynasty fell and the Chu-Han contention began, Xiang Yu had four hundred thousand troops at Hongmen in Xinfeng; the Duke of Pei had one hundred thousand at Bashang.

That was also the only natural barrier between Hongmen and Chang'an! Diwu Lun's advance force was already on the way.

"Good! The great army shall march west, seize Ba Bridge, and strike first to overawe the enemy!"

PS: Chapter 3 at 18:00.