Chapter 264: Your Servants Were Just About to Fight to the Death

On the sixth day of the sixth month, Wancheng had been besieged for a full five months!

No one knew how they had endured those five months. Most of the city's residents had fled. Those who remained were mainly the Xin troops who had retreated here after the defeat at the Tang River — some under Dou Rong, others remnants of Yan You's command — numbering over ten thousand in total. They were mostly outsiders who had answered the conscription, terrified of being slaughtered by the Greenwood Army, whose military discipline was indeed notoriously poor.

Yet in the city remained Yan You, who had personally trained them for a year or half a year, and Cen Peng, the commander who had once dealt the Xiajiang troops a crushing blow. Under the joint command of these two generals, ten thousand men held fast to this place.

As soon as Yan You took office, he executed several prominent households in the city who were clamoring for surrender, confiscated all their provisions for the military, and imposed a unified rationing of the remaining grain. Relying on his own extensive experience in defensive siege warfare and Cen Peng's superb execution, he left the Greenwood Army — which had never assaulted a major city — battered and humiliated. They could only resort to a protracted siege, hoping to exhaust Wancheng's food supply.

Wancheng's grain stores lasted only three months. From the fourth month onward, they survived on thin gruel alone. The men inside went hungry, the sick and wounded were beyond counting, and with summer's scorching heat, epidemics broke out repeatedly. The garrison dwindled sharply from over ten thousand men to six thousand.

In the fifth month, the last scrap of food was gone. The starving defenders had eaten every rat and stripped every scrap of bark in the city clean.

The rebel troops outside were too numerous — at their peak, they claimed a hundred thousand. Though inept at storming the city, they were quite adept at field combat. Several attempted breakouts had only cost the defenders men and officers.

Under these circumstances, Yan You made a truly astonishing decision.

The sole reason the men had endured such dreadful, bitter days was their hope for relief from the Grand Minister of Works, Wang Yi.

No matter how unskilled they were, after half a year besieging the Greenwood, having tried every method, the attackers had more or less learned the craft. They had ample manpower, digging tunnels and raising earthen ramparts. Though Yan You countered each tactic, in the sixth month the outer wall was still breached. With the outer wall lost, only the inner city remained, holding out in bitter desperation.

The soldiers in the city no longer knew why they were holding on. They leaned feebly against the battlements, and when hunger struck, they took a bite of dark, suspicious-looking meat.

Thus, when the news of the catastrophic defeat at Kunyang arrived, the bowstring drawn taut for so long snapped at once. Even though Cen Peng strenuously argued that it was a rebel trick, the entire city lost its will to fight. Those who cursed Wang Yi were beyond counting.

Then Liu Bosheng sent men below the walls to proclaim that Diwu Lun, too, had risen in Guanzhong against the Xin and in support of the Han, that Chang'an had fallen, and that Wang Mang was dead. At this, even Yan You fell into a daze.

Cen Peng comforted the gaunt, emaciated old general: "Lord Yan, the rebels would even spout such nonsense to deceive us. General Boyu is a loyal subject of the Xin — how could he possibly..."

Yan You, however, understood his nominal disciple better than Cen Peng did: "Answering the call of the Han dynasty — Boyu would not do that. But rebelling against the Xin? He is entirely capable of that."

"His hatred for the court, his hatred for His Majesty — it was planted long ago, when Yang Ziyun died!"

Seeing the old general's despair, Cen Peng slammed his fist hard against the table. Truly, success had slipped away at the final moment. So what, exactly, had they been stubbornly holding out for these past months?

Cen Peng could not accept it. Yan You had been on the verge of a great victory, encircling the Greenwood Army, and he himself had already defeated the Xiajiang troops — yet the war had been lost in utter confusion. The battle of Kunyang, in particular, felt incomprehensible: even three hundred thousand pigs would not have collapsed in a single day, would they?

Cen Peng could only say: "Lord Yan, we are trapped here now — it is no fault of our fighting!"

Yet when Xiang Yu lamented "no fault of my fighting," he could still break the encirclement, slay the enemy commander, cut down their banners, and fight one last glorious, satisfying battle before his death. They, however, no longer had the strength or the morale even to attempt a breakout.

Yan You shook his head: "War is never decided solely by a contest of arms on the battlefield. The treatises on war say it well: the outcome of a war must be assessed through five factors. The first is the Way, the second is Heaven, the third is Earth, the fourth is the General, and the fifth is Method. He who possesses these five prevails; he who does not, fails."

"'Assess them through calculation, and probe their circumstances, thus asking: Which sovereign possesses the Way?'"

At this juncture, Yan You could no longer deny it: "Our sovereign, the new Emperor, is a ruler without the Way!"

"'Which general has ability?' I and you, along with Lord Dou Rong and Diwu Lun, may have some minor talents, but those in overall command — men like Wang Yi, Wang Kuang, and Zhen — are all incompetents."

"'Which side gains Heaven and Earth?' Our forces marched on a long expedition far from home, fighting on unfamiliar ground, beset by shifting weather and seasons — hence the frequent outbreaks of disease."

"'And whose laws and orders are enforced? Whose rewards and punishments are clear?' The imperial army's reputation is worse than the Greenwood's. As for rewards and punishments? For a long time now, the Xin army has had only punishment, never reward. Who would be willing to fight to the death?"

"'Finally, which troops are stronger? Which officers and men are better trained?' We hastily conscripted hundreds of thousands, believing ourselves invincible under heaven, but in truth they were merely untrained men thrown into battle — a disorderly mob. They were no match for the Greenwood's elite, who have fought bitterly against government troops for years and have many fierce, valiant commanders skilled in diverse tactics."

Yan You knew all these things, but policy came from above, and the Emperor was obstinate and self-willed, so there had been no way to change them.

"From this, I knew the outcome. You and I could win a battle, but we could not win a war. Our defeat is unjust, yet it is not unjust."

Yan You pointed northwest and gave a bitter laugh: "And had His Majesty ordered Boyu to lead such troops here, Boyu would have lost too!"

By the end, his words almost sounded like an excuse for Diwu Lun's failure to come. As the shouts of surrender demands from the attackers outside grew louder, Yan You merely raised his hand weakly: "There are no more reinforcements outside, and not a single grain of rice can be found within the city. Junran, you and I have done all we could, but in the end, we cannot reverse the greater tide."

"Surrender."

"For you men to throw away your lives for this court, to be buried in sacrifice for the Xin — it is not worth it."

Yan You cherished Cen Peng's talent deeply: "A fine commander like you does not deserve to perish here. The thousands of soldiers in this city who have endured such suffering do not deserve to die!"

Cen Peng let out a breath of relief. As things stood, if they did not surrender, the troops inside would kill the two of them and offer their heads to sue for peace!

He acknowledged the order and left, sending men to shoot letters over the wall and wave flags to communicate with the forces outside. But when Cen Peng returned to the watchtower where Yan You usually directed operations, he found that the old general had sent everyone else away on some pretext. He had donned a full suit of armor, and now stood leaning against a pillar, sword held upright before him.

The blade was already drawn. Yan You held it before his eyes, as if choosing where its edge was sharpest.

Cen Peng was horrified. He rushed forward: "Lord Yan, what is this? Did you not say that dying in sacrifice for the Xin was not worth it?"

"My sovereign may be without the Way, but he is still my sovereign!"

Yan You sighed: "He is the sagely Son of Heaven whom we — this very group of men — pushed onto the throne."

"That the Xin has come to this, that the realm has been thrown into such chaos — His Majesty certainly bears the blame. But does Yan Erudite bear not the slightest fault?"

"When I left Chang'an, I swore an oath: on the day I marched forth, I would find honor in death, not disgrace in survival!"

"After more than a year of campaigning, it has come to this. What face do I have left to remain in this world? I shall follow the example of Ziyu!"

Cen Peng moved to step forward, but Yan You had already set the sword to his own throat and raised a hand to stop him: "Junran, you once said that you could have gone with Ren Guang to join Boyu, but you resolutely entered this city instead — to repay my patronage."

"His Majesty, too, showed me the grace of recognition. He allowed me, a rustic from the land of Shu who in Han times would likely have been buried in obscurity in the countryside, to become the Grand Marshal in all his majesty."

Yan You seemed to see himself decades ago, a young man arriving alone in the capital to seek his fortune, calling on his fellow townsman Yang Xiong, who served as a Gentleman of the Yellow Gate. There, at Yang Xiong's home, he met another Gentleman of the Yellow Gate, full of keen spirit, who read Yan You's own "Accounts of Three Generals" and praised it endlessly: "Yan Erudite, you are the Yue Yi of our age!"

As Cen Peng treated him, so he, Yan You, would treat Wang Mang!

"Now His Majesty is abandoned by all, and even Boyu has rebelled. But His Majesty, after all, is no Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang. And I absolutely do not wish for the Xin dynasty we built together to be seen by posterity as a brutal Qin."

"Therefore, today, Yan You dies — to be buried with the Great Xin!"

He put a little force into the sword in his hand. It had once drunk the blood of the founder of Guryeo, but today, it would drink his own blood!

"Junran, if you ever meet Boyu again in the days to come, please tell him this for me."

"Yan You never had a single word of blame for him."

These were Yan You's final words: "My only hope is that Boyu can use the military stratagems I taught him, use Yan Erudite's art of war, and in this chaotic age — keep winning!"

The long sword sliced open the old general's gaunt throat. Thick, hot blood splattered across the battlements.

Cen Peng was a loyal, steadfast man of towering integrity. When struck by an arrow in battle, with no medicine, he had gouged the wound raw without shedding a tear. When he learned that his parents and entire family had died at the hands of marauding soldiers, he did not weep. Trapped in a lone city, unable to get a single sip of water for a day, he did not weep.

But today, he knelt on the ground, cradling Yan You's body, and wept until the sky and earth went dark, overcome with grief at the passing of the patron who had recognized and elevated him.

When word spread, the Xin soldiers in the city wept in turn. In all the Great Xin, high and low, one could likely not find a second general for whom they would wail so bitterly.

But surrender still had to be carried out. As the piled stones and timbers were hauled aside, the battered, nearly destroyed gates of Wancheng swung open. The victors, bearing the fiery Han banners, rode their horses in, trampling over the earth-yellow Xin flags on the ground.

Cen Peng, stripped to the waist and bound with ropes — since every sheep had been eaten, he had nothing at hand to lead — knelt in the dirt in utter humiliation.

The Greenwood chieftains and Han Army colonels crowded around their commander, pointing at Cen Peng and gnashing their teeth, shouting for his blood.

"The one who harried us for hundreds of li on the forced march and blocked us at the Xiajiang — that was this man!"

"The one who commanded for Yan You day and night from the city walls, foiling our assaults a dozen times and more — that was this man!"

"Kill him!"

To these curses and shouts Cen Peng was utterly indifferent. He had surrendered for two reasons: to save his benefactor's life, and out of pity for the several thousand men under him.

But with old Yan You dead, Cen Peng's heart was now ashes. His son had already been taken to Hebei by Ren Guang anyway; Diwu Lun would surely keep him safe, the Cen line would have an heir, and even if he himself were put to death, it would not matter. He gave up kneeling altogether, raised his head and straightened his chest — kill him or cut him to pieces, do as you please!

When he raised his head, what he saw was a tall, powerfully built middle-aged man whose face closely resembled his younger brother's — the same sun-horn features, square and solid, only with a bolder, more expansive air. Pointing his horsewhip at Cen Peng, the man laughed and said:

"General Cen, you fought a fine fight!"

This was no sarcasm, but sincere admiration straight from Liu Bosheng's heart. The man he hated was Wang Mang alone; toward surrendered officers of the Xin Dynasty, especially those with real ability, he was quite respectful.

"He who excels at defending a city also excels at storming one. Our Great Han needs exactly a talent like Junran!"

So saying, Liu Bosheng dismounted and personally untied Cen Peng's bonds. "Junran was a high officer in the army, holding firm in his resolve for five months without surrendering — that is his integrity. Now that we have raised this great cause, we must honor a man of principle!"

"I shall petition the Emperor to enfeoff you as a marquis!"

This was something Cen Peng had never anticipated. In the Xin Dynasty he had fought with everything he had, yet only managed to earn the rank of "Viscount." How was it that after surrendering to Han, his past was overlooked and he was to be made a marquis outright? Cen Peng was bewildered, staring blankly at the exultant Liu Bosheng.

"From now on, Junran will serve under my command and follow me — into the Pass!"

Into the Pass… wasn't Diwu Lun in Guanzhong? Cen Peng lowered his head and gave his assent.

Liu Bosheng was in excellent spirits today, and not only because of Wancheng's surrender — two more pieces of tremendous good news had come from the west.

The first: the General Master of Fates, Kong Ren, who had a grudge against Diwu Lun, had come in person to Nanyang to report the situation in Guanzhong, and further expressed that he was willing, on behalf of the officials and troops of the Right Unit, to surrender Wu Pass and Yao Pass to the Great Han's Gengshi Emperor!

The second: a casual move Liu Bosheng had set in motion the month before, before returning to Wancheng to join the siege, had borne fruit. From the enthronement to now, nearly half a year, they had been doing far more than just besieging Wancheng!

"The Han Marquis of Xingde, Liu Jia; the Assistant General Jia Fu; and the Assistant General Yan Cen — leading several thousand troops, have already entered Hanzhong!"

…

From the first day of the sixth month to the seventh, a full seven days, Wang Mang and his "Southern Inspection" party, fleeing to join loyalist forces, had been trapped on the Tangluo Road.

Cui Fa had said the Tangluo Road was the shortest and fastest of the ancient routes crossing the Qinling Mountains into Hanzhong, but what he had not said was that it was also the most treacherous.

The road stretched five hundred li in all, crossing seven mountain ridges along the way, the narrow path twisting doggedly back and forth between mountain hollows and riversides. Because it was merely a logging trail, not even a post station had been set up; the places they passed through were devoid of human traces, and naturally there was no prepared food.

The fleeing party had long since run out of provisions. The accompanying ministers had to swallow their pride and beg for food at the occasional hamlet or hunter's hut. When they managed to get a little coarse grain and rough fare, even Emperor Wang Mang, who in ordinary times was so fastidious about decorum that he would not eat meat improperly cut, could no longer afford to care. He scooped it up with his hands and devoured it in an instant, yet still could not eat his fill.

But he still stopped Ju Wuba and the others from resorting to outright robbery: "Does the gentleman too face extremity? He does, yet the Master said, 'The gentleman endures extremity; the petty man, in extremity, runs to excess.' You must all be gentlemen, not petty men!"

He also said to those around him: "Confucius endured the hardships of Chen and Cai and ultimately became a sage. This narrow Tangluo road shall be my Chen and Cai!"

His "Chen and Cai," however, was far more perilous than Confucius's. Although Ju Wuba's roar had shattered the single-log bridge and kept the pursuing Yue Cavalry from catching up, the road itself was still fraught with danger at every turn.

Setting aside natural barriers like the jungle marshes along the way, the venomous snakes and ants lurking beneath the grass and mud, and the ground wasps that built their nests on the earth, often claimed lives.

One minister, who had not forgotten to wear his voluminous robes even in flight, got them snagged by vines and branches. As he tugged to free himself, he noticed one branch seemed to move on its own. It was a venomous snake, tongue flickering. One bite, and the minister's face turned ashen; a few steps later, he was dead.

If one stepped into a mud pit where leeches swarmed, one invariably had to leave some blood as a greeting gift. There was also a kind of tiny midge — not lethal, but extremely vexing. Anyone who traveled the Tangluo Road was sure to carry away a body full of welts bestowed by them; even Wang Mang was not spared. At first there was no pain or itch, but afterward the itching became unbearable. The old emperor's face was already covered with scratches from his own clawing, a truly wretched sight.

They had endured what felt like eighty-one tribulations. Fortunately, they had not been slow, and were now nearing the exit of the Tangluo Road. One more mountain ridge to cross, and they would enter the heartland of Hanzhong, at last able to leave behind these twisting, coiling aerial roots and the dense, sky-blotting branches and leaves.

But as they hurried on, someone stepped carelessly onto a ground wasp nest. Thumb-sized wasps came buzzing out and began pursuing the desperate party. Ju Wuba, frantic, hoisted the Emperor onto his back and fled at the front, while those behind, running blind, lost their footing and tumbled off the cliffs — no one knew how many.

Not many had followed Wang Mang into the Tangluo Road to begin with — only a hundred or so. Cui Fa had already taken Liu Die and a dozen others ahead to notify Hanzhong to receive the imperial entourage. Of those remaining, their numbers had been dwindling at a rate of nearly ten a day. Now, scattered in flight from the wasps, by the time they came to their senses they had fled into a mountain hollow. Apart from Wang Mang and Ju Wuba, the only one who had kept up was Wang Xing, the Duke of Meritorious Cultivation.

After running for the better part of a day, Wang Mang was both famished and parched. Hunger he could endure, but not thirst. He was about to send Wang Xing to fetch water, but Wang Xing had been stung on the face and was groaning incessantly. In the end, only Ju Wuba could go.

Though his head was covered in welts and his face in wounds, Wang Mang still wore the Son of Heaven's dragon robes. His imperial sword, "Triumphant March Ten-Thousand-Li Ambush," lay at his feet; at his waist hung the "Yu Emperor Dagger"; and in his bosom he still clutched the Imperial Heirloom Seal, which he treasured like a precious gem. No matter how exhausted, he could not bear to part with these treasures.

After days of forced marching, the old emperor was utterly spent. Leaning against a tree, he dozed. Perhaps he was still dreaming the sweet dream of reaching Hanzhong and waiting for the Grand Minister of Works, Wang Yi, to smash the Greenwood forces and restore Chang'an.

Wang Xing, who moments ago had been clutching his swollen face and groaning in pain, now saw that Ju Wuba was far away. He stopped his noise, got to his feet, and fixed his eyes steadily on Wang Mang — on the Imperial Heirloom Seal in his bosom!

He had had enough of the misery of these past days. Had he known it would be like this, he should have stayed in Chang'an. He had met Diwu Lun once; perhaps he could have begged for his life.

But in a moment of folly he had fled, and Wang Xing regretted it every single moment.

Unlike Wang Mang, Wang Xing was convinced that the Xin Dynasty was finished! He had inherited this poisoned bloodline, and to save himself, he needed a precious object to rely on.

Wang Mang's head — he dared not take that.

So the only option was the Imperial Heirloom Seal. If he could get his hands on it, turn back the way they came, and upon meeting the pursuing Yue Cavalry troops, say he had a great gift to present to Lord Diwu… only then could he secure safety and wealth for the rest of his life.

With this in mind, Wang Xing crept stealthily toward his imperial father. His hands had already reached for the purple-and-yellow silk pouch containing the seal in Wang Mang's bosom, ready to gently lift it away!

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But at that very moment, Wang Mang's eyes snapped open. Those eyes, as always, were large and blood-red, glaring fiercely at Wang Xing!

"Unfilial wretch! What do you think you are doing?"

…

PS: Bonus chapters tomorrow.