Chapter 310: Seven-Inch Spot

Though Zhang Zong was registered as a native of Nanyang, he had lived in Hedong for many years, working for his wife's family. When Wang Xun entered Anyi, Zhang Zong, indignant at the army's vile discipline, resolutely raised his banner in revolt. When Diwu Lun marched east, Zhang Zong was persuaded by his officers to switch allegiance.

Unfortunately, the Wei army's river crossing in that campaign went far too smoothly, so Zhang Zong gained no great merit. Only in recognition of his prompt response, and as a representative of the Hedong locals, was he later enfeoffed as a "Viscount" by Diwu Lun and appointed Commandery Bandit Bureau Clerk, as a mark of commendation.

But everyone felt his noble title was watered down and usually looked down on Zhang Zong. Factions had already formed within Diwu Lun's army. The colonels and majors left in Hedong mostly came from the eight hundred officers and men who had followed him west from Wei into the Pass. In four months they had fought over a dozen battles, large and small, and by now were the core of the core. Zhang Zong and his ilk, however, had surrendered barely a month ago and had no outstanding figure to serve as their leader, so naturally they were at the bottom.

Dou Rong, on the other hand, rather admired Zhang Zong and deliberately asked him, "Sir, I hear your child was just born. Why do you not care for your own life?"

Zhang Zong raised his head and declared, "I have heard that when one soldier exerts all his strength, a hundred men cannot withstand him; when ten thousand men fight to the death, they can sweep all before them."

"Zhang Zong has over a thousand troops under his command, and I borrow the mighty name of the King of Wei and Lord Dou. This battle is certain victory!"

"Excellent!" Dou Rong, adept at seizing the moment, actually bent down, picked up the other half of the bamboo slip that Zhang Zong had broken and thrown away, and raised it in his hand, his gaze sweeping across the camp.

"There is more than one short lot. Now that Bandit Bureau Chief Zhang is willing to be the first to ascend and strike Wang Chang in the east, Dou Rong shall also personally board a ship and lead troops to strike the Wei River mouth in the west. In this camp, are there any others holding short lots who will follow?"

Zhang Zong's fearless gesture had already reddened the faces of the majors who had just been passing the buck to one another. A humiliation — to be beaten to it by a Hedong whelp. With Dou Rong's further prodding, they all felt the shame. Though they had grown accustomed to a good life and cherished their lives a little, no longer as reckless as before, their blood was still up. As if by prior agreement, they all snapped their long lots in two and, together with the man who had originally drawn the short lot, raised them high and shouted:

"We all hold short lots!"

"We are willing to follow Lord Dou and strike the Greenwood bandits!"

Dou Rong had seized the opportunity, rousing every officer to valor. Meanwhile, Zhang Zong, holding his tiger tally, returned to the Hedong troops who had escorted the grain and fodder here with him, and began to inspire the soldiers.

"Lord Zhang actually took the vanguard?"

Yang Mao, the Hedong man who had risen in revolt against Xin alongside Zhang Zong and later swum across Dragon Gate to pay respects to Diwu Lun, was shocked by the news. "In matters of distributing armor and weapons, rewarding with silk, and issuing rations, the King of Wei's core troops always get priority, while we are always last. Yet for jobs like mopping up remnant bandits, they drive us to do it. I heard the first two units sent against Greenwood were both beaten back. The enemy is nothing like the Xin army. This business of braving arrows and stones should be left to those fellows — why has it fallen to us!"

"Muddle-headed." Zhang Zong was brave, but not without strategy. He looked at Yang Mao and asked, "What is your noble rank?"

"Baron."

Zhang Zong said, "I was enfeoffed as Viscount. The King of Wei has not forgotten our contribution in rising up in Hedong."

Apart from the two of them, not a single other Hedong man had received a title.

"But suppressed by the King of Wei's core faction, it is very hard for Hedong men to rise now."

"Are you content to always be ranked last? Are we content to forever do nothing but bandit-catching and odd jobs?"

"An awl in a bag will naturally pierce through and show its point — but at the very least, you must first expose the sharp end!"

Zhang Zong raised the wooden lot in his hand. "Wealth and rank are sought amid danger. This is a rare chance. If we do not seize it quickly, it will slip away in an instant, and hereafter such a golden opportunity will be hard to find again!"

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Having persuaded his deputy, Zhang Zong again spoke stirring words to the old brothers who had followed him in revolt against Xin: "Over a month ago, the King of Wei sent his army across the river to rescue Hedong — fierce and fearless. At the time I thought, if I could be on the same boat as them, I would be no less."

"And today, we too have become soldiers of the Wei army. Now it is the Hedong men's turn to cross the river — first, to repay the King of Wei's benevolence; second, to prove that the courage and keenness of Hedong men are no less than Hexi's!"

This time Dou Rong was extremely generous, granting Zhang Zong all the armor and weapons he needed. The crossing process and the soldiers' state of mind were much like when the Wei army had struck Hedong — not worth recounting. Those who would be stirred were stirred; those who would be afraid were afraid.

Only Zhang Zong alone, armored and with a blade laid across his lap, crouched at the bow of the transport boat, braving the late-autumn chill wind, watching the opposite riverbank draw nearer and nearer.

In this era, the great river's southern bank was not yet the gentle slope left by later erosion, but was dotted with many loess plateaus along the shore, silent and motionless. Seen in the night, they resembled giant turtles and monstrous beasts in the water. With these as obstacles, the large transport boats could not turn around once they entered, so upon reaching midstream, they had to switch to small boats to continue forward.

The first batch of ten small boats, under the cover of the moaning wind and waves, headed for the southern bank. Over ten oar blades dipped into the water simultaneously, their edges churning the Yellow River's flow, slicing open a stretch of ripples.

Two li ahead, the moon illuminated a pitch-black, colossal cliff — that was the northern part of Tong Plateau. Upon it, specks of firelight flickered, and faintly, wave after wave of battle cries could be heard. The fighting had already lasted two days. Wang Chang's great army was inching forward, slowly pushing ahead, while the Seventh Detachment defended the strategic points to the death. The clash between the two sides had entered a white-hot stage.

Zhang Zong turned his head and saw the transport boats and war galleys gradually shrinking behind him. They had turned back to fetch the second wave. The path of retreat was cut off. A chaotic wind blew from the southern bank, and the current slapped against the hull. The soldiers, lips pressed tight, rowed with all their might, hearts in their throats, terrified that at any moment they might accidentally strike an earthen rock and capsize.

They lit no torches, relying entirely on the full moon overhead for vision, and took the string of firelights below Tong Plateau as their target: that fiery serpent was the Greenwood Army's attack column, stretched out exceedingly long.

As the shore drew closer and closer, floating corpses from yesterday's failed assault appeared along the riverbank — face down, an arrow lodged in the back, clearly struck while turning to flee. They bobbed up and down in the water, a sight that made the heart quail. Would this be the fate of the Hedong troops next?

The river water in mid-September was already icy cold, swiftly sapping a man's body heat, but Zhang Zong's blood only grew hotter. Ignoring the cautions of the soldiers behind him, his posture shifted from crouching to standing, a shield in one hand, a blade in the other. When the jolt of the boat touching shore came, he was also the first to leap onto the bank!

Treading through the frigid river water, all the soldiers followed Zhang Zong ashore, then formed into two columns. Their cheeks were all flushed red by the cold wind, and some even had long trails of snot hanging beneath their noses.

Zhang Zong had deliberately chosen a spot unsuitable for landing for this night crossing. The shore here was a stretch of towering hill plateaus, guarded by the troops Wang Chang had left to protect his flank. Their campfires were already before their eyes, and the air even carried the scent of roasting grain!

The men wiped their noses, held their blades between their teeth, and clambered over the earth and rock, scaling the heights like ghosts and mountain demons. The rustling sounds of their armor scraping against the ground were all drowned out by the earth-shaking slaughter up on Tong Plateau.

A Greenwood soldier on sentry duty, holding a torch, squinted toward the riverbank, drowsy and utterly weary. In the very moment his eyes flickered open and shut, a ghost-like, agile figure suddenly emerged from the night.

"Who goes there!"

"One of our own."

An unmistakable Nanyang accent. The Greenwood soldier relaxed — probably just someone returning from a piss. Unexpectedly, the man suddenly sprinted right up to him and plunged a blade into his belly!

With a miserable scream, Zhang Zong, leading from the front, sounded the horn for the night raid. The Hedong soldiers close behind followed suit, overrunning the camp in one breath and scattering it to pieces. Many Greenwood men, still huddled in their tents or gathered around the fires, were forced into battle.

Wang Chang had deployed at least three thousand troops along the long plateau by the river to guard against a surprise attack. But because the bank was so long, they were dispersed in separate camps, each numbering only a few hundred men. The camps on the east and west sides were several li apart. Detecting trouble here, they lit torches and began converging to provide support.

Their own wave numbered no more than three or four hundred. Placed on the entire battlefield, facing over ten thousand Greenwood troops, it was like casting a light snow into boiling soup.

But Zhang Zong had his own plan.

"Don't waste time on the reinforcing enemy. Keep pushing forward — fight your way into Huangxiang Slope in one charge!"

From their current vantage point high above, they could clearly see the distant battlefield situation: the only route up onto Tong Plateau was the fifteen-li-long Huangxiang Slope, hemmed in between hills. Confined by the raised plateau terrain, this narrow path twisted and turned like a serpent's form — thin and winding.

Wang Chang's Greenwood troops were packed solid within it, torches lit everywhere. Looking out, it was exactly like a fiery snake slowly crawling forward, about to swallow the giant elephant of Tong Plateau in one gulp!

Zhang Zong had taken an arrow during the fight but paid it no mind at all, snapping it off just as he had the lot. His eyes blazed as he stared ahead, at a bend in Huangxiang Slope — the most congested spot.

"While the snake is in the middle of swallowing its prey, what happens if you strike its seven-inch spot?"

A divine army descending from the heavens!

In Wang Chang's eyes, that was exactly how to describe this night-raiding surprise force. They had clambered up from the hardest place to land, routed one of his flank camps, and then, ignoring the Greenwood troops on either side coming to pursue them, bulled straight ahead.

Fighting as they advanced, they crossed the rugged hill plateaus and reached the top of Huangxiang Slope's "seven-inch spot." Then, with bows and crossbows firing in unison, they caught the Greenwood soldiers squatting there resting, waiting to assault Tong Plateau, completely off guard!

After a volley of arrows and bolts, the tall, burly man at their head leaped straight down from the thirty-foot-high plateau, his long spear impaling a minor Greenwood company commander. Then, switching to blade and shield, he led the Hedong troops in a wild slaughter through their midst.

Though the Greenwood forces were numerous, hemmed in by the long, narrow road and suddenly struck by this "blossoming from the center" assault, their numerical advantage vanished. It could only become a matter of "when brave men meet in a narrow pass, the courageous wins."

But they had been attacking Tong Plateau for a full day and night. Though they rotated, many soldiers had to eat, drink, piss, and shit right on this small path. Their morale was long exhausted, their bodies and minds utterly worn — they were directly stunned senseless.

Wang Chang was deeply anxious, but the reinforcements from the rear were blocked by the panicked troops and could not enter, while the assault troops at the front, unaware of what was happening behind them, looked back in sudden terror.

Instead, the Seventh Detachment at the mouth of the slope seized the chance, shouting "The reinforcements have arrived! Greenwood is defeated!" as they charged out.

The Ba serpent lunged to swallow the elephant but shattered its own venomous fangs; its seven-inch vital spot was suddenly struck hard, its mouth wrenched open by the elephant. Tusks raked across snake-skin as the colossal legs stomped down from above — intent on grinding it to pulp!

As the second wave of landing troops arrived, Wang Chang's soldiers left on the flank had no leisure to look elsewhere, locked in a chaotic melee by the river. And with the slaughter wrought by Zhang Zong and his men, the Greenwood long serpent had been hacked in two; each segment could only struggle on its own. In the darkness, who knew how many more Hedong troops were crossing the river.

The wisest course now was to pull the main army back. Though they would certainly lose four or five thousand men, at least they could preserve some seed for the future.

"Ah!"

With no armrest-table at hand, Wang Chang could only hammer the air again, declaring that his and Liu Bosheng's unauthorized military gamble had failed on the very brink of success!

"Diwu Lun has won. Liu Xuan has won. And I, together with Bosheng — we have lost!"

……

Thanks to Jing Dan's restraint, the Seventh Biao had been bottled up at Tongyuan for two days, obediently conserving strength while awaiting the weary foe and holding the defile against the enemy. Now at last he could lead his troops in a satisfying charge into the Huangban lane. Greenwood morale was spent; though a few minor Canal Marshals still fought valiantly, they could not withstand the Wei army's momentum as it surged forward. They broke and fled in defeat, only to be blocked at the "seven-inch vital spot" by Zhang Zong, reduced to the desperate fight of cornered beasts.

After an hour of bitter combat, by the time the surviving enemy were dead or surrendered and the Seventh Biao had cleared the foe for several li, finally reaching Zhang Zong and his Hedong deathsworn, the sky was already bright.

The Seventh Biao did not offer thanks at once, but came up cursing and rebuking: "We fought bitterly for two days, lit the wolf-smoke five times — why has Dou Rong only now sent men to strike…"

But when he reached Zhang Zong, every question stuck in his throat. The Seventh Biao's subordinates, too, stared wide-eyed at the ruthless man before them.

Zhang Zong's lamellar armor was shattered. A broken spear had pierced through his shoulder-blade and back, its tip protruding from beneath his shoulder, still dripping blood, while his back was riddled with stray arrows.

Looking around, the Hedong soldiers were nearly all wounded, yet their heads were still held high. This battle, they had fought with awe-inspiring gallantry.

The Seventh Biao had a perverse temperament; few men could win his respect, especially in daring and ferocity. Now, seeing Zhang Zong like this, he was dumbstruck, only inwardly exclaiming: This man is even more reckless with his life than I am! All those hostile questions were swallowed back.

And what was Zhang Zong doing? He sat upon the corpses that nearly carpeted the ground, neck tilted, drinking wine from a leather skin with utter indifference — spoils of war — while his gaze flicked toward the bristling Seventh Biao.

Lips left the skin, and behind his whiskers a smile emerged. He neither clasped hands nor bowed, only said: "General Seventh, will you share a drink?"

The Seventh Biao, who a moment before had been cursing, was now somewhat embarrassed. He simply reached out and took the wine-skin, shook it, found the wine inside nearly gone — and casually tossed it away!

For an instant the atmosphere between the two sides grew tense, blades nearly drawn — but then they saw the Seventh Biao, face set, bark an order behind him. He, too, never went into battle without wine, and his men passed a full skin forward, hand to hand.

The Seventh Biao likewise held the skin in both hands and offered it to Zhang Zong: "This wine — it is mine to present in honor to you, sirs!"

Whether he meant Zhang Zong or the Hedong "sirs" was unclear! The wicked gallant admired two kinds of men: those with real ability, and those fiercer than himself. Zhang Zong was both. Anyway, this scoundrel was most adept at taking the slope to dismount the donkey. For a moment, the King of Wei's own troops and the Hedong irregulars alike burst into laughter, all harmony and good cheer — until someone shouted:

"A great fire has risen west of the plateau!"

All turned and lifted their heads. They saw a towering column of thick smoke surging up from the west, rising higher than the lofty Tongyuan plateau. That was the position at Wei Mouth, where Deng Feng stood guard — and the very point Dou Rong himself was attacking!

……

PS: Chapter 2 at 18:00.