Chapter 571: Heaven Is About to Rain

Now, on the other side of the Han River, Deng Yu was also gazing up at the sky signs, his heart heavy with worry.

"Last night the heavens were clearly filled with starlight, yet today the wind and clouds have utterly changed."

Although Deng Yu was betting on Liu Xiu's strategy and on his own military ability, he had not staked anything on his opponent's stupidity. Cen Peng was a worthy and respected adversary — those two words could never be pinned on him. Fancheng, as the Wei army's grain depot, how could it be left unguarded? Its garrison numbered at least several thousand, plus newly arrived troops.

Yet Deng Yu was striking precisely at their newness — their poor coordination with the old garrison, their inner unease. Thus his objective was not the hard shell of Fancheng itself, but the docks outside Fancheng's embankment, and the pontoon bridge linking it to Xiangyang.

So Deng Yu had ordered his men to gather pine resin from the woodlands; what the follow-up troops carried on their backs was not dry rations, but bundles of brushwood and firewood.

Half a day earlier, the Han general Ma Wu, who had rendezvoused with Deng Yu by a tributary of the Han River, came galloping over. The previous month, acting on Feng Yi's orders, he had rampaged everywhere from Caiyang to Chongling, fighting all the way to his old home of Huyang, making a great loop through southeastern Nanyang. But Cen Peng had adopted an attitude of abandoning the corners, ignoring Ma Wu entirely. Just when Ma Wu, in a fury, was about to march on Wancheng, he was shocked to learn that Diwu Lun himself had come to take command…

The originally tottering situation in Nanyang had been stabilized in an instant by the Wei Emperor's arrival. Ma Wu also discovered that rousing the masses in Nanyang to oppose Wei was no easy task: the powerful families had mostly been purged by the Red Eyebrows, and the Wei army had inherited that state of affairs. The barefoot peasants had gained some real benefits, and with Wei state troops and officials backing them, they were truly rising up against their powerful masters!

Thus Ma Wu could only turn back. By chance, he met Deng Yu's messengers, and so the two forces merged into one.

But Ma Wu had considerable misgivings about Deng Yu's plan. Pointing at the ominous weather as well, he said doubtfully, "Minister Deng, the sky is dark and threatening rain — will this fire attack of yours even work?"

What do you mean, my fire attack? Deng Yu knew that the old Greenwood generals like Ma Wu still held some respect for Feng Yi, but toward himself, they were not quite convinced. And the colonels under his command likewise harbored doubts about this young commander leading a surprise force — even though he had brought them all the way from Chaisang without a hitch, real battle was a different matter from managing a march well.

The arrow had already left the string; to retreat now would doom Feng Yi. Deng Yu could only insist, "The weather in Nanyang is often like this — overcast all day long. At such times, the wind actually picks up. Fire riding the wind's force may well burn all the fiercer."

Well then — now he had to gamble on one more thing: whether this rain would fall or not.

To steady everyone, Deng Yu was forced to exploit his lifelong persona as a "child prodigy" and conjure up a bit of superstition he himself barely believed. He said mysteriously, "Yesterday I looked up and observed the heavens. I saw the stars arrayed in brilliance, Venus moving retrograde, encroaching upon the divisions of the Ox and the Dipper. In the military yin-yang arts, this is an omen of successful raiding — it is fitting to strike a camp."

Liu Xiu was a devout believer in prophecies and portents. Whether true or false, this sort of talk was actually quite popular in the Han army — just not as exaggerated as that of Liu Ziyu in Hebei.

Deng Yu then looked at the still-hesitant Ma Wu and resorted to goading. He said deliberately, "Before I left Chaisang, His Majesty often remarked: Ma Wu may describe himself as dull-witted and timid, lacking in strategy, yet in truth, Ma Wu possesses great valor! When the Prince of Huaiyang (the Gengshi Emperor) was in power, he often served as a general and drilled troops — he is nothing like you mere clerks and aides!"

This was something Liu Xiu had indeed said about Ma Wu. Now Deng Yu was lowering his own status, casting himself as a civil clerk and aide, acknowledging Ma Wu's seniority and ability.

He continued, "I recall that when you, General, led your troops to aid His Majesty, you immediately ran into battle with the Red Eyebrows. The decoy force suffered a severe rout, and just when the feint was about to fail and they faced total annihilation, you alone held the rear. Instead of retreating, you advanced, smashing the enemy's pursuing troops in a single charge. That is why you were enfeoffed, General — not by the favor of an imperial in-law, but through solid, hard-won military merit!"

"Later, at the decisive battle of Pengcheng, you always served as the vanguard, fighting fiercely forward while the other generals followed in your wake. His Majesty and I both believe that the one whose valor and righteousness crown the three armies — that man is Lord Ma!"

Ma Wu was a rough fellow. This speech made his heart bloom with delight, and his view of Deng Yu grew considerably more favorable.

Deng Yu's skill at persuasion was no weak thing. He pressed on: "The rise or fall of the Imperial Han rests on this one battle. If we succeed, your achievements and mine shall overshadow heaven and earth. Deng Yu dares to ask you, General, to serve as the vanguard and seize the Fancheng docks for me. General Ma — can you still charge?"

"Of course!"

Ma Wu tightened his grip on his long halberd. "The false Wei Emperor has his imperial in-law Ma Yuan, illustrious in battle honors. Let the world know that the Southern Ma is no lesser than the Northern Ma!"

…

At nightfall, as the dark clouds overhead continued to gather, the wind indeed grew stronger. It blew the Wei army's banners fully open and set the pontoon bridge linking the Han River's northern and southern banks swaying so violently that Cen Peng, in the midst of crossing, had to dismount and walk — and nearly stepped wrong and plunged between two boats.

"General, be careful!"

His soldiers hurriedly steadied him. Just as they were urging him to go slower in the dark and wind, Cen Peng shook them off. "Every moment we delay, Fancheng is in greater danger."

They had already crossed more than half the pontoon bridge. Looking up, they saw the campfires illuminating Fancheng's long embankment, dimly visible in the distance like the spine of a great dragon. It was this embankment that held back the Han River's ceaseless pounding day and night, and that created a sheltered dock for boats.

But the embankment could not stop an attack from the land.

Another ten-odd steps, and the wind, blowing from northeast to southwest, carried a wave of clamor and panicked shouts, followed by the clash of blades. At first they were faint, easily drowned out by the sound of the water — but Cen Peng heard them.

"The telescope!"

Cen Peng's followers halted. Their general stood on the swaying pontoon bridge, raising the telescope personally bestowed by the Emperor to look toward the docks on the opposite bank. A battle was indeed underway. A volley of fire arrows streaked across the night sky, carving trails of light. The first wooden barracks caught fire with a roar, then a second. Tongues of flame licked out from collapsing tents.

"Move!"

Cen Peng only had time to utter that single word before he remounted and began galloping across the pontoon bridge, his personal guard close behind. Although scouts were monitoring the Han army's every move, reports going back and forth still suffered from errors and delays. The Han army on the northern bank had moved at least two double-hours faster than Cen Peng had anticipated!

His horse had galloped a hundred paces over the pitching bridge when Cen Peng encountered the trusted aide he had sent to Fancheng with orders. The man was racing south in utter panic, and they nearly collided. Only after reining in his horse did the man recognize his general and hurriedly report:

"General Cen, the Fancheng docks are under attack!"

It turned out that Deng Yu and Ma Wu had divided their tasks. Minister Deng led the bulk of the troops, carrying many torches to create the illusion of a vast host, closing in to pin down the Fancheng garrison. He deployed formations east and south of the city — that he could set out passable formations at night showed that Deng Yu was indeed well-versed in military methods.

Meanwhile, Ma Wu launched a fierce assault on the docks.

Cen Peng pressed, "The men at the dock encampment — have they not yet withdrawn?"

"They were about to leave on your orders, General, leaving an empty camp behind, but the Han army came too fast…"

Not far from them, harrowing screams rang out across the northern bank, now loud enough to drown out the sound of the flowing water.

A bloody battle was raging on the shore. Cen Peng had no time for more words; he simply pressed on with his men, spurring their horses at full speed. Fortunately, they finally set foot on solid ground just before the Han army fought its way here. After swaying on the pontoon bridge for so long, his guards' legs were all weak — they had never felt the earth so firm beneath them.

The men waiting to receive Cen Peng were there in anxious urgency. The dock encampment was a makeshift wooden stockade, and the Han army had already fully breached it.

Organizing a counterattack now was too late. Besides, this was precisely the bait Cen Peng had intended to throw to the Han army. He made an immediate decision: "We do not enter the camp. Circle around and go west!"

As they galloped west, the rumbling of hooves on solid ground, even through the thick wooden walls, was nearly drowned out by the slaughter and howling inside the camp. One of his personal guards could not bear it and pursued Cen Peng, saying, "General, the soldiers who couldn't get away in time are still fighting to the death. If we went to aid them for just a spell…"

Hearing those wretched cries, Cen Peng felt as though a knife were carving through his heart. The Wei troops at Fancheng belonged to two separate commands: Cen Peng's own garrison and the baggage troops Ren Guang had brought. The baggage troops were encamped beneath Fancheng's walls and had long since received Cen Peng's orders — they would not easily come out and give Deng Yu an opening.

But the soldiers at the docks were mostly Cen Peng's own trusted men. Every man holding out in the fight was one of Cen Peng's good soldiers. It was like having his hair and beard set on fire — every strand connected to skin and flesh and blood, a searing, agonizing pain!

Yet, though grief wracked his heart, Cen Peng said not a single word.

"What I need is victory in the entire campaign — not some irrelevant skirmish!"

They had already skirted past the camp. If they turned back now, they would see the battle nearing its end. Great fires blazed in many places; dark figures could be seen moving among the flames. The Han army's iron armor glinted orange, while Wei army stragglers fled wildly outward, and many more lay dead within the encampment.

Some of the Han troops, their eyes red with slaughter, gave chase without pause — but they soon pulled back. Clearly, the enemy's objective was not killing, but destroying the docks and the pontoon bridge. This would sever the link between north and south and deal a violent blow to Wei army morale.

However, the docks were still four li from the city walls. Deng Yu's main force had interposed itself between Fancheng and the docks, making both the east and south gates unreachable, while many Han scout riders roamed the vicinity. Of course, Wei scouts were there too, some of them tasked with meeting Cen Peng. But under the Han army's fierce assault, they had clashed with the enemy and were fighting in scattered, chaotic engagements in the darkness — they could no longer be found one by one.

Cen Peng galloped on with several dozen riders of his personal guard. Though they had extinguished their torches, all wore straw rain capes and bamboo hats that concealed their uniforms and identities, they still drew the attention of a band of Han scout cavalry, who took them for some "colonel" from the dock camp fleeing. They began to try to pursue.

Without Cen Peng issuing an order, a squad of his personal guards slowed their horses, turned around, and rode to meet the enemy. They had only time to leave a single sentence on the wind:

"General, take care!"

Cen Peng could only hear those ragged battle cries, and the clash of blades as they charged the enemy — the neighing of horses, the sharp ringing of metal on metal, then cries of pain and dying screams. He never learned who among them lived to the end.

Over the next four li, every time they met an enemy blocking the way, a portion of Cen Peng's personal guard would voluntarily stay behind to cover the retreat, leaving behind one blessing after another.

"General Who Guards the South — this battle must be victorious!"

His ears grew cold in the night wind, but his nose and eyes were hot. Yet Cen Peng never once looked back. He knew his mission.

At some unknown hour, Cen Peng burst into the main camp of the Wei garrison troops outside Fancheng's west gate. Fancheng was too small to hold over ten thousand men; the baggage troops Ren Guang had brought could only encamp outside the walls. The fortifications here were quite solid — a small fortress in their own right. These troops had been ordered to hold fast and not sally out, and had sat watching their comrades at the docks suffer a great defeat. Morale was low, and rumors flew everywhere.

Every man was heavy with worry.

Every man was gripped by fear and unease.

The army's morale was on the verge of collapse — Deng Yu and Feng Yi's plan seemed only a hair's breadth from success.

"Deng Yu is defeated."

Just as the dense, overcast sky could hold back no longer and a torrential downpour came crashing down, Cen Peng also entered the camp by means of his command tally.

He shed his straw rain cape, tossed aside his bamboo hat, and from the hands of one of his few remaining attendants, took and donned his own striking General's helmet — the proud tail feathers of the brown-eared pheasant soared high, letting every man see him!

Not only because of this rain.

"But also because I have come!"