Chapter 681: A Hundred Streams

Geng Yan had followed his father to his post in the northern frontier of Shanggu since childhood. As a son of a powerful clan, he still could not escape a classical education. The old scholar his father had hired at great expense was a man from Jingzhou, who tirelessly recited the poems of the southern lands before him…

He vaguely remembered that one of those poems was about the Jiang and the Han.

"In the south stands a tall tree, offering no rest or shade. By the Han roam wandering maids, whom none may seek or persuade. So broad, so vast the Han flows, no man can swim its tide. So long, so deep the Jiang goes, no raft can reach the other side…"

In his youth, Geng Yan had only been interested in the "wandering maids" the poem described. Only today, placed in this very scene, did he finally understand just how broad the Han River truly was — and that it was indeed "impossible to swim."

"General! General, wake up!"

When Geng Yan jolted awake from his drowning stupor, he found himself still soaking in the Han River — along with several hundred Wei soldiers who had fallen in when the pontoon bridge had pitched.

The Han army's desperate upstream charge with their fleet had been effective. The rams of multiple mengchong warships had driven deep; the pontoon bridge of boats and rope instantly disintegrated — a thing thrown together in a single day could hardly be expected to hold firm.

The large-wing warship carrying the enemy commander Zang Gong followed close behind, closing to within a few dozen paces. Its archery tower began loosing arrows, and when the wind shifted slightly, it even began shooting smoke-tipped fire arrows!

Though the Wei troops returned fire in haste, the pontoon bridge swayed and pitched beneath their feet, and many fell into the water. Common soldiers could flounder for a while, but officers above the rank of company clerk mostly wore iron armor; the weight dragged them down into the depths, soon leaving only strings of bubbles on the river's surface.

Even Geng Yan had slipped and plunged into the water. He had been devoted to the saddle since childhood and could not swim. A few trusted men barely managed to haul him onto a skiff — otherwise the Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry would have repeated the fate of King Zhao of Zhou, drowned in the Han River.

When Geng Yan awoke, he threw his head back and gasped for air. He turned to scan the chaos around him, and his trembling hand pointed only toward the southern bank: "Get me across the river!"

"Aye!"

His personal guards paddled the skiff toward the shore, some using their hands, others using blades. Wei soldiers who could swim also fought desperately for the bank, fleeing the fierce battle on the river. The retainers who had already crossed to the southern bank, once they grasped the situation, rushed to the rescue, hauling and dragging their waterlogged comrades ashore.

General Geng had never felt land to be so dear. After disembarking, he collapsed onto the ground, sprawled on the marshy grass and retching for a long while before staggering to his feet.

"No need to support me!"

"This general is fine."

Looking back at the river, he saw the battle still raging. Of the Wei army's three pontoon bridges, the first had been rammed apart by mengchong warships… The second and third still held, but the Han large-wing ships kept closing in, loosing smoke-tipped arrows, and some ships even set themselves ablaze and rammed forward, intent on mutual destruction!

Under the Han army's fearless assault, flames erupted from the middle of the second and third pontoon bridges as well. The Wei soldiers had barely doused them with water when Han soldiers leaped from the mengchong ships onto the bridges, hacking at the ropes. Wei soldiers grappled with them, and pairs of them tumbled into the water together…

Despite casualties on both sides, the pontoon bridges could not be saved in the end. Such things were hard to build but easy to destroy. Once broken in the middle, they were torn completely apart by the current's force. Half the Wei army was stranded on the northern bank, able only to fret in vain.

The various retainers on the southern bank had also lost their composure. Several lieutenant generals and colonels did not know what to do, for some said they had seen Grand General Geng plunge into the river, his fate unknown…

Geng Yan immediately gave the order: "Raise my banner!"

"Grand General, the banner fell into the water with you. Its whereabouts are unknown…"

Geng Yan looked left and right, then pointed at a scout wandering dazed through the crowd: "Bring me a horse!"

Only back in the saddle did Geng Yan recover that familiar feeling. Moments before, in the water, he had kicked and stamped with all his might but found only emptiness beneath his feet. Now, with his feet planted firmly in the stirrups, he could not have been more at ease.

Geng Yan rode at will, threading through the Wei ranks, waving his arms and shouting — like a shepherd trying to gather his flock. His personal guards, like loyal sheepdogs, secured horses and followed close behind, crying out: "The Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry is here!"

These urgent shouts steadied the army's morale. The lieutenant generals and colonels found their anchor and began methodically tallying their retainers. Half a ke later, as the last pontoon bridge on the river broke apart, they gathered around Geng Yan, who was warming himself by a campfire, and reported grimly: "Grand General, over ten thousand men failed to cross, and we do not yet know the casualties. Now the Wu fleet has dropped anchor mid-river. Our great yellow crossbows are mostly with the rear column; ordinary bows and crossbows can hardly harm the enemy ships. Repairing the pontoon bridges in full view of the enemy will be no easy task."

Geng Yan, however, laughed heartily: "That means over ten thousand men have already reached the southern bank. That is enough!"

In particular, the three thousand cavalry, who had been ordered to cross in the first wave, had long since rested. They had fed their horses beans and the rich pasture grass along the Han River.

"Send orders by flag: have the lieutenant generals and colonels on the northern bank shift their forces northward, feigning a search for another crossing point, to divide the attention of the enemy fleet."

Then Geng Yan said: "All retainers on the southern bank — move out at once!"

After the turmoil of most of the day, the sky was nearly dark, but he could not wait. Geng Yan knew that this war had entered a critical phase where every moment counted!

Geng Yan turned his head to gaze westward. A hundred-odd li away lay Dangyang's Changban Slope, where Liu Xiu and Feng Yi, with nearly ninety thousand troops, were besieging Cen Peng, whose forces numbered fewer than forty thousand. The two sides were locked in fierce combat; it must be a bitter fight. If he advanced just a few dozen li more, he would hear the harrowing shouts and killing cries of the two armies clashing over every position.

By Geng Yan's own reckoning, if he could strike the rear flank of Liu Xiu's main force now, he might join Cen Peng in using the few to defeat the many and reverse the offensive and defensive positions in one stroke!

But in the end, he resolved to act according to the strategy of the Emperor, Diwu Lun.

The three armies finished assembling. Horses' heads turned, all facing west!

The June river current was quite a relief from the summer heat. Geng Yan was now exceptionally clear-headed, and he played one more small, cunning trick:

"March ten li west, then immediately turn south."

"Raid Jingling through the night! Ensure that not a single plank remains at the Jingling docks!"

…

On the Han River, Zang Gong felt both joy and worry. At the cost of over ten mid-wing and small-wing ships set ablaze in ramming attacks, and the loss of several hundred fine sailors, he had barely managed to break the Wei army's three pontoon bridges — yet Zang Gong could not catch a moment's respite for it.

When he realized that the Wei forces on the southern bank were ignoring their comrades who had not crossed the river and were resolutely advancing west, he was greatly alarmed.

"The enemy general must be planning to strike His Majesty's rear flank!"

Fortunately, Zang Gong had already sent a warning to Liu Xiu. Though the Wei army had not yet crossed the Han at that time, His Majesty was among the most skilled commanders under heaven, and Feng Yi was the most cautious of men — surely they could handle this surprise attack with composure?

Thinking thus, Zang Gong did not rush off. Apart from a few thousand wounded and sick, the forces he had guarding Jingling were mostly the fleet of sailors and boat people, who could do little to help in a great battle. Since he had caught this Wei army's flanking "main force," he might as well keep a close watch on it. Every extra Wei soldier he stopped on the Han River was a small contribution to Liu Xiu's cause.

And so, the fleet vessels constantly arriving from Jingling to support him, like old oxen led by the nose ring, foolishly shadowed the Wei army on the Han's northern bank, following step for step. They sailed north for another ten or twenty li, until the sky had gone completely dark — and only then did Zang Gong suddenly sense something was terribly wrong.

"What if this is a trick of Geng Bozhao's? What if the Wei army on the southern bank did not strike Dangyang, but took a detour to attack my Jingling instead?"

"Turn about! Turn about!"

Zang Gong urgently ordered his flagship to reverse course. He left behind a dozen-odd mengchong and large-wing ships to keep watch on the northern-bank Wei forces, while he himself took a few vessels and raced south.

It was summer, the season when a hundred streams pour into the river, and the Han's current was swifter than a galloping horse. By all rights, Zang Gong should have been able to return to Jingling's defense in time. Yet the pitch-black night added unforeseen peril to the waterway. Hidden reefs and swirling currents damaged ships and ran them aground, invisibly slowing their speed. Every li they sailed was a tremendous risk.

It was not until a red "glow of dawn" lit up ahead — growing larger and brighter, until it set the broad surface of the Han River shimmering and made the path ahead safe — that…

Zang Gong despaired. That was not the glow of dawn, but flames!

He had still arrived too late. Geng Yan had led his cavalry to Jingling first. The county seat had its gates tightly shut and was still holding out, but the docks, unprotected by city walls, had met with disaster.

Burning masts and oars, docks crackling and popping, grain turning to ash on the wind, and people wailing and fleeing under the pursuing shadows of cavalry — though most of the ships were moored in Cloud Dream Marsh and escaped this calamity, the largest dock on the lower Han River had been destroyed in a single moment!

The scene before him was like fire searing hot oil, but Zang Gong's heart had sunk to the icy bottom of the river.

This was Diwu Lun and Geng Yan's objective: the Han fleet had the advantage, and Liu Xiu relied on it as his line of retreat. If the situation turned unfavorable, he could take his entire army and flee at any time. Once they were on the ships and away from the shore, even if Diwu Lun truly marched south with eight hundred thousand troops, he could do nothing to them.

It was Diwu Lun who had proposed a method: "Since the fleet is hard to destroy, why not destroy its mooring places, so the navy has no way to extract Liu Xiu?"

Docks were a great invention, allowing deep-draft ships to unload cargo and embark men and livestock without needing to reach the shore. Jingling was the last mooring point before the Han River flowed into Cloud Dream Marsh. Deng Yu and Zang Gong had meticulously built it up over the past ten days and a month, adding countless wooden docks, so that a thousand sails could anchor safely, all goods could return to the mart, and grain and fodder could be smoothly transshipped.

Now that the Jingling docks had been destroyed by the Wei army, where was the main fleet to go to extract Liu Xiu? As Cloud Dream Marsh silted up and clogged, places suitable for large numbers of ships to reach shore were growing ever fewer. They could hardly have the Han army trudge a dozen li through crocodile-infested mudflats, then swim several more li through shallows to board ships in the middle of the lake, could they? Even if they forced a landing, the speed would be drastically reduced. Transferring a hundred thousand men by ship was already exceedingly slow — five days at most, three at minimum. Without a good dock, it would likely take ten! And with the enemy's movements unpredictable, every extra day could prove fatal.

Zang Gong stared blankly at the sea of fire before him, his mind racing. The Wei army was here; the Jingling docks would be hard to retake and even harder to repair. He had to find another place to serve as Liu Xiu's line of retreat.

Apart from Jingling, there were two other docks and crossings on the Han River currently in Han hands.

"Xiakou is too far."

"There is one more place — Blue Mouth Confluence, far upriver!"

……

Zang Gong, desperate as a sick man grasping at any physician, pinned his hopes on Blue Mouth Confluence, the water-and-land hub of the Jiang-Han region. Yet the colleague holding that ground — General of the Han's Accumulated Crossbows, Fu Jun — was under far greater pressure than Zang Gong.

"General Fu, enemy troops are closing in from twenty li to the north!"

When Fu Jun first received this report, he assumed it was only Wei forces from Nanyang and Xiangyang, who had finally received Cen Peng's urgent plea for aid and were coming to rescue their superior. He paid it little mind. Troops come, soldiers block — had he not, as the vanguard, struck Blue Mouth Confluence and seized this place precisely to intercept every Wei reinforcement for His Majesty the Han Emperor?

But by the time darkness had fallen, and Fu Jun had donned his armor and climbed the watchtower to assess the enemy's movements, he realized something was very wrong…

The Wei army was marching through the night with Blue Mouth Confluence as its objective. The night was very dark, and the column carried torches. First, several fiery dragons reached the plain north of Blue Mouth Confluence and halted — this must be the enemy vanguard. They then sent out several fiery serpents to scout in every direction: those were the reconnaissance riders.

Yet this pattern continued unbroken through the night. What had seemed a trickle became a stream, then a river, and slowly, like the autumn floods when a hundred waters pour into the great channel, it swelled to the breadth of the Jiang and Han themselves.

By the time the sun rose, the Wei army had fully assembled. The multitude of their campfires, the sheer mass of their numbers, left Fu Jun at a loss for words.

The colonel tasked with counting the campfires had grown hoarse from tallying, and his fingers trembled more and more.

It was a sea of stars, brilliant as the Silver River, and at its heart, surrounded by a host of luminaries, flew the five-colored banner of Diwu Lun!

The Wei Emperor Diwu Lun, the first wave of veteran officers and generals mustered at Xiangyang, and the hundred thousand troops of their combined water and land forces — they were about to reach the battlefield!