Chapter 89: Heavy Fists Against the Common Folk

"Aren't they just some Marquis left over from the old dynasty? What's with the swagger!"

Diwu Lun had overestimated the Butcher clan's son — the man was a textbook bully who threw heavy punches at common folk but turned meek and stammering before officials and nobles. He'd meant to slaughter a bunch of civilians to blood his new recruits, but when a lord suddenly charged out from the other side, he had no idea what to do and could only mutter under his breath.

Weren't you bellowing plenty loud just a moment ago?

The people of Beidi Commandery, seeing that Marquis of Yiyang, Fu Chang, had come to back them up, immediately swaggered again, cursing furiously in their local dialect. Their folkways had always been fierce, and now with a leader, farm tools mixed with spears and halberds, they pressed forward aggressively behind Fu Chang — while Butcher Shao's soldiers, on the contrary, retreated step by step.

"Hold!"

At this moment, Diwu Lun spurred his horse out, charged into the middle, and planted himself between the two sides with blades drawn and bows bent. He stretched out both hands to stop them from clashing, then stepped forward and clasped his hands in salute to Fu Chang.

"Attached City of Xiyang Hamlet, Major Diwu Lun, pays his respects to the Marquis of Yiyang."

Diwu Lun's title had finally come through — he'd been enfeoffed at some place called "Xiyang Hamlet," said to be around Anlu in Jiangxia, Jingzhou. Diwu Lun didn't pay it any mind. An empty fief — let it be wherever; anyway, your Great Xin's noble titles were hollow honors that brought in no real stipend, worth less than a certificate of merit or a silk banner.

Still, there was a hierarchy. An Attached City was plainly inferior to a Marquis or Count. The Marquis of Yiyang opposite him, Fu Chang, was a classic son of the Six Commanderies — eight chi tall, a commanding face, bow and blade on his horse. He glared hard at Diwu Lun and said, "A Major? A piddling Major dares such insolence, turning blades against the common people?"

Diwu Lun immediately distanced himself from Butcher Shao. "We have only just entered your esteemed territory. Those carrying spears and crossbows are regular troops, led by Major Butcher Shao. I am bringing up a battalion of supernumerary troops in the rear. Marquis of Yiyang, I come from a humble family and know well the bitterness of farming. I have issued repeated orders — they have not trampled a single green sprout. We carry not even armor or weapons on our persons, much less would we harm the common people."

Fu Chang nodded. "Where is your commanding officer?"

"We are the rear guard. The main army passed through the day before…" Diwu Lun suddenly realized that the business of starving men ripping up green sprouts to eat and seizing local people as conscripts had very likely been done by the vanguard. But the locals, seeing the main army's numbers — as many as five or six thousand — had not dared come seeking an explanation. They had waited until the rear guard crossed into their territory, then dragged Fu Chang along to catch the tail end and demand an accounting.

So this matter absolutely had to be kicked upstairs — there was no way he could handle it on his own.

Diwu Lun spoke at once. "Lun is of low rank and merely follows orders from above. I have no authority to decide anything. Even if the Marquis and the County Magistrate detain me, it will do no good. Moreover, our military orders are urgent and we cannot linger. I do have an idea — my lord Marquis, why not travel with us to the commandery seat? All three armies will assemble and rest there. At that point, my lord Marquis, the General Who Swallows the Hu, and the Grand Governor can hold a three-way conference. Only then can this matter be resolved."

Fu Chang glanced back at the indignant, seething commoners, hesitated, then said, "Diwu Lun, you claim your supernumeraries under command have not trampled or ruined a single green sprout? There are still three days' march ahead — can you keep to that?"

"I can!"

Fu Chang did not believe him. "And if I catch you at it? What then."

Diwu Lun removed his cap, gathered his black hair in his hand, and said, "For every stalk trampled, I will cut off one strand of my hair."

People of that age cared deeply about their hair — hence the punishment of shaving the head, regarded as a supreme disgrace. Diwu Lun's pledge put Fu Chang at ease. He rode back, conferred with the County Magistrate and Elders who had hurried over, and they decided to take men to the commandery seat to demand an accounting from the General Who Swallows the Hu.

On the march together, the positions reversed — now Diwu Lun's Boar-Rush Braves walked in front, while Butcher Shao and the regulars brought up the rear. Fu Chang observed Diwu Lun's Fifth Battalion closely. Though their clothes were tattered, every man wore shoes on his feet, and their steps were not weak and unsteady like those of other auxiliary troops — clearly, they normally got enough to eat.

As a result, they had no interest in the green sprouts in the fields. And because Xuan Biao had passed down Diwu Lun's order — that any wanton trampling would bring shame upon Major Boyu — the Boar-Rush Braves placed every step with care. If someone strayed into a field by accident and damaged wheat shoots, he would kneel and weep, begging to have his own head shaved in recompense.

But Diwu Lun meant what he said. Without a word, he drew his knife, pinched up a strand of his own hair, and cut it — drawing gasps of astonishment from all around. This act made Fu Chang look at him with new eyes.

By the time they made camp that afternoon, Fu Chang even praised Diwu Lun. "Boyu, your men are called supernumeraries, yet their discipline is better than the regulars'. You know how to lead troops."

"Lun had the good fortune to study several scrolls of military texts under the late Grand Marshal Yan, Lord Erudite." Diwu Lun seized the moment to trot out Yan You as a patron — a patron who wasn't really one — to raise his own standing.

Once the contempt had completely vanished from Fu Chang's face, Diwu Lun added, "My grandfather campaigned many years in the Western Regions and often told me of how the Marquis Jing of Yiyang, Lord Fu, beheaded the King of Loulan and presented the head at the palace gate. And in Chang'an, the tale of Lord Fu casting aside his wine-cup is still told — that line, 'A true man should win glory in the farthest frontiers; how can he sit idle as a scattered scholar?' — that is the very reason I was spurred to join the army."

Fu Chang stroked his beard, well pleased. Fu Jiezi was his great-grandfather; those heroic deeds had spread down through the years and established the Fu clan's place among the foremost powerful families of Beidi.

When he further learned that Diwu Lun's grandfather had served under Gan Yanshou and Chen Tang, he clapped his hands and laughed aloud. "The grandson of the Marquis Zhuang of Yicheng, Gan Qian, is at the commandery seat right now. When we arrive, I shall introduce Boyu to him."

Only then did Diwu Lun realize that Butcher Shao's slander — calling Fu Chang "a lord of the former dynasty" — had been a misunderstanding born of sheer ignorance.

That generation — Fu Jiezi, Gan Yanshou, and the rest who had roamed the Western Regions and expanded the empire's frontiers — had, in truth, been treated quite poorly during the Han. Confucian ministers at court, men like Xiao Wangzhi and Kuang Heng, were forever obstructing their enfeoffment, so their deeds were great but their rewards meager. Add to that unworthy sons and grandsons, and within a generation or two the titles were lost. Fu Chang's family, for instance — in his grandfather's time, they had been found guilty of an offense and barred from inheriting; the fief was abolished.

It was only after Wang Mang took the reins of power — because he and Chen Tang had been friends despite the gap in years, an old debt of gratitude — and because he wished to use the achievements of Chen Tang and Gan Yanshou in destroying the Xiongnu Zhizhi Chanyu to honor Emperor Yuan of Han with the temple name "Gaozong," thereby currying favor with the Empress Dowager Wang Zhengjun —

that Wang Mang reopened the cases of Chen Tang and Gan Yanshou, granting Gan Yanshou's grandson, Gan Qian, an additional 1,600 households, posthumously honoring Chen Tang as "Marquis Zhuang Who Smashes the Hu," and enfeoffing both of Chen Tang's sons as marquises.

Others who basked in the reflected glory included all those who had won merit in the Western Regions during the Han: besides Fu Jiezi's family, there was the "Marquis Zhuangwu of Changluo," Chang Hui, who had been envoy to the Wusun kingdom; the first Protector-General of the Western Regions, the "Marquis Mu of Anyuan," Zheng Ji; and others. Their descendants had all been re-enfeoffed as marquises during the Yuanshi era of Emperor Ping. After Wang Mang supplanted the Han, their old stipends remained unchanged.

Apart from honoring old ties and winning hearts, it was probably also because Wang Mang — this so-called "Confucian Emperor" — harbored deep in his heart a dream of expanding the frontiers and bringing the four barbarian quarters to submit as guests.

Thus, men like Fu Chang and Gan Qian, descendants of those who had won military merit in the reigns of Emperors Xuan and Yuan, felt not a shred of longing for the Former Han. On the contrary, they were staunch supporters of the Xin Dynasty — though, of course, Fu Chang still had a slight objection to Wang Mang's insistence on renaming his hometown from Niyang to "Niyin."

As for Wang Mang's offensive against the Xiongnu, they — sons of the Six Commanderies — were perfectly happy to see it happen. West of the Pass produces generals, east of the Pass produces ministers. If it came to studying the Five Classics, the easterners would thrash them, but when it came to martial virtue in abundance, whom did the Six Commanderies ever fear?

The trouble was, your Great Xin's army was simply too rotten — rotten enough to make Diwu Lun doubt the meaning of life.

Three days later, the rear guard reached the vicinity of the commandery seat, Zhilu (Maling). There Diwu Lun witnessed a scene he would never forget.

The eight-thousand-strong army of the General Who Swallows the Hu, Han Wei, was encamped outside the city, hemming in one corner of the walls. There was even a detachment blocking the city gate, shouting up at it.

Yet the Grand Governor, for his life, refused to open the gates, only parleying from atop the walls. Inside the city, the commandery troops and able-bodied men had all been mobilized, issued armor and weapons, and sent up to man the defenses. On the walls, water was being boiled, stones readied — as if facing a dire foe.

Diwu Lun found it nothing short of farcical. This was a commandery and county of the Xin Dynasty, was it not?

This was the Xin Dynasty's army, was it not?

Anyone in the know would say they were guarding against soldiers as if against bandits; anyone not in the know would think an enemy nation's great army had come to attack! All that was missing was a volley of crossbow bolts from the walls and scaling ladders going up below as men swarmed up like moths.

Even Xuan Biao stared blankly and could only murmur, "The soldiers treat the people as thieves, and the people treat the soldiers as brigands. What madness."

"Making a fuss over nothing."

The Seventh Biao, however, laughed as if this were perfectly normal. "When I first joined up, it was still the last years of the Former Han, the reigns of Cheng and Ai. It was exactly the same between soldiers and civilians then — it's always been this way!"

…

Though the General Who Swallows the Hu was so furious that smoke poured from his seven orifices, and though some officers who truly believed they had come to help Beidi resist the Xiongnu were full of aggrieved indignation, the Grand Governor of Weirong still, in the end, refused to open the city gates. Wealth and grain were all concentrated inside the city — who knew what those vicious, desperate soldiers outside might do?

Had the Colonels not strenuously argued against it — pointing out that the great army was encamped at the front with its back to Weirong, and that supplies, grain, and civilian laborers all depended on the Grand Governor — Han Wei would have given the order to storm the city.

"Similar things have happened more than once in the border commanderies over the past ten years."

Liangqiu Ci told Diwu Lun something he did not know. "Half of those so-called Xiongnu incursions to plunder the frontier are actually the work of troops garrisoning the border — sometimes deserters looting, sometimes officers leading the way. They say there was even a Colonel who led his troops to attack a small township in Wuyuan Commandery, slaughtered the whole town, then reported that the Xiongnu's Left Worthy Prince had crossed the border to burn and plunder, and that his own unit had fought bravely and taken so-and-so many enemy heads."

At court, Wang Mang flew into a towering rage, convinced the Xiongnu had gone too far, and ordered reinforcements to the border — which only made the border regions more chaotic. In the end, the Master of Fates of the Five Majesties investigated and uncovered the truth, but the whole court was momentarily struck dumb. They merely punished the ringleaders and hastily hushed the matter up.

Diwu Lun nodded. He had truly broadened his horizons. No wonder the commandery seat was so on guard — three chi of ice was not frozen in a single day.

With relations between the army and the commandery so strained that they were a hair's breadth from open conflict, trampling a few green sprouts on the march hardly counted as a matter at all. The Marquis of Yiyang, Fu Chang, joined forces with the Marquis of Yicheng, Gan Qian, to demand an accounting from Han Wei, but the General Who Swallows the Hu would not even see them. He made it clear that compensating for the green sprouts and apologizing to the two lords and the common people was absolutely out of the question. As for the conscripts seized along the road — they had the good fortune to serve the state!

Fu Chang flew into a towering rage. Pointing at the camp gate of the General Who Swallows the Hu, he roared, "Han Wei, you old wretch! When my family was going forth into foreign lands and winning glory, yours were still commoners under criminal sentence! Just you wait — the Marquis of Yicheng and I will go to Chang'an and denounce you before His Majesty!"

Han Wei, however, was unperturbed. "Go ahead and denounce me. Let's see whether His Majesty thinks conquering the Xiongnu is more important, or you powerless minor marquises."

Afterward, Han Wei shot Diwu Lun several fierce glares. The meaning was plain: "So you're the brat who brought them here."

In any case, Diwu Lun's standing in the General Who Swallows the Hu's estimation was sinking lower and lower.

Wary as he was, the Grand Governor of Weirong did not dare embezzle the grain the court had ordered allocated to the great army. Cart after cart of grain was hauled into camp, and the units were resupplied. The only trouble was that one-fifth of the Boar-Rush Braves had dropped dead along the way; they would have to conscript more men when they reached the vicinity of the Shanghe Agricultural Commandant.

After a few days' brief rest, they had to march on — of those two thousand eight hundred-odd li, they had covered barely half. Diwu Lun could only sigh at how vast the Great Northwest truly was, and how absurdly far Weirong Commandery stretched from south to north.

But the line of march was altered slightly. If they left the commandery seat and headed due north, they would have to cross eight hundred li of wasteland before reaching the next county seat — twenty days more than enough to exhaust all their provisions and plunge the army into disaster.

The other route, heading northwest, would have to wind through the ravines of the loess plateau. The biggest problem was that it would leave Weirong Commandery and enter the neighboring Anding Commandery.

The Swallow-the-Hu General chose the second route. On the fifteenth day of the third month, the three armies set out once more, and the common folk on the walls of Maling City, seeing that the new army which had lingered for days was finally leaving, celebrated and congratulated one another regardless of gender or status, as if they had sent off a plague god.

Listening to the laughter and cheerful voices behind him, Diwu Lun felt the scene was utterly surreal.

The weather grew warmer by the day, far more comfortable than early spring's sudden warmth and lingering chill. Along the way, the scenery became ever more desolate, and the mountains grew more numerous — though fortunately there was still water and grass to be found.

The inhabitants along the route were already few. After being raked over by the ferocious Xing army and the ravenous Boar-Rush Braves, by the time the rear army arrived, all that remained were burnt plank houses, wheat shoots stripped bare, and beside the road, the disheveled corpses of women, their eyes wide open.

A harrowing sight — truly harrowing.

And this was under the premise that the Swallow-the-Hu General had issued repeated strict orders, saying that the Grand Governor of Anding was the Emperor's cousin and the soldiers must show some restraint.

Diwu Lun stopped before a corpse, had someone bury her, then raised his head to look at the silent heavens. He understood now.

"We — the new army — are the greatest blight upon the frontier!"

Meanwhile, on the loess ridges of Left Valley in Sanshui County, Anding County, a few dozen men on horseback, all bearing bows and blades, gazed down from the heights at the rear army passing below.

Anding belonged to the Six Commanderies — mountainous and forested, pressed close to the Rong and Di barbarians. Since the Qin dynasty, its people had practiced military readiness, exalting physical strength; beyond farming, they prioritized archery and hunting above all else. It was the finest recruiting ground for Emperor Wu of Han's campaigns against the Xiongnu. Moreover, this place was the seat of the "Anding Dependent State Commandant," and large numbers of Xiongnu and Qiang who had surrendered to the Han were settled nearby. As they sinicized, the local Han people were likewise becoming Qiang-ified and Hu-ified, and thus martial virtue abounded.

This group was typical of that. Whether Han men or Qiang and Hu riders, they all watched the passing new army with eyes full of fury. Since the war resumed, the Xiongnu had never reached Sanshui — the devastation before their eyes was entirely the new army's doing!

Roughly estimating the new army's numbers, one man stepped forward and said worriedly to the man standing at the cliff's edge, his gaze hawk-like: "In these past three or four days, at least close to ten thousand men have crossed the border. Junqi, it seems the uprising will have to be postponed."

"Elder brother, how many times have I told you — my courtesy name is not Junqi, and my name is not 'Lu Fang.'"

The leader's features were clearly those of mixed Han and Hu blood. His gaze was like a hawk-owl's, and his laugh like a jackal's:

"I am the great-grandson of Emperor Xiaowu. My name is 'Liu Wenbo'!"

PS: Chapter 2 at 18:00. A new week — please send your recommendation votes!