Chapter 610: Killing

Fusu led fifteen thousand men into Liaodong. Following Hei Fu's advice from his letter, he left over four thousand Zhao troops stationed at Xi'anping.

But for the five thousand Yan soldiers, Chen Ping's suggestion was that leaving them at Xi'anping as well would make it easy for the Yan and Zhao troops to collude with one another.

"If they mutiny, Liaodong will suddenly have a rebel force of over ten thousand men, and the northern border will never see peace again. Young master, you would do better to take the Yan soldiers on to Chaoxian and have them guard Liekou. That will facilitate seaborne supply, and also make the Chaoxian and Yan troops wary of each other. In this way, you can ensure your rear is free of trouble…"

Fusu found this reasoning sound. After consulting several commandants, they too felt Chen Ping's plan was very apt, so he gladly adopted it.

But now, that very decision has bred a great calamity…

The Qin army encampment at Manfanhan was divided into two large fortified sections. The Yan troops were stationed in the left section, separated by a ravine and a wooden wall from the Guanzhong troops in the right section, who tightly ringed the watchtower where Fusu was quartered.

Standing atop the watchtower and looking out, Fusu saw that the Qin soldiers in the right camp had all been roused. They had formed up by unit and were holding the ramparts, as if facing a formidable enemy.

The Yan camp on the left, however, had completely lost all order. Men were running wildly everywhere, amid a din of chaotic shouts and the clash of blades. Some tents had caught fire — the scene was utter pandemonium.

"So this is a camp panic…"

Fusu's eyes went wide as he watched the spectacle.

A commandant named Gao Cheng told him this was the most dreadful internal disorder an army could suffer. A march of thousands of li, farther and farther from home, yet closer and closer to an unknown foreign battlefield. The losses crossing the Thousand Mountains had been enormous — nearly every squad had men die, or be executed for desertion. On top of that, Vice General Yang Duanhe had fallen ill and died, further heightening the tension among the Yan and Zhao soldiers in camp. If even the safest general was dead, what chance did they have?

The only reason they had not broken before was the five thousand elite Guanzhong troops and the harsh military discipline holding them in check.

With the entry into Chaoxian imminent, everyone was sleeping with their weapons at the ready. And so, on a silent, pitch-black night like this, a single soldier's cry born of nightmare or terror could easily trigger a chain reaction in the others, plunging the entire camp into a state of hysteria.

Soldiers, believing the camp was under attack, would grab their weapons in panic and strike out indiscriminately at anyone. Others, harboring wicked intentions, would seize the chance to flee. Thus, the camp turned to mutual slaughter and trampling, becoming the hellscape before his eyes.

"Thankfully, the Guanzhong troops are battle-hardened and weren't drawn into the panic."

Commandant Gao secretly wiped away sweat. This was a blessing in misfortune. Had the chaos spread to Young Master Fusu and any harm come to him, ten heads would not be enough to pay for it.

Watching this, Fusu could only sigh at the heavens. This expedition was truly plagued by disasters. Years ago, serving as army supervisor on the northern frontier, he had thought he had gone deep into military life and understood the hardships of campaigning. Only now, suddenly appointed commander-in-chief by his imperial father, did he realize that his prior stint as supervisor had been mere child's play, sightseeing with the army.

The relentless pressure of wartime, the crushing weight of over ten thousand lives on his shoulders, supplies that could run out at any moment, a road that stretched on every day yet seemed to have no end — and on the heels of all this, sudden, unforeseen calamities.

In just four short months, Fusu had tasted hardship and terror he had never known in over twenty years. And this was only the march — the actual fighting had not even begun…

If he were a common soldier, facing such immense pressure, he would probably be unable to resist letting out a long, pent-up howl too, wouldn't he?

As the chaos in the left camp grew more and more intense, with ever more men falling to trampling and slaughter, and the flames threatening to spread to the right camp, Fusu looked to his commandants. "Gentlemen, is there any way to stop this?"

"Stop it?"

The two commandants looked at each other. Gao Cheng gave a bitter laugh. "A camp panic is much like a prison riot. Once it starts, it is extremely difficult to stop. If we rashly send men in, they will likely be attacked by the soldiers. The best course…"

A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. "…is to send men to seize the camp gates, lock the soldiers inside for the night, and let them slaughter each other! By tomorrow morning, young master, you will have a nice, quiet camp."

To the Qin, bringing these Yan and Zhao soldiers to fight in a foreign land was absurd from the start, a needless complication. Let them die — the more dead the better, saving them trouble in the rear!

Fusu fell silent for a long while. Truly, the commandants' suggestion was the best way to preserve the Qin troops in the right camp. But in the end, Fusu sighed.

"Before battle is even joined, Vice General Yang, our old general, has perished from illness. On a march of a thousand li, one or two in every ten have died. Now this camp panic threatens to claim another third. How is this any different from abandoning the army and losing the troops? 'One incompetent general brings suffering to the whole army' — that saying must refer to me, Fusu. But no matter what, they are all my soldiers, my children. I, Fusu, cannot abandon them!"

He cast one last look at the chaotic left camp and gave the order:

"Muster the war chariots and warhorses, all in heavy barding. Follow me as we charge into the left camp and separate the soldiers!"

"Young master, you must not!"

The commandants hurriedly tried to dissuade him, but Fusu's resolve was firm.

Once he had donned his heavy armor and stood atop his war chariot, scanning the five thousand Guanzhong troops who stood steady as a rock, he could not help but reflect. He had always wanted his imperial father to treat Qin and the former Six Kingdoms' lands equally. Throughout this journey, he had constantly striven to practice that principle, hoping the three armies could pull together.

Yet the reality was that centuries of estrangement and generations of hatred could not be erased overnight. When trouble struck, the most reliable were still the sons of Guanzhong…

Fusu bowed deeply to these five thousand Guanzhong soldiers, a long, formal salute!

But on the other hand, he could understand the fear in the hearts of those caught in the panic.

This expedition was too long, too grueling. The Emperor's deployments carried a strange air, as if he had deliberately thrown troops from three regions together precisely to test Fusu with every problem that arose along the way.

From the commander down to the lowliest soldier, every man's nerves were stretched taut. Unfamiliar territory, harsh military law, the precarious trust between the Yan and Qin men. In their dreams, distant home; before their eyes, imminent bloody slaughter. Day after day of a march with life and death uncertain, many familiar faces now gone. Under the high-pressure discipline, all they could do was let the压抑 build up over time.

Until that taut string snapped!

With one man's shriek of terror, all that long-hidden fear, fury, and bewilderment erupted in an instant, unstoppable once unleashed.

Fusu could understand it. But even so, he was determined to halt this terrible man-made calamity!

Sword in hand, the young master gave the order: "Strike the gongs! Open the camp gates!"

The stout soldiers struck the bronze bells in the camp — the signal to cease advance and halt battle. The sharp clang was also a good way to startle the panicked soldiers back to their senses.

In the left camp, some of the terrified, frantic soldiers heard the bronze bells and instinctively stopped their blades mid-swing, lifting their heads or turning their faces. They saw the previously sealed right camp gates swing wide. In the night, a four-horse war chariot led the charge, followed by armored Guanzhong troops bearing torches. They charged straight into the left camp, shouting in unison:

"The General commands: drop your weapons and prostrate yourselves!"

Under the clang of gongs and the great shouts, many men jolted awake. They obeyed, throwing down their bloodstained blades and groveling on the ground. As they cooled down, they looked in lingering terror at the corpses strewn everywhere. No one knew if, in the dim chaos moments before, they had, in their madness, mistakenly killed their own fellow villagers and comrades…

Fusu's chariot and the Qin soldiers' footsteps passed before them without pause.

But in many places within the left camp, the terrible slaughter still raged. Some men had gone berserk, blind to all else. Others were trying to hack a bloody path out of the camp, to flee this bitter service entirely!

The chaos in the left camp did not abate. Some were even crazed enough to attack the Qin soldiers restoring order, trying to drag Fusu from his chariot. His personal guards fought desperately to protect him, barely keeping him safe.

Fusu knew the moment for a hard choice had come.

"Those killing each other — guilty of private combat. Put them to death!"

"Those obstructing us — deemed mutineers. Put them to death!"

"Those scaling the camp walls — deemed deserters. Put them to death!"

Three "put them to death" in a row, forced with difficulty from Fusu's lips. He could imagine that if the First Emperor saw this scene, he would surely applaud him…

Solving problems through killing — this was what Fusu had once loathed and opposed most.

But stopping a riot was never so easy. Sometimes, some had to die so that the majority could live!

"Kill…"

To be forced into becoming the very thing he once loathed — this feeling was truly wretched.

Tears in his eyes, Fusu pointed his longsword at those soldiers lost in fear and madness — and at his former self!

"Kill!"

…

A few days later, at Xi'anping two hundred li to the west, Chen Ping listened quietly as the messenger recounted what had happened at Manfanhan.

"The left camp erupted in a great howl. Five thousand Yan soldiers turned on each other, killing and trampling. The Young Master donned armor and took up his sword, leading armored soldiers into the camp to quell the chaos. He killed several hundred men before the disorder was finally stopped…"

In short, this camp riot had, miraculously, been put down by Fusu. When they counted heads afterward, at least a thousand had died from the mutual slaughter and trampling. Another thousand or more had fled in the chaos, led by a Yan man and platoon leader named Wei Man.

The cause of the riot was also investigated. A rumor had been circulating in the camp recently: "The Emperor's eastern campaign is a lie; his true intent is to send the men of Yan and Zhao to their deaths." The Yan soldiers were terrified. Wei Man and the others wanted to escape, so they took advantage of the night to raise a great howl, hoping to spark chaos and slip away. But the pretense became real, triggering this tragedy…

Wei Man and his thousand-odd followers, after breaking out of the camp, scattered and fled west. Fusu could not catch up, so he sent a messenger to warn Xi'anping, where the grain depot was, to be on guard against the renegade soldiers.

"Is the Young Master unharmed?"

Chen Ping was very concerned for Fusu's safety.

The messenger replied, "The Young Master is unharmed. He personally charged into the camp and was attacked by rioting soldiers. He fought them and killed two…"

Chen Ping could imagine it: the sword Fusu polished to a gleaming shine every day was now stained with blood for the first time.

"Unexpected…"

After the messenger withdrew, Chen Ping sighed.

That rumor—he had secretly ordered men to spread it while he was at Xi'anping. Or rather, it was actually the truth.

Chen Ping had only intended to add some difficulty to Fusu's already troubled expedition, to throw the Young Master into disarray and make him flounder, so that in the end, Heifu in Jiaodong would have to clean up his mess.

"That way, not only would the First Emperor of Qin be disappointed in this eldest son, but our lord too would probably give up on Fusu entirely…"

As it turned out, his clever scheme had backfired. Everything that followed slipped beyond Chen Ping's control. Even he did not know which direction events would take now…

Scratching his slightly itchy scalp, Chen Ping gave a self-mocking laugh. "Our lord saw it clearly after all: many words, many failures!"

PS: Second chapter at 11:30.

(End of chapter)