Chapter 21: Chapter Twenty-One: Geduo Is a Paper Tiger

"Geduo! You dog-and-rat wretch! Come out! If you're a man, come out!"

Zhang Zhao did not charge straight into the great tent after Geduo, because he had suddenly realized that perhaps he could subdue these Uyghur horse bandits.

That was far more important than killing Geduo. What he lacked right now — was it not men?

Moreover, these Uyghurs had not yet had time to burn, kill, or plunder; instead, so many of them had been killed by his own hand. They had never shed the blood of anyone in the stronghold, so taking them in carried no psychological burden at all.

"Xia Hu! Prepare a fox tail for me! If the great Taghan Geduo still dares not come out, I shall present this fox tail to him. Who would have thought the Bald Tiger famed throughout Shazhou would turn out to be a coward!"

Once his mind was made up, he had to humiliate Geduo as thoroughly as possible. Only when the insult grew great enough could he make these men willingly cut themselves off from Geduo.

"Hahaha! Good! Young lord, wait a moment — I'll have someone bring one right away!"

With the danger lifted, Qi Xiahu's spirits were running extremely high, and the Han able-bodied men behind him roared with laughter too, the pent-up frustration of the past two days swept away in an instant.

They were enjoying themselves, but the Uyghurs on the other side all wore utterly grim expressions.

These Kucha Uyghurs had been moved by the Tibetans to live on the Qilian Mountains sixty or seventy years ago, and in many respects they had long since adopted Tibetan customs. Sending a man a fox tail was the Tibetans' ultimate means of humiliating the weak and the cowardly.

Even though the Tibetans had now declined from the Tibetan Empire into scattered Tibetan tribes, in the Qingtang and Qilian Mountain regions, if you told a Tibetan man you wanted to have relations beyond mere friendship with his wife or daughter, under current Tibetan custom they would very likely not take it seriously.

But if you dared send a Tibetan man a fox tail, and the two of you were equal in status and strength, then unless he killed you or was killed by you, his family and tribe would be shamed, and his descendants for generations would never be able to hold their heads up.

And so, when Qi Xiahu took a cured fox tail and waved it toward Geduo's great tent, even Qiongre Duojin, lying on the ground having lost too much blood, flushed red in the face.

"Taghan! Taghan! Taghan!"

Some sixty or seventy Uyghurs had gathered at the entrance of the great tent. They did not come forward to confront the Han on Zhang Zhao's side, but instead stared at Geduo's great tent and began shouting for Geduo without pause.

Because if Geduo did not come out, the shame would fall not only on him, but on all the Uyghur horse bandits.

"Hahaha! What Bald Tiger! What Taghan! Nothing but a coward. Could he have run off?"

Old Zhang Zhong was especially excited tonight. The feeling was like when his grandfather told him of following the Grand Guardian in the bloody battle for Liangzhou and the submission to Hexi.

He saw hope!

The Uyghurs shouted for a long while and still saw no sign of Geduo. At that point, a Uyghur man of extremely tall and powerful build stepped out, clasped his hands toward Zhang Zhao, and said:

"Young lord! Please allow us to leave for a while, and please wait a moment. We will certainly bring Geduo back!"

"Young lord, you must not! These horse bandits have no honor to speak of. Once they go, they will surely never return!"

Qi Xiahu said hurriedly. These were dozens, nearly a hundred Uyghur horse bandits, and they now knew the stronghold's location. Letting them go would be serious trouble.

Zhang Zhao stared hard at this tall, powerfully built Uyghur for a moment, then waved his hand.

"You look like a brave man, so I'll give you a chance to wash away the shame. Even if Geduo runs, he can't run far. Two quarters of an hour — bring Geduo here. I want to duel him, life or death. As long as Geduo dares come, I will take back this fox tail!"

"My thanks to Young Lord Zhang!" The burly man clasped his hands toward Zhang Zhao.

"Huangyang'er, we'll each take five men. We must find Geduo and bring him back." The burly Uyghur shouted, no longer even using the honorific Taghan, but calling him directly by name, Geduo.

The moment his words fell, about ten men immediately slipped out of the crowd. Several of them lifted the cloth curtain of the great tent and began searching from there, while another group split into two teams and began checking up and down along the stream.

"Sanniang, help me take off my armor!" With one glance into the crowd, Zhang Zhao spotted Lady Cao Sanniang, her eyes gleaming like a little she-cat's. He laughed and called her over to remove his armor, because he had made up his mind — he was going to pull off something even bigger.

"Xia Hu, boil water, and have men look for medicinal herbs — preferably dried mugwort or thistle. Treat the wounded where they can be treated, and bury those who should be buried!"

"Treat the wounded? We're supposed to treat these Uyghurs' wounds?" Qi Xiahu was stunned, and an expression of extreme reluctance appeared on his face.

These past two days, these Uyghurs had disgusted him to no end. They had eaten nearly all the sheep in the stronghold and drunk up the little millet wine there was to begin with. Now that they had been killed like wild dogs, he was supposed to treat their wounds instead?

Zhang Zhao, already having had his skirt armor removed with Lady Cao Sanniang's assistance, patted Qi Xiahu on the shoulder.

"Men who fight and kill — on the battlefield, blades and arrows have no eyes. Who lives and who dies comes down to skill! Just now, each side fought for its own master, and they fought to the death without retreating. They deserve to be called fine men. I, Zhang Zhao, admire that, and they are worth my treating their wounds!"

These words noticeably improved the expressions of the Uyghurs standing uncertainly around the great tent.

In truth, they did not hate Zhang Zhao all that much. They were only a horse bandit gang, and their bonds were no more than those of drinking and meat-eating friends. They had fallen so low as to be horse bandits at the foot of the Qilian Mountains — what did loyalty or friendship amount to?

For survival's sake, even blood kin counted for little. Just as Zhang Zhao said, in many of their hearts they had long since accepted the possibility of killing or being killed.

"When you first came, it was Geduo who brought you to pledge yourselves to me as your lord. I, Zhang Zhao, also wanted to lead you all in carving out a future and living good days. But this Geduo — his lust knew no bounds! He actually set his eyes on my wife. Tell me, should I not have come to kill him?"

As Zhang Zhao spoke, he walked over to a Uyghur whose thigh he had pierced through and who was bleeding in a steady trickle.

While speaking, he pulled out a hemp cord and tied it tightly around the bleeding Uyghur's upper thigh, then pressed a handful of slightly dampened mugwort onto the bleeding wound. Within a few seconds, the wound that had been bleeding continuously gradually stopped.

Zhang Zhao then took white hemp cloth that had been boiled in water from Shanniang's hands, cleaned the wound, and wrapped it layer by layer with the white hemp cloth.

"Remember, the mugwort must be dampened a little like this, and the hemp cord must be tied tight enough — only then will it stop the bleeding. The white hemp cloth must be boiled, so as to reduce blood poisoning!"

When the group of Uyghurs saw that Zhang Zhao was genuinely treating their wounded, their guard dropped by more than half at once, and at the same time they felt somewhat shaken.

In this age, someone who could stop bleeding from a blade wound just like that was truly rare. Never mind those who understood medicine — even those who could write their own names were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns.

"What are you standing around for? All of you, come over and lend a hand! What are you still holding swords and spears for? Put them all down!"

Zhang Zhao waved his hand with perfect ease. The first sentence was directed at the stunned Uyghurs, and the second at the Han able-bodied men behind him.

As he spoke, Zhang Zhao also walked over to the sword-and-shield man whose head he had cleaved clean off, looked at the headless corpse, and shook his head.

"He was a brave man, after all. Had I not worn my leg guards today, you would very nearly have succeeded against me!"

"Young lord, the head is here!" Zhang Zhao had just raised his head and looked around when Lady Cao Sanniang came over from a distance, carrying a blackened head still dripping clotted blood.

Zhang Zhao rubbed his chin. This woman was truly no simple person! In just these few words, while Zhang Zhong and Qi Xiahu still did not understand why Zhang Zhao wanted to treat the Uyghurs' wounds, Lady Cao Sanniang already knew what Zhang Zhao was trying to do, and had even helped him retrieve the sword-and-shield man's head.

"Does the young lord wish to bury this brave man? I am well-read in the Sutra of the Past Vows of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, and I am willing to chant sutras for this brave man's departed soul, to deliver him and send him early to the Pure Land!"

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