Chapter 107: Beyond Anyone's Reach

On the road back to Shaanxi, Liu Chengzong found himself thinking, for no particular reason, of those first few days after returning to Black Dragon Mountain.

His father had once said the roving bandits would enter Pingyang Prefecture in Shanxi.

Old Master Liu probably never dreamed, even in his wildest nightmares, that the first roving bandit to lead troops into Shanxi would be his own second son.

On the march, they were like a plague of locusts — five great chieftains gathered together, but their trusted men each led detachments that fanned out wide.

Some took the ridge lines, some the official roads, some tramped across the fields; front and rear, left and right, in all four directions and all eight quarters, everywhere were people in tattered clothes trudging along with heads hung low. Even across barren, wasted land, once they had passed, it became a road.

Seeing him suddenly laugh, Gao Yingxiang, riding his big donkey, turned his head and asked, "Little Lion, what are you laughing at?"

"Just thinking about coming home from Fish River Fort in the second month. Da said he'd find my brother and me a proper match, families of equal standing, and settle our lifelong affairs. Heh."

Liu Chengzong was riding a mule too, gently rising and falling with the beast's plodding steps. He raised his horsewhip and pointed toward the barren hills and bare ridges stretching everywhere around them, laughing. "Back then, finding a family of equal standing wasn't easy. Now, I'm afraid you couldn't find one anywhere under heaven."

The Great Ming Code was that thick, and their one family had breezily violated half of it.

Other families were full of loyal martyrs; theirs was full of utter fiends.

Gao Yingxiang let out a choked laugh. He meant to say something, but in the end only squinted into the sunlight and sighed, shaking his head. "The world's affairs are ever fickle."

The world's affairs are ever fickle.

He was thirty-seven this year. Push the clock back seven or eight years, and he could never have dreamed of the scene before him now.

A man who grew up on the frontier, even if he never joined the army, could hardly keep his own business dealings clean of military entanglements.

Gao Yingxiang had grown up in just such an environment — skilled with bow and horse, smooth and overbearing.

Moving back and forth inside and outside the Great Wall, he knew what the Mongol chieftains liked and knew how to deal with the frontier garrison officers.

Besides buying and selling horses, he used the convenience of horseback to smuggle salt and tea, and took in army deserters and outlaws from beyond the border to protect himself. That poor boy from Ansai had built his business up big just like that.

At his peak, six Gao-family boats plied the Yuxi River carrying goods, and eight four-horse, four-wheeled wagons ran back and forth between southern and northern Shaanxi.

He had traveled through the Three Frontiers and Four Garrisons, and had also lodged in the county yamen's jail.

His dealings were wide, his friends many, and he could not help but often be generous with his purse. His family estate was neither large nor small, and by thirty he had established himself. The most glorious days of his life probably amounted to just that.

But then the drought came. Three seasons parched in a single year. In Ansai, fierce winds rose at midsummer, ripping every green sprout from the ground. The common folk ate the weeds, then the bark, then the stones. They sold their sons, sold their wives, and the leftover useless men threw themselves into the dung pits.

People said, better to die as a bandit than to sit and wait for starvation.

When others depend on you, it's hard to sit still and wait for death.

Starting from the first month of last year, Gao Yingxiang sold off his family property, hired smiths to forge weapons, bought provisions and fodder, and took in desperadoes without the slightest scruple. He even recruited a squad of Mongol barbarians who had fled the Hetao loop into Han territory.

By the tenth month, he formally raised over a hundred men in Ansai, took to the wilds as a bandit, and went into the trade of raiding homes and plundering houses.

His planning had originally been very shrewd.

After all, he had been a businessman before; in all things, he cared about cost.

The smaller the band, the less grain and fodder they consumed, the less attention they drew from government troops, and thus the safer they were.

And while keeping the scale small, the more skilled hands he had, the more "clients" he could rob, and the greater the profit.

So Gao Yingxiang's mounted brigands had, from the very start, followed a policy of elite troops.

Frontier army deserters, local garrison troops, bankrupt post-station runners, and outlawed yamen runners — these regular soldiers and trained paramilitary men were his main force.

But plans never keep up with changes. There were simply too many poor people and too many who couldn't get enough to eat.

Mounted brigands and mountain bandits became the most coveted career goal for young lads. Hunger made the fear of death and the love of life no longer mankind's weakness.

Wherever the mounted brigand band passed, there was no need to mount a high platform and issue a call; followers already gathered like clouds.

Old acquaintances came to join him. A man would say: Elder Brother, save me.

And he would take it as his bounden duty.

The grain he had prepared before raising troops lasted only a few days. The great households he plundered could not satisfy the eating and chewing of so many roaming refugees.

Later, he led his men to surround the Fortified Gate Garrison Hundred-Household Station. That was the army's cantonment post in Ansai; he figured they must have grain.

Who could have known that the officer inside, sitting secure behind stout walls and cannons, would be overjoyed to see him besiege the fort?

As long as he guaranteed the brothers in the station a few full meals, they surrendered.

Ansai had no more grain.

The rich households had none, the gentry had none, the army had none.

Who wouldn't want to be an untrammeled mountain king? But among the hundred thousand ridges, hills, plateaus, and plains of northern Shaanxi, which mountain could keep a man alive?

What they call "the world's affairs are ever fickle" means that all the life experience from before had become utterly useless.

Those who followed the rules died; those who broke from the scriptures lived.

Suddenly, Sky-Roiling Monkey cackled strangely: "Another one dead."

Up ahead, the crowd on the official road parted to move around something. Several donkeys and mules walking abreast also swerved aside to clear the path.

Liu Chengzong did not lower his eyes to look. He scooped half a wooden bowl of parched flour from his saddlebag, tilted his head back to pour it into his mouth and chewed, tugging the reins to guide his mule back on course.

Some people just walked and walked and then died.

Just like those starving folk who walked and walked and then joined in — nothing strange about it.

Sky-Roiling Monkey asked, "No Mud, is this one of your men?"

"You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?" No Mud's face showed not a trace of good humor. He looked at the swollen-bellied corpse on the ground, raised a hand, and shoved Heaven-Raising Monkey. "The official road up ahead is your men's stretch, right? Bury him, how about it?"

"All day long, nothing but ordering your grandpa around, damn it."

Heaven-Raising Monkey scratched his head, full of grumbling, but unlike the others, he didn't treat the corpse as none of his business.

He hurried forward a couple of steps, flipped himself off his mount, and handed the reins to Liu Chengzong. "Second Master Liu, trouble you to hold my horse a moment, brother. I'll go bury my brother's corpse."

With that, once Liu Chengzong took the donkey and mule reins, Heaven-Raising Monkey turned and ran, shouting for men as he went. They carried the corpse to the roadside, and he got someone to fetch a hoe and a shovel — no one knew where he'd found a scrap of hemp cloth — and started digging a pit in the earth.

Among the several bands gathered around Gao Yingxiang, each had quite a few mules and horses. In terms of warhorses, the Mule Camp actually had the fewest.

Gao Yingxiang had a rule: on the march, no one could ride a horse except the scouts screening the main force's movement.

Aside from the great chieftains, the commanders of each unit, and the women with bound feet, no one could ride donkeys or mules. All marched on foot; donkeys and mules were used only to carry armor, weapons, and baggage.

Liu Chengzong held the reins of several horses and mules, watching Heaven-Raising Monkey's figure, hoe swinging, disappear into the crowd behind them. He turned his head and asked Gao Yingxiang, "Master Gao, is Heaven-Raising Monkey always like this?"

Gao Yingxiang knew what he meant. A faint smile surfaced on his square, upright face. He nodded. "Don't look down on Jiusi just because he's a rotten coward, a gambler, and filthy. If someone shows him a foot of respect, he'll return a full ten feet."

"Even if I said nothing, Dirty Monkey would still go down and bury the man. Even if someone only called him 'Great King' once, he wouldn't shortchange them."

No-Stained-Hands, leading his warhorse, laughed and leaned in toward Liu Chengzong, reaching out a hand. "What're you eating? Give me some too, yeah?"

"You've never had parched grain powder?"

Liu Chengzong reached out, scooped another bowlful, and passed it over.

This stuff was a real treasure.

Not fried noodles — literally parched grain powder in the simplest sense.

You take all kinds of grain — wheat, rice, black beans, mung beans — sort them, steam each with sesame oil until cooked, then grind them into powder after steaming. Add salt and dry-roast it. For flavor, you can also add sugar.

That's the simple method.

If you have the means, pour high-proof liquor over it, sun-dry it, pour again, sun-dry again, repeating until the liquor can no longer soak in.

Made this way, it keeps for a very long time. When needed, you can add a little water and eat it mixed, or pour it into a pot, snip in a small piece of vinegar cloth, boil it, and eat it as gruel. Or, like now, grab a handful and eat it dry as a little snack.

Liu Chengzong didn't know how long this method of eating had been around. In this era, this was emergency field rations for the army.

Essential gear for every campaign — six jin per man. By military law, it was not to be touched unless surrounded and out of food.

But another set of memories told him that this kind of field ration, whether in the past or the future, would still exist on this land for a very long time.

The Ming army ate this. The Qing army ate this. The Red Army ate this. Even the volunteer troops aiding Korea ate this.

"Pretty dry. Not bad tasting, just — it chokes you."

No-Stained-Hands had stuffed his mouth full. When he opened his mouth to speak, powder sprayed out. He hurriedly handed back the wooden bowl and looked for water.

Only after gulping down two mouthfuls of water did he catch his breath and say, "This — is this border army stuff?"

"Right. Emergency field rations. When we hit that post station earlier, we got quite a lot of grain, plus oil and sugar. Eat too much and it swells your belly."

Truth be told, made the standard border army way — no sugar, no oil — it was hard to make it taste good.

The year they rode beyond the border for the autumn burn, Liu Chengzong was still a pond scout. The grass-burning party got scattered from the main force, and he survived half a month beyond the passes on six jin of sugarless parched grain powder.

No-Stained-Hands was really just tasting something novel. He gulped two more mouthfuls of water and shook his head. "Then why do I see you eating it nonstop?"

"Heh, ever since I left Yan'an Prefecture, my mouth hasn't stopped."

Liu Chengzong laughed, placing the wooden bowl back into his saddlebag. "Who knows, I might run into government troops someday and die. Might as well indulge my mouth while I'm alive. And eating on horseback saves time."

Gao Yingxiang smiled. "After stirring up such huge trouble, I thought you weren't afraid of death. If you hadn't run into me, what was your original plan?"

Original plan?

Liu Chengzong spread his hands. "Originally, I planned to hide out in Shanxi for a month or two. But I didn't know the place or the people. Once I got in, I realized there were passes to the north and south. I wanted to raid a princely estate, but the Lüliang Mountains blocked the way. If I hadn't run into you, I would've come back to Shaanxi too — back to Yan'an Prefecture."

"To enter Shanxi, you have to go through Hancheng. That way goes straight into Pingyang Prefecture. Sooner or later, we'll go there too... but best not provoke Shanxi's troops yet."

Liu Chengzong didn't know whether Gao Yingxiang was speaking of his own plans or Wang Jiayin's arrangements. "King Hengtian goes north; we go south. Once we're out of Yanchuan, we split forces. Heaven-Soaring Monkey goes to Luochuan to find Wang Hu and the Black Fierce God."

As he spoke, Gao Yingxiang pointed behind them. "Sky-Rising Monkey goes to Yichuan to seek out Flying Mountain Tiger and Big Red Wolf. No-Stained-Hands goes to Yijun and Zhongbu. Each of you gather refugees, famine victims, mountain bandits, and army deserters. Seize provisions and horses. Try to take county seats."

Liu Chengzong frowned as he listened to the plan. "Take county seats?"

"Right. Not just hitting county seats. We'll be in Yan'an Prefecture, besieging Fu Prefecture city from all sides, waiting for a chance to seize the Hexi Circuit. There's farmland along both banks of the Luo River there for cultivation. To the north, Yan'an city; to the south, the Golden Lock Pass. Great mountains east and west. Retreat and you can hold Hexi; advance and you can enter Guanzhong. What do you think?"

Besieging Fu Prefecture and plundering the wealthy households and powerful clans along both banks would be profitable. Destroying the post stations and express courier services to the north, south, and west would also sever communications between Xi'an and Yulin.

But from what Liu Chengzong heard, Gao Yingxiang's intent was to permanently occupy the Hexi Circuit, the region from Yan'an to Golden Lock Pass. Trying to carve out a separatist territory there was somewhat unrealistic.

Staying constantly on the move in the wilds, you could still rely on luck — whether evading government troops or luckily defeating them, in the end, there was hope of victory.

"Master Gao, in field battles you can still rely on luck, but offensive and defensive warfare is a contest of sheer strength. Tens of thousands of men and horses looks like a lot, but how many won't scatter in chaos the moment they hear cannon fire?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. On his mule's back, he raised a single finger. "Two thousand, at the absolute most. Those who can keep advancing under cannonballs and lead shot — counting generously, maybe twelve hundred men."

And of those twelve hundred men, Liu Chengzong was counting half of the Mule Camp.

Taking these places would be very easy.

But counting on this handful of men to hold the north at Yan'an prefectural city and the besieging forces north and south, to hold the Xi'an Prefecture direction at Golden Lock Pass, and to hold the government troops from the Guyuan and Qingyang directions at the Meridian Ridge — that was no different from the ravings of a fool.

Who the hell wouldn't want to establish a base area? But trying to carve out a separatist regime without the strength to counter an encirclement campaign not only brought no benefit — it would get you trapped and killed.

Gao Yingxiang felt Liu Chengzong was far too pessimistic. He shook his head. "You can't say that. Those Jurchen in Liaodong are nothing but savages who drink blood and eat raw meat. In the beginning, they had even fewer men than we do. Didn't they still fight the court to a standstill and hold out until now?"

Liu Chengzong gave a scornful laugh. "Master Gao, if you can make the court close its eyes and wait until all of Shaanxi is conquered before sending troops to suppress us — station the government armies east of Tong Pass — I won't say a word against you establishing a government and declaring yourself king. We could even fight a Sarhū in Henan."

He clapped the back of one hand against the palm of the other. "That's not the situation right now. The moment any Regional Commander shows up, our battle formation will shatter on contact. We can't fight field battles beyond the strongholds, so the strongholds can't be held. If we can't hold the strategic points, Hexi will be lost. It's just a matter of holding out for a few months."

Gao Yingxiang was not stubborn, nor did he consider being refuted a loss of face. Quite the opposite — he threw his head back and laughed heartily, pointing at No-Stained-Hands and Heaven-Soaring Monkey. "This is exactly why I sought you out... They all thought this plan was pretty good. So, do you have a better approach?"

Heaven-Soaring Monkey raised a hand to smooth his beard and chuckled sheepishly under his breath. "I really do think taking the county office and sitting in the magistrate's chair would be great. Having city walls protecting you — isn't that far better than wind and sun out in the open? Not just me, Dirty Monkey thinks so too."

"Attack — you can. Plunder — you can. Stay there — you can, too."

The few of them spurred their horses closer together. Liu Chengzong's tone shifted. "But when government troops come, you cannot hold. If government troops come from Xi'an Prefecture, with three to five hundred men you can try holding Golden Lock Pass. The main force withdraws north."

"The north is all barren land now. North of Yan'an, no large government force will attack in the short term. A force of two or three hundred men — that, you can try to hold against."

"The most critical point is the Meridian Ridge. Guyuan is where the Three-Frontier Supreme Command is located, plus there are government troops in Qingyang. It's very easy for them to mass a large army and strike. When they come, we have to leave. Keep each other informed. South of Fu Prefecture, enter the Yellow Dragon Mountain. North of it, move toward Yanchang. In the end, we can regroup around Yanchuan and Suide Prefecture."

As Liu Chengzong spoke, a sly grin spread across his face. "Government troops have always set out carrying three days' rations. As long as we deny them resupply — Qingyang to Yanchuan is seven hundred li, Golden Lock Pass to Yanchuan is five hundred li. Even with minor resupply along the way, by the time they get there, their men will be exhausted and their horses spent."

"As long as they're starving, and we have over a thousand armored, well-fed fighting men, we'll have the strength to fight one battle — and win it."

He raised his hand. "Whether we hold territory or not doesn't matter. Destroy the government army's elite units, and across this vast northern Shaanxi, this winter we'll sleep wherever we damn well please. Even the emperor won't be able to stop us!"