Chapter 343: Petty Tricks

Ye Bingqian's hand hidden in his sleeve was trembling. His gaze swept across the tent and finally settled on his own sword.

It was a thick-spined, broad-bladed bronze-mounted battle sword with a coiled pommel and melon-shaped guard, built especially for cleaving and slashing in close combat. It had once served his elder brother on the battlefield. This time, when he was invited to Gulf Bend, his brother had handed him this sword before his departure with a solemn expression.

He had said that when dealing with the court and the chieftains, one must carry a weapon — don't let others look down on you.

At the time, Ye Bingqian hadn't taken it seriously. He treated it as nothing more than a cumbersome ornament, and once he left home, he never hung it at his waist again. It was only when he heard that his elder brother Ye Guoqi had led the household guards to occupy Ice Gully Post Station — the unavoidable pass on the road east — intending to act like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, that he finally remembered this sword.

Ye Bingqian drew the battle sword and held it in his hand. He swung it twice in the empty tent, but realized he lacked both the courage and the skill of a Xin Qiji. He switched hands and laid the blade across his neck, yet still lacked the nerve. Instead, a surge of self-pity welled up from nowhere in his heart.

"Why me? Why does something this impossible have to fall on me!"

Just as he lowered the sword from his neck, the tent flap was lifted by a guard's hand. Liu Chengzong ducked inside. Ye Bingqian, already terrified of meeting him, reacted without thinking — he pointed the sword straight at him in a defensive stance.

This made Liu Chengzong furrow his brow. He shot him a puzzled glance, walked over to the desk in the tent, and dropped into the seat. He casually picked up the inkstone, glanced at him again, and said while grinding ink, "Alright, enough. Even with an iron bar you couldn't beat me. Put it away."

In truth, the choice was no longer Ye Bingqian's to make. A soft click sounded at the tent entrance — Fan Sanlang had already leveled a hand cannon at him. Another guard advanced with a drawn blade. The moment Ye Bingqian, defeated, slid the battle sword back into its scabbard, the guard snatched it from his hands.

"The sword is confiscated, so you don't try anything foolish again. Dismissed." Liu Chengzong signaled the guard with his eyes, then sat at the desk and met Ye Bingqian's wavering gaze. He asked seriously, "Do you truly not wish to live?"

Ye Bingqian thought to himself, only a bastard wouldn't want to live. Then, catching Liu Chengzong's meaning, he asked in disbelief, "Marshal... you're not going to kill me?"

"Why would I kill you?"

Liu Chengzong gave a light laugh. "Though the chieftains surrendered to me out of necessity, you are working for me. Your brother raises troops to block me, so I should turn around and kill you? Ha... your family pays forty-eight dan of grain tax. Do you pay it twice a year?"

Ye Bingqian nodded.

Liu Chengzong showed an unsurprised expression. He nodded, set the inkstone aside, and said, "Write your brother a letter. Persuade him. The Xining chieftains have rendered service to the nation. I do not wish to wipe them out completely."

With that, he rose and walked toward the tent exit.

He greatly admired Ye Guoqi — intelligent, able to read the times, capable of bending and stretching, and someone who could stand where he ought to stand when great right and wrong were at stake. The man was practically all virtues.

Except for one thing: he was not his man.

"Marshal!"

Half his body was already out of the tent when Ye Bingqian called him back and asked, "My brother..."

"Your ancestor, a fourth-rank military officer of the Northern Yuan, surrendered to the Hongwu Emperor and was appointed a squad commander. Your family has served loyally for generations, and through merit, inherited the post of Assistant Commander. Your elder brother raised troops at Upper Stream Mouth out of loyalty to his own master. I do not blame him."

Liu Chengzong halted his steps and glanced westward. "But when a house has cracks in its walls, you can patch it up and still live in it. Yet if the foundation shifts and the beams and pillars snap, and half the people insist on staying inside waiting to be crushed to death, while those who escape lack the hands to build a new house — in the end, this land will likely be seized by others."

"Now, hearts have turned away and the realm is in arms. The people of our Middle Kingdom — the dead have their livers and brains smeared across the ground, and the living cannot keep their own flesh and blood safe. Though brought about by human affairs, this is truly the moment when Heaven, disgusted by its virtue, casts it aside."

When Liu Chengzong said this, Ye Bingqian stared at him, dumbstruck. "Th-this..."

Liu Chengzong looked at Ye Bingqian, nodded very seriously, and said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "The Hongwu Emperor's sacred instructions. Your brother swore to forever obey those instructions. Tell him to listen. If he comes to surrender within two days, he will keep his chieftain position and be appointed hereditary Commander. If he insists on being loyal to the end, I will grant him that too."

Ye Bingqian was speechless. Even after Liu Chengzong walked out of the tent, his mind was still wandering. Liu the Lion's ideology had plunged him into deep confusion.

Back at the central army command tent, Fan Sanlang saw he was in excellent spirits. She poured tea and asked with a smile, "Does the Marshal think Chieftain Ye at Ice Gully Post Station can be persuaded to surrender?"

Liu Chengzong took the cup and shook his head. "A man with no road left will come down the moment you offer him a step. But a man who could go anywhere yet is set on dying — I'm afraid a letter of persuasion won't bring him."

He had a clear sense of this matter. Ye Guoqi could have avoided picking a side in this war. But since he raised troops at Upper Stream Mouth, leaving his family and brother behind and placing himself in a position with no retreat, he must have already resolved to die.

For someone like that, no threat about family ruin, promotion, or a brother's safety would have any effect. Nor did Liu the Lion believe his own still-imperfect theory of family, state, and realm could work any miracle in persuasion.

So he smiled and said, "It's just an attempt. This letter is written for the living to see. Even if it can't persuade Ye Guoqi, it can persuade others. Not everyone will share his resolve to die."

In truth, the most important thing was that his army had already advanced to the western mouth of Old Crow Gorge, only forty li from Upper Stream Mouth.

This was the narrowest gorge section in the entire Hehuang Valley. Liu Chengzu's vanguard unit had seized it first, allowing the main army to pass through at ease.

This inevitably slowed his advance. It would take the army two days to pass through the gorge, and the heavy artillery from the rear would also need two days to be hauled to the front lines.

Moreover, soldiers from Liu Chengzu's Zhenhai Battalion had already disguised themselves as fleeing refugees and gone east to scout the road conditions and gather intelligence on the fortress garrisons. Even without sending someone to negotiate surrender, Liu Chengzong would have to linger here for two days.

When Fan Sanlang heard him say the letter was meant to persuade the living, it finally dawned on her. She voiced her earlier doubt: "I thought so. Where would you even find a hereditary Commander post to give him?"

Xining was out of the question, and the Marshal's Office had no need to grant hereditary Commander titles elsewhere. But if it was just talk, then it was very simple.

She hadn't expected, however, that Liu Chengzong would take a sip of tea and say with utter seriousness, "If he comes to surrender, I will grant him hereditary Commander. Truly grant it."

"Grant it where?"

Liu Chengzong casually pointed toward his command desk. "Look at the western side of that map."

Fan Sanlang did as he said, searching the map. Liu Chengzong's map covered an enormous area. Though there was a vast blank expanse west of Qinghai Lake, it included almost every place they knew of.

The first thing she spotted was Greater and Lesser Choudan, but she felt that was territory reserved for Khutugtu Khan. She looked to the side of it and asked, "Weiding?"

Weiding was the ancient name for Golmud. Liu Chengzong shook his head again. "I said the chieftains have rendered service to the nation. Their service is guarding the northwestern frontier for generations, acting on the sovereign's behalf in lands the court finds hard to govern. Look — whether it's Choudan or Weiding, is there any place there I can't reach? Look further west."

In his heart, Liu Chengzong was convinced that the Marshal's Office and Khutugtu Khan were destined for a fight. Allowing Khutugtu to temporarily reside in Choudan was precisely to make it convenient when they eventually fell out and came to blows.

Fan Sanlang looked further west. Her gaze fixed. She looked from the map to Liu Chengzong. That area was all rough sketches — places marked by Shili. She asked cautiously, "Anxi?"

"Hahaha!"

Liu Chengzong had been holding it in for a long time. He finally clapped and laughed. "Yes, Anxi. Kashgar, Yengisar, Yecheng, Shache, Hotan, Kuche — those are places very hard for me to reach. Establishing merit south of the Tianshan Mountains and spreading the sovereign's civilizing influence — that is what it means for a chieftain to render service to the nation."

That was a place Fan Sanlang could never even dream of. She shook her head and said no more. There was nothing more to say... tossing chieftains to Greater and Lesser Choudan and Delingha was already something they might not be willing to do.

Fan Sanlang was no longer the little girl who knew nothing of military affairs. She understood all the preparations a march required and knew where battles should be fought.

Throwing an army out to Anxi — never mind that the land there still had owners — even if it were unclaimed, the mere question of how to rush an army all the way there was a massive problem.

Most critically, fighting a war in the far northwest held no real significance for the Marshal's Office.

Fan Sanlang sensed that Liu Chengzong was deeply obsessive about territory. Taking Kangning Prefecture had already brought more loss than gain — supplies from the south couldn't be transported over, support from the north couldn't be sent through, yet it had dispersed a large number of capable officials and generals.

If they fought another war to the northwest, dispersing even more manpower wouldn't even be the biggest problem. Two campaigns crossing the natural barriers of snowy mountains and vast deserts would yield very little.

She planned to find time to properly advise Liu Chengzong that the existence of Yarkand and Turpan posed no threat to the Marshal's Office — but not right now.

Soon, Ye Bingqian's letter of persuasion was written. He delivered it to the command tent with an anxious heart. To his surprise, after Liu the Lion read the letter, he told Ye Bingqian to deliver it in person.

Ye Bingqian was dumbstruck. For a moment, he had no idea what Liu Chengzong was thinking. As if possessed, he blurted out, "Th-then, Marshal, should I... come back?"

Liu Chengzong was amused. Who asked a question like that? A smile first appeared on his face. When it faded, he rose and said solemnly, "I hope you can join me in pursuing great endeavors. But your brother is over there. Whether you persuade him or help him — that is up to you. The next time we meet may be when my troops are at the city walls. Safe travels."

Ye Bingqian froze, then nodded slowly, in small movements. Then he heard Liu Chengzong order the guards to return his sword and escort him out of the Marshal's Office army's controlled area.

Ye Bingqian's lips quivered. It was not necessarily out of great gratitude — more likely it was the shock of escaping death and seeing the light of day again. He bowed deeply to Liu Chengzong, then followed the guards and left.

After Ye Bingqian had gone far, Fan Sanlang lifted the tent flap to look, then asked in confusion, "You just let him go like that? You're not making him persuade his brother at the city walls?"

"He's a hostage. Drag him to the city wall to demand surrender, pin down Ye Guoqi, and stage a show of sacrificing family for righteousness. If I kill him below the wall, what does that accomplish besides making the defenders all feel like heroes?"

Liu Chengzong shook his head. "Let him go inside the city to undermine the enemy's will to fight. This is also 'surround on three sides, leave one open.' With the army pressing down, if the enemy mistakenly believes this isn't a fight to the death and that surrender is still an option, they won't be able to fight with their backs to the wall."

On the ninth day of the second month of the sixth year of the Chongzhen reign, Ye Bingqian passed through Old Crow Gorge, crossed Upper River Beach controlled by the Marshal's Manor vanguard, traversed the river gully where the two armies' mounted scouts clashed, entered the Ba Nuan San Chuan Camp's garrison, and that afternoon entered Ice Gully Horse Farm.

At this time, the He-Huang Han-Tu government troops were still converging on Upper Chuan Mouth. Ye Guoqi, who had single-handedly held the court's He-Huang stronghold, was overjoyed to see his younger brother, but the worry on his face was hard to erase… Just before Ye Bingqian returned, Ye Guoqi had been discussing relief with Mo Yujing, who had just arrived at Ice Gully Horse Farm.

The native soldiers of each tusi originally had fixed quotas, but beyond those quotas, nearly every man of the native families was a soldier in times of crisis.

Under conscription, close to eighteen thousand native soldiers and warhorses had gathered here. Though numerous, the troops were not elite. They were encamped separately around the battalion fort, the horse farm fort, and the post station fort, consuming over three hundred dan of provisions and fodder daily.

The vast majority of the forces had been conscripted as civilian laborers. A few officers and the remaining gentry discussed grain procurement, transporting supplies back and forth through the north and south valleys, but this was still a drop in the bucket.

The valley had been short on grain this year to begin with. With no relief arriving, the provisions they had scraped together could only last thirteen days; no one knew when the follow-up reinforcements would arrive.

So even though Ye Bingqian had not died at Liu Chengzong's hands, his arrival was still no good news for the defenders. Quite the opposite… he brought Liu Chengzong's ultimatum: two days.

After reading the letter, Ye Guoqi had no intention of surrendering. Instead, when Ye Bingqian tried to persuade him with a few words, Ye Guoqi gave the order for Ye family native soldiers to escort him to the official quarters at the horse farm post station and place him under house arrest, forbidding him from unsettling the troops' morale.

But whether morale was unsettled or not, the defenders had few tactical options. The worst choice was to hold the small fort and abandon the vast farmland outside; the next worst was to fight a field battle relying on the two rivers. Beyond that, there were no good choices.

A man's reputation is like a tree's shadow. Liu Chengzong had campaigned across northern Shaanxi, defeated He Huchen's Ningxia border army in a head-on clash, and so intimidated Wu Zimian that he dared not sally forth. Whoever heard of it feared his army's fighting strength.

But Mo Yujing had no better solution either. Behind them, Lanzhou was mobilizing troops, provisions, and equipment to support He-Huang. They could only first try a field battle relying on the rivers.

However, the advantage a field battle offered them was not great, because those two north-south flowing tributaries of the Huang River were only a dozen or so paces wide.

Mo Yujing carefully selected twelve thousand native soldiers, divided into three battalions. Two battalions were deployed along one river with a bridge as the pivot, digging trenches, burying landmines, and constructing fortified camps to defend the riverbank. Another battalion was stationed at the second river as a reserve force, so that if the front-line battle went poorly, they could withdraw to Upper Chuan Mouth and enter the city to defend it.

Ye Guoqi had the native soldiers deliver a letter to Liu Chengzong — partly to thank him for releasing Ye Bingqian, and partly to try to deceive him, to see if he could stall for two more days, because Liu Chengzu's roving cavalry were harassing from the opposite riverbank, greatly disrupting the burying of landmines.

But they did not expect that the next morning, just as this letter had crossed the second river, Mo Yujing, standing on a dirt hill, had already ordered the signal cannon fired.

Through his telescope, he saw that at the eastern mouth of Old Crow Gorge, ten li away at the end of the river valley, a dark mass of troops and banners was passing through, like a black mist shrouded in dust, splitting into several streams and spreading mightily across the entire river valley.

It was not until noon, an hour later, that the Marshal's Manor's main force had closed to within four or five li of the second river. The outline of the battle formation gradually sharpened, the dust from warhorses trampling the farmland grew more distinct, but men and horses were still tiny black dots, not yet clearly visible.

Soon after, the glinting reflections of Mongol sabers became visible, and gradually one could make out that the armies closing in on both flanks were all cavalry, while the center was an infantry battle line glittering with armor in every direction.

When they were still a li away, the battle formation sweeping through the valley came to a halt. Even without the telescope, Mo Yujing could easily distinguish the enemy's heads and torsos, which actually made him relax a little.

The enemy's infantry in the center was not as elite as he had imagined. Most wore mail and leather armor; the glinting armor he had seen was merely the chest guards on the leather armor.

The only thing that puzzled him was that, in his impression, Liu Chengzong's army should have been a force centered on border troops. Why did they look so much like the northern caitiffs?

Then, glancing slightly upward, Mo Yujing was dazzled by the afternoon sunlight. He cursed inwardly: Liu Chengzong's petty tricks!