Chapter 8: Where to Go from Here

Actually, Liu Chengzong wanted even more to ask Cao Yao about the Battle of Sarhu.

It was just that Cao Yao didn't want to talk about it. He could chat about anything before or after that battle, but that battle alone — he didn't want to talk about it, and there was nothing to say.

Night fell, and cooking smoke rose from the desolate village in the wilds.

An earthen stove built of yellow mud held an iron pot. Cao Yao's men split the goose — missing its thighs — into two halves and put them in each squad's pot to stew. They also took some seasonings from the mule's back, making do as a soup to go with their dry rations.

Stew, you see — the soup is the best part. One flatbread isn't enough to eat, and you can't turn it into two flatbreads.

Soup is different. Drink half, add some water, and it becomes two bowls of soup.

The serious matter Cao Yao wanted to discuss was where to go from here.

"You brothers are scholars. If it weren't for the drought making taxes impossible to collect, Fourth Master Liu wouldn't have fallen on such hard times that he had to send you two off to be soldiers. You both understand reason and have insight."

He swept his hand across the village and said, "These twenty-seven brothers of mine — from Northern Zhili, Shanxi, Shandong, Henan — even if their hometown is in Shaanxi, they have no one left."

"Your brother is a soldier fanatic. The moment he enters a village, he's climbing high for a vantage point and posting sentries, nowhere to be found. So I'll ask you — give me the honest truth."

Cao Yao looked left and right, shifted closer to Liu Chengzong, and asked in a low voice, "Your squad is heading south — what exactly is the plan?"

Liu Chengzong was utterly straightforward. Wiping grease from the corner of his mouth, he shook his head. "I don't know."

He was still half-skeptical whether, a dozen or so years from now, the Great Ming court would be overthrown by the Yinchuan post-station runner who had taught him horsemanship — and in the blink of an eye, his elder brother had been discharged from Fish River Fort.

They received notice at noon, broke camp that very afternoon, and spent the night in the open wilderness. The squad carried only two and a half days of dry rations. At a time like this, whatever he thought was utterly meaningless.

Think about what? How to preserve the realm a dozen years from now?

He didn't even know what they would eat three days from now — or whether they could even reach Ansai in three days.

Yet facing Cao Yao's disappointed gaze, Liu Chengzong felt a twinge of reluctance in his heart.

He knew that if there was no other way out, Cao Yao would have no choice but to take his men back into the mountains and become a bandit.

Liu Chengzong pondered for a moment and sighed. "Brother Cao, where do you think Left-Hanger has fought his way to by now?"

The "Left-Hanger" he spoke of was named Wang Zhijue, nicknamed Left-Hanger, also called Wang Left-Hanger. He had raised troops at Long'erzui in Yichuan. The court learned of this man last year, saying he had ten thousand bandit cavalry.

A man from Qingjian, he had gone into the mountains to become a bandit years ago. Those with him — Miao Mei, Flying Mountain Tiger, Big Red Wolf, and the rest — were the bandit chieftains who roamed and gathered in the forests to the south.

Cao Yao narrowed his eyes, rummaged through his pack, and pulled out a pipe and tobacco pouch. He loaded a pinch, lit it from the campfire, and through the wreathing smoke asked, "Are you saying you want me to go join Left-Hanger?"

Tobacco was still a rarity in the north at this time. It had been brought from Luzon to Fujian for cultivation, carried north by southern troops redeployed to the northern frontier, and people had attributed to it the property of warding off cold.

Within the border army of Yansui Garrison, it was popular among the officer class.

But whatever Cao Yao pulled from the backs of those two mules — whether it was aged tobacco from a highway robbery two years ago or something traded from a border army officer — none of it would surprise Liu Chengzong.

"Left-Hanger was mentioned during the council at Fish River Fort. The official dispatch said he had ten thousand bandit cavalry. I don't believe it." Cao Yao shook his head. "Even if you count every man riding a horse, a donkey, an ox, and a mule, two thousand riders would be the absolute limit."

He clearly looked down on Wang Left-Hanger and didn't see this as a viable path. Exhaling a puff of smoke, he waved his hand. "Joining him would be worse than seeking out Wang Jiayin."

Wang Jiayin was also a bandit. Under him were men like No-Touch Clay and Yang Liu. They operated in Fugu County, inside the border wall northeast of Fish River Fort where Shaanxi and Shanxi met, specializing in plundering wealthy households.

Liu Chengzong quickly waved his hand. "I'm not saying to join them — I'm saying to avoid them."

The memories in his mind were not clear about the endless stream of rebel leaders emerging during this period. He could only name three figures: Gao Yingxiang, Zhang Xianzhong, and Li Zicheng.

As it happened, he knew all three of them.

Gao Yingxiang was a man of Ansai, a horse-bandit chief. He had once been imprisoned in Mizhi jail from spring to autumn for horse smuggling. He knew a great deal and had taught horse judging, mounted archery, horsemanship, and some practical combat experience.

He had taught the two brothers with all his heart, all so that Scholar Liu could get him released. But Scholar Liu was timid — when Gao Yingxiang's brothers outside brought boxes of gold and silver to his home, he didn't dare accept them.

In the end, after Liu Chengzong had already shared Gao Yingxiang's final meal before execution, it was his brothers outside who bribed the county magistrate at the time and got him out.

The very night Gao Yingxiang was released from prison, he led men back into the city and shot arrows at their family's main gate. He even smashed a brass door-knocker with a gray brick.

This man had raised troops among the starving people in Ansai last year. In Liu Chengzong's other set of memories, he was called the Dashing King and campaigned east and west.

As for Zhang Xianzhong, who later became the Great Western Emperor, the Liu brothers were not very familiar with him. They had only met him once. Before the two brothers became soldiers, they had hosted open banquet tables in their hometown. He only remembered that day a constable from Yan'an Prefecture named Zhang Xianzhong drank a great deal of wine, railed at heaven and cursed the earth, made a fool of himself, and was full of grievances.

And then there was the Yinchuan post-station runner Li Zicheng, who at this time was still called Li Hongji. He was the same age as Liu Chengzu, so Liu Chengzong had to call him Brother Yellow Wa when they met. Their relationship was neither close nor distant.

Back then, Scholar Liu had sought out the postmaster to teach horsemanship but was unwilling to even pay for a decent meal. After a few visits, the man stopped coming and sent the young Li Hongji instead, who taught for a while.

Liu Chengzong did not know which of these heroes who rose in revolt was good or bad, strong or weak. But he did know about survival — whoever lived the longest was the most formidable.

Therefore, all the other rebel leaders were unreliable. Joining them was a dead end. Naturally, he would not recommend Cao Yao go join them. He merely asked, "Where do you think these bandits are spread out right now?"

Cao Yao did not answer immediately. He narrowed his eyes and pondered. "Avoid them... Left-Hanger and Wang Jiayin have many horses and even more men. Yes, we must avoid them — but if we're heading south, they'll be heading south too!"

Avoiding them wasn't just about fearing a narrow encounter. It was also because large livestock and men all need to eat. In places the rebel army had passed through, there likely wouldn't even be grass left in the mountains.

Running into them was a dead end. Even following behind them and walking the road they had already taken was also a dead end.

As he spoke, Cao Yao plucked a short twig from the campfire and began drawing on the ground. "Their momentum is growing by the day. How could they not fear the court dispatching the border army to suppress them? They'll surely leave the frontier — the farther from the border army, the better."

"The roads of northern Shaanxi all run crosswise, with great mountains everywhere. The government troops can't enter the mountains, but neither can they." Cao Yao easily used the Yellow River to divide Shaanxi and Shanxi, connecting several towns and cities as key nodes with lines.

"The mountains north of Yan'an are all barren. Whoever enters starves to death. They'll either cross the Yellow River east into the Lüliang Mountains, or they'll have to head south — south of Yan'an."

Watching the route Cao Yao drew, Liu Chengzong couldn't help but silently praise, 'Worthy of an old bandit who fled from the Liao campaign!' He reached out and pointed at the dots along the west bank of the Yellow River from north to south. "Mizhi, Suide, Qingjian, Yanchuan, Yanchang, Yichuan, Hancheng... and this side, is that Yaozhou?"

Past Hancheng, Cao Yao turned slightly westward and dotted three points where three rivers converged. He looked up at Liu Chengzong and smiled. "A man who has studied — you know your geography."

With that, he lightly tapped those three points twice and picked up the thread. "Fuping, Sanyuan, Jingyang — pressing close to Xi'an Prefecture, the richest and fattest land north of the Wei River. I've heard this shredded tobacco is shipped from the south to Jingyang, where it's cut."

"If I were that death-defying Left-Hanger, I'd definitely sack this place and then bolt into Shanxi!"