Chapter 147: Return to Camp

"My sons, hear my command! Raise your blades! Draw your bows! Kill the Qian men beside you and welcome the Yan troops into the city!"

On a battlefield, knowing how to deploy troops, adapt to changing circumstances, and judge the situation were qualities expected of a commander.

In that respect, Liang Cheng could almost be called perfect.

But there were other methods that had already stepped beyond the boundaries of the battlefield.

They were not part of the qualities tested in a commander.

Nor did they belong to the category of "unorthodox" tactics within the balance of orthodox and unorthodox warfare.

Normally, matters like these were handled by shadowy figures at court.

But right now—

Zheng Fan alone was already filthy enough the moment he thought of using Lady Daxi to make trouble.

Then add the Blind Man.

This was someone who usually loved basking in the sun, as though terrified that if the foul water sloshing around inside his stomach went too long without sunlight, it might grow mold.

Naturally, he was filth among filth.

The Blind Man actually did know how to perform a kind of mental "soul search."

Reading someone's memories over a short period was not impossible either.

But at his current strength, he could not do it.

Perhaps once the Master could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Marquis of Jingnan, then the Blind Man might be able to perform such feats casually.

But not speaking the native language was only a minor problem.

After that single sentence in the common tongue of the Central Plains, the effect appeared almost immediately.

The point was to provoke internal fighting.

Who struck first did not matter.

After "Lady Daxi" shouted, the Qian soldiers atop the wall instantly jolted.

Their suspicious gazes turned toward the Wolf Native Troops beside them.

Two Qian soldiers holding crossbows even turned their weapons directly on the Wolf Native Troops standing nearby.

One of them pulled the trigger.

Twang!

Pfft!

The crossbow bolt punched straight into a Wolf Native soldier's body.

It happened suddenly.

And yet everyone saw it.

Elsewhere, Qian soldiers immediately turned their blades toward the Wolf Native Troops beside them.

That was oil poured onto flame.

There were two reasons Qian liked using Wolf Native Troops.

First, they were savage fighters, extremely convenient for suppressing rebellions.

Second, Qian needed to transfer the Western Army guarding the southwestern mountains north.

So the imperial court used heavy rewards to entice the native chieftains into contributing troops for the march north as well.

That also reduced the risk of fresh unrest breaking out in the southwest once the Western Army left.

Thus, the native people and the Qian people already deeply distrusted one another.

Add to that the Wolf Native Troops' crushing defeat moments earlier.

Their Lady Daxi had been captured by the Yan.

The Wolf Native Troops were already frightened and unsettled.

Historical resentment combined with the present atmosphere.

That single crossbow bolt instantly detonated everything.

The Wolf Native Troops raised their blades.

The Qian soldiers raised theirs.

Then, with no one even knowing who struck the first blow, the two sides erupted into internal fighting in an almost absurd fashion.

Meng Gong stared at the scene before him, dumbfounded.

Everything had happened too quickly.

Lady Daxi's change had been too sudden.

Even now, Meng Gong could barely believe she would disregard the people of her own stronghold and shout something like that.

Even if the Yan had threatened her, she should not have said such words.

Even if they tortured and forced her, how could she possibly change sides so quickly?

And because of that at this moment, Meng Gong lost control of the situation.

Because none of this belonged within a general's normal responsibilities.

Ordinarily, a general fought at the front while the imperial court handled logistics in the rear, doing its utmost to give the commander suitable troops to lead.

But the Wolf Native Troops were simply not soldiers Meng Gong could truly command.

If Mianzhou City had been garrisoned by the Western Army or troops from Qian's Three Northern Garrisons, Meng Gong would have dared deliberately allow even more Yan troops into the city before shutting the gate and beating the dogs once they were trapped.

But now, all he could do was struggle to keep the situation from collapsing completely.

He was doing nothing more than exhausting every human effort and leaving the rest to Heaven.

A fine man, alas facing two filthy bastards on the other side.

Meng Gong's eyes began to redden.

His hand gripped his saber.

But his heart filled with confusion.

The exact opposite was true outside the city.

Zheng Fan was delighted.

The cavalry began adjusting themselves again.

The sounds of killing inside the city were perfectly clear.

Everyone understood.

Their opportunity had come.

No one ever complained about too much military merit.

Whether barbarian or condemned great-clan soldier, all of them had a fierce hunger for heads.

After the previous raid into Qian, Zheng Fan had begun to realize that his own "racist discrimination" toward the barbarian soldiers was inappropriate.

Liang Cheng understood Zheng Fan's intentions and conveyed them to the Blind Man.

The Blind Man immediately grasped the spirit of the Master's directive.

Under the Blind Man's efforts, the barbarian soldiers now possessed something beyond the dream implanted into them through brainwashing.

They had a goal close enough to touch.

By earning military merit, they could obtain citizenship in the State of Yan.

They could receive land grants.

In other words, they could obtain Yan household registration.

Yan household registration naturally could not compare with registration in Shangjing, Qian's capital.

Shangjing was unquestionably the greatest city in the world.

Its commerce, culture, and countless industries were so highly developed that it truly was the brightest jewel of the age.

But to barbarians born from penal tribes, gaining the status of Yan citizens—allowing themselves and their descendants to escape the lifelong shadow of the Zhenbei Army's slaughtering blades was already an extraordinarily precious opportunity.

However, just as the army's morale swelled again and everyone prepared to look for another chance to rush the city gate, two mounted scouts returned.

After receiving their report, Liang Cheng immediately rode over to Zheng Fan.

"Master, Qian cavalry have appeared on our perimeter."

Zheng Fan froze.

"Which direction?"

"South."

Zheng Fan frowned.

"South?"

If Qian cavalry had come from the north, then troops from the Three Northern Garrisons were probably riding to reinforce Mianzhou.

But they should not have been able to arrive this quickly.

This cavalry had come from the south.

That meant they were very likely part of Qian's forces marching north.

The Wolf Native Troops had in fact been the first contingent moving north.

That meant the forces following behind them were not far away.

Zheng Fan swept his gaze over the surroundings.

The chaos inside the city told him that this was an excellent opportunity to make another attempt at the gate.

But ultimately this city could not be held.

He had cavalry.

His numbers were insufficient.

Everything depended on the quality and mobility of the individual soldiers.

"Withdraw!"

Zheng Fan made his decision.

Lady Daxi looked at Zheng Fan with some resentment.

So after going through this entire male-to-female performance all she got for it was the sound of a little commotion?

But the Blind Man was still the Blind Man.

He rarely acted impulsively because of emotion.

Lady Daxi's body trembled.

Then she fainted.

"A-Li, protect the Blind Man's body."

"All right, Master!"

Zheng Fan's gaze shifted toward the more than two hundred captured native soldiers kneeling nearby.

An expression of sorrowful compassion appeared on his face.

"They're pitiful people too. Heaven cherishes life. We'll take Lady Daxi with us. Let the rest go.

"I don't kill prisoners."

"This subordinate understands, Master."

Liang Cheng nodded.

Zheng Fan finished speaking, waved his hand, and spurred his horse north.

A detachment of cavalry followed him.

Liang Cheng remained behind briefly.

Then he ordered the riders around him, "Kill them all."

"Yes!"

...

Failing to take Mianzhou City was regrettable.

The city had lain weakly before them twice, almost as though deliberately seducing them to enter, resisting only just enough to preserve the mood.

But this time, Green Willow Fortress's troops truly failed to get inside.

They had indeed suffered some losses.

Fortunately, Lady Daxi had performed one astonishing act of brilliance and personally delivered a wave of heads to them.

So this surprise raid still ended with a full haul.

If one counted military merit purely by enemy heads, the gains were far greater than what Zheng Fan had obtained from entering the city last time.

And that was without even counting the enormous prize their dwarf assassin had acquired elsewhere.

The road north was not entirely smooth.

After receiving the beacon-fire warnings, Qian's Three Northern Garrisons did respond.

But just as Zheng Fan had told the Marquis of Zhenbei while roasting a lamb leg last time:

Give me a few more troops, and I can make the Qian people politely escort me out of their borders.

This time, the Qian did not quite escort them politely.

But when faced with more than a thousand murderous Yan iron cavalry, Qian cavalry detachments arriving in groups of one or two hundred truly did not dare move forward and block them.

They clearly had opportunities to delay the Yan force.

But they did not dare.

Some merely followed from a distance, making a token show of doing their duty.

At times, when Green Willow Fortress's cavalry shifted direction slightly, those Qian riders even backed away.

The Qian cavalry were waiting for their main force.

But the nearby Qian main forces had spent the past several months huddled inside their military strongholds, too afraid to emerge freely ever since the Marquis of Jingnan personally led ten thousand Jingnan Army cavalry forward and forced them back.

For them to arrive in time was nearly impossible.

And even if they did, how could they possibly catch more than a thousand cavalry riding north without hesitation when none of the auxiliary forces were willing to actively intercept and delay them?

This was cavalry.

And every rider had two horses!

The returning army's morale remained high.

Because they were not retreating in defeat.

They were returning in triumph.

Unless nearly two thousand Qian cavalry appeared directly ahead, there was no force capable of making them alter course.

The last time Zheng Fan had been forced to weave east and west while fleeing and hiding was because he had too few troops.

He had taken only four hundred barbarian cavalry into Qian.

He had lost some men while rushing the city.

The preparations for that raid had not been particularly thorough either, so his troops had inevitably grown exhausted.

Thus, when Qian pursuers came after them, Zheng Fan had chosen to evade and circle around them.

In the end, had the Marquis of Jingnan not personally appeared, Zheng Fan might well have died in Qian.

This time, none of those problems existed.

Everyone wanted to return.

The heads they had earned this time were enough for the condemned soldiers to purchase freedom for their families.

They were also enough for the barbarian troops to earn household registration.

The hairstyles of the Wolf Native Troops, along with the ornaments hanging from their ears and other distinctive features, made their heads easy to identify.

There would be no trouble when military merit was verified.

No one would accuse them of murdering civilians and claiming false merit.

Of course, the first person to eat a crab was always the luckiest.

After this bloody lesson, the Wolf Native Troops probably would never again attempt the absurd stunt of chasing cavalry across open plains on foot.

"Well, Master, look at that. So many Qian cavalry escorting us home."

The Blind Man was unconscious, slung across Fan Li's shoulder.

Xue San was absent.

No one knew whether he was dead.

Liang Cheng was directing the army.

And the Fourth Lady was only suitable at night.

So at this moment, only A'Ming was available to chat with Zheng Fan.

"Heh."

Zheng Fan laughed.

Around and behind their formation, more and more groups of Qian cavalry began gathering.

But they were quickly left behind.

Their horses lacked the endurance of Green Willow Fortress's extravagant configuration of two mounts per rider.

More importantly, they lacked the determination to ride forward and actively seek battle.

They were all cavalrymen.

Professionals recognized professionals.

They knew perfectly well the quality and bearing of the force ahead.

If their eyes had been covered, perhaps they might have tried.

But with their eyes wide open, no one wanted to smash himself like an egg against a stone.

One could say that the bitter fruits of Qian suppressing military men beneath civil officials for nearly a hundred years were already plain to see.

There truly were capable commanders within Qian's army.

There were also soldiers filled with hot blood, men who did not fear death.

But the overall martial spirit of the army was still disastrously low.

When soldiers occupied a low position in society, they inevitably began to abandon themselves.

Their sense of honor disappeared.

The consequences brewed from that would inevitably be bitter beyond measure.

Even so, Zheng Fan remained dissatisfied.

He shouted, "If I had another seven or eight thousand cavalry, I wouldn't have to run at all!"

In Zheng Fan's estimation, the thousand-plus cavalry under his command possessed superior equipment and Liang Cheng's leadership.

They might still be inferior to the Zhenbei Army.

But compared with an equal number of Jingnan Army cavalry, they genuinely would not lose by much.

If he had ten thousand Jingnan Army cavalry beneath him now, then forget Mianzhou City—it would unquestionably have fallen earlier.

Even during the retreat, he could have ridden as leisurely as though enjoying a spring outing.

He might even have calmly exchanged souvenirs with the Qian cavalry pursuing them.

Back in Zheng Fan's original world, one of his grand-uncles had once said during a family gathering at New Year that when he served on the Laoshan front, men from his side had sometimes traded canned meat with the Vietnamese soldiers opposite them.

He said they had already eaten their own canned rations until they were sick of them.

At the time, Zheng Fan had been baffled.

You could do that during a war?

Now, he understood somewhat.

If you had enough confidence, you really could.

"Heh. Wouldn't that make this rather like the Qing before they entered the Central Plains?" A'Ming said.

Many people knew only that Wu Sangui later let the Qing through the pass.

Far fewer realized that in the years before that, the Later Jin Eight Banners had already broken through the passes several times, burning, killing, and plundering along the way, even riding down to the walls of Beijing to "pay their respects" to the Chongzhen Emperor.

When the Later Jin withdrew, they naturally moved slowly while hauling plundered goods.

Yet Ming troops only dared follow from behind.

Once the Later Jin troops abandoned a city, Ming forces would move back in and proclaim that they had "recovered" it.

And so they politely escorted the enemy all the way out through the pass.

In the final years of a dynasty, when military preparedness decayed and the capable generals and troops who could actually fight withered away, scenes like that became very easy to produce.

In Zheng Fan's eyes, this Great Qian truly resembled a dynasty in its dying years.

He had tried courting death twice and failed both times.

Instead, he had returned with a full haul.

That was proof enough.

The only thing Zheng Fan could not understand was why the Marquis of Jingnan had clearly returned long ago, yet had only ordered miscellaneous subordinate commanders to forage for opportunities and stir up trouble on their own.

The Jingnan Army's main camp had remained completely motionless.

Was he waiting for an opportunity?

Zheng Fan knew that the Marquis of Jingnan had always been waiting for Qian's main forces along the Three Frontiers to bite the hook so he could devour them all at once.

But the Qian court clearly still had capable men.

Grand Commandant Yang, who had previously been condemned for "surrendering national interests and humiliating the state," still had not been removed.

He continued his turtle-shell policy.

Meanwhile, Qian's major field armies from other regions had already begun moving north.

If this truly became a prolonged war if Qian simply stayed behind fortifications and refused to come out what would Yan do?

Fortunately, although Zheng Fan currently held an officer's position in Yan, he possessed none of the patriotic awareness of someone who truly belonged to the Great Yan Dynasty.

His first priority was to keep himself fed and develop his own strength.

As for the future?

The future could do whatever it wanted.

The cavalry rode continuously until the eastern sky began turning pale.

Most of the Qian cavalry either lost the strength in their horses or saw that the border was already close and gave up the pursuit.

But behind them, a force of more than a thousand cavalry was still chasing stubbornly.

Unfortunately for them, the quality of their horses could not compare with Zheng Fan's mounts.

They had never managed to close the distance.

And none of the Qian comrades ahead had been willing to launch suicidal charges to buy them time.

Maintaining cavalry was extremely expensive.

Green Willow Fortress's horses all came from the desert.

Their quality in every respect was first-rate.

In fact, many people in Zheng Fan's original era—including Zheng Fan himself—were most familiar with the kinds of horses one saw in amusement parks or walking along roads.

Many of those were Yunnan horses.

Small-bodied but sure-footed, they could climb mountains and traverse dangerous paths for dozens of li without breaking into a sweat.

But a true warhorse a genuinely "tall, powerful horse" was an entirely different experience.

Otherwise, Emperor Wu of Han in Zheng Fan's familiar history would not have become so wildly excited upon obtaining the legendary blood-sweating heavenly horses.

At last, Green Willow Fortress's cavalry smashed through the line of Qian fortified outposts ahead.

This time, the garrisons inside only lit beacon smoke.

No one dared come out to block the ferocious iron cavalry.

Zheng Fan looked back toward the force that had stubbornly pursued them all the way from outside Mianzhou City since the previous night.

He smiled.

I came quietly.

Then I swaggered away.

Come chase me!

...

The silver-armored commander who had led the pursuit through half the night raised his hand.

His cavalry slowed.

In truth, the horses beneath them were already badly overdrawn.

"Young General, these Yan cavalry are too fast. They still have spare mounts to rotate."

The silver-armored commander's face was dark as water.

He let out a disdainful snort.

"It's not that the Yan run fast.

"It's that the official armies of our Great Qian's Three Frontiers fear the enemy like tigers."

"Young General, watch your words. Watch your words. This isn't home."

"Watch my words for what?

"I, Zhong Tianlang, have never seen such useless official troops in my entire life!"

...

The Western Army entered the city.

The fighting between the Wolf Native Troops and the local Qian soldiers was finally suppressed.

The Wolf Native Troops did not fear Mianzhou's local Qian soldiers.

But toward Qian's Western Army, they possessed a fear born deep in their bones.

An old general with a white beard entered Mianzhou City under the protection of his personal guards.

He looked over the devastation covering the ground.

The old general laughed.

And within that laughter there was an icy chill.

...

Inside the city, in the rear kitchen of an abandoned merchant-house compound, a small figure rummaged through pottery jars and earthenware pots.

He found the salt jar.

He took out the head wrapped carefully in cloth.

Then he grabbed several handfuls of salt and began rubbing them over it.

Inside the wrapping were also ornaments and documents capable of proving the identity of the head's former owner.

"Here, Your Highness. Let's rub some over this part too.

"And here.

"Can't miss anywhere."

Xue San worked very carefully.

After he killed the man, another army had entered the city.

That force had rapidly seized complete control of the city's defenses.

Originally, Xue San had intended to take advantage of the confusion and slip out with the head.

But now he was somewhat uncertain.

These Qian troops who had appeared from nowhere carried an extremely heavy killing aura.

Their defensive arrangements were also exceptionally tight.

After hesitating, Xue San decided not to risk forcing his way out.

Instead, he gave Prince Fu another layer of "powder."

Once the powder was applied, Xue San found some cured meat and other food in the kitchen.

Then he rewrapped Prince Fu's head.

With a leap, he dropped into a well in the courtyard.

It was winter.

The water level was low.

There was actually a fair amount of space at the bottom of the well.

After descending, Xue San first drank two mouthfuls of water.

Then he took out the cured meat and chewed several bites.

He did not find it unpleasant.

Nor did he have the slightest difficulty swallowing.

As an assassin, waiting for a target under terrible conditions for even an entire month was nothing unusual.

This little inconvenience?

Barely drizzle.

After eating and drinking enough to replenish what his body needed, Xue San hugged Prince Fu's head in his arms.

He lightly patted it with one hand.

Then muttered to himself, "Sigh. Once Master and the others realize I'm gone, they must be worried sick."

(End of Chapter)