Volume 3: Heroes Are Silent, Heaven and Earth Grow Old - Chapter 23: The Fisherman (Part II)

Whether in favorable circumstances or adversity, life is forever an endless struggle, a war where the few fight the many.

The arrival of the rear Yuan reinforcements did not seem to catch Deng She's attention, at least not outwardly; he did not appear to take them to heart at all. As for whether his grip on his saber had tightened, or if his heartbeat had quickened within the protection of his sturdy armor, only he himself knew.

"General, what should we do?"

Bi Qiuniu turned pale, and Li Jing stammered for a long time without uttering a single syllable; they felt fear. Everyone knew that perhaps in an hour, perhaps in half an hour, once the Red Turban foot soldiers fell into the predicament of fighting on two fronts, the most optimistic estimate was that they would inevitably collapse before nightfall.

So what could be done?

Amidst the throngs of thousands of horses and men, Deng She cast a fleeting glance against a backdrop of blue skies, white clouds, the scorching sun overhead, and the red banner trailing behind him. He turned his head back and said lightly, "Killing is a common affair, why be terrified?" He wheeled his horse away, dodging three or four crisscrossing spears thrust toward him; reaching out, he grabbed the shaft of a spear and pulled one of the enemy toward him, tucked the man under his arm, and thrust his saber into the man's neck.

The gleaming saber was stained with a brilliant crimson. Through the gaps in the armor, blood gushed like a spring, instantly staining Deng She and the fine steed he rode. The cavalryman struggled and wailed, but Deng She remained unmoved. He only waited until the man completely lost his breath before casting him aside. He laughed heartily, pointed a commanding finger, and shouted with a booming voice, "With cowards like these rats, no matter how many reinforcements arrive, what can they do? In my eyes, it's merely one more dish served on the table!"

Those who burn brightly will be extinguished; those who rumble onward will be cut short. In the heat of battle, does victory ever depend on numbers? A single man fighting for his life can hold off a thousand. Deng San had once said, based on his experience as a horse bandit, that hidden within the heart of every man is a beast. Applied to the art of war, what a general must do is simply to rouse that beast when facing adversity.

How to rouse it? Rather than offering them hope, it is better to drive them to despair. Hope breeds longing; fear drives men to fight for their lives.

Deng She widened his eyes and raised his voice, shouting, "Furthermore, soldiers! The Tatars and our army are mortal enemies. Have you forgotten what the victorious Tatar Chancellor did after Sesame Li suffered a disastrous defeat in Xuzhou City? He slaughtered the city clean! Every man, woman, and child was put to death. If we are defeated today and fall into enemy hands, it is death; if we fight bravely and die upon the field, it is also death.

"Who among mortals does not face death? Every man dies but once! Soldiers, would you prefer the death of cowards, kneeling to beg for mercy only to still end up with your heads rolling in the dust and dying in humiliation? Or would you rather die the death of true men, cutting down your enemies with your own hands, your bodies stained with their blood, with the vault of heaven as your tent and the thick earth as your bed, flanked by comrades-in-arms, sleeping on the battlefield with your weapons as pillows?"

Hearing these words, the morale of the army was instantly revived.

Deng She spurred his horse into a gallop, slashing horizontally with his saber without dodging incoming arrows. He turned his head and shouted aloud, asking a man behind him, "What is your name?"

The man had lost his helmet at some unknown point, his disheveled hair falling over his shoulders, his face and body covered in blood, with the heads of two Tatars dangling from his horse's head. He replied with intense excitement, "This lowly one is Wang Qichi."

"A fine name!" Deng She glanced at the severed heads on the man's horse and praised, "A true warrior, you do no dishonor to the name of a seven-foot man!" He raised his saber and shouted, "The warrior, Wang Qichi!"

The crowd shouted in unison: "The warrior, Wang Qichi!" The voices of hundreds of men merged together amid the chaotic charging horses like a sudden clap of thunder, shaking the four directions.

Deng She called out, "We have remembered your name! Today, if you fall, they will spread your great name throughout the army. We fight to the death today, and even if not a single man of our force survives, your heroic souls shall live for ten thousand generations!"

Everyone fears death, but what they fear is often not death itself, but dying in vain. As Deng She had reflected earlier while mourning Li Geguai, one does not necessarily need peerless martial prowess to be a hero. Anyone can be a hero, as long as they die where they ought to. On the chaotic battlefield, the glory of the three armies shouting one's name in unison is impossible to fully comprehend without experiencing it firsthand. Wang Qichi's lips trembled with emotion, his eyes welling with tears: "I am willing to repay the General with my death."

Deng She killed a man, laughed aloud, and shouted, "I am Deng She!"

Following his advance, the troops shouted in unison, "General Deng She!"

"Centurion, Bi Qiuniu."

"Centurion, Bi Qiuniu!"

Thus, with every step forward, or whenever a man was slain, someone would shout out their own name, followed by the unison cry of the troops. Deng She not only inspired them; this scene on the battlefield, falling into the eyes of Liu Yang in the hilly terrain and the foot soldiers further away, stirred everyone to intense excitement. By the end, it was no longer just Deng She and his men shouting their names; Liu Yang, the infantrymen, every single Red Turban, every single warrior, shouted their names aloud.

Thunder rumbled everywhere, echoing throughout the formation.

Xu Ren in the infantry formation and Li Jing in the cavalry detachment found their minds wandering and their spirits soaring under such overwhelming momentum, both struck by the exact same thought. Xu Ren looked into the distance while Li Jing brandished his saber, and the two thought: "Little Deng of Shuangcheng truly lives up to his reputation."

Compared to the soaring morale of the Red Turban forces, the morale of the Yuan army plummeted instantly. They were panicked and at a loss; even the cowardly fell from their horses, their legs trembling: "Eternal Blue Sky above..."

Before the words finished, Deng She spurred his horse forward, leaned down slightly, and neatly lopped off the man's head. Wheeling his horse around, he grabbed the falling skull and raised it high. Just as it was Li Jing's turn to shout his name, Deng She joined the troops in the unison cry: "Li Jing!" Then he shouted fervently, "Fighting the enemy to the death today, who says we have no comrades? Pillowed on our weapons, we shall sleep by your side!"

"Pillowed on our weapons, we shall sleep by your side!"

Bi Qiuniu's blood surged, and he could no longer contain himself. The oncoming wind blew across his face, the scorching sun beat down on his helmet, and countless Yuan soldiers wavered before his eyes. Suddenly, he experienced an illusion, as if they were merely stretching out their necks, standing there obediently waiting for him to ride past and cut them down. Blood rushed to his head, filling him with a surge of energy. He felt like a powder keg about to explode, needing to find an outlet for release. He slashed his enemy with his saber and chanted in a resonant voice: "Cutting the bamboo, continuing the bamboo. Flying stones, pursuing the enemy."

This battle song was archaic and majestic, and the Yuan cavalry broke into a massive rout.

Deng She had used various methods to ignite the courage of his soldiers. Bi Qiuniu and the others could afford to be blindly courageous or overly excited, but as the commander-in-chief, he had to remain calm at all times. He could spur his soldiers to die, but he could not truly sit back and watch them perish.

For anger may turn back to joy, and irritation to delight, but a ruined state cannot be restored, and the dead cannot come back to life.

The moment he sensed the rout of the Yuan army, he stopped Bi Qiuniu and the others from pursuing any further, ordering only Liu Yang—who had held his ground in the hilly terrain until now—to take a hundred-odd men and continue driving the enemy. On the battlefield, once an army routs and flees, even without pursuers, gathering them back together and reasserting command requires immense effort. Having a hundred-odd men pursue them might not be enough to slaughter them all, but it was more than enough to prevent them from turning back.

He immediately turned his horse's head and, leading the remaining four or five hundred men, galloped to reinforce the foot soldiers.

Deng She observed as he rode. If the infantry were compared to a long serpent, the vanguard was embroiled in a bitter struggle, while the rear had only just made contact with the enemy. The enemy in the vanguard consisted entirely of cavalry—numbering three to four thousand—having already broken deep into the Red Turban spear and pike formations. The rear consisted mostly of infantry, numbering around seven or eight thousand; because they had arrived in a rush, many areas were still making preparations for battle.

He noticed a phenomenon he was seeing for the first time on the battlefield: the Yuan infantry in the rear were flying banners emblazoned with crosses.

"Christians?" Deng She immediately recalled seeing in documents concerning Shenyang that among the northern Mongol princes, the ancestors of one lineage had indeed embraced Christianity and had also flown crosses on the battlefield. He was not entirely certain and asked Li Jing, "Are those the tribesmen of the Prince of Liao?"

Li Jing had spent a long time in Liaoyang and was very familiar with the Mongol tribes around Shenyang. Deng She asking him was hitting the right target; this well-known "informer" nodded and replied, "Along the borders of Shenyang, the only ones who believe in, who believe in Erke温 [Yelikewen], are the family of the Prince of Liao."

Deng She frowned. The regular Yuan officers and soldiers within Shenyang City did not include the border tribesmen; yet now, the Prince of Liao's tribesmen had appeared here, which pointed to only one conclusion: they had come in response to the summons of Nahachu and the Prince of Liao. In other words, the military strength within Shenyang City needed to be reassessed; it was no longer just the original tens of thousands of regular government troops.

Li Jing realized this problem as well, drew a cold breath, and said, "Among the Mongol tribes along the borders of Shenyang, those capable of fighting, if, if they are all called up, will number no less than, no less than fifty thousand."

While they were speaking, they had already rushed to the vanguard. Bi Qiuniu was holding the great banner high and shouting loudly, "General, do we fight or not?"

Deng She's thoughts raced like lightning. The vanguard was locked in a bitter fight, facing entirely Yuan regular troops, all of whom were cavalry; and on their side, fierce generals like Yangwan Hu and experienced commanders like Xu Ren were directing the battle on the spot. Adding the small contingent of cavalry he brought wouldn't make much tactical difference.

Meanwhile, the rear guard was commanded by He Guangxi alone. First, Deng She did not trust He Guangxi's command ability; second, putting aside the question of why the Prince of Liao's forces were here, these hastily assembled tribesmen certainly lacked the combat effectiveness of regular troops, and since the enemy consisted mostly of infantry who had not finished preparing, they were prime targets for a cavalry charge by his own forces.

"Ridethem around!"

Hundreds of horsemen galloped past, charging from the left flank of the battlefield straight into the rear guard. Along the way, a few small bands of Yuan cavalry attempted to intercept them, but in the face of the high-spirited Red Turban cavalry, they were utterly fragile.

The sun was gradually sinking in the west, the setting sun like blood, the distant mountains like iron.

Looking out over the battlefield, the sounds of killing filled the air, with severed limbs scattered everywhere. Soldiers from both sides, wearing different armor and uniforms, crashed into each other with their bodies and hacked at one another with swords and spears. The cowards wept bitterly; the frenzied shrieked like beasts. Red, black, azure—banners of various colors advanced and retreated repeatedly; flags painted with dogs, feathers, and dragons—all manner of military units were hopelessly intertwined.

Wherever Deng She's commander's banner passed, every Red Turban foot soldier who saw it was galvanized. The fervent passion of shouting their names before the battle had not yet subsided, and the stimulus of enemy deaths only further fueled their indomitable courage. Bi Qiuniu sang the cavalry's battle song at the top of his lungs, while the infantry echoed with fierce battle cries.

Deng She saw Yangwan Hu fighting with such frenzy that he had stripped naked, wielding a great axe and tearing through enemy banners wherever he went. Yangwan Hu also spotted Deng She; his galloping steed was stained so brilliantly with blood that in the rays of the setting sun, the saber in his hand gleamed with a poetic radiance.

Past battles flashed by in an instant, and Yangwan Hu's emotions were beyond expression. He looked up to the heavens and howled, and tens of thousands of soldiers shouted in unison: "General, Deng She!"

—

1. One of the ancestors had indeed embraced Christianity and flown crosses on the battlefield.
During the reign of Kublai Khan, Nayan rebelled, and his army flew banners with crosses on the battlefield. "Nayan had secretly received baptism long ago, but never publicly professed Christianity. When the battle commenced, he believed his banner should bear the mark of the cross."
Kublai Khan did not outlaw Christianity on that account, stating: "If Christ's cross has not proved beneficial to Nayan, then His truth and justice are consistent. Because Nayan is a traitor who rebelled against his lord, the cross cannot grant protection to such an evil person. Therefore, no one may wrong the God of the Christians; God Himself is supremely kind and just."

2. Yelikewen.
A collective term used in the Yuan Dynasty for various Christian sects.