Volume One: In a Turbulent World, Is There a Path for Mortals? Chapter 17: A Thousand Miles Ⅸ

The outcome of the war council was that the main force would defend, while small detachments would harass the enemy. Most of the Red Turbans were exhausted, so sustained attacks were out of the question. Precisely because of this, they needed to put on a strong front.

Wen Huaguo spoke with composure: “The Tartars are timid in battle. Last night, they fled in disarray, and today their three thousand huddle together like turtles.” He said to Centurion Zheng, “General Luo and I took turns charging this morning. Two hundred of our men drove a thousand of theirs like cattle and sheep. We took many heads. We should keep up this tactic, so the Tartars dare not show themselves.”

The regular army of the Yuan dynasty was often less formidable than the loyalist forces led by men such as Bolotemur and Chaqan Temür. The strategy Wen Huaguo described was a tried and true method the Northern Expedition Army used against the superior Yuan regulars—it always worked.

Chen Hu gave a curt nod, indicating his agreement and support.

Yellow Donkey, though promoted mainly for his outward loyalty, had seen enough battles to have good judgment. He, too, agreed with Wen Huaguo’s proposal. Luo Guoqi and Guan Shirong voiced their approval, and even Monk Li raised no objections.

Centurion Zheng said, “Since there are no objections, we’ll proceed with this strategy. As long as we can hold out till nightfall, our options will increase.”

Wen Huaguo raised his thumb in approval. “Great minds think alike. Old Zheng, in my view, once night falls, we should withdraw under cover of darkness.”

“To where?” Centurion Zheng gazed at the enemy lines and saw their cavalry patrols fanning out. He assigned some skilled archers among his close guards to challenge them again. After settling that, he asked Wen Huaguo, “Do you have a suggestion, Centurion Wen?”

Chen Hu interjected, “I think we should head east. From the fork in the road, there’s a town a hundred miles ahead. On our way from Shangdu, General Guan Pingzhang sent a detachment to that town for provisions. The garrison was empty. If we can get inside, even if the Tartars catch up, they’ll be helpless—after all, they’re all cavalry and have no siege equipment. They can’t take the city. When they run out of provisions, in two or three days, they’ll have to withdraw.”

Centurion Zheng sought Lady Wang’s approval. Lady Wang glanced at the road leading to Xinghe and Shangdu, hesitating to reply. Luo Guoqi noticed her concern and respectfully bowed, “Madam, there is more than one road to Shangdu. We’ll circle around to the east. Please rest assured, within a month, you’ll surely see Marshal Wang.”

Only then did Lady Wang nod. She remembered the wounded Centurion Xu in the carriage. “That will do. I wonder if there are physicians in the town. Xu’s wounds must not be delayed any longer.”

With Lady Wang’s approval, Centurion Zheng gave his orders, “Centurion Huang, Centurion Li, please each take your men—one to challenge from the front, the other to lie in ambush at the flank. Make it look like we’re about to launch a surprise attack, but do it covertly—just enough for the Tartars to notice. As soon as they do, you must withdraw at once.”

This was a change in their challenge tactics to avoid monotony and arousing the Yuan army’s suspicion.

He then ordered Luo Guoqi, “Centurion Luo, take your unit and patrol the flanks. Don’t let a single enemy scout escape. Let them find it easy to get out, but impossible to return.”

With that, Centurion Zheng instructed his own close guards—over a hundred cavalrymen armed with arquebuses—to form up in front, raise their weapons, and fire three volleys into the sky. Smoke filled the air as they dismounted and sat scattered on the ground. Facing the Yuan army opposite, some hurled insults, some pulled down their trousers to relieve themselves, and some simply lay down to sleep.

Deng She noticed that the troops assigned to challenge the enemy were those who hadn’t seen much action in the earlier charges, realizing Zheng wanted to let his shock troops rest. He immediately ordered his unit to stand down and rest in place. Remembering something he’d left undone, he took his sharp wrist dagger and approached the Yuan centurion bound to the flagpole.

The centurion, tied up for a long time, had been loudly cursing at first, but was now spent and dejected. Seeing Deng She coming with the dagger, he was seized with fear and shouted, “What are you doing?” Then, summoning all his strength, he yelled, “I am a centurion under the Grand Command of the Shaanxi Mongol Army of the Great Yuan…” Lowering his voice, he pleaded, “Set me free, tell your general—my family is a noble Mongol house, wealthy and powerful. If you let me go, you’ll be richly rewarded, I swear it.”

The Shaanxi Mongol Grand Command—Deng She knew of it. The previous year, he’d heard that the Red Turban Western Route Army under Li Xixi and Bai Buxin had besieged their headquarters at Fengxiang, but were defeated by Yuan reinforcements under Chaqan Temür and Li Siqi.

Wen Huaguo sneered, “A defeated general.” Deng She swung his blade and sliced off the centurion’s nose.

The centurion cried out in pain, but Deng She calmly cut off one of his ears as well. Centurion Zheng hurried over, “Deng, wait a moment.” He pulled Deng She aside and whispered, “Question him about Yunnei and Dongsheng first. After that, you may deal with him as you see fit.”

Now missing a nose and an ear, the centurion, desperate to live, told them everything he knew. After Yunnei and Dongsheng fell, General Bolotemur ordered a three-day massacre. Tens of thousands of Red Turbans died, but fortunately, Bolotemur’s main aim was to seize the cities, so the Red Turban forces of Fengzhou and two other groups managed to break out.

When the Tamachin cavalry arrived, Xu Jizu’s forces had already escaped and, along with Wang Shicheng’s men, headed toward Fengzhou—likely intending to link up with Guan Duo’s forces. As for their exact whereabouts, the centurion did not know. But Bolotemur, with a hundred thousand troops, had captured Fengzhou and grown even stronger; to the south, Chaqan Temür blocked their path. Aside from heading to Shangdu, where else could Guan Duo and the others go?

Satisfied with the information, Centurion Zheng felt relieved—their chosen escape route was correct.

The centurion, weeping and sniffling, pleaded, “I’ve told you everything, every word is true! General, spare my life, I beg you.”

Centurion Zheng smiled and said to Deng She, “Blood and gore are unsightly. I’ll go fetch Lady Wang to the carriage.”

As Deng She approached again, the centurion wailed in despair, his anguished cries echoing all the way to the Yuan camp.

Not a single scout returned; all were killed by the Red Turbans. With no news, Fojianu grew ever more uneasy. An officer could no longer restrain himself and came forward to plead, “Sir, the barbarian general comes from a noble family. If we don’t attempt a rescue, the court will surely hold us to account.”

War is a matter of extreme peril. How can one afford to be careless? Impulsiveness would only doom the entire army. The Red Turbans were clearly trying to provoke him… Recalling the carnage inside and outside Yunnei and Dongsheng—Red Turban corpses piled high, blood running like rivers—Fojianu’s hair stood on end, and for a second time he warned himself: Do not act rashly. He barked, “Fool! Stand down.”

The centurion’s pitiful screams, sometimes intermittent, continued until nightfall. From the strong shouts of midday, to the weak moans of afternoon, then to barely audible whispers after dark, and finally to silence. In the stillness of night, it could be heard with dreadful clarity. The Yuan troops were gripped by terror, their morale in tatters.

Not long after nightfall, the Red Turbans launched another assault, even more formidable than the previous two. Their banners changed places, making it appear as if the entire army was attacking—eight hundred men assaulting the Yuan’s three-thousand-strong circle. Fojianu used horses and wagons as barricades and grimly held out. After half an hour, the Red Turbans slowly withdrew.

What army, facing a strong enemy, would commit all its troops as if willingly marching to their deaths? Fojianu became even more convinced that the Red Turbans were up to something, likely gathering other defeated forces. He sternly rejected all suggestions by his subordinates for a counterattack or a night raid.

At last, dawn broke. The general in the forward camp stormed in, furious: “The Red rebels—they’ve run!”

Fojianu was stunned, refusing to believe it. He climbed a high vantage point and saw for himself: over ten miles away, the Red Turban camp was deserted, nothing left but horse dung and a single flagpole.

From a distance, atop the flagpole, a bleached skeleton loomed coldly in the morning sun.

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1. Loyalist Forces: The gentry militias formed by Yuan dynasty landowners, generally dressed in blue, were known as the Loyalist Forces. They were the main opponents of the Red Turbans.

End of section.