9. Investigation

To be honest, even Wang Bo, who had tended toward laziness in his previous life, wavered for a moment. But at once, the sinister, smirking face of the man with the triangular eyes flashed through his mind, and gritting his teeth, he pressed on. Yes! He had finally seized a chance to realize his ambitions. Had he not often wallowed in self-pity in his past life? Had he not lamented the unfairness of fate, and bemoaned having been born in the wrong era? In times like these, if one was not ruthless with oneself, others would only be more ruthless still!

After lunch, they rested for a short while. At the sound of a bamboo whistle, everyone rose to their feet. Wang Bo stood before the ranks and called out loudly, “Brothers, are you weary?”

“Weary!” came the honest reply.

“Brothers, is it bitter?”

“Bitter!” They answered just as frankly.

“To die on the battlefield or to endure harsh training—between the two, which do you choose?”

“We choose harsh training!”

“Good! We sweat and toil here so that, in the heat of battle, we may outlast the enemy and suffer fewer wounds. As the saying goes, ‘The more sweat in training, the less blood in war!’ Last time, in our first small skirmish, we lost four brothers in battle. My heart ached for them! I hope you will not begrudge your strength, but train hard, so that even in greater battles, I do not wish to lose a single one of you! Will you do this?”

“We will! We will! We will!” came the resounding chorus.

Indeed, this genuine concern for their lives, with no hint of pretense, stirred something deep within everyone’s hearts, even among the likes of Xu Chu and Yang Feng. Whether under the rule of the old dynasty or following the “Great Virtuous Teacher” in rebellion, they had never felt such care from a superior for the lives of ordinary soldiers. Otherwise, the imperial court would not have left the frontier to be raided year after year by nomads, nor would the “Great Virtuous Teacher” have driven unarmed peasants to storm cities. Now, with this fire in their bellies, everyone threw themselves into training even harder.

That afternoon was devoted to drills and tactical training. After much deliberation with Yang Feng, Du Yuan, and others, Wang Bo had settled on simple tactics—so simple, in fact, that aside from the cavalry, each unit had only two or three basic maneuvers. This was at Wang Bo’s insistence.

On the battlefield, life and death are decided in an instant; too many moves are useless to the common soldier, and if practiced superficially, lead to incompetence. Simple actions are easier to master, and through constant repetition, the body develops instinctive responses, facilitating rapid command changes in battle and averting chaos. Quicker reactions than the enemy meant seizing the initiative, and thus a greater chance of victory.

The spearmen practiced only two moves: stepping forward to thrust, and withdrawing the spear. The swordsmen drilled only in parrying with the left arm and slashing with the right. The shield-bearers worked on stepping forward to plant the shield and bracing it with leg and shoulder. The archers practiced only drawing and loosing arrows, whether in direct or arched fire. Cavalry required more complex and time-consuming training, so Ping Han and Yang Feng led them off for separate drills.

Most of the support troops went hunting or foraging, with only a small rotating group remaining. The supply troops trained their arm strength, maneuvering carts and wagons. The hunting party, led by Niu Da, was taken into the nearby woods to receive lessons in archery and hunting skills.

Wang Bo, with Xu Chu in tow, sought out the convalescing Du Yuan for instruction in martial arts. Given Wang Bo’s utter lack of martial experience and aversion to direct combat, Du Yuan focused on honing his reflexes and coordination. For weapons, he chose a pair of short halberds for Wang Bo, suitable for defense against assassins and stray arrows—though for now, these were substituted by wooden sticks. Wang Bo nodded vigorously as he listened, inwardly admiring Du Yuan’s reputation as a minor but famous leader among the Yellow Turbans—not for nothing!

For five or six days, “Xinghan Village” was peaceful, devoted solely to training. As the main forces of the government troops moved elsewhere, the runaway soldiers and refugees who used to appear now became a rare sight. By the seventh day, none were seen at all, and the local patrols of the nearby county slackened off and vanished.

But a new problem arose: they were running low on grain. There were some wild vegetables and dried meat in reserve, but nowhere near enough to last the winter. Worse, with the increased intensity of training, the men’s appetites grew. They couldn’t very well drill on empty stomachs.

Something had to be done to secure food. Muttering to himself, Wang Bo sought out Yang Feng and Du Yuan for counsel. They decided: rob the wealthy—specifically, those ruthless local gentry who tyrannized the people.

They questioned those who’d fled to the village from nearby counties to draw up a list of targets and sent Niu Feihu to scout the situation.

Two days later, Niu Feihu returned to report: in Zhongqiu County, the Wang clan had long been a scourge. Their ancestors held high office at court, and after retiring, settled in the countryside and amassed land. Over decades, their power became deeply entrenched, their connections tangled. Nearly half the good farmland near Zhongqiu was in their hands, seized through cunning and force, with countless peasants driven to ruin. Fortunately, Zhongqiu was not a main theater for the Yellow Turban uprising, so the people dared not speak out, and the Wang clan had even sent retainers to help suppress the rebels. Recently, frightened by the chaos, their estate was tightly guarded, with high fortress walls and ferocious retainers—making it a tough target.

After some thought, Wang Bo decided: attack Wang Fortress! “We can’t just hole up and train forever. Only soldiers who’ve seen blood can become elite; otherwise, they’re mere paper tigers!”

“Scout again! If there’s a chance to sneak inside, be careful not to alert them. If not, observe from afar, and in three or four days, when they grow lax at the gate, we’ll decide then.”

Three days later, though vigilance at the fortress had clearly relaxed, entry was impossible—only locals and groups of five vouching for each other were admitted. On the last day, acting on instructions, Niu Feihu captured a servant who often left the fortress and learned much: there were seven or eight hundred able-bodied retainers, but only a hundred or so were well-armed and could be called elite, mostly Wang clan members or loyal retainers’ sons. Half guarded the gate, half the central manor. There were several hundred robust men scattered inside and out.

They also learned roughly where the money and grain were stored. The servant mentioned that the Wang family patriarch frequently raged against the Yellow Turbans and would never consider donations.

Wang Bo slapped his thigh. “No more waiting. Tomorrow we take Wang Fortress! Otherwise, our brothers will go hungry! Morale will crumble, and our home will fall apart!”

At dawn the next day, carrying a day’s rations, all the soldiers and auxiliaries—over two hundred—marched on Wang Fortress.

After nearly half a month of intense training, the force already looked formidable. Their ranks were neat, morale high; the pallor and lethargy of before had vanished. Word spread that they were going to seize food—not from innocents, but from villainous gentry—and the excitement was palpable, especially among those originally from Zhongqiu. Some even howled with anticipation, but were quickly silenced by the squad leaders’ stern glare, though the fire in their chests only burned hotter.

Three miles out, they halted in a grove. Wang Bo surveyed the fortress: the area around it was barren, offering no cover. Only a frontal assault would do.

The gate had just opened, the morning still young and few people about. After a brief discussion with Yang Feng, Wang Bo ordered the supply train to split into two groups to surround the fortress on three sides, while a dozen or so competent horsemen patrolled the outskirts, ensuring no messages could get out. The rest advanced slowly toward the gate, with archers ready.

Wang Bo signaled to Ping Han, who galloped up to the gate and roared, “Listen up, you inside! The mighty ‘Xinghan’ army is here! Hand over your grain and money at once! If you don’t, I, Ping Han, will leave not a soul alive—not even a chicken or dog!” He planted his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and laughed uproariously on horseback, his black nose hairs trembling.

Soon, on the fortress tower, a minor leader shoved aside a retainer craning his neck, shouting, “Who are you, bandit scum, to make such noise here? Leave at once, or I’ll have your head!”

“Ha! Wretch! Dare you come down and fight me? See if I don’t take your head myself!”

“Bah!” The minor leader raised his short bow, loosed an arrow in a flash of white at Ping Han, who parried with his spear and cursed, “Shameless brat! Do you dare fight?”

“Do you dare come up here?” The two traded taunts.

As their shouting match reached a fever pitch, a stern voice rang out behind the minor leader, “Silence, both of you! Stand aside!” A middle-aged scholar, hair bound in a blue cap and clad in white robes, stepped to the center of the wall and looked down.

“Brave men, why do you not seek your livelihoods in the mountains, but come instead to my Wang Fortress?”

Ping Han replied gruffly, “We’ve had our fill of wolf and tiger meat in the hills! We’ve come to borrow ten thousand bushels of grain from the Wang family!”

“I fear you will be disappointed. Bandits rampage everywhere these days; our own stores are barely enough to survive. If we give you our grain, we’ll starve and freeze—how can you bear that? Besides, such a large amount is out of the question…” He rambled on at length.

“Tch!” Ping Han, already impatient, cut him off, shouting, “Enough nonsense, old man! We’re here, so you’ll give up your grain—whether you like it or not! Otherwise… hmmph!” He waved his spear menacingly.

“You dare commit robbery in broad daylight? Are you not afraid the county magistrate’s troops will come and wipe you out?”

At that, a delicate-faced youth beside him cried anxiously, “Father! Why waste words with such rabble? There are barely a hundred of them—why not sally forth and wipe them out? We’ll win great credit for quelling these bandits—” He was silenced by a wave of his father’s hand.

The middle-aged scholar paused, then called down loudly, “I advise you: depart at once, or don’t blame me for what comes next—”

“Bah! I’ve been itching for a fight!” came the reply.

“Hmph! So you reject my good will! Er Niu, bring the men out—leave none alive!”

With a creak, the gates swung wide and the drawbridge dropped. A squad of cavalry thundered out, followed by a large crowd of retainers wielding spears and knives, charging at Wang Bo’s men.

“Fall back five hundred paces! Cavalry, cover the retreat!” Wang Bo shouted. Yang Feng led over thirty horsemen, shooting arrows and hurling javelins to slow the enemy. After two rounds, they split and rode off before the enemy could close.

Meanwhile, the infantry quickly withdrew to their assigned position and formed up. The shield-bearers took the front, their thick leather-and-wood shields thudding to the ground. Spearmen thrust their long weapons through the gaps, swordsmen stood ready behind, and the hunters and archers at the rear nocked arrows, waiting for the enemy to approach. From the center, Wang Bo stared fixedly at the oncoming Wang retainers.

Already, under Yang Feng’s arrows and javelins, over twenty retainers had fallen, their screams sowing confusion. Yet, seeing the bandits retreat, the rest pressed on, urged by their leaders, ignoring the arrows and javelins raining down.

According to plan, Yang Feng, with Ping Han, Du Yuan, Wu Huan, and other skilled horsemen—over twenty in all—waited for the main force to pursue, then, after a few volleys, doubled back toward the now-open fortress gate for a surprise attack. Wang Bo, with Niu Da, Li Damu, and the main force, feigned weakness, lured the enemy out, then held firm. Once Yang Feng’s group seized the gate, confusion would break out among the enemy, presenting the chance for victory.

Seeing the moment had come, Yang Feng shouted, “Attack! Take the fortress!” His riders plunged into the crowd still pouring from the gate, cutting down the unprepared rear ranks and sowing chaos as they charged inside, yelling, “The gate is ours! Brothers, charge!”

Meanwhile, Wang Bo’s side was locked in grim combat. In their “hedgehog formation,” the shield-bearers crouched behind their shields, bracing for the enemy’s blows. Spearmen, under Niu Meng’s command, repeated their thrust and withdraw maneuvers. Occasionally, an enemy spear found its mark, and the wounded gritted their teeth to hold on; gaps were quickly filled by Niu Da and Li Damu’s arrows, while swordsmen picked up fallen spears.

At the front, the enemy’s advance was checked by the archers and hunters’ volleys—retainers lay dead and wounded in heaps, their screams unending. Fortunately, the enemy cavalry did not charge the shields; otherwise, the formation might have collapsed.

The enemy leader, seeing the stalemate, ordered his men to attack the flanks, where the “Xinghan” force had no shields and was vulnerable. Li Damu hastily redeployed the archers left, the hunters right. Ninety-odd bowmen loosed volley after volley, but the retainers, emboldened by their numbers, pressed on. After their leader executed several laggards, they began to encircle the formation.

On the wings, archers had no time to nock arrows—they drew their short swords, ready for close combat. Wang Bo, seeing the frontal assault slacken, shifted some swordsmen to bolster the flanks.

The situation was dire. If the enemy circled behind, disaster would follow. In desperation, Wang Bo grabbed Xu Chu, Niu Da, and Li Damu as they prepared to charge to the flanks. “My brothers, look! The enemy leader is not far. If you three can break through, with third brother’s archery, you can kill him in one shot! ‘Seize the king to defeat the bandits’—if you kill him, the enemy will fall into chaos! Will you do it?”

“What is there to fear? Third and fourth brother will protect you, big brother—I can handle it alone!” Xu Chu replied, then, gripping his broadsword in both hands, roared and charged from the left flank, cutting a bloody path as enemies and weapons alike were swept aside, the foe crumbling before his might. Niu Da and Li Damu spurred after him on horseback.

After a hundred paces, Niu Da shouted to Li Damu, “Cover me, fourth brother!” Left hand on the reins, he reached back with his right, drew his bow, and with a resonant twang, loosed a long, white-feathered arrow tipped with a barbed iron head. It whistled through the air, flying straight for the enemy leader. Without pausing to watch, Niu Da drew and loosed three more arrows in rapid succession, forming a deadly triangle.