It is the Seventh of Seventh. The first large-scale battle between Chen and Yuan commences two years after the Battle of Shangjing.
This year, there is flooding in Jiangzhou, refugees fleeing from every corner of the land, unrest in the north, and the nation is at its weakest. Great Chen is plagued by problems on the inside and threatened from the outside. No one could have imagined that the newly appointed Governor of Hebei, who hasn’t even been in his position for a month, would mobilise a largescale battle against the Mongolians alongside the Commandant of Hejian.
In this battle, the Mongolian army fails to capture the city overnight, and it’s also repeatedly attacked by sudden ambushes. At midnight, Wu Du even initiates a new series of attacks.
“Charge —!” Hebei army, two thousand strong, charges into the Mongols’ rear formation.
Without the interference of cavalry behind them, Batu certainly could have doubtlessly taken Ye, and yet Wu Du seems to have no plan to fight him head-on — every single time the two sides make contact, he immediately retreats.
Duan Ling observes them for a long time, and he notices several times that when the Mongolian army is attacked from behind and seems about to change formation so as to confront Wu Du, the troops seem unwilling to take direction. They don’t agree with each other, causing them to repeatedly miss the chance to attack.
That’s it. His army isn’t of one heart. In all likelihood, those battalion commanders aren’t willing to listen to Batu’s orders, and all they want is to take Ye as quickly as they could. Military commands not reaching the troops is the most verboten error in the philosophy of war, and if Batu hadn’t captured him previously, perhaps there wouldn’t be so much conflict within the Mongolian troops now. How unexpected for Batu’s actions to have led to this.
Two battalions of one thousand men each besiege the city in turn. Leading the militia in the city, Duan Ling wards off the Mongols’ battering ram and scaling ladders.
With an ear-shattering boom the battering ram slams against the city gates, and dozens of people dash over to the gates to keep it shut. Duan Ling runs up the city gate tower, flitting across the top of the wall at the head of his archers, shooting one arrow after another; each arrow that leaves his bow is quickly followed by a Mongolian soldier falling to the ground.
It’s pandemonium both on top of and beneath the wall. Wu Du takes point in front of his army, blood spraying wherever he goes; almost no one can block even a single move of his. Where the Lieguangjian strikes, it cuts through armour along with the person wrapped inside it.
Duan Ling gasps for breath with his back against the city wall. The Mongolian army has finally realised that if they don’t get rid of the troops lying in ambush outside the city, there’s no way they can ever take Ye. Soon, nearly two thousand men split away from the Mongolian army, and they charge towards Wu Du’s division to hold back his repeated attacks.
Their offence at the city gates immediately ease up, and the city defenders overturn oil pans and light up firewood, filling their surroundings with black smoke. Duan Ling turns to the Mongolian soldiers escaping from the smoke and shoots them whenever he sees them. Those who are hit by the arrows topple at once.
Dressed from head to toe in black armour in the night, Wu Du is like a ghost; as soon as the Mongol army advances, he would charge into the forest. Soon enough, the forest is on fire and thick smoke wafts out, making the Mongolian soldiers cough violently. Then Wu Du is at the head of his men charging out from the side again. The Mongolian force seems to be continuously decreasing in size — they’re actually dying bit by bit in this black-clad warrior’s hands as this guerilla war wages on!
Batu gives out a furious shout and charges towards him on horseback. By then, Wu Du’s right arm is weak from all the killing, and he tosses his sword to his left hand, saying coldly, “You’re right on time.”
Then Benxiao is charging towards him. Wu Du and Batu gets into melee distance on horseback; Batu wields a long black iron spear weighing nearly thirty catty, while Wu Du wields the Lieguangjian. The two collide, carried by the strength of two horses charging at each other.
With a metallic ring, the iron spear trembles — and the spear’s pole is cut in half with one sword slash from Wu Du! Benxiao crashes right in the direction of Batu’s horse!
Batu’s warhorse is hit so hard that it ends up rolling onto its side. Wu Du turns on the spot with half of his body still on horseback, and he thrusts the Lieguangjian out and across with a horizontal slash!
Batu immediately draws his sabre with a backhand, and with his left foot pushing against the ground he howls, “Up!”
He pulls on the reins so hard that the corner of his horse’s mouth is bloody. But struggling on four hooves, it pushes itself off the ground. With his left hand, Batu slices his sabre across Wu Du’s sword edge. Wu Du shouts in approval and changes his move to pare back at him, but by then Batu is already steering his warhorse out of the formation.
Everywhere he looks, there are wounded soldiers, and the sky is gradually brightening. Duan Ling spies a line of black in the distance rolling towards them.
“Change formation —!” Qin Long shouts.
Their reinforcements of two thousand men have arrived, and they charge onto the hill, their marching formation turning into a charging formation. As they charge fiercely forward, they spread out in a straight line.
“Forward!” Qin Long howls.
“Withdraw!” Wu Du shouts.
Qin Long launches his assault while Wu Du withdraws his men out of the battle beneath the city walls at nearly the same time. The Mongolian army immediately changes formation in order to ward off Qin Long’s attack, but it’s already too late; thousands of horsemen are fighting at close-quarters on the battlefield, going insensate with killing — they’ve already turned the ground beneath Ye into a meat grinder where limbs go flying.
“I leave this place to you!” Wu Du shouts, suddenly exiting the area.
Duan Ling is about to order someone to let Wu Du back in the city, but Wu Du is leading his men away by going around the city walls.
The Mongolian army is finally crushed, but they don’t seem to be in a panic at all; as they retreat they’re still constantly restructuring, leaving the area along the other side of the city wall. Qin Long leads his army in pursuit, hot on their tail. Duan Ling says decisively, “Everyone, get on your horses! Come with me!”
As the Mongolian army is passing by the eastern gates they’re still constantly restructuring their ranks. Suddenly, the eastern gates are thrown wide open and Duan Ling charges out with a hundred archers and a thousand militiamen. The Mongolian army never expected an ambush to be waiting for them here, and not daring to stay and fight, they scatter in retreat.
The Mongolian army that was about to regroup again is once more dispersed. Qin Long makes his way to Duan Ling to rendezvous with him.
Zheng Yan shouts, “Governor! You’re having too much fun! Hurry back here to guard the city already!”
“Never mind the city!” Duan Ling says loudly and merges his troops into Qin Long’s army.
It’s not until they’ve chased the Mongols out ten miles and more and the sky is completely bright that Qin Long says to him, “Don’t chase them anymore! We have to head back and defend the city!”
Duan Ling was going to try and see if they could catch Batu, but now that the Mongols are defeated they’re a complete mess so there’s no way they can even find Batu anymore. He can only abandon that idea.
Yet as they’re about to withdraw, a division lying in ambush charges out from the side of the road — but it’s Wu Du.
Before the Mongol army even manages to recognise them, they’ve already been charged apart. Duan Ling yells, “Wu Du!”
“What are you doing out here?” Wu Du yells back, “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the city?”
“I was worried that they’d attack the eastern gates while they had the chance — there aren’t enough guards there.”
Right now, only dozens of men are garrisoned in Ye. Qin Long gives Duan Ling a thumbs up, “You people have really got guts.”
“Leave them,” Wu Du says, “get a new horse and come with me. Qin Long, you go with Zheng Yan. We’ll outflank them on the Xunshui shore.”
For this battle, the die has already been cast for the Mongolians. Aside from fording the river, they have no other means of escape. A violent dispute had broken out within their ranks and they’re locked in argument. Meanwhile, there are archers with whistling arrows that Wu Du had hidden in the forest, passing messages back and forth, and suddenly the Mongols feel as though there are soldiers lying in wait everywhere around them, leaving them no choice but to hastily ford the river.
When they’re halfway across the water, Wu Du and Qin Long launch their attack once more with their troops. This one is actually the most devastating defeat for the Mongolian army; the attack leaves the Xunshui filled with floating corpses, and they end up killing at least a thousand Mongolian soldiers.
Finally, not even two thousand Mongolian soldiers manage to ford the Xunshui and retreat to the northern shore. The two sides confront each other at a distance.
“Don’t come back again!” Duan Ling says across the river, covered in blood; the hand he’s been using to pull his bowstring still won’t stop shaking.
“Let’s withdraw,” Wu Du says, “the defence in Ye is weak. We have to get back there as soon as possible.”
In the end, Duan Ling still hasn’t managed to see Batu. This battle ends here.
When they get back to the city, they see wounded soldiers everywhere. The cost of this battle has truly been too great.
“Make a casualty count,” Wu Du instructs. He enters the governor’s offices and lies down right there on the floor; his armour and helmet clang on the floor, blood seeping through the gaps. He has no idea whether it’s his own blood or the enemy’s blood.
Duan Ling’s martial artist robes are already tattered all over, revealing the White Tiger armour he wears beneath. He too, lies down on the floor, leaning against Wu Du’s leg. He feels like he’s going to fall apart from exhaustion.
Outside, there is cheering.
“Governor, Commandant General,” the lieutenant says, “For the army of Ye, four hundred and seventy-two dead, and one thousand thirteen wounded; for the army of Hejian, thirty-six dead, six hundred and one wounded.”
“So many casualties?” Duan Ling says with his eyes closed, “I’ll visit and compensate the bereaved in a little while. I need to sleep for a bit … I can’t stay up anymore.”
Early autumn in Jiangzhou, all the way along the highway it’s a stretch of golden yellow.
The messenger spurs his horse through the main streets with word of Ye’s Seventh of Seventh victory. The messenger has travelled by both day and night to bring this dispatch to Jiangzhou, sending a great quake through the entire imperial court. At morning assembly that day, every civil official and military officer is struck dumb by the news.
“The Mongols have retreated to the north of the Xunshui,” Xie You says. “They will likely not enter Great Chen’s territory again in the near future.”
“They got into a confrontation with the Mongolians without asking the imperial court for a written order to declare war,” Su Fa says. “What are they going to do if the Mongols come back for revenge when winter arrives?”
“Even the fastest horse travelling nonstop will take a fortnight to arrive in Jiangzhou from Ye.” Mu Kuangda says, “Getting here and back will take a full month. When the Commandant of Hejian took office, His Majesty had already given him a secret imperial edict giving him full authority to act at his discretion. And besides, the Mongols were no longer attacking because they saw a good opportunity to do so, but because they wanted to invade our territory. Whether it was out of a passion to defend the nation or of sound reasoning, this was a battle they should have fought.”
Cai Yan says, “It was a battle of four thousand against five thousand. They have surprisingly gained a decent victory.”
“Your Highness,” Xie You says, “this wasn’t a battle in which one could use numbers to judge the disparity of either side’s strength.”
Li Yanqiu doesn’t say anything; he’s still looking at the map.
Xie You take a step forward and explains this to the officials of the court, “The Mongolian military is expert at guerrilla warfare, and not so much at laying siege to a city. In territories east of Yubiguan, whenever towns along the border need to confront the Mongols, the most oft used approach is to shut the city gates and refuse to come out. But this time, the Commandant of Hejian, Wu Du, had chosen to take his army and lie in ambush, attacking the rear of the Mongols’ formation when they attack the city. Then they coordinated with Qin Long to outflank the enemy from two sides, chasing them all the way to Xunshui. Even though I did not see it with my own eyes, according to what’s written in Wang Shan’s dispatch I’m sure that’s what happened.”
“This battle tactic is one the late emperor used consistently.” Li Yanqiu remarks casually, “That year in Shangjing when he fought alongside Yelü Dashi against Ögedei, this is what he did — setting up ambushes to attack the enemy’s rear formation. Even though all glory for this battle belongs to Wu Du, Wang Shan’s contributions must not be overlooked. If he hadn’t intercepted the Mongolian military’s secret missive, and then informed Han Bin at Yubiguan to attack their reinforcements, presumably we would have already lost Ye.”
No one speaks. Cai Yan seems quite anxious and preoccupied. Li Yanqiu turns to him and asks gently, “What do you think, my son?”
“Yeah,” Cai Yan replies, “Then let’s leave it for the Ministry of War to assess.”
Mu Kuangda adds, “We have driven the Mongols out of Hebei, but the autumn harvest for the Ye and Hejian regions were neglected regardless. With the militia conscription a month ago besides, they couldn’t worry about farm work at the same time, so we’ll probably have to allocate some extra grain to help them get through this winter.”
The Minister of Revenue heaves a sigh. “If more refugees head south from the north, I really don’t know what else we can do for them. We can only provide enough for Ye.”
“Get that done then.” Li Yanqiu rises, saying, “Assembly dismissed.”
Autumn has come, and the sky feels even wider; the wind blows and grass bends, and from a distance, it looks like there are waves of yellow on the wheat fields. As soon as the Mongols retreat, Duan Ling disbands their forces and tell them to begin the autumn harvest so that it won’t be too late. For a time, the whole city of Ye seems empty — everyone has gone out to bring in the wheat and to grind flour.
The bereaved needs to be comforted, the injured needs to be visited; Duan Ling busies himself for three whole days, and he’s downright exhausted. When he gets back to the estate, Duan Ling changes Wu Du’s poultices inside their room. The arrow wound from before has left a scar, and this battle has once more given him another injury.
“Fight a battle, add a scar,” Duan Ling says, “A few more years and you’ll probably be covered in scars.”
“I should carry around a few more scars. When I get old, you’ve become the emperor, and you don’t want me anymore, I can show them to you so you’d remember how good I’ve been to you.”
“What are you talking about,” Duan Ling’s not sure what to say to him. Watching Wu Du has brought a stirring in his heart, and he wraps his arms around him, leaning over his well-defined shoulders and back. He presses his lips to the tattoo on Wu Du’s neck.
“I’m sure that kid won’t dare come back again,” Wu Du adds.
“He will come back still,” Duan Ling says, “before summer next year, he’ll definitely come.”
Batu has been defeated in one battle, and Duan Ling is quite aware of the reason behind that. It doesn’t mean he’s incapable, but that there are differences in opinion among divisions of the Mongolian military itself. By the next time Batu comes back, he’ll make sure he’s ready, and bring Amga with him so he can challenge Wu Du one on one. He’d also marshal his forces garrisoned in Hulunbuir.
From now ‘til the next summer, though short, will be their precious period of convalescence.
With new poultices applied, Wu Du puts on his outer robe and moves to get up. Duan Ling asks, “Where’re you going this time?”
“I’ll have to figure out where to find you some food.”
Duan Ling smiles. “I’m thinking about it. It’s supposed to be my job, to begin with.”
Wu Du waves that off. “I have to support my family. There’s no other way.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Duan Ling says, “There are other things we have to think about how to solve. We’ll do it together.”
The Mongols have calmed down for now, and the Shadow Guard hasn’t returned either. Is it because Wu Du has noticed their tracks? Or is it because Zheng Yan is here? Feng Duo is probably also a smart man, so aside from those two assassins, he must have sent many more. But the two hapless souls getting found by them by a stroke of luck was clearly not part of the plan.
As for how many assassins there are left and when they’ll launch their attack, those are all unknowns.
Duan Ling and Wu Du have discussed this problem among themselves many times; Wu Du’s attitude towards it is to cross that bridge when they come to it. They may be worried about assassins, but Feng Duo’s bound to be even more worried about them. As long as they’re careful nothing’s going to happen.
Meanwhile, Duan Ling life is always unsettled, and it is a feeling that stems from lacking a sense of security ever since he was little. He’d always rather take the initiative; even if he doesn’t know where his enemy is, he’d do something out of habit. When he felt he had no hope of returning to court, he found some other thing to take its place, the civil exams for instance … He wants to go fight the Mongols, and get rid of those assassins. This way he can at least feel a bit more at ease.
“When it comes to this you’re a lot like the late emperor,” Wu Du says.
“Really?” Duan Ling scratches his head. But the tactics behind this siege were entirely orchestrated by Wu Du, and it all had very little to do with him. Perhaps some tacit and deeper understanding has formed between them, so much so that he’s even affected Wu Du.
“You were the one who wanted Han Bin to attack the Mongolian reinforcements first,” Wu Du says, “that’s when I thought we should be the ones launching the assault.”
They walk and talk at the same time. Wu Du gives Benxiao a pat and says to Duan Ling, “Get on. Let’s go somewhere fun.”
The only thing in the world that can give Duan Ling a sense of security, aside from Wu Du, would be Benxiao. Every time Wu Du rides off to battle, all Duan Ling thinks about is how Benxiao will definitely protect him. He’s beginning to understand the significance of a warhorse to a famed general — even if Wu Du is still a short distance away from being a famed general.
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It is the Seventh of Seventh. The first large-scale battle between Chen and Yuan commences two years after the Battle of Shangjing.
This year, there is flooding in Jiangzhou, refugees fleeing from every corner of the land, unrest in the north, and the nation is at its weakest. Great Chen is plagued by problems on the inside and threatened from the outside. No one could have imagined that the newly appointed Governor of Hebei, who hasn’t even been in his position for a month, would mobilise a largescale battle against the Mongolians alongside the Commandant of Hejian.
In this battle, the Mongolian army fails to capture the city overnight, and it’s also repeatedly attacked by sudden ambushes. At midnight, Wu Du even initiates a new series of attacks.
“Charge —!” Hebei army, two thousand strong, charges into the Mongols’ rear formation.
Without the interference of cavalry behind them, Batu certainly could have doubtlessly taken Ye, and yet Wu Du seems to have no plan to fight him head-on — every single time the two sides make contact, he immediately retreats.
Duan Ling observes them for a long time, and he notices several times that when the Mongolian army is attacked from behind and seems about to change formation so as to confront Wu Du, the troops seem unwilling to take direction. They don’t agree with each other, causing them to repeatedly miss the chance to attack.
That’s it. His army isn’t of one heart. In all likelihood, those battalion commanders aren’t willing to listen to Batu’s orders, and all they want is to take Ye as quickly as they could. Military commands not reaching the troops is the most verboten error in the philosophy of war, and if Batu hadn’t captured him previously, perhaps there wouldn’t be so much conflict within the Mongolian troops now. How unexpected for Batu’s actions to have led to this.
Two battalions of one thousand men each besiege the city in turn. Leading the militia in the city, Duan Ling wards off the Mongols’ battering ram and scaling ladders.
With an ear-shattering boom the battering ram slams against the city gates, and dozens of people dash over to the gates to keep it shut. Duan Ling runs up the city gate tower, flitting across the top of the wall at the head of his archers, shooting one arrow after another; each arrow that leaves his bow is quickly followed by a Mongolian soldier falling to the ground.
It’s pandemonium both on top of and beneath the wall. Wu Du takes point in front of his army, blood spraying wherever he goes; almost no one can block even a single move of his. Where the Lieguangjian strikes, it cuts through armour along with the person wrapped inside it.
Duan Ling gasps for breath with his back against the city wall. The Mongolian army has finally realised that if they don’t get rid of the troops lying in ambush outside the city, there’s no way they can ever take Ye. Soon, nearly two thousand men split away from the Mongolian army, and they charge towards Wu Du’s division to hold back his repeated attacks.
Their offence at the city gates immediately ease up, and the city defenders overturn oil pans and light up firewood, filling their surroundings with black smoke. Duan Ling turns to the Mongolian soldiers escaping from the smoke and shoots them whenever he sees them. Those who are hit by the arrows topple at once.
Dressed from head to toe in black armour in the night, Wu Du is like a ghost; as soon as the Mongol army advances, he would charge into the forest. Soon enough, the forest is on fire and thick smoke wafts out, making the Mongolian soldiers cough violently. Then Wu Du is at the head of his men charging out from the side again. The Mongolian force seems to be continuously decreasing in size — they’re actually dying bit by bit in this black-clad warrior’s hands as this guerilla war wages on!
Batu gives out a furious shout and charges towards him on horseback. By then, Wu Du’s right arm is weak from all the killing, and he tosses his sword to his left hand, saying coldly, “You’re right on time.”
Then Benxiao is charging towards him. Wu Du and Batu gets into melee distance on horseback; Batu wields a long black iron spear weighing nearly thirty catty, while Wu Du wields the Lieguangjian. The two collide, carried by the strength of two horses charging at each other.
With a metallic ring, the iron spear trembles — and the spear’s pole is cut in half with one sword slash from Wu Du! Benxiao crashes right in the direction of Batu’s horse!
Batu’s warhorse is hit so hard that it ends up rolling onto its side. Wu Du turns on the spot with half of his body still on horseback, and he thrusts the Lieguangjian out and across with a horizontal slash!
Batu immediately draws his sabre with a backhand, and with his left foot pushing against the ground he howls, “Up!”
He pulls on the reins so hard that the corner of his horse’s mouth is bloody. But struggling on four hooves, it pushes itself off the ground. With his left hand, Batu slices his sabre across Wu Du’s sword edge. Wu Du shouts in approval and changes his move to pare back at him, but by then Batu is already steering his warhorse out of the formation.
Everywhere he looks, there are wounded soldiers, and the sky is gradually brightening. Duan Ling spies a line of black in the distance rolling towards them.
“Change formation —!” Qin Long shouts.
Their reinforcements of two thousand men have arrived, and they charge onto the hill, their marching formation turning into a charging formation. As they charge fiercely forward, they spread out in a straight line.
“Forward!” Qin Long howls.
“Withdraw!” Wu Du shouts.
Qin Long launches his assault while Wu Du withdraws his men out of the battle beneath the city walls at nearly the same time. The Mongolian army immediately changes formation in order to ward off Qin Long’s attack, but it’s already too late; thousands of horsemen are fighting at close-quarters on the battlefield, going insensate with killing — they’ve already turned the ground beneath Ye into a meat grinder where limbs go flying.
“I leave this place to you!” Wu Du shouts, suddenly exiting the area.
Duan Ling is about to order someone to let Wu Du back in the city, but Wu Du is leading his men away by going around the city walls.
The Mongolian army is finally crushed, but they don’t seem to be in a panic at all; as they retreat they’re still constantly restructuring, leaving the area along the other side of the city wall. Qin Long leads his army in pursuit, hot on their tail. Duan Ling says decisively, “Everyone, get on your horses! Come with me!”
As the Mongolian army is passing by the eastern gates they’re still constantly restructuring their ranks. Suddenly, the eastern gates are thrown wide open and Duan Ling charges out with a hundred archers and a thousand militiamen. The Mongolian army never expected an ambush to be waiting for them here, and not daring to stay and fight, they scatter in retreat.
The Mongolian army that was about to regroup again is once more dispersed. Qin Long makes his way to Duan Ling to rendezvous with him.
Zheng Yan shouts, “Governor! You’re having too much fun! Hurry back here to guard the city already!”
“Never mind the city!” Duan Ling says loudly and merges his troops into Qin Long’s army.
It’s not until they’ve chased the Mongols out ten miles and more and the sky is completely bright that Qin Long says to him, “Don’t chase them anymore! We have to head back and defend the city!”
Duan Ling was going to try and see if they could catch Batu, but now that the Mongols are defeated they’re a complete mess so there’s no way they can even find Batu anymore. He can only abandon that idea.
Yet as they’re about to withdraw, a division lying in ambush charges out from the side of the road — but it’s Wu Du.
Before the Mongol army even manages to recognise them, they’ve already been charged apart. Duan Ling yells, “Wu Du!”
“What are you doing out here?” Wu Du yells back, “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the city?”
“I was worried that they’d attack the eastern gates while they had the chance — there aren’t enough guards there.”
Right now, only dozens of men are garrisoned in Ye. Qin Long gives Duan Ling a thumbs up, “You people have really got guts.”
“Leave them,” Wu Du says, “get a new horse and come with me. Qin Long, you go with Zheng Yan. We’ll outflank them on the Xunshui shore.”
For this battle, the die has already been cast for the Mongolians. Aside from fording the river, they have no other means of escape. A violent dispute had broken out within their ranks and they’re locked in argument. Meanwhile, there are archers with whistling arrows that Wu Du had hidden in the forest, passing messages back and forth, and suddenly the Mongols feel as though there are soldiers lying in wait everywhere around them, leaving them no choice but to hastily ford the river.
When they’re halfway across the water, Wu Du and Qin Long launch their attack once more with their troops. This one is actually the most devastating defeat for the Mongolian army; the attack leaves the Xunshui filled with floating corpses, and they end up killing at least a thousand Mongolian soldiers.
Finally, not even two thousand Mongolian soldiers manage to ford the Xunshui and retreat to the northern shore. The two sides confront each other at a distance.
“Don’t come back again!” Duan Ling says across the river, covered in blood; the hand he’s been using to pull his bowstring still won’t stop shaking.
“Let’s withdraw,” Wu Du says, “the defence in Ye is weak. We have to get back there as soon as possible.”
In the end, Duan Ling still hasn’t managed to see Batu. This battle ends here.
When they get back to the city, they see wounded soldiers everywhere. The cost of this battle has truly been too great.
“Make a casualty count,” Wu Du instructs. He enters the governor’s offices and lies down right there on the floor; his armour and helmet clang on the floor, blood seeping through the gaps. He has no idea whether it’s his own blood or the enemy’s blood.
Duan Ling’s martial artist robes are already tattered all over, revealing the White Tiger armour he wears beneath. He too, lies down on the floor, leaning against Wu Du’s leg. He feels like he’s going to fall apart from exhaustion.
Outside, there is cheering.
“Governor, Commandant General,” the lieutenant says, “For the army of Ye, four hundred and seventy-two dead, and one thousand thirteen wounded; for the army of Hejian, thirty-six dead, six hundred and one wounded.”
“So many casualties?” Duan Ling says with his eyes closed, “I’ll visit and compensate the bereaved in a little while. I need to sleep for a bit … I can’t stay up anymore.”
Early autumn in Jiangzhou, all the way along the highway it’s a stretch of golden yellow.
The messenger spurs his horse through the main streets with word of Ye’s Seventh of Seventh victory. The messenger has travelled by both day and night to bring this dispatch to Jiangzhou, sending a great quake through the entire imperial court. At morning assembly that day, every civil official and military officer is struck dumb by the news.
“The Mongols have retreated to the north of the Xunshui,” Xie You says. “They will likely not enter Great Chen’s territory again in the near future.”
“They got into a confrontation with the Mongolians without asking the imperial court for a written order to declare war,” Su Fa says. “What are they going to do if the Mongols come back for revenge when winter arrives?”
“Even the fastest horse travelling nonstop will take a fortnight to arrive in Jiangzhou from Ye.” Mu Kuangda says, “Getting here and back will take a full month. When the Commandant of Hejian took office, His Majesty had already given him a secret imperial edict giving him full authority to act at his discretion. And besides, the Mongols were no longer attacking because they saw a good opportunity to do so, but because they wanted to invade our territory. Whether it was out of a passion to defend the nation or of sound reasoning, this was a battle they should have fought.”
Cai Yan says, “It was a battle of four thousand against five thousand. They have surprisingly gained a decent victory.”
“Your Highness,” Xie You says, “this wasn’t a battle in which one could use numbers to judge the disparity of either side’s strength.”
Li Yanqiu doesn’t say anything; he’s still looking at the map.
Xie You take a step forward and explains this to the officials of the court, “The Mongolian military is expert at guerrilla warfare, and not so much at laying siege to a city. In territories east of Yubiguan, whenever towns along the border need to confront the Mongols, the most oft used approach is to shut the city gates and refuse to come out. But this time, the Commandant of Hejian, Wu Du, had chosen to take his army and lie in ambush, attacking the rear of the Mongols’ formation when they attack the city. Then they coordinated with Qin Long to outflank the enemy from two sides, chasing them all the way to Xunshui. Even though I did not see it with my own eyes, according to what’s written in Wang Shan’s dispatch I’m sure that’s what happened.”
“This battle tactic is one the late emperor used consistently.” Li Yanqiu remarks casually, “That year in Shangjing when he fought alongside Yelü Dashi against Ögedei, this is what he did — setting up ambushes to attack the enemy’s rear formation. Even though all glory for this battle belongs to Wu Du, Wang Shan’s contributions must not be overlooked. If he hadn’t intercepted the Mongolian military’s secret missive, and then informed Han Bin at Yubiguan to attack their reinforcements, presumably we would have already lost Ye.”
No one speaks. Cai Yan seems quite anxious and preoccupied. Li Yanqiu turns to him and asks gently, “What do you think, my son?”
“Yeah,” Cai Yan replies, “Then let’s leave it for the Ministry of War to assess.”
Mu Kuangda adds, “We have driven the Mongols out of Hebei, but the autumn harvest for the Ye and Hejian regions were neglected regardless. With the militia conscription a month ago besides, they couldn’t worry about farm work at the same time, so we’ll probably have to allocate some extra grain to help them get through this winter.”
The Minister of Revenue heaves a sigh. “If more refugees head south from the north, I really don’t know what else we can do for them. We can only provide enough for Ye.”
“Get that done then.” Li Yanqiu rises, saying, “Assembly dismissed.”
Autumn has come, and the sky feels even wider; the wind blows and grass bends, and from a distance, it looks like there are waves of yellow on the wheat fields. As soon as the Mongols retreat, Duan Ling disbands their forces and tell them to begin the autumn harvest so that it won’t be too late. For a time, the whole city of Ye seems empty — everyone has gone out to bring in the wheat and to grind flour.
The bereaved needs to be comforted, the injured needs to be visited; Duan Ling busies himself for three whole days, and he’s downright exhausted. When he gets back to the estate, Duan Ling changes Wu Du’s poultices inside their room. The arrow wound from before has left a scar, and this battle has once more given him another injury.
“Fight a battle, add a scar,” Duan Ling says, “A few more years and you’ll probably be covered in scars.”
“I should carry around a few more scars. When I get old, you’ve become the emperor, and you don’t want me anymore, I can show them to you so you’d remember how good I’ve been to you.”
“What are you talking about,” Duan Ling’s not sure what to say to him. Watching Wu Du has brought a stirring in his heart, and he wraps his arms around him, leaning over his well-defined shoulders and back. He presses his lips to the tattoo on Wu Du’s neck.
“I’m sure that kid won’t dare come back again,” Wu Du adds.
“He will come back still,” Duan Ling says, “before summer next year, he’ll definitely come.”
Batu has been defeated in one battle, and Duan Ling is quite aware of the reason behind that. It doesn’t mean he’s incapable, but that there are differences in opinion among divisions of the Mongolian military itself. By the next time Batu comes back, he’ll make sure he’s ready, and bring Amga with him so he can challenge Wu Du one on one. He’d also marshal his forces garrisoned in Hulunbuir.
From now ‘til the next summer, though short, will be their precious period of convalescence.
With new poultices applied, Wu Du puts on his outer robe and moves to get up. Duan Ling asks, “Where’re you going this time?”
“I’ll have to figure out where to find you some food.”
Duan Ling smiles. “I’m thinking about it. It’s supposed to be my job, to begin with.”
Wu Du waves that off. “I have to support my family. There’s no other way.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Duan Ling says, “There are other things we have to think about how to solve. We’ll do it together.”
The Mongols have calmed down for now, and the Shadow Guard hasn’t returned either. Is it because Wu Du has noticed their tracks? Or is it because Zheng Yan is here? Feng Duo is probably also a smart man, so aside from those two assassins, he must have sent many more. But the two hapless souls getting found by them by a stroke of luck was clearly not part of the plan.
As for how many assassins there are left and when they’ll launch their attack, those are all unknowns.
Duan Ling and Wu Du have discussed this problem among themselves many times; Wu Du’s attitude towards it is to cross that bridge when they come to it. They may be worried about assassins, but Feng Duo’s bound to be even more worried about them. As long as they’re careful nothing’s going to happen.
Meanwhile, Duan Ling life is always unsettled, and it is a feeling that stems from lacking a sense of security ever since he was little. He’d always rather take the initiative; even if he doesn’t know where his enemy is, he’d do something out of habit. When he felt he had no hope of returning to court, he found some other thing to take its place, the civil exams for instance … He wants to go fight the Mongols, and get rid of those assassins. This way he can at least feel a bit more at ease.
“When it comes to this you’re a lot like the late emperor,” Wu Du says.
“Really?” Duan Ling scratches his head. But the tactics behind this siege were entirely orchestrated by Wu Du, and it all had very little to do with him. Perhaps some tacit and deeper understanding has formed between them, so much so that he’s even affected Wu Du.
“You were the one who wanted Han Bin to attack the Mongolian reinforcements first,” Wu Du says, “that’s when I thought we should be the ones launching the assault.”
They walk and talk at the same time. Wu Du gives Benxiao a pat and says to Duan Ling, “Get on. Let’s go somewhere fun.”
The only thing in the world that can give Duan Ling a sense of security, aside from Wu Du, would be Benxiao. Every time Wu Du rides off to battle, all Duan Ling thinks about is how Benxiao will definitely protect him. He’s beginning to understand the significance of a warhorse to a famed general — even if Wu Du is still a short distance away from being a famed general.
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