Chapter 122: The Invisible Thread

In the encampment at Jiaopao Mountain, several leaders of the Liu battalion barely slept throughout the night.

Liu Chengzu and Cao Yao, in particular, sat in the makeshift tent of cotton cloth, listening to the reports from their scouts, their faces etched with exhaustion. After Liu Chengzong departed in the afternoon, there had been two more skirmishes, though both sides kept their distance, avoiding a full-scale engagement.

The troops of the various leaders took turns lining up. With the impressive performance of Luo Rucai’s men as a precedent, the soldiers who followed were less gripped by terror. Three rounds of cannon fire had claimed only sixteen lives, barely exceeding the number of men Luo Rucai had lost. The remaining leaders and their troops felt a surge of defiance: if that ragtag bunch could hold their ground, why couldn’t they?

Unbeknownst to himself, Li Bei had become a drill instructor for these insurgent leaders, feeding them tactical lessons one formation at a time. The units of Li Wanqing, Liu Guoneng, Liu Chengzu, Gao Yingxiang, and even Wang Ziyun were all sent forward to stand their ground for a while. Bathed in the sporadic artillery fire, they began to overcome their fear of cannons on the battlefield. Some units lost sixteen men, others as few as two, which ironically consumed eighteen heavy cannon shells from Li Bei’s side.

Yet, this consumption was a ruse. As night fell and the fighting ceased, Li Bei sent men to sneak out and recover the spent shells. Liu Chengzu caught them halfway through, leading to the first close-quarters clash after a day of posturing. A dozen of Li Bei’s cavalry were intercepted by over thirty of the Chuang army’s riders, resulting in casualties on both sides.

Li Bei then began playing games in the dark. Relying on the long range of his heavy artillery, he would fire a shell at Jiaopao Mountain every so often, followed by sending ten or so riders to probe the area. Cao Yao, harboring a strong desire for retaliation, saw that Li Bei intended to use attrition tactics and immediately consulted with Liu Chengzu to exhaust the enemy in turn.

The units took turns retreating to the north side of the mountain to sleep, leaving two detachments to stay on alert against the Chuang army’s hundred-plus riders. Three breech-loading swivel guns were hauled down the mountain on carts, pushed to within a mile of Li Bei’s camp. They didn’t even unload the carts; they propped up the rear with wooden supports to fire, and once the shot was off, they hitched the horses and fled. There was no other choice; their cannons had short ranges. Sometimes, they would simply send cavalry to gallop near Li Bei’s camp, shouting and shooting arrows, just to ensure the enemy couldn't get any sleep.

The goal was twofold: to exhaust the enemy and to deplete Li Bei’s gunpowder and shells in preparation for the decisive battle the next day. Perhaps possessing great confidence in Liu Guozhen’s forces, Li Bei refused to be outdone. He put immense effort into the game of attrition, firing a shot every so often, and even copied Cao Yao by pushing a "Hundred-Tiger-Charging" rocket cart to the foot of the mountain, launching volleys of arrows up the slope.

The two sides spent the night hurting each other. No substantial damage was done, except to a small, withered tree on Jiaopao Mountain that had barely survived the drought. It was snapped at the waist, its few remaining dry leaves scattered on the ground, looking utterly miserable.

When the messenger from the Tian Shanghou unit arrived, it was at the moment the leaders were most exhausted. Hearing the news of the situation in the west, their hearts leapt to their throats. They stood up together, then fell silent. Neither dared to be the first to ask for the result.

Finally, Cao Yao gestured. "Team Leader Liu, you ask."

Liu Chengzu nodded and signaled for the messenger to speak.

"We raided the camp at night. General Liu was behind the enemy, and after encircling them, he defeated them. The General’s four scout units lost one man, with over ten wounded. We lost over a hundred, with more than four hundred wounded. The government troops suffered fewer than two hundred casualties, and the rest surrendered."

Hearing that the government troops had surrendered, Liu Chengzu and Cao Yao exchanged glances, setting their heavy hearts at ease. "We won."

Cao Yao looked at the messenger and thought, *This lad has been up all night just like me,* his sympathy growing. He asked gently, "Is the General’s four-scout detachment camping at Yanhe now? Did he say when he would arrive?"

"He should be here soon," the messenger replied. "The General requisitioned four hundred mules, saying he would sleep while riding them on the road. He left right after the battle. He asked me to inform the leaders that the General will march forty-eight miles along the government troops’ route. When the battle begins today, he will wave a red flag at the front of his line, and he will lead his troops to strike from the enemy's flank."

"Oh, right, the General’s mules cannot cross the mountains. After the battle starts, he asks that you send some cavalry to lead the warhorses and heavy weapons over to support him."

Liu Chengzu nodded, while Cao Yao walked outside to catch the mountain breeze, staring at the white light appearing on the eastern horizon, clenching his fists as if bracing for the coming fight.

Before long, Liu Chengzu saw to it that the messenger found a place to rest. As he walked out of the tent, he saw Cao Yao’s back and chuckled, then said seriously, "How about you? You haven't slept all night; can you still fight today?"

"What are you saying? Even if I didn't sleep, my troops did... As long as Li Bei can still fight, I can keep fighting him!"

Liu Chengzu gave a scoff, said nothing more, and returned to the command tent, picking up his brush to record his insights on the battle. This was not only Liu Chengzong’s first time commanding a large-scale operation, but the same was true for Liu Chengzu, Cao Yao, and the others. They were a motley crew of small captains, household guards, desperate refugees, and mountain bandits. Yet, these ragtag soldiers had survived the life-or-death gamble of artillery fire and were now standing as a formal army, facing off against government troops in the river valley. For Liu Chengzu, it was all very harrowing.

It was so harrowing that every time the artillery struck, his heart leaped into his throat. If Li Bei’s resolve had been even a fraction stronger, or if he had ignored his flanks to launch a direct assault, they would have lost their positions more than once. But now, by the light of burning linseed oil, Liu Chengzu wrote nine characters in his book: *In battle, use the orthodox to engage, and the unorthodox to win.*

He had read this sentence years ago while studying in Mizhi County. That year, Lion Tuo had bought *The Golden Lotus* from a southern merchant, while he had asked his father to buy *The Art of War* by Sun Tzu in Mizhi. But reading it did not mean knowing how to use it. For a long time, Liu Chengzu thought it meant fighting with honor and using clever schemes to win. Only yesterday, standing on the ridge watching the enemy cannons roar and seeing his soldiers turned into flesh and blood, did he understand the true meaning.

*Orthodox to engage, unorthodox to win*—using the orthodox to cancel out the enemy's orthodox, and the remainder is the unorthodox. The "orthodox" force must line up at the front, attracting and confronting the enemy's main force. This unit is the dam, its soldiers the earth and stone, repeating a simple, dull, and cruel task: advance, hold, and die rather than retreat. The "unorthodox" force can be a reserve or an outer flanking detachment. An unorthodox force must be elite, capable of moving rapidly around the main battlefield, eliminating or bypassing the enemy's secondary units, supporting the main battlefield's actions, and finally, breaking through the enemy line while they are engaged with the orthodox force.

This was the lesson in military strategy he had learned from Li Bei.

One cannot compare the fortunes of men. If their family background had been better, perhaps the merchant would have bought Liu Chengzu a copy of Sun Tzu with Cao Cao’s annotations. It clearly defined the two: "Those who engage first are the orthodox; those who strike later are the unorthodox. The orthodox force confronts the enemy, while the unorthodox force strikes their unprepared side." The orthodox and unorthodox can transform into one another. Today they were the orthodox, but tomorrow, if Liu Chengzong led his troops to engage Li Bei first, and they swept in from the sides, Liu Chengzong would be the orthodox, and they would be the unorthodox.

Liu Chengzu set down his brush and pushed open the tent flap. A cold night breeze hit his face as he looked toward the distant horizon, where the edges of the mountain shadows were beginning to glow white.

"Today, we take the initiative."

***

On the other side of the battlefield, in the command tent, scattered letters covered the floor. Li Bei sat on a blanket, also having gone without sleep. His energy remained high as he stared intently at his maps. The scattered papers contained his calculations of the advance speed of the government troops under Wu Weifan from Qingyang and the secondary detachment under Liu Guozhen.

Ma Ke pushed open the tent flap and stood to the side. "General, it is dawn. The rebels have lined up in five formations and are digging trenches in front of their lines."

Li Bei nodded, pounding his legs, which were sore from sitting for so long. He stood up and looked toward the west. "General Liu should have set out by now. How much ammunition is left?"

"We rationed it through the night. There is enough gunpowder left for six full barrages from the entire battalion’s artillery."

Li Bei was confident of victory. "Use the three General cannons to wake them up. Fire twice. Save the rest of the gunpowder. Load all four swivel guns with scattershot. We attack in an hour."

After the rest and waiting of yesterday, the rebels had not fled, which meant they were also gathering strength for a desperate struggle. This was exactly what Li Bei wanted. If they had lined up elsewhere, he would have attacked long ago, but here, simply routing the enemy before completing the encirclement was useless. Winning was easy—killing a few hundred and sending thousands of stragglers fleeing—but by next spring, Yan’an Prefecture would still be crawling with bandits; it would just mean a change in leadership. Only by completing the encirclement and trapping them in the valley, whether to kill or appease, could he ensure they did not escape.

Currently, the rebels were accustomed to his rhythm of firing the three cannons in bursts or volleys, but his firepower was more than that. When they engaged at close range, a single volley from over a dozen light and heavy cannons would be enough to shatter any of the enemy's formations. Once a formation was broken and a gap appeared, even a vast army could not withstand a charge of a few hundred men. By driving them north, where Liu Guozhen’s forces would be waiting to intercept them, he could finish the campaign in one stroke.

A moment later, the three thousand-catty General cannons at the front fired.

Smoke rose in the camp as fires were lit for breakfast in preparation for battle. The government soldiers leading their horses out of camp looked across the field; the rebels did not return fire, but were busy digging trenches and constructing defensive lines. In the dawn before the decisive battle, the river valley was deathly quiet, save for the wind sweeping across the golden millet fields, creating a rustling sound.

Liu Chengzu rode past the formations, teaching the units to adopt the Ming military’s hollow square formation, with soldiers on the outside and officers in the middle. He then returned to the command center to finalize plans with the other leaders before they dispersed to direct their troops. In truth, he was mostly teaching Luo Rucai. With the two sides far apart, that man could stand at the front and put on a show of bravado, leaving his life to the heavens. But in face-to-face combat, officers could stand at the front, but the commander-in-chief never could. Since they were not under a unified command, each square of four or five hundred men had its own leader; if the leader died, no one would be able to command that unit.

With the government troops, it was different. Even if a battalion commander died, there were others to take his place, so the unit would not immediately collapse.

Six infantry squares, using a four-front, two-back formation, pressed forward with a width that nearly filled the river valley. Luo Rucai, Liu Guoneng, Li Wanqing, and Wang Ziyun were in the front, while Gao Ying’en and Liu Chengzu provided support from the rear. Gao Yingxiang’s cavalry was on the left flank, and Zhang Tianlin’s on the right, all moving steadily forward.

"General, the rebels have formed their ranks."

Li Bei scanned the enemy lines, looked at the position of the sun, and signaled the flag-bearer. "A bit early, but no matter. They cannot escape. Gather the troops."

Bugles sounded throughout the government camp. The frontier soldiers filed out, forming their own hollow square formations. The artillerymen pushed the heavy General cannons and quick-firing swivel guns to the front. The outer layers of the squares were a mix of gunners and archers, with spearmen behind them for protection. Some cavalry stood in the center of the squares, leading their horses and protecting the officers as they advanced slowly. More government cavalry spread out beyond the lines to perform one final battlefield sweep, searching for any enemies that might appear in their rear.

Compared to the peasant army’s formations, the government army’s looked small, but their advance was far more resolute.

When the two armies were within five hundred paces, the government cavalry moved forward, waving flags. The lines halted, and the three General cannons adjusted their aim, firing into the enemy ranks.

*BOOM!*

Three solid iron balls whistled across the battlefield, flying toward Liu Guoneng’s square. One smashed into the front of the formation, and two landed in the center, carving out two bloody paths. The formation wavered and stopped, but after a moment, it continued to advance.

A small gap appeared in the front of the peasant army’s formation. Tian Shoujing, an officer Liu Chengzu had placed at the front, led a few riders to gallop along the line, ordering the other three formations to slow their pace so the lines could realign. The cavalry on the left flank, under Gao Ying’en, also halted, but Zhang Tianlin’s unit on the right did not stop, continuing straight ahead.

The government troops stood their ground, their five-meter spears bristling, while the artillerymen quickly cleared the barrels of the General cannons. The swivel gunners unloaded their pieces, placing the five-catty-weight barrels in a row, with water buckets and wet cloths to the left, preparing for battle.

"General!"

The scouting cavalry retreated toward the formation. One rider dismounted, broke through the line, and knelt, pointing to the south. "General..."

Li Bei saw his hesitation and ordered him forward. The scout whispered, "There are infantry behind our lines, crossing the mountains and forming up at the foot of the slope. They are not General Liu’s troops."

Not General Liu?

Li Bei waved for the scout to keep watching and closed his eyes, his mind racing. Had Liu Guozhen been defeated? Or had the rebels sent a detachment to flank them, and the two forces had missed each other in the mountains?

A moment later, he opened his eyes.

*Dammit.*

The presence of an enemy in the rear meant he could no longer pursue the enemy. The rebel cavalry on the right was already closing in for an encirclement. Regardless of what was happening behind him, he could not move his lines now. He had to break one of the enemy’s formations first, then turn to fight.

"The rebel formations are within two hundred paces!"

The artillery commander at the front waved his flag. The three General cannons fired again, the target once more being Liu Guoneng’s square. This time, all three shells plowed through the center of the formation, smashing through with a whistle and leaving bloody trails, throwing the square—which had just regained its composure—into chaos once again.

They did not retreat. This formation had realized they were being targeted by the enemy artillery; they were ignoring everyone else just to hit them.

Several captains urged Liu Guoneng anxiously: "Leader! If we keep walking like this, they’ll be fine, but we’ll all be dead!"

Liu Guoneng clenched his fists, his scalp tightening. He drew his saber with a *shing* and stepped forward. "We advance!"

Liu Guoneng’s square, on the left of the two middle formations, surged forward before Tian Shoujing could arrive to maintain the alignment, momentarily leaving the friendly units behind. This forced the remaining three formations to quicken their pace, and the peasant army’s grand line fell into disarray.

The government troops made no move, save for a whistling arrow that screeched across dozens of paces, landing in the millet field between the two armies. Everyone stared at that invisible line, their breathing growing heavy and ragged.