IDWBE -Chapter 139 The Rebel Army

In the past, when Sanhe’s militia had just been established and their combat strength was limited, he had acted cautiously in his two bandit-suppression campaigns.

But now it was different. The garrison troops had all been carefully trained by him. They were elite soldiers who advanced and retreated in orderly fashion!

Unless Zhang Mian and Bao Kui were incompetent—so foolish that they didn’t even understand the tactic of defeating the enemy in detail—there was no way this could go wrong.

Otherwise, how could more than a hundred thousand displaced refugees possibly withstand over ten thousand regular troops? It would be like eggs smashing against a rock.

Lin Yi sighed. “If we really lose, I won’t care whether you jump into the river or not. I’ll just take a ship out to sea, find a small island, and live out the rest of my days.”

He Jixiang still replied firmly, “Your Highness may rest assured.”

“I hope so.”

Lin Yi said no more.

Deep down, he even slightly regretted building the road. Now that the route from Yuezhou to Sanhe was so convenient, anyone with half a brain would simply follow it here.

By April, Sanhe’s temperatures remained high.

But as Zhang Mian led the troops northwest along the road, it grew noticeably cooler. At night, when sleeping atop mountain ridges, they even needed blankets.

In just half a month, they had already covered half the road to Yuezhou.

Along the way, they encountered scattered groups of refugees. After giving them some food, they directed them toward Baiyun City.

That night, inside a large tent, only Bao Kui and Zhang Mian remained.

Military regulations forbade drinking, so the two sat cross-legged on the ground, each holding a cup of tea, facing one another in silence.

After a long while, Bao Kui spoke. “Lord Zhang, according to the scouts, Jin Ke is driving over a hundred thousand refugees ahead of him, and they’re getting closer to us. What are your plans?”

Zhang Mian said dismissively, “A rabble of chickens and dogs—hardly worth worrying about.”

His confidence in the troops was even greater than He Jixiang’s.

“My lord, we must not underestimate the enemy,” Bao Kui said urgently. “If anything goes wrong, we will have failed the Prince!”

Zhang Mian smiled. “Don’t be so tense. Let’s wait two more days.”

The army marched west for another ten days.

Chen Xinluo, serving as a scout, reported that Jin Ke’s vanguard was less than three li away.

“Lord Zhang, I’ve already taken care of the rebel scouts,” Chen Xinluo said from atop a tall horse, clasping his hands.

Zhang Mian asked in a deep voice, “How many in the vanguard?”

“Less than ten thousand.”

Zhang Mian laughed. “When a narrow road forces a clash, the brave prevail.”

Against so few enemies, there was no need for elaborate tactics.

By late afternoon, ragged refugees—carrying spears, clubs, pots and pans on their backs—suddenly found themselves face to face with a fully armored and armed government force.

They froze in shock.

“Kill!”

Bao Kui’s saber flashed in the sunlight as he charged ahead with eight hundred cavalry, cutting toward the rebel refugees!

Before the cavalry even reached them, the refugees began to flee.

The rebel overseers started swinging their broadswords, trying to prevent a rout.

Screams filled the air.

The refugees scattered in all directions across the hills.

In that short span of time, before Zhang Mian could even order a full advance, before many blades had tasted blood, the rebels had nearly all fled.

Only about a hundred remained in front of them, crouching with hands over their heads—many of them women carrying children.

Women screamed. Children cried. The noise grated on the nerves.

Bao Kui glanced helplessly at Zhang Mian. He couldn’t bring himself to strike them down.

Even if he did, knowing the Prince, he’d be lucky not to lose a layer of skin upon returning.

“This is the rebel army?” Zhang Mian said bitterly, unsure whether to blame Generals Yuan Qing and Prince Yong for incompetence.

Bao Kui sighed as he watched the figures on the hills grow fewer. “Lord Zhang, what should we do?”

Zhang Mian asked, “If the Prince were here, what would he do?”

Bao Kui pondered. “His Highness is benevolent. He would distribute porridge.”

“Good.”

Zhang Mian turned to Chen Xinluo. “Tell the cooks from Jinfú Tavern to set up cauldrons and cook.”

Jinfú Tavern was also one of the expedition’s suppliers, responsible for preparing meals for the troops.

As for the laborers—they fed themselves.

Pot after pot of steaming porridge was cooked and first given to the women before them.

The women ate bowl after bowl in trembling disbelief, as if dreaming.

Rebels hiding in the mountain grass, unable to resist the aroma, gradually descended as well.

Even if they were to die, they wanted to die with full stomachs.

More than two thousand people lined up for food.

Bao Kui didn’t dare let them eat too much, fearing they’d gorge themselves to death.

Afterward, he had them bound and arranged for over a hundred laborers to escort them back to Baiyun City.

As for what to do with them—that would be up to the Prince.

For three more days, the army marched on without encountering any real resistance. Refugee groups of ten or twenty thousand would flee at the sight of them.

Until the fourth day.

They met Jin Ke’s core troops.

“Jin Ke escaped alive from General Yuan Qing. He is certainly no ordinary man,” Bao Kui repeatedly reminded Zhang Mian.

Zhang Mian smiled. “Who is the mantis and who is the cicada—we’ll find out today.”

Seeing the enemy before him, Zhang Mian used no fancy tactics. Alone on horseback, he shouted and charged in first.

Two li behind the main force, the civilian laborers lounged idly—sleeping, daydreaming, bored.

Suddenly, the braying of livestock startled them awake.

Then they heard drums and gongs from the hills, followed by enemies charging downhill.

The timid fled immediately.

Zhu Ruorong, the pork supplier, suddenly roared, pulled his cleaver from between the carts, and cursed:

“Run for what? There are so many of us—we could crush them just by piling on!”

“I’m not afraid of them!” shouted Butcher Jiang, brandishing his cleaver as well.

“Don’t panic!” cried Li Sanniang loudly. “We didn’t practice martial arts for nothing!”

Zhu Ruorong was the first to meet the descending enemy, cleaving into them!

He was a third-rank martial artist.

After cutting down two men, he found killing people easier than slaughtering pigs.

Pigs had to be stabbed deep—too shallow and it wouldn’t work.

But people were different. One slash across the neck, and they dropped.

Just as he raised his blade for a third—

A volley of arrows rained down.

In front of him, not a single enemy remained standing.

He turned and saw Zhang Mian watching coldly.

The battle ended quickly.

Zhang Mian struck a burly man with a punch.

The man spat blood and knelt silently.

“Jin Ke? You’re quite a man,” Zhang Mian snorted. “Not bad—using a pincer attack. But it won’t work against me.”

“Dog official,” Jin Ke snarled, his face bloodied and mangled. “If you’ve got the guts, kill me! In eighteen years I’ll be a hero again!”

Bao Kui kicked him. “You coerce women and children, commit countless crimes and murders—and you dare call yourself a hero?”

Jin Ke replied coldly, “The victor is king, the loser a bandit. I have nothing more to say.”

Bao Kui ordered, “Take him away. Guard him strictly.”

He believed the Prince would certainly have him cut into a thousand pieces.

Jin Ke had massacred two cities in succession—Baihe and Zhuxi—leaving not a single survivor.

His crimes were beyond enumeration.

Late that night.

Bao Kui and Zhang Mian sat together again in the tent, staring at one another.

Bao Kui came from a hereditary military household. At fifteen, he joined Mei Jingzhi’s southern campaign and had fought north and south ever since. His greatest skill was surviving.

Zhang Mian, born of a military family, had likewise begun serving under Commander Yang Changchun at fifteen, leading from the front and earning many merits.

Though Commander of the South Gate Army and Horse Division was not a high rank, it wielded real authority. Without genuine ability, not even an influential uncle could secure such a post.

Yet neither had ever fought such a one-sided battle.

They had crushed a rebel force of over a hundred thousand, captured the rebel leader—and lost only a few dozen laborers and around a hundred soldiers.

It was an achievement of historic proportions.

If they told others, no one would believe it.

Even they scarcely believed it themselves.

“Lord Zhang,” Bao Kui sighed rather than rejoiced, “are we just going back like this?”

Return and tell the Prince that the enemy fled at the mere sight of them?

It sounded so unimpressive.

As if anyone could have done it.

“And what would you suggest?” Zhang Mian asked.