Shattering the Yellow Turbans
In the second year of Chuping (191 AD), on the fifth day of the eleventh month, in Qing Province's Pingyuan Commandery, Pingyuan Prefect Liu Bei stood atop the south gate wall of Pingyuan Castle, gazing at the sky.
The heavens retained their unchanging azure hue, but the earth below was a chaotic riot of colors. Distant mountain ridges, as if shy, were veiled in thin, pale mist. Fallen leaves from seasons past rustled against the intruding wind.
If only the land had remained as constant as the sky.
When Liu Bei had left the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition and sought refuge with Gongsun Zan, the latter had tasked him with checking Yuan Shao. True to form, Liu Bei had diligently carried out his duties, rising from Separate Division Major to Pingyuan Prefect in mere months.
Yet now, Liu Bei had to turn his full attention southward, away from Yuan Shao in the northwest. A far greater and more urgent threat loomed from that direction.
—The Yellow Turbans are advancing.
Liu Bei mulled over the breathless report from the exhausted messenger. Once, under the Great Sage and Worthy Master Zhang Jiao, the Yellow Turbans had shaken the realm. Though the court's suppression forces had executed Zhang Jiao by dismemberment and shattered their ranks, these weeds with tougher lifelines than grass had risen again to plague the land.
And now, a remnant force of 300,000 Yellow Turbans was marching north into Qing Province.
"Brother, the wind is cold. Shall we go down?"
A deep, resonant voice came from behind. It was Guan Yu.
Liu Bei, eyes still fixed on the sky, murmured softly, "Is the realm in chaos because of brigands? Or do brigands arise because of the chaos?"
Guan Yu had no answer for his brother's question.
The Yellow Turbans, with their yellow scarves tied around their heads, were no mere band of thieves. They were the starving, despairing masses—and also demons habituated to slaughter and pillage. Both faces were true, making it pointless to discern which was their real nature.
"What matters is that we must stop those yellow-clad brigands."
Speaking in Guan Yu's stead was Zhang Fei, who had climbed the wall with them.
Liu Bei's question was one that led endlessly into itself, with no beginning or end. A knot that couldn't be untied by hands had to be severed by the blade.
"Yes... indeed. Yide is right."
Liu Bei lowered his gaze to the earth. A constant murmur rose from below the wall—the panicked clamor of the people thrown into disarray by news of the approaching Yellow Turbans.
"The Governor is preparing well, so all should be fine."
Upon hearing of the Yellow Turbans, Qing Province Governor Zhen Hai had sprung into action. He gathered the scattered provincial troops, sent an urgent memorial to Gongsun Zan requesting aid, and fortified Pingyuan Castle to prevent any flanking maneuvers from the rear.
"Let's head down."
Liu Bei turned and descended the wall, followed closely by the Green Dragon Crescent Blade and the 18-Foot Spear, their large ears swaying.
Looking back at Pingyuan's south gate from below, it was utter pandemonium. Some struggled to enter the castle, others clamored to flee. Soldiers tried desperately to calm and control the surging crowd, but the uproar showed no signs of abating.
Liu Bei summoned the gate captain and inquired about the situation.
"We're trying to stop the people from moving, but we're outnumbered."
"Let them go as they will. You can't hold them back anyway, can you?"
"Understood."
The gate captain relayed the order, halting his men. But if the soldiers stood idle, people would surely be trampled. At his command, they parted the center of the gate, allowing the flow to pass without tangling.
"Let's flee the Yellow Turbans—hurry!"
"Once we're inside the castle, we'll be safe."
With the flow smoothed, people hurried toward their destinations. For every five entering, seven or eight were leaving.
"Fewer are coming in. It's all because of my shortcomings."
"Brother, you've done your utmost."
Gongsun Zan had built his power by subduing northern nomads with a mighty army, but in the process, the people under him suffocated. The harsh taxes to sustain the bloated forces and constant requisitions for supplies had created hordes of refugees.
Those fleeing the castle were no different. Better to leave together than be torn apart by taxes and die alone. Safety in numbers, after all, over wandering solitary with a single bundle.
If governed properly, they should flock solely to the castle for protection.
Liu Bei had once won over an assassin sent to kill him, but even he couldn't resolve the inherent flaws in Gongsun Zan's domain.
Chaos can't be ended by armies alone. That's what Lord Baekgyu is showing us.
Liu Bei concluded that hegemony was not the answer, using Gongsun Zan as a counterexample.
"Preparations for departure are complete. The soldiers' morale is high."
A deputy approached Liu Bei, cupping his fists in salute and reporting. The 5,000 troops stationed in Pingyuan Castle were ready to march at once. Qing Province Governor Zhen Hai would soon arrive with 15,000 more.
Liu Bei would join him, forming an army of 20,000 to repel the 300,000 Yellow Turbans.
"Separate Division Major, are your elite troops ready to sortie at any moment?"
Liu Bei asked Zhang Fei.
Zhang Fei bellowed as if he'd been waiting, "This instant!"
"And the other Separate Division Major?"
Now turning to Guan Yu, Liu Bei asked.
Guan Yu replied in a thunderous voice, "Indeed!"
"What of the Cavalry Captain?"
The last question went to Zhao Yun. Though not formally appointed by Gongsun Zan, Liu Bei himself had named him Cavalry Captain after recognizing his talent among the.
"We're ready to make the enemy tremble at the sound of our hooves alone!"
Liu Bei looked upon Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun. With even one such general, victory was assured—here were three. Facing them with 300,000 meant nothing.
"Good. We march. It's time to sweep away those vile brigands!"
As Liu Bei raised his sword high and shouted, the soldiers roared in response.
Combining with the 15,000 led by Governor Zhen Hai, the total force numbered 20,000—including 5,000 cavalry, the renowned White Horse Volunteers of Gongsun Zan's army. Few in number, but defeat against 300,000 Yellow Turbans was unimaginable.
"Let us begin the war council."
Zhen Hai spread a map with his generals and commenced the briefing.
"Two thousand cavalry strike first to disrupt their lines, then infantry exploit the gaps. Meanwhile, three thousand cavalry swing around to hit their rear."
Zhen Hai's plan was simple yet devastating. The Yellow Turbans were green, poorly organized militia—vast in numbers but nothing more. A powerful cavalry charge would send them fleeing without a backward glance.
"Then who will command the cavalry?"
Liu Bei asked Zhen Hai.
As if expecting the question, Zhen Hai turned to him. "Pingyuan Prefect, if you're agreeable, I'd appoint your two Separate Division Majors to lead the initial cavalry thrust."
Though phrased as a question, Zhen Hai's resolve was clear.
Liu Bei exchanged glances with his brothers and consented. With Zhang Fei and Guan Yu at the vanguard, nothing could stand against them.
"As the Governor commands. Yun Chang and Yide will each lead a thousand cavalry, piercing the enemy front."
Zhen Hai smiled in satisfaction at Liu Bei's response. The council dragged on for another half shichen, settling minor details.
Two great armies faced off across the vast plains. The 300,000 Yellow Turbans dyed the whitening earth yellow as they surged forward, overwhelming in numbers but betrayed by ragged clothes and farm tools as mere militia.
From the center, Qing Province Governor Zhen Hai commanded 15,000 infantry, advancing slowly against their main force. The rock-solid center was primed to withstand any charge.
"Send the assault signal."
—Dong, dong, dong.
At the drum's call to charge, Zhang Fei led his thousand cavalry straight at the Yellow Turbans. At the fore, he gripped his 18-Foot Spear tight, plunging into the foe like a massive whirlwind.
"Raaargh!"
With a monstrous roar, he whirled the spear like a dancer, and Yellow Turban soldiers sprayed blood, falling like autumn leaves. Zhang Fei spared nothing in his path—any who blocked him were shattered.
"A-Argh!"
"Mercy—"
The Yellow Turbans crumbled at the sight of the demon-possessed Zhang Fei. Terrified, they tried to retreat but were blocked by their own ranks, trapped.
They became straw targets awaiting the blade, soon cut down by the cavalry following Zhang Fei.
"Hah!"
Zhao Yun moved like a shadow at Zhang Fei's side. His spear flashed like lightning, piercing foes Zhang Fei missed. Zhao Yun's prowess rivaled even the peerless Zhang Fei.
With the two champions in sync, few in the realm could match them.
"I won't lose to the runt."
Seeing the charge signal, Guan Yu surged forward. With Zhang Fei breaching the right wing, Guan Yu targeted the left.
His long beard streaming, he cleaved enemies with the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, a war god descended.
"You dare block General Guan Yun Chang?!"
The Green Dragon Crescent Blade whipped up a massive storm. Nothing clung to its path. With each flash, torsos split, heads flew.
"You brigands! Offer your necks!"
Blood fountained in the blade's wake, the ground staining crimson in moments. The Yellow Turbans fled before the red gale of Guan Yu, resistance unthinkable.
Thus fell the Yellow Turbans' vanguard.
"Advance the front army! Their morale is broken—they're fleeing!"
Momentarily distracted by the heroes' feats, Zhen Hai quickly refocused and commanded. Drums and horns shook the earth; infantry shifted from defense to assault.
In perfect order, they carved through, claiming heads. Even Yellow Turbans still holding position began to rout.
"R-Retreat—"
The chaos spread like wildfire; soon the entire host lost the will to fight. The 300,000-strong army scattered into fleeing rabble, each seeking their own path to survival.
"Order the flanking cavalry to strike immediately."
Judging the Yellow Turbans routed before the 3,000 rear cavalry arrived, Zhen Hai directed them to hunt the nearest foes. Lacking peerless generals, the already crumbling Yellow Turbans had no means to withstand cavalry.
With each step of Gongsun Zan's army, Yellow Turban corpses piled beneath.
The battle ended. The 300,000 Yellow Turbans vanished like scattered dust. The few tens of thousands who survived fled south, away from Gongsun Zan's forces.
"No pursuit. Order them back."
Zhen Hai refrained from chasing. With spoils overflowing, more kills changed nothing. Their flight headed toward Yanzhou; the survivors would plague it instead.
Is it chaos for lack of benevolence? Or lack of benevolence because of chaos?
From horseback, Liu Bei silently surveyed the red earth speckled yellow. No victory or glory met his eyes—only corpses. Callused hands from gripping farm tools, skin bronzed by the sun in fields. Called Yellow Turbans for their scarves, but beneath were farmers' faces.
They were not rebels, but starving folk. Hands meant for plows, not swords.
"Brother, a great victory! Those brigands tucking tail and running was a sight!"
Zhang Fei approached, grinning fiercely, shaking his bloodied 18-Foot Spear. But seeing Liu Bei's grim face, he wiped the smile away.
"Brother..."
Liu Bei dismounted. At his feet lay a farmer still warm. Kneeling beside the fallen Yellow Turban, he brushed away the dirt from his face.
"Yide, I don't understand what this age of chaos truly is."
Gently closing the staring eyes, he ended one lament-filled life.
"So I must learn what it is."
Liu Bei rose, hand on the ground.
"To change it, I must first know it."