The Carnage of First Blood
The battle that began with my shot piercing Peng Qiao dragged on for a full three shi before it finally ended. By the time it reached its final stages, my fingers throbbed with pain. Checking them, I saw the skin at the tips had worn raw. It was from the relentless friction of loosing arrows without a break.
Even if I followed, I wouldn't be much help. My fingers had gone numb anyway, and I'd run out of short arrows, so I couldn't shoot anymore. Instead of joining the mop-up, I bandaged my wounds. Jojo had given permission to wait here, so there was no issue.
"S-spare... gah!"
Soldiers who had fallen behind the lines but still had some fight left prowled about, checking corpses. A few Yellow Turbans who had been playing dead and waiting for a chance struck out but died without putting up much resistance.
"Ugh."
The pain from my fingertips grew sharper. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to endure it.
"You did well."
The adjutant who had been assisting Jojo approached me. His name was Sa Jong, but it rang no bells—probably someone Jojo had brushed past during his time as a minor official.
"I heard this was your first battle. Are you all right?"
He meant it out of concern, but it backfired. Those words jolted my dulled senses awake.
"No... I don't think so."
As the numbness from battle faded, the scene before me hit like a hammer. It wasn't just brutal—no single word could capture the battlefield. Bodies riddled with holes, torn open, ripped apart, and hacked to pieces lay scattered everywhere. Those trampled under endless horses' hooves had lost all human shape, unrecognizable even as flesh.
Caaw. Caaw.
A flock of crows swooped in from somewhere, pecking at the corpses. They went straight for the entrails spilling from burst guts or gouged-out eyeballs first. The vitreous humor oozing from shattered eyes trailed down like tears.
I tried to look away, but everywhere was the same—pointless.
"Is this... war?"
"Yes. This is war."
A breeze carried the mingled stench of blood and gunpowder right to my face. It reminded me sickeningly of a scent I once enjoyed.
"Hng! Urk."
"Don't look. Breathe through your mouth."
Realizing what made that smell sent bile surging up instantly. Sa Jong shielded my view and helped me calm down. Breathing consciously through my mouth dulled the odor. Still, my stomach churned, and my mind sank into a muddy haze.
I could have ended up like that. One of the corpses rolling here, done for. Or starved to death as a child before even reaching this point.
"Well done, Jang Myeong."
Jojo called out to me as I barely stood, staring at the ground. He approached, wiping blood from his armor. His sword was bloodied too—he must have gone to the front lines himself.
"Th-thank you."
The nausea had eased a bit, but I wasn't steady yet; words came haltingly. I couldn't puke in front of Jojo, so I took deep breaths to suppress it.
Jojo washed the blood from his hands, sheathed his sword, and patted my shoulder.
"You look rough. Take a moment to get some air."
"Thank you for your consideration."
I hurried away. First, I had to settle my stomach somehow. After about one gak of steadying breaths, the churning finally calmed. Vomiting once because I couldn't hold it back anymore? That was my little secret.
Returning to Jojo, I saw the field nearly cleared.
"Never thought you'd drop Peng Qiao in one shot."
"Just luck."
Anyone overhearing might call it modesty, but it was true. The repeating crossbow was small, and firing from the tube made aiming trickier than with regular arrows. I had targeted him, sure, but nailing a head at 150 paces on the first try? Luck was at least thirty percent of it. Even if I missed, the short arrow's speed made it hard to spot—I planned to follow up if needed.
"Luck? You sniped Pa Jae, their commander's vanguard, too."
"I don't know who you mean."
"Who else but you, with that squat build and the arrow wound?"
Jojo had a soldier fetch Pa Jae's body. Only then did I recognize him from the corpse they dragged over.
"This really was luck. Took several shots to finally hit."
I hadn't even known it was Pa Jae—just saw him commanding under a big banner and aimed. The horse kept moving, so I missed the first three short arrows before landing the fourth.
"The chaos spiked right after that hit, so I wondered if it was some big fish. Now it makes sense."
"As per our bet, when we return to the capital, I'll spread word you're a divine archer."
Jojo clearly wanted to take me along. But I couldn't go with him just yet.
"Then I'll take my leave."
"Leave? Where to?"
His face showed the most surprise I'd seen yet. No wonder—a man who'd just pledged to follow suddenly announcing his departure would shock anyone.
"I've offered all the supplies, and contributed a little in the battle. Seems I've done all I can here."
Jojo opened his mouth, but I beat him by half a beat.
"Lord Jo, do you think this chaos ends here?"
We both knew what came next. The Yellow Turbans were just the opening act signaling a broken regime. Greater turmoil loomed for the powerless court.
I spoke softly, so no one else could hear.
"A far greater calamity approaches soon. Warlords will rise to 'suppress' it and carve out their domains. We must prepare for great endeavors now, or it'll be too late."
In history, Jojo used the Yellow Turbans as cover to quietly raise a private army. He got my drift right away.
"I'm looking forward to what you'll bring."
"It'll surely aid you, my lord."
"Feels like we've been friends since childhood, and it's not even been a day."
I hadn't expected such wistful words from him. I added that this wasn't goodbye.
"Our bond is just beginning, my lord. We'll meet again soon."
"How can I hold you back then? I'll await our reunion."
"You release the fish to the water—I shall grow and return."
It meant letting talent go free to thrive, not caging it. Not from some bamboo slip, but Jojo would understand.
Jojo stayed to rally the troops. I headed back to camp.
Huangfu Song paid for the grain immediately upon my return. Below market rate, but factoring in refugee-driven inflation, it was fair.
"I hardly know how to thank you, Left Commander."
"It's not over yet."
As I bowed, he waved me off and handed over a box carried by a soldier.
"If the grain pays for your loyalty, this rewards your military merit."
The box held a full kan of gold—way beyond expectations. I tried refusing as excessive, but he spoke first.
"Turning the battle by dropping their vanguard and capturing an enemy leader? That's no small feat."
He even offered an official post if I wanted—he seemed ready to petition for it.
"You've rewarded me more than enough. How could I covet office too?"
I bowed deeply in farewell. The remaining escorts guarded the reward wagon. Having donated the other wagons and oxen, only one was left.
"Straight home to the clan upon returning to Chenliu?"
"Missing home already? Still, we should sell what we bought before."
The profits from this haul were decent, but purely by numbers, a loss. Selling at market would've netted more than the reward. Now back to Chenliu, time to turn loss into gain.
"Prices will normalize on the way back."
The houses, land, and luxuries I'd bought would rise again. If I waited out the slow sellers' return, I could flip for profit.
With my right hand bandaged, I gripped the reins left-handed.
Eccentric. That was Jojo's assessment of Jang Myeong.
He'd come from Chenliu to Yingchuan despite Yellow Turbans lurking. Pledged loyalty without hesitation, though we'd never met. Killing Peng Qiao with a short arrow and sniping commanders mid-battle screamed divine archer. Add foresight and preparation? A talent to covet.
"He'll soon leap the Dragon Gate."
The carp rejects the safe pond to brave the open sea for dragonhood. Jojo was certain Jang Myeong would return transformed. Less than a day together, but no mere peasant.
"What're you mulling over?"
Huangfu Song asked the smiling Jojo. He schooled his face and bowed.
"What brings you here, Commander?"
"Heading to council, heard Mengde was here, thought to fetch you. But you look pleased."
"Minimal losses, major gains this battle. That's why."
Jojo walked toward the command tent. Near it, Xiahou Dun—who'd been away on supply—waved.
"Be right back."
"Council starts in one gak. Take your time."
Jojo excused himself to Huangfu Song and joined Xiahou Dun.
"A Man, what's with all these sacks?"
"Tribute while you were gone."
"All this? Whoever it was has guts."
Huangfu Song turned away as they chatted.
"Heaven's Mandate."
He murmured the Yellow Turbans' cry before entering his tent. They followed it, and so did Han. Has Heaven split? Or is one a false sky?
His title knew the answer. The man Huangfu Song did not.
"Ha. Shouldn't be like this."
A sigh escaped his frustration. How to save a crumbling Han? His gaze, fixed on distant hills, caught on the head atop the watchtower—Peng Qiao's, short arrow embedded, raised high.
"Well, there are still those serving Han."
He recalled the sudden arrival of Jang Myeong. Merchant by intro, but no merchant's deeds. More like an egret hunting opportunity.
"Too early for ruin yet."
If talents like him sought to topple the state, he'd be tougher than Zhang Jiao. With men still striving to right Han, it hadn't fallen. Not yet.