The Possessor Dreams of Desertion
As I stood there stuttering, unable to counter the flimsy justification Liu Bei had raised to rob me of my money, Zhang Fei came running like a man sent to save me.
“There you are, sis! This ain’t the time for that! Looks like those bandit bastards are fixing to throw down with the suppression army. Hurry up—we’re going to help the Luoyang boys!”
“Ikdeok, what are you saying? The Yellow Turbans besieging Takhyeon fled to Sanggok, and the ones blocking the road were crushed by the Luoyang army. They shouldn’t have any room to regroup, should they?”
“The ones we lured off to Yeonguk never went there!”
“No way…”
“That ‘no way’ is exactly right. Even after their main camp burned, they didn’t run to Yeonguk—they turned around and rushed straight back!”
“It’s gone differently than we expected… I thought cutting off the head would make the rest scatter like flies. Looks like there was another proper commander besides Jeongwonji.”
“Little sis says the kids are ready to move out. Let’s go! Oh, and Bangyeol’s here too. …Wait, Bangyeol, why the hell do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Right before Liu Bei could hand every last piece of loot to the poor of Takgun, the news Zhang Fei brought briefly stopped her charity. But what did it matter? Whether she distributed it now or after the battle, the spoils would vanish either way. Going out to fight and coming back wouldn’t change a thing. I might earn a little fame, but it would be as part of Liu Bei’s army, wouldn’t it? It would only raise her name.
Even if a warrior distinguished himself, the opponent mattered when building a reputation. Look at Guan Yu. She had swung her blade diligently under Liu Bei, yet she only gained real fame during her short time under Cao Cao. The moment she broke through the enemy lines alone and took Yan Liang’s head, her name echoed across the entire Han realm. Of course records showed she had fought well before then, but she had never shaken the whole country.
Even Zhang Liao only made his name after holding off Sun Quan’s attack on Hefei with five hundred men. What could I possibly gain from killing a few peasant rebels? At best, only the volunteer army commander Liu Bei would become slightly better known. The conclusion was simple: going out to fight would not give me any way to reclaim my assets.
If I could earn so much fame by running off with the goods at night that Liu Bei couldn’t utter a single complaint, that would be one thing. But could I really gain that kind of reputation just by killing a few farmers…?
…Maybe I could! No—I definitely could!
“Huh? One second you’re moping like death itself, now you’re grinning ear to ear? Bangyeol, you sure you’re all right?”
“Lord Liu Bei!!!”
“Y-yes?”
“What are you waiting for?! Let’s go!”
“…Yes?”
Beaming, practically humming, I dashed off. Behind me Zhang Fei muttered in disbelief.
“Sis, that Bangyeol fellow… he seems a little crazy, doesn’t he?”
“He does seem that way to me as well… Ahem! Ikdeok, you mustn’t speak so carelessly to a comrade.”
“But he was all depressed by himself and then suddenly he’s like this! No matter how much he hates the Yellow Turbans, I mean… Is killing them really that fun? It’s not like he gets anything out of it… Right?”
“Enemies… getting something…? Ah!”
“Sis? Sis! Good grief, now you’re acting weird too?!”
No matter how expensive the beef, grill it wrong and it becomes inedible. Even cheap ramen, seasoned properly, can become the greatest dish in the world. If that’s true for mere food, how could human affairs be any different? No—they’re exactly the same.
Bearer of the Gilded Mace and Governor of Bing Province, Ding Yuan. A rather well-known man. Someone with enough power to contend with Dong Zhuo for the empire someday. Yet when Lu Bu took his head, did his fame spread? No, only his infamy grew. Why? Because Lu Bu was his adopted son. Until the day he died, the man was called a bastard who had killed his own father.
Compare that to the Yellow Turbans. They were nothing but farmers. Nobodies. But attach the label “parents’ enemy” or “siblings’ enemy” and everything changes.
A young boy massacring Yellow Turbans to avenge his family? What if the enemy was even their leader? The tale of a filial son who personally slew the rebel chief who murdered his parents. I could already hear the Confucian hardliners losing their minds. It would probably be the first real dopamine hit they’d felt since Yuan Shao’s six years of mourning.
That filial son avenges his family and then quietly leaves the army. The ending was perfect. In reality he was embezzling the volunteer army’s spoils and deserting under cover of night—but that money had been his family’s property to begin with. If rumors spread that he used it to build a grand tomb for his parents, people would probably praise him.
When he killed Jeongwonji it had been a night raid with a small force, but this was a massive field battle. If he charged in while both sides were fiercely engaged, how could the story not spread? Of course it would.
The story of a filial son avenging his parents. I would make sure it spread after this battle.
…Come to think of it, it was thanks to Bangyeol’s parents again. They left him a healthy body, an inheritance, forty heavy cavalrymen as subordinates, and now even a chance to earn fame. At this point shouldn’t I treat them as real parents? It was practically at Doraemon-taking-care-of-Nobita levels. Was this why Lu Bu went around collecting parents?
It was a morning in which I was beginning to understand Lu Bu’s behavior. As expected, the more parents the better.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have two mothers?
…Of course it would!
“Bangyeol, you seem to be in quite high spirits.”
“Ah, Yunchang. Ikdeok told me the Yellow Turbans we lured toward Yeonguk have returned to Youzhou?”
“Hmm… It appears those rat bastards had more than one head after all. Still, even if they have regrouped, what can a disorderly mob achieve? If they come at us again, we simply sweep them away once more.”
She was arrogant not only in Jingzhou but in this era too…
“…Lord Hyeondeok should be out soon as well.”
“With Elder Sister, Ikdeok, you, and Heonhwa present, there is nothing to fear from mere rats. …Bangyeol, it seems Elder Sister places great expectations on you. …Ahem! …As do I. I look forward to working with you in Jizhou and beyond.”
Guan Yu blushed as she casually planted a death flag. But since this wasn’t Jingzhou, she would easily survive it. She must have grown somewhat attached to me; for Guan Yu, those words were remarkably gentle.
I wasn’t stupid or tactless enough to reply, “No! After this battle I’m leaving—and I’m taking all the family assets with me when I run!” So I simply smiled and nodded.
…When Liu Bei spoke about her plans in Jizhou and our eyes met, it hadn’t bothered me. Yet hearing Guan Yu speak so warmly made me feel a little guilty.
Was it because I had seen the usually gruff Guan Yu’s gentle side? Liu Bei’s face was slightly stiff. Zhang Fei looked like he was calculating the perfect moment for a surprise attack. And Guan Yu was simply delighted at the prospect of swinging her blade.
Caught between them, I headed toward the battlefield carrying a discomfort I had not felt earlier.
The Luoyang suppression army’s plan to strike the rear of the Yellow Turbans retreating toward Jizhou succeeded brilliantly. Xiahou Dun’s light cavalry drove the remnants from above so they could not flee to Takhyeon, forcing them downward, while Cao Cao’s heavy cavalry smashed into the clustered stragglers. To finish the job, the infantry unit led by Yuan Shu—who had been watching Ji Ling’s command with interest—charged through the broken formation and began a massacre. More than half the Yellow Turbans were killed or captured, shrinking their twenty-thousand-strong force to barely nine thousand.
Yet they had not devoured most of Youzhou for nothing. The number of Yellow Turbans descending from the Yeonguk direction was still considerable, so the Luoyang suppression army abandoned further pursuit. They were currently resting amid the ashes of the Youzhou Yellow Turbans’ main camp.
If the remnants slipped away to Jizhou now, they could not be stopped. But the soldiers were exhausted from the chase, and the enemy numbers made victory uncertain. There was nothing they could do.
Did the Yellow Turbans interpret the suppression army’s stance as fear? Or did they simply believe their superior numbers made another battle worth trying?
Instead of fleeing, they formed ranks on a wide plain and rested. Their banners showed two generals and five colonels—roughly twenty-five thousand men. More than four times the strength of the suppression force.
Yet neither Cao Cao, Xiahou Dun, Ji Ling, Yuan Shu, nor any of the soldiers beneath them showed the slightest fear. On the contrary, they were laughing at the enemy.
“Hmph! Is it because that eunuch’s granddaughter and her lapdogs are leading the charge? Those pathetic wretches aren’t running—they’re dirtying our eyes instead.”
Xiahou Dun flared up at Yuan Shu, who had elegantly set down her teacup of honey water and begun spouting her usual nonsense. But Cao Cao, smiling as always, gently stopped her.
“Anyway, isn’t this perfect! I was worried they might run off to Jizhou… My, how fortunate!”
“They must think they can hold out with numbers alone. Aman, what will you do?”
“Of course we go out. They’ve been waiting since morning; it would be rude not to answer them, wouldn’t it? It seems staying only in Youzhou has left them ignorant of how terrifying properly trained soldiers can be. They’ll learn soon enough. …Tsk, how pitiful~.”
And so, on the wide plain southeast of Daeheungsan, twenty-five thousand elated Yellow Turbans under Deng Mu faced six thousand troops from Luoyang’s suppression army—plus five hundred and forty Liu Bei volunteers secretly waiting in hiding. Three armies had appeared upon the plain.