Tianshui (1)
The moment the cavalry under Zhang Liao's command slammed into the rear of the Baibo Bandits, the bandits collapsed as though they had only been waiting for the chance. They had already been losing the head-on contest of strength, their momentum sagging—how were common bandits supposed to withstand cavalry? And with Zhang Liao herself leading the riders, it hardly mattered how few they were; no horde of mere thieves could ever have stopped her charge.
Zhang Liao. In the original history, she was the hero of the Battle of Hefei, the one who tore through an army of one hundred thousand with a mere eight hundred men. No wonder the cry "Zhang Liao is coming!" passed into legend.
Lü Bu was Lü Bu, but judged purely on cavalry breakthrough power, I'd wager Zhang Liao was every bit her equal. Where Lü Bu papered over her lack of command talent with raw, overwhelming strength, Zhang Liao made brilliant leadership and martial might sing in harmony. Hand her a cavalry corps and she was practically a second Lü Bu? How was anyone supposed to resist that?
Zhang Liao did not betray my expectations, and in the end the Baibo Bandits either surrendered or met their deaths. Those who surrendered would be spared, but that was the full extent of my mercy. Just as I had with the Black Mountain Bandits, I allowed them no avenue of escape, hunting them down to the very end until they yielded or were cut down to a man. Released, they would only return to banditry anyway—I couldn't find a single reason to let them go.
My plan for the surrendered Baibo Bandits was to forge them into soldiers, much as Cao Cao had once made her Qingzhou troops. Any who couldn't leave their bandit days behind and stirred up trouble would be handled the same way I'd handled the Black Mountain Bandits. And if the Baibo Bandits proved too hopeless to bother reforming, well—there was always the option of spending them as meat shields in the coming war against Dong Zhuo.
As I oversaw the aftermath of the battle, I sensed Xu Huang approaching from behind.
"Thank you, my lord. Thanks to you, we were able to put the bandits down with ease."
"My lord?"
The unexpected word out of Xu Huang's mouth left me unable to hide my surprise. Did she mean what I think she meant? She had to, right?
"It has not been long since the Baibo Bandits began plundering homes, setting fires, and running rampant over the people."
Perhaps she sensed the expectation in my eyes, because Xu Huang went on with a serene smile.
"And yet you arrived this early. Which means the moment the report reached you, you set out without a moment's hesitation."
The great axe slung across her back, Xu Huang continued.
"In an age of chaos like this, for a general who bears arms, is it not only natural to pledge one's loyalty to a lord who protects the people?"
Dropping to one knee, Xu Huang bowed with grave courtesy and lowered her head.
"I, Xu Huang, courtesy name Gongming, swear that I shall refuse no task and devote my every strength to the service of Lord Jeong Reung."
I couldn't conceal my delight at Xu Huang joining us.
"Good. I'm counting on you going forward."
With Xu Huang welcomed into the fold, though, one question nagged at me. However unintentional, I somehow kept collecting nothing but talents who excelled at fighting. The Zhang Jue sisters did lend a hand with administrative work, but when it came to sketching the overall shape of a battle, they were—how should I put it—a touch lacking.
It felt a little rich coming from me, but as things stood we were a force that only knew how to win head-on. If an opponent refused to meet us in the open and instead gnawed away at us with stratagems, we'd have no answer at all. Remembering how, in the original history, Lü Bu's army had ignored Chen Gong's counsel and been batted from one scheme to the next, defeat piling upon defeat, I knew we needed at least one strategist.
...Still, this was Luoyang, where every kind of talent under heaven gathered. I chose to believe someone like that would walk through the door sooner or later.
When exactly that strategist would arrive, though—even I couldn't say.
Having crushed the Baibo Bandits and absorbed part of their number, I received unexpected news back in Luoyang: the rebellion in Liang Province, raised by Han Sui and Bian Zhang. The rebels Dong Zhuo had all but suppressed had swollen in size once more—apparently they had absorbed the Qiang tribes and multiplied their numbers in a remarkably short span.
With their ranks refilled, the rebels marched straight for Li Jue and Guo Si, the generals Dong Zhuo had left to hold Xiliang. Unfortunately for them, they had picked the wrong opponents. Li Jue and Guo Si's only real flaw was greed; judged on valor alone, they were a match for anyone in Dong Zhuo's army. And while the rebellion had grown, its soldiers had not increased enough to make a meaningful difference, so the rebels were beaten yet again and put to flight.
Even in defeat, though, they had not simply lain down and taken it, by all accounts—they dealt Dong Zhuo's army considerable damage. And there was no guarantee that rebels who had swollen their ranks with Qiang tribesmen once wouldn't simply do it again. Unless something was done, the rebels of Xiliang would only rebuild their strength and hurl themselves at Dong Zhuo's home base.
Dong Zhuo, who had gambled out of greed and lost spectacularly to me, now found even his home base imperiled by the rebels. Only two choices remained to him.
Focus on Xiliang.
Or focus on Chang'an.
Concentrate on Xiliang, his home base, and he would have to write off Chang'an—a great city that yielded little even to Luoyang. A bitter loss. But dig in at Chang'an and abandon Xiliang, and there was me to worry about: me, who would come marching on that city with my army before long. I was merely catching my breath after putting down the Baibo Bandits; given a little time, I intended to advance on Chang'an. Luoyang had stabilized far faster than expected, the Baibo Bandits were dealt with, and with every internal threat swept clean, I could now march on Chang'an leaving behind nothing more than a minimal garrison.
If he gave up Chang'an and chose Xiliang, he would at least keep his life. But he would never set foot in the Central Plains again. He would spend the rest of his days prostrate and trembling, sweating over a single question: when would my blade turn toward Xiliang?
Abandoning Xiliang and choosing Chang'an, on the other hand, was a gamble. Crush me and win the battle, and the spoils would be immense—he might even dream of forcing his way back into Luoyang. But if he lost? This time, for good, he would lose everything. His life included.
Could Dong Zhuo actually beat me? No one knew the answer better than Dong Zhuo himself: he could not. He had failed to beat me even at Luoyang, where the odds were overwhelmingly in his favor—why would this time be any different? Worse, my army had only grown since his last defeat. However well Chang'an lent itself to defense, even Dong Zhuo had to read the writing on the wall.
So which would it be—compromise with reality and grovel his way to survival, or chase a hollow fantasy and die a wretch's death?
I was certain Dong Zhuo would choose one of the two.
Yes.
What I had failed—so, so foolishly—to account for was the raving lunatic streak Dong Zhuo had shown in the original history...
Chang'an.
The old capital—chosen by Emperor Gaozu of Han, and at its most glorious under Emperor Wu. It had been reduced to ruins once before by rebels, suffering the humiliation of surrendering its seat as capital to Luoyang, but whatever anyone said, Chang'an had prospered to the point of being called a second capital in its own right, standing alongside Luoyang.
And now that great city was swallowed by a demon of fire, blazing from end to end.
"Speed is life this time! Kill only the whelps who resist, and leave the rest to die on their own!"
A scene of plunder and arson.
"Grab everything you can carry! Priceless treasure, whatever it is—doesn't matter, take it all!"
Dong Zhuo's horde tore through the city, destroying everything in its path.
"If you take all of that, how are we supposed to... Gack!"
"S-spare me! Spare me, I beg you—!!"
"You beasts! Worse than animals, the lot of you! How can you—!"
A commoner who had clutched at a soldier's trouser leg, begging for mercy, was skewered like a shish kebab and breathed his last. Some perished wretchedly, unable to escape the burning buildings. A man choking on his own fury spat out a curse, and his severed head went tumbling across the ground.
Hell.
The fire devoured all things like a living creature. It swallowed buildings, swallowed people, and swelled its own body with every mouthful. Dong Zhuo's soldiers massacred the people like men possessed, committing atrocities too vile to put into words, laughing like demons as they did.
A great massacre. At some point, Chang'an had become a sea of blood. Corpse piled upon corpse until the dead rose into mounds like small hills. The people fell before the blade, every last one of them.
"HWAHAHAHA—!! Burn it all—!!"
The author of that spectacle stood atop the city wall, laughing with a face full of madness.
"I will not hand that man a single thing!"
His face ghost-pale and chilling, Dong Zhuo roared, and his cry rolled thunderously across the city. Eyes bloodshot, he screamed as though vomiting blood.
"This city! The treasures! The people!"
"All of it! All of it—!"
"Every last thing is MINE—!!"
It was a night so dark even the moon hid itself, and the great blaze that turned that jet-black sky bright as high noon did not die until the city had been burned down to the last cinder.
Having robbed Chang'an of everything it possessed and burned the rest, Dong Zhuo's army turned back for Xiliang, dragging wagon after wagon groaning with plunder. Nothing remained. Not one thing. Chang'an was ruins once more, as it had been in the days long past.
The acrid reek of ash. Black smoke climbing into the air like heat haze. Buildings slumped into charred skeletons. The burned corpses were beyond all telling—no one could say anymore who had been who. Children robbed of their parents in a single night clung to the blackened bodies of their mothers and fathers, or wandered the streets, unable to stop weeping. Those who had lost everything in a single heartbeat sat like corpses themselves, staring blankly at the ground.
A city left with nothing but grief and despair.
"……"
The eyes of the man who had reached Chang'an upon receiving the urgent report trembled without pause. For a long while he gazed out over the ruin of Chang'an; then, the corners of his eyes quivering, he closed them.
He had no other choice.