Nanman (2)
"First, one thing worth keeping in mind—the Nanman tribes themselves aren't exactly weak in a head-on fight."
Sima Yi, who had been running predictions on where Meng Huo would strike from, blurted this out abruptly. I nodded along, finding it hard to argue.
"They do live in a land crawling with every kind of beast."
Where humans banded together to hunt the great predators, and packs of beasts dragged off any lone traveler fool enough to wander unguarded, man and animal alike were locked in a constant, vicious struggle to survive. We could set aside King Mulu's tribe, which tamed even the fiercest of beasts—a druid, after all, was never something to be judged by ordinary human common sense. The point stood: the frontier tribes ran considerably stronger than Han soldiers, and the Nanman were, in the end, frontier tribes.
"That said, the two hundred thousand troops Meng Huo boasted of is very likely a lie."
Sima Yi delivered her verdict in a calm, level voice.
"What makes you think so?"
"Inflating your numbers so the enemy won't take you lightly is a trick everyone uses."
Ah. So it was simple bluffing, then. Which, to be fair, tracked—even Han Xin, hailed as the peerless talent of the realm, claimed a full hundred thousand men when in truth he marched on Zhao with barely thirty thousand. And the reason that undefeated general had so few troops to begin with? Simple: down south, the Hegemon-King of Chu was busy shredding Emperor Gaozu's armies in real time….
…Not important. Moving on. I'd very nearly slipped down another strange rabbit hole just now, and I dragged back the gaze that had started to drift—entirely by accident—toward Seo Yeo.
"Besides, we smashed into them without giving them any time to prepare, so a few tens of thousands at most would be the right estimate."
"I see."
Now that was good news. Honestly, I hadn't been at all confident about facing two hundred thousand on Nanman soil. Even a dog fights half again as hard on its own turf—imagine what tribesmen defending their homeland would be capable of. And it wasn't as if there were only one or two such tribes out there, either. Even the Han Empire, a unified colossus with centuries of history behind it, had never managed more than treating the barbarians as a perpetual thorn in its side. Unless you happened to be an Emperor Guangwu who smashed the Xiongnu to smithereens with a conveniently timed natural disaster, complete superiority over the frontier tribes simply wasn't on the menu. And then, once the Xiongnu collapsed, the Wuhuan and the Xianbei—who had been biding their time—declared independence and started running wild instead, which was its own delightful problem. Had even Emperor Guangwu failed to see that coming? Well, if he had, he wouldn't have been a brilliant ruler. He'd have been a prophet.
"Now, let's see… going by the terrain maps, the direction we can expect Meng Huo to advance from is…"
"The right flank, my lord."
…
Sima Yi fell silent at the sight of Zhuge Liang cutting straight into the conversation. Her eyebrow gave a faint twitch—she was, unmistakably, seething.
"If my calculations hold, the probability is high that Meng Huo has established her base of operations in Yongchang Commandery."
Whether Sima Yi was seething or not, Zhuge Liang pressed on without pause.
"And if that is the case, is there any position from which to strike us other than the right?"
She predicted Meng Huo's next move without a flicker of hesitation. The conclusion had been reached, quite literally, in the space of a breath—which made it only natural that Sima Yi, robbed of her turn, would wade right back in.
"The enemy could swing wide around the outside and hit us from a completely different direction, you know."
…
"May I ask why you are so certain they will come from the right?"
Well, she had a point. If Meng Huo simply charged straight in, she would indeed appear on our right—but if the woman decided to actually use her head, she could just as easily strike some other part of our army outright. She could loop all the way around the outside and go for our supply lines, for that matter. Granted, our rear was thoroughly prepared, so even a strike there would have amounted to nothing… but still. Was there some reason Zhuge Liang sounded so sure?
"Was the plan not to feign exhaustion and bait the enemy into attacking?"
…
"If Meng Huo insists on striking elsewhere even after we have laid our weakness open, it will simply mean the deception has failed, will it not?"
Having delivered her explanation in that measured voice, Zhuge Liang flashed a radiant smile.
"And if you find yourself truly lacking in confidence, shall I draw up an alternative stratagem for you right this moment?"
"…Tch. No, thank you."
Sima Yi clicked her tongue in the manner of someone who had known exactly what answer she would get.
…What was that? A trap question?
It seemed Sima Yi had been probing Zhuge Liang, and Zhuge Liang had batted the probe away without the slightest effort. So this was the battle of nerves strategists waged against one another. If they fought out in the open, I would step in to mediate—so these days the two of them waged their war underwater, kept only to the depth where it stayed invisible.
After trading some unreadable look with Zhuge Liang, Sima Yi turned to me.
"Anyway, all things considered, Meng Huo will come from the right—just as someone said."
At Sima Yi referring to herself as someone, Zhuge Liang flinched for an instant. Her face was smiling, but everyone present knew perfectly well that Zhuge Liang was not, in fact, smiling.
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
Long since used to their little exchanges, I merely nodded. Pang Tong, who had been watching all of this unfold, had killed her presence ages ago. She'd flashed a little you-can-do-it gesture my way, as though leaving everything in my hands, and then quietly tucked herself out of sight. Naturally, Pang Tong in hiding stood out to my eyes like a lantern in a dark room. I'd have to haul her right back out the first chance I got.
"Her nature itself seems rather simple, you see. Which makes predicting her next move easy."
…
Easy, is it? Know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be imperiled—fine words, all of them. The hard part was actually making that judgment in the first place.
"Shall we go set the trap for our beast, then?"
If we knew where the enemy would come from and how they would move, all that remained was to answer in kind and strike back.
'Besides, this battle doesn't count!'
Hers was the sort of temperament that would barrel straight through anything, water or fire be damned, like a bull with a rider clinging to its back. In a sense, you could hardly ask for a king who suited the warlike frontier tribes better. We'd beaten the Nanman in battle plenty of times already, and I had no intention of letting the tally of capturing-and-releasing Meng Huo climb anywhere near seven.
That night, once my thoughts were settled, I calmly penned a single letter.
And then, the next day.
…
I looked down at Meng Huo, dragged before me in bonds, and asked.
"You let yourself be caught rather easily this time."
"Shut up!"
She'd caught on that I was needling her; Meng Huo roared back, thrashing against her restraints.
"I didn't sense so much as a twitch of movement from you, so how did you pop out of there?!"
"Because we moved in secret. Naturally you didn't see it coming."
I said it in a thoroughly unconcerned voice. Meng Huo had attached scouts to shadow us, but our little strategist had marked every single one of them ages ago, and had quietly shifted troops under cover of night to lay her ambush. And so a perfect web of traps had taken shape across the nearby jungle and mountain ridges—with the result that Meng Huo came charging in brimming with confidence, only to be snapped up on the spot by the cavalry under Zhang Liao's command.
Just as with Zhao Yun before it, the sight of Zhang Liao dispatching Meng Huo in short order was genuinely impressive.
"Don't you dare take me lightly!"
"Oh my? You're stronger than I expected!"
Meng Huo had clearly resolved not to go down easy this time, and for the first few exchanges she actually held her own against Zhang Liao…. But she failed to slip past the crescent blade that coiled in at her like a serpent.
"Hiyah!"
"Gwagh!"
One blow to her armor-plated midsection, and Meng Huo went flying with a whoosh.
MOOOO—?!
At the sight of her mistress going down to a different general this time, the red-furred ox let out another startled bellow.
Having taken the better part of the Nanman captive through a strike at their completely unguarded flank, I put my question to Meng Huo.
"Hm. Do you finally feel like surrendering to me?"
"No! Not even a little!"
She shook her head as though the question weren't even worth considering. I asked, genuinely curious.
"And the reason would be?"
"We never even got a proper fight in! I got taken way too cheaply! This one doesn't count!"
Meng Huo shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Predict the enemy's line of march to the letter, then annihilate them with an ambush. The column, strung out in one long line, had been smashed to pieces the instant the cavalry we'd been husbanding for just this moment came crashing down on it all at once. Zhang Liao had bound Meng Huo in the middle of the melee—and with their commander gone, what could the Nanman possibly do? For all their enormous numbers, they had collapsed far, far too easily. Meng Huo, no doubt, simply couldn't bring herself to accept so hollow a defeat.
I let a small smile show.
"Still brimming with confidence, I see. Do you have soldiers hidden away somewhere, then?"
"That's right! There are tens of thousands more waiting at my stronghold of Yinkeng Mountain!"
Even after losing a staggering number of troops, apparently she still had more up her sleeve. The woman was like an onion—the deeper you peeled, the more something new came tumbling out.
"If you take the fortress there and capture me once more—only then will I surrender!"
So this time she meant to make her stand on the defensive. I answered in a voice that suggested it would be no trouble at all.
"Suit yourself. Release her bonds."
"Yes, my lord!"
The moment the soldier nearby cut her free, Meng Huo bellowed as she shook herself loose.
"Just you wait! Next time, I'm the one who wins—!!"
"Wh-hey, big sis! Wait for me!"
The blonde, bronze-skinned sisters vanished from view, and I promptly turned my head.
"So you can still hold your own, it seems?"
"…Hmph."
Her bandages had come off, but Zhurong's complexion was still faintly pale. Even so, she held her post with the tough, unbowed energy of a true frontier matriarch. Catching the look on her face—the one that plainly said hurry up and untie these ropes already—I fished a small bundle out of my coat and tossed it to her.
"Before I set out on this expedition, a physician handed me this, with instructions to apply it to any wound I took in the field."
…
"Right now, I'd say you have more use for it than I do."
I had also been told it was strictly a stopgap—that anyone wounded was to hurry back for proper treatment afterward. As for exactly who that physician was, I saw no particular need to mention it.
I looked at Zhurong, her ropes now undone.
"Take it. I won't ask for anything in return."
"…Well, if you're offering."
Making it abundantly clear that she had no intention of refusing, Zhurong scooped up the bundle I'd thrown her and took her leave.
So our next destination was Yinkeng Mountain—Meng Huo's home ground. A Silver Pit Mountain, after all: once we took the place, at the very least we'd never want for silver. With that happy thought, I rose to my feet.