The Battle of Ma'an Mountain (6)
Zhao Yun. Courtesy name Zilong.
He was famous for the tale of charging alone through Cao Cao’s million-strong army to rescue the infant lord Liu Shan.
Of course, that was a novelistic fiction from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
But the official histories told much the same story: leading only a few dozen guards, he shattered the encirclement of Cao Cao’s vaunted five thousand Tiger and Leopard Cavalry and carried the young master to safety.
That exploit had always stood as the clearest proof of Zhao Zilong’s loyalty and valor amid absolute chaos.
And now that same man had appeared once more—this time to save a sovereign teetering on the edge of death.
“Zhao Zilong is here! No one lays a hand on His Majesty!!”
Every thrust of his spear flashed like lightning, and Wu soldiers fell like leaves in an autumn gale. Their death-screams rolled across the field.
“Zh-Zhao Zilong—!!”
The mere appearance of a warrior whose renown shook the realm threw the Wu ranks into turmoil.
…Is that really a general standing on the threshold of sixty?
Even I could not tear my eyes from Zhao Yun’s martial display. Against the endless tide of soldiers his movements never once faltered. His spear-work was pure craft, free of every wasted flourish—utterly different from the raw strength with which I swung my crescent blade. Even in age he stood shoulder to shoulder with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei; the difference in class was plain.
“Zhao Zilong is old! Why are you all so afraid!?”
“But General Zhang Yi already fell to him!”
“That was a surprise attack. What great enterprise can a man achieve if he quails like this!?”
One of Wu’s younger officers, fearless to the point of folly, charged Zhao Yun head-on. Convinced Zhang Yi had only been caught off-guard, he dismissed the veteran as a toothless tiger.
—Shlick!
Without so much as a glance, Zhao Zilong took the officer’s head. It was the overwhelming martial prowess of a man who bore the title Tiger Might General with every right.
The bodyguards still clustered around Liu Bei trembled at that raw power.
“Zilong, how is it that you are here?”
Zhao Yun approached Liu Bei, offered a military salute, and explained.
“The Prime Minister ordered me to encamp near Zigui and to go to Your Majesty’s aid the moment you fell into peril.”
It was Zhuge Liang’s foresight made flesh. Having learned from Guan Suo’s letter that Liu Bei’s judgment had clouded, the Prime Minister had given Zhao Yun troops and a clear command while the general was still supervising Jiangzhou: if the emperor stood in danger, ride to his support.
Thus Zhao Yun had been stationed at Zigui. When Fei Shi—the envoy sent ahead—reported the disaster, Zhao Yun immediately marched his force toward Ma’an Mountain.
“Your Majesty, this humble servant will open a path!”
His bold, majestic bearing made the exhausted officers and men forget their fatigue; they surged after him without hesitation.
“……Thank you.”
Liu Bei offered the quiet words of gratitude, yet he could not bring himself to meet Zhao Yun’s eyes. No one had opposed the war with Wu more fiercely than Zhao Yun. Liu Bei had stubbornly insisted on revenge anyway. The result had been the deaths of countless young men; even with ten mouths he would have had no excuse.
Zhao Yun gathered Liu Bei and the remaining generals and began the withdrawal toward Baidi City.
“…So it failed.”
Far off, Lu Xun watched the scene unfold.
Was all of this mere coincidence?
Flames had suddenly leapt up in the forest, forcing the Shu army to retreat out of wariness of his fire attack. Then, with a meticulously designed snare built on the principle of surrounding while leaving an opening, he had driven them to the brink.
Yet the Shu officers had intervened sooner than expected, and the unforeseen variable named Zhao Yun had snatched their lives from the jaws of death.
It felt as though someone had been reading my every thought.
“Grand Commander!”
Zhou Tai, Ding Feng, and the other officers raced up to Lu Xun.
“Grant us leave to pursue them!!”
“Yes—if we press now we can take Liu Bei’s head and erase every future threat!”
Furious at having lost their prey because of Zhao Yun’s interference, the generals shouted for blood.
“No.”
Lu Xun’s refusal was absolute. With imperial firmness he dismissed every call for pursuit.
“Why not?!”
“Exactly—just a little farther and we can take Liu Bei’s head and pacify Shu!”
Even those who had once sneered at him as an inexperienced bookworm no longer questioned Lu Xun’s ability. But Lu Xun had no intention of invading Shu.
“Though Zhao Yun’s sudden arrival saved their lives, after this battle Shu will never again take Wu lightly.”
He had failed to claim Liu Bei’s head, yet the essential purpose had been achieved. Shu had lost Fu Rong, Shamoke, Du Lu, Liu Ning, and forty thousand soldiers.
“Then we should still pursue at once—”
“Even if we press Shu harder here, only Wei will profit.”
Viewed from the larger board, the aid of Shu was indispensable if they were ever to stand against the mighty Wei.
“If we move our armies into Ba and Shu to destroy them, Wei will strike Wu.”
Shu’s rugged mountains made conquest difficult. Wu, girdled by the Yangtze, was no easy prize either—but far easier to invade than Shu.
“He is right. The Emperor of Wei will not sit idle and watch.”
Luo Tong voiced his agreement. Cao Pi would never ignore a sudden weakness in Wu’s defenses.
“But is this not the perfect chance to tear down Ba-Shu?”
Several officers still looked reluctant.
“It is not.”
They had inflicted heavy losses on Shu’s armies, yet Zhuge Liang still stood. Once he exerted himself, the lost national strength would be restored in short order.
“The war with Shu ends here.”
Lu Xun drove the final nail home.
“We return to Jingzhou at once and hasten our defenses.”
“…Yes.”
“Understood.”
The generals, still unsatisfied, nevertheless obeyed. Certain that Cao Pi would launch a southern campaign, Lu Xun wheeled his army about and marched away.
Liu Bei and the officers of Shu had fallen for Lu Xun’s lure. Advisors and Cheng Ji had pleaded with him, yet rage for revenge had clouded his judgment and led them straight into the trap. Countless soldiers and able generals had paid the price.
Only the valiant efforts of Zhao Yun and the other commanders had finally carved open an escape route.
Once Liu Bei returned to Baidi City, officers who had been cut off by the chaos began to trickle back one by one. Feng Xi and the rest arrived safely as well.
Yet some never returned. Word arrived that Fu Rong, Shamoke, and several other generals had fallen in battle.
Regrettable—but my essential goal had been achieved.
Among the staff officers, White Eyebrows Ma Liang and Li Shao—one of the so-called Three Dragons of the Li clan—had survived. Among the field commanders, Feng Xi, Zhang Nan, Cheng Ji and others still lived.
In the original history every one of them died, gutting Shu’s officer corps.
Huang Quan, whose retreat had been cut off and who would have surrendered to Wei, and Pang Lin, younger brother of Pang Tong, both returned safely to Shu. The near-total annihilation of the army had been reduced to roughly forty thousand dead.
Overall, it counted as a success.
Of course, that was only true from the perspective of someone who already knew the history of the Three Kingdoms. For the newly founded state of Shu, the defeat was catastrophic.
Liu Bei, returning in utter rout, sank into the same despair as ever. Only after the crushing loss did he seem to feel the full weight of his own blunders; grief swallowed him whole.
The war he himself had started had killed Shu’s finest talent. Of course the sorrow runs deep.
When he had insisted on pursuit despite every warning and walked into the trap, fury had boiled inside me. Seeing him now so crushed by melancholy, however, I felt only pity.
In the original timeline he would have lingered in Baidi City, wasting away until death drew near…
“Your Majesty!”
Feng Xi, Cheng Ji, and other generals who should still have been recovering from their wounds rushed to the bedside of the prostrate emperor.
“This is entirely the fault of your unworthy servants.”
“Indeed, Your Majesty. We beg you—preserve your precious health.”
Feng Xi, who had served as chief commander, and every officer who had returned alive from Yiling knelt and pleaded. They insisted the defeat was theirs alone, and even requested that their ranks be stripped as atonement.
Liu Bei, who had nearly taken to his bed from sheer rage, managed to rally a little strength.
“…Thank you.”
He looked at the ministers begging his forgiveness and offered a weak smile.
From that day forward, according to the physicians, the illness of the heart began to lift; his health improved by degrees.
While Liu Bei was still taking medicinal decoctions and recovering his strength—
“Your Majesty!”
Zhuge Liang left affairs in the hands of Jiang Wan and raced to Baidi City himself.
“…Prime Minister, I have no face with which to meet you……”
Liu Bei apologized with a face full of bitter regret. His own obstinacy had cost precious lives: the Tiger General Huang Zhong, Fu Rong, Shamoke, and even Du Lu and Liu Ning, whom he had ordered into a reckless pursuit. Beyond the great captains, forty thousand soldiers were gone.
“Do not torment yourself so. A single defeat is a common occurrence in the art of war.”
Zhuge Liang clasped both of Liu Bei’s hands and offered comfort.
“Rather, the ground hardens after the rain. We need only take this defeat as fertilizer and grow the nation’s strength.”
He framed the loss as nothing more than manure for future success and poured warm consolation into the emperor’s ears.
“Therefore I beg you—preserve your precious body. This country needs Your Majesty.”
Without Liu Bei the state could not stand; Zhuge Liang pleaded for him to recover both body and spirit.
“……Thank you.”
Clasping Zhuge Liang’s hands in return, Liu Bei shed thick, helpless tears.