To Yiling (2)
“Kill them all!”
A man in a battle robe roared until his throat tore, pouring out a hatred that had soaked into his bones.
“Take Sun Huan’s head! Slaughter every last one of those rats who betrayed righteousness—!!”
Though well past his prime and already sixty, Liu Bei still led his officers and men himself. The eyes of a man who had once sought only benevolence and justice now glittered with killing intent.
“Your Majesty, leave this place to this humble servant and withdraw to the rear.”
Feng Xi, serving as Chief Commander of the Shu forces, fretted over any possible mishap and tried to hold him back.
“Indeed. Your Majesty should command the army from the rear.”
Huang Quan, likewise anxious over Liu Bei’s temper, offered the same counsel.
“Chief Commander. Huang Quan. I will not take a single step back until I have swept every last one of those wicked traitors from the earth.”
He looked ready to draw the twin ancient swords at his waist and charge into the fray at any moment.
Hardly surprising.
The greatest reason this war had begun at all was the deaths of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, the sworn brothers with whom he had shared so deep a bond. Beyond that, Jing Province—the vital gateway for any northern campaign—had been lost, and his wife, Lady Sun, had been taken as well. To crown it all, in the last battle Huang Zhong, one of the Five Tiger Generals, had fallen to the enemy’s schemes.
That Liu Bei had not already drawn his blade and ridden into the melee himself was, in truth, a mercy.
“Even so, Your Majesty—if your sacred person comes to harm on the field, the army’s morale will shatter.”
“At the very least, withdraw to the center of the host.”
A single stray arrow finding Liu Bei would throw the entire Shu army into utter panic.
“…Very well.”
Liu Bei knew his own age well enough; he accepted their words.
“But at least let me watch the young generals at work.”
His gaze turned to the two officers tearing through the enemy lines like storms. Guan Xing and Zhang Bao—Guan Yu’s second son and Zhang Fei’s heir. Amid the Wu ranks they moved like a dragon and a tiger unleashed, so much so that it almost felt as if Guan Yu and Zhang Fei themselves still lived. A wave of old longing rose in Liu Bei; he felt his eyes grow hot and shook his head.
There will be time enough for memories when all of this is finished.
Even he, who had once carved his way across battlefields with those twin swords, had grown old. Had not Cao Cao—whom he had long thought his eternal rival—aged and closed his eyes as well?
While breath remains in me, I will take that rat’s head and avenge my brothers.
Liu Bei swore it silently to himself. This expedition, launched against the protests of Chancellor Zhuge Liang and the veteran Zhao Yun, would not end until Sun Quan’s head rolled for the sake of those two dead brothers.
“Chief Commander. The line is breaking. Drive them now.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The front that had locked solid began to crumble under Guan Xing and Zhang Bao. Feng Xi and the other generals pressed after them, shattering the Wu army in a single surge, until the soldiers under Sun Huan at last fell back toward Jing Province. Once more, through the valor of Guan Xing and Zhang Bao, Shu had dealt Wu a crushing defeat. Surging forward like a breaking tide, the Shu host at last reached Yiling—the gateway to Jing Province itself.
Wu corpses carpeted the plain; the earth ran red with blood. Watching the enemy reeling back in one defeat after another, the soldiers’ spirits soared sky-high.
“Haha! You’ve all done well!”
Liu Bei praised the generals who had carried this battle to victory as well. He seated Guan Xing and Zhang Bao—as good as nephews to him—at his right and left, and lauded their deeds.
“In the next battle we will reclaim Jing Province, and take that rat’s head in Jiangdong!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Flushed with one triumph after another, the generals were in a mood for celebration. Yet among the staff officers seated to the left, faces remained dark.
This is bad.
Ma Liang—called White Eyebrows among the famous Ma brothers of Jing Province—watched the scene with open unease. Once a palace attendant of Shu, he now served here as staff officer.
His Majesty is far too unyielding.
Ma Liang still fretted over the recent refusal of Wu’s peace overtures. A will too rigid snaps; he could not help fearing where this course would lead.
A war that drags on can never be right…
Prolonged fighting would leave the land waste and the people ruined. If both sides entered the field resolved to annihilate one another, even the victor would suffer ruinous loss. Already Shu had lost Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Huang Zhong of the Five Tiger Generals, along with many other officers—a grievous blow. In the end only Wei would laugh. The wisest course was to end the war with as little damage as possible.
Only if our two states join hands can we stand against Wei—yet His Majesty will not hear the other ministers who urge restraint, nor even the Chancellor.
Zhuge Liang could only lament that if Fa Zheng still lived, he might have stayed the Emperor. Ma Liang’s anxiety deepened with every passing day.
“General Guan Xing!”
“What is it?”
A soldier handed Guan Xing a letter.
“A letter has come from General Guan Suo, third son of Lord Guan Yu.”
At those words Liu Bei and the generals stirred.
“Guan Suo—Yunzhang’s third son? Are you saying he still lives?”
Wu had seized Guan Yu and his eldest son, Guan Ping, and put them to death. Naturally Liu Bei had believed that Guan Suo, who had marched with them, had died as well. His eyes flew wide.
“…Weizhi?”
Guan Xing’s own eyes widened at the news that his younger brother lived.
“May I read it?”
Delighted that yet another nephew as dear as Guan Xing and Zhang Bao still drew breath, Liu Bei reached for the letter first.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Please do.”
Guan Xing respectfully handed the letter to the man seated beside him. Liu Bei, face bright with joy, unsealed it and began to read. The other generals expected the gloom of the camp to lift at once. It did not.
“This insolent whelp…!”
As he read, veins stood out on Liu Bei’s temples; his face flooded crimson with rage, as if it might burst.
“Your Majesty!”
“What is wrong?!”
The generals asked in confusion. Liu Bei doted so on Guan Xing—surely the return of another nephew should have filled him with joy.
“A tiger’s cub, indeed—only this one is a disgrace! With victory within our grasp, he dares insist we withdraw the army?!”
Ma Liang took the letter from the furious Emperor and read it himself. It urged that Shu accept Wu’s coming negotiations, recover Jing Province, destroy Wei first, and only then turn upon Wu.
If the two states bled each other dry, Wei alone would profit; when the war ended, a weakened Shu would face Wei’s onslaught, and the empire would fall into Cao hands. The letter stated, with brutal clarity, that this was not an attempt to shield his father’s killers, but a call to set private feeling aside for the greater cause.
Exactly what I have been thinking!
Ma Liang had heard that among Guan Yu’s sons, Guan Xing stood first in reputation and talent. Guan Suo, by contrast, was said to be the finest martial talent of them all—yet too light in conduct and character to be trusted with high office.
Yet it seems he possesses a far broader vision than I was told.
Ma Liang found himself convinced by Guan Suo’s letter. Liu Bei did not.
“I had heard that Guan Yu’s third son toyed with the hearts of countless women—but I never dreamed he was this far beyond the pale! Between him and Guan Xing lies heaven and earth!”
Liu Bei condemned Guan Suo for seeking to postpone vengeance for his father. It was the precise reverse of the praise he had heaped on Guan Xing for fighting like a true tiger’s son. Zhang Bao and the other generals likewise erupted in fierce opposition to any withdrawal.
…Weizhi. Why would you do this?
Guan Xing, who had received a letter of his own, watched the storm with a complicated expression, questioning his brother’s purpose. Guan Suo had originally meant for his words to be delivered through Guan Xing—whose recent merits would lend them weight—but Liu Bei had read the contents first and flown into a rage. He dismissed the counsel as the ignorance of a youth with no experience of war.
“…Your Majesty. Guan Suo’s opinion is not without merit.”
“You, too, side with this green boy?”
“To set aside our grudge against Wu only until Wei is destroyed, on the condition that Jing Province is restored—that is a course that serves both substance and advantage.”
The envoys who had recently departed had offered similar terms. Liu Bei had refused them in the heat of passion; if he reconsidered and accepted, Jing Province could still be reclaimed. Yet even as Ma Liang patiently laid out every benefit, Liu Bei would not hear him.
“I have said it plainly: I will avenge my brothers with my own hands!”
He was resolved to see Sun Quan’s end before his own life ran out. Ma Liang pressed again and again, detailing the gains that would follow if Guan Suo’s counsel were taken—until Liu Bei threatened him with beheading if he spoke another word, and the persuasion had to stop.
“Then what of this final counsel?”
At the close of the letter Guan Suo pleaded that, if the war must continue, at least this warning be heeded.
Should Wu dig in at Yiling for a prolonged campaign, it will be a scheme to lure our forces into the forest under cover of the summer heat—and there annihilate us with fire.
If Your Majesty must shelter from the heat, station the army in a nearby fortress. Do not, under any circumstances, encamp in the woods.
— Guan Suo
The letter warned that the enemy would commit to a war of attrition and strike with fire, and that the army must never camp in the forest. It was counsel that foresaw the future as clearly as Zhuge Liang himself—yet because it came from Guan Suo and not the Chancellor, it earned no trust.
“That is a matter for myself and the Chief Commander to judge by the situation! What insight can a child with no experience whatsoever claim to possess?!”
Liu Bei dismissed Guan Suo’s words out of hand.
“…Even so—”
“Do you expect battle-hardened generals to swallow the childish nonsense of a mere boy?! Is that not an insult to us all?!”
This camp held veterans of countless campaigns, and Liu Bei himself had spent decades on the field. Before such men, Guan Suo’s counsel was nothing but empty noise.
“Were he not Yunzhang’s son, I would have hanged him for sowing disorder in the ranks!”
The next day, Liu Bei’s army advanced on Yiling.
“My lord—are you truly well enough to move?”
“I am. Sitting still and waiting never suited me anyway.”
Guan Xing and Liu Bei, both blinded by vengeance, would never listen to me. Knowing that, I had already sent a messenger from Chengdu. Even so, I could not rest easy—and I made a decision.
“We go to Yiling.”
Guan Suo set out for Yiling, taking Po Sanniang and several dozen retainers with him.