The message reached Li Chi, riding in the main column, from the vanguard: the forward scouts had not returned, and they were now fewer than thirty li from Yanshan.

The officer commanding the vanguard was Mister Yan. When Li Chi heard this, he knew something had gone wrong — with Mister Yan’s caution, he would only halt if something had set off his instincts.

Li Chi spurred forward to the vanguard, where the column had already formed up in defensive array.

When Mister Yan saw Li Chi arrive, his expression was grave. He stretched out a hand and pointed ahead. “As you required: all scouts advance in ten-li stops, ranging fifty li before the main force. We have seen no trace of any scout this far out.”

Li Chi’s standing orders were that advance scouts must lead the main force by at least fifty li, halting every ten li to leave a man or a marker — then the main force would advance, and the scouts would push ahead again in rotation.

“Look over there.”

Mister Yan pointed toward Yanshan.

Li Chi took a spyglass and looked. He stared for a moment, then his hand gave an involuntary tremor.

“Do you remember — when we marched down from the mountain on campaign, at roughly this point, I remarked to you that looking back, you could just make out the watchtower of the stronghold?”

Mister Yan said: “It cannot be seen now.”

Li Chi made a sound of acknowledgment.

In the dense forest ahead, the White Mountain troops were packed in thick, lying in ambush, waiting only for Li Chi’s forces to return. Though still some distance from the mountain base, the terrain here was uneven and the forest thick, with the road cutting through the undulating ground while high slopes rose on both sides. If Li Chi’s forces passed through, the White Mountain Army could strike down from the heights.

Lao Yi stood behind a tree on the high ground, spyglass raised and trained on Li Chi’s column. His expression had taken on a measure of excitement.

But the excitement was soon replaced by puzzlement.

“Why have they stopped?”

True, he had killed the Ning Army scouts on their way in — but under normal circumstances, no military force kept to a ten-li halt system for scouts. Whether White Mountain Army or imperial garrison troops, scouts went out, reported when they encountered something, and maintained their distance ahead of the main force without these rigid stopping intervals.

Lao Yi had calculated the timing and terrain with care. This spot was ideal for an ambush — barring some complication, Li Chi’s column should very soon be encircled here.

On the Ning Army side, Li Chi took several deep breaths, then turned to Mister Yan. “Leave the column to you. Fall back, withdraw thirty li west to the Xiaoqing River we crossed not long ago. Have the men form up in defense on the western bank. If enemy troops give chase, use the river to hold them — strike them when they are mid-crossing.”

Mister Yan asked: “Where are you going?”

Li Chi said: “I am going to the rear mountain.”

With that, he mounted and rode north, a hundred personal escorts following close behind.

Yan Qingzhi carried out Li Chi’s orders: he led the column back thirty li, crossed the Xiaoqing River, and formed up in battle array on the western bank, while sending riders off posthaste to inform Tang Pidi.

Li Chi took his escort cavalry, looped wide around the forest, and headed toward the rear mountain. Skirting around the mountain made for a full day’s ride — by the time Li Chi arrived, it was nightfall on the second day. Two full days had passed.

One hour later.

Li Chi stood there unmoving, his face betraying nothing — not even when he received the news that Yu Chaozong was dead. In the darkness, no shift in him could be seen.

In the mountain forest where night had fallen and you could not see your hand before your face, those around him watched Li Chi — saw only that still, silent shape standing in the dark.

“I understand.”

After a very long time, when Li Chi had heard everything, he responded with those four words alone. He undid his outer garment, tore a strip of white cloth from the white inner lining, gripped one end in his hand and the other in his teeth, and bound the white cloth to his right arm.

“Wait for me here. I will come for you.”

Then he turned and left.

Gao Xining grabbed his hand, urgent. “Take the Censor Guards with you.”

Li Chi slowly shook his head. “Stay here and protect everyone. I am leaving them all in your hands.”

He mounted and rode away into the darkness.

Two days after that, Li Chi returned to the Xiaoqing River. The White Mountain troops had already pressed to the eastern bank and were hesitating, unwilling to advance rashly.

On the western bank, Mister Yan had the column in defensive positions, the two forces facing each other across the water.

Li Chi had crossed upriver at a ford and made his way back to the Ning Army encampment along the bank.

Mister Yan saw Li Chi return and allowed himself a small breath of relief.

“The enemy force numbers in the tens of thousands at least. The banners look like—”

Before Mister Yan could finish, Li Chi, his expression calm — even carrying a chill — nodded and said: “White Mountain Army. I already know.”

He walked to the riverbank and looked across. The White Mountain troops on the far side were insufferably arrogant, shouting across the water in crude, taunting abuse.

“Elder Brother Yu is dead.”

Li Chi said, looking at the far bank.

Mister Yan felt his chest clench. After a moment, he nodded: “Understood.”

Li Chi said: “Tell the officers and men: our home is gone, Elder Brother Yu fell in battle, and at least two thousand more of our brothers were killed by the enemy on that bank.”

Mister Yan glanced at the white cloth on Li Chi’s right arm, then turned and walked away.

Li Chi remained at the riverbank, watching the far side. The Xiaoqing River ran swift and strong, its waves splashing up and soaking him where he stood.

“You there!”

Just then, a mounted group appeared on the eastern bank. The man at their head, seated on horseback, raised his riding crop and pointed at Li Chi, calling out several times.

“Tell your chief: surrender, and I will spare your lives. From this day forward you will all be White Mountain Army brothers. If you refuse — when my forces cross that river, I will leave not a single soul alive!”

Li Chi did not answer. He stood exactly as he had been, without a word, without a gesture — as though the shouting from across the water had not reached his ears at all.

After a long while, Li Chi turned and went back to the encampment. Many of the men had gathered round, each face tight with grief and fury.

Looking at the eyes of his brothers — every pair burning with hatred and the will to fight — Li Chi spoke ten words in total.

“Fall back five li. Let them cross to engage us.”

The order was passed immediately. The column of five thousand began to withdraw, and the White Mountain Army on the far bank quickly took notice.

“Report!”

A subordinate rushed up to Lao Yi and dropped to his knee. “Young Chief — the Yanshan Camp forces are pulling back. They appear to be fleeing.”

Lao Yi heard this, then glanced at the young man standing to one side — a man of perhaps thirty, lean and upright, with a stern cast to his features.

Lao Yi asked: “Di Chun, do you think the Yanshan bandits are actually fleeing?”

Di Chun considered for a moment. “Not necessarily. Better to watch and wait. We must not rush across the river.”

Lao Yi pressed: “And if they are truly fleeing?”

Di Chun answered: “If the Yanshan bandits stop and start, it is surely a stratagem to lure us — an ambush meant to strike us while we are mid-crossing.”

Lao Yi nodded. “My thought was much the same. We hold and observe for now.”

On the western bank, when Li Chi’s column had withdrawn three or four li, Li Chi looked back: no sign of the White Mountain bandits crossing. He gave the order: “Full force, no halt, continue the withdrawal. Fall back another five li.”

So the Ning Army, which had been due to stop at five li, did not stop — they kept moving back, though the soldiers had their questions. Even so, they executed orders without hesitation.

On the eastern bank, Lao Yi watched through his spyglass, growing visibly more anxious. He turned to Di Chun again. “Are you certain the Yanshan bandits are trying to lure us across? They have already pulled back nearly ten li. If we don’t cross soon, they will simply be gone.”

Di Chun replied: “Young Chief, you may give them twenty li. The Yanshan bandits have more foot soldiers than cavalry, and their strength is at most five thousand. Giving them twenty li before pursuing is still time enough.”

Lao Yi watched the Yanshan Camp column receding into the distance, urgency gnawing at him — yet he gave a nod and accepted Di Chun’s counsel.

Di Chun was one of his father’s most valued men; the rise of White Mountain Army to its present strength owed much to Di Chun.

The man had been a border army captain, possessed of remarkable courage and martial skill — yet his low-born origins had seen his battlefield merits stolen from him again and again, and there had been nothing he could do about it.

Lao Suize had long heard of Di Chun’s fame for valor and sent men to make contact, offering generous payment. Di Chun was unmoved. They then offered him a generalship, promising that all the White Mountain Army would answer to his command. Di Chun was moved.

Di Chun then joined the White Mountain Army, and Lao Suize appointed him Grand Marshal. At that time, the White Mountain Army numbered only thirty or fifty thousand.

Di Chun led the forces in successive victories against the imperial garrison troops — even routing the Yanzhou Military Commissioner Zhou Shiren’s army when he personally led the campaign against the White Mountain Army.

Di Chun’s reputation soared. His standing among the White Mountain Army grew ever higher — and Lao Suize began to fear him, worried that Di Chun’s influence would threaten his own authority as paramount chief.

So Lao Suize, under the pretense of having Di Chun train an elite unit, stripped him of his command. What he had not anticipated was that in little more than a year, Di Chun had trained a ten-thousand-strong Cleaver Battalion whose fighting strength matched that of the imperial garrisons.

Lao Suize knew precisely how formidable those ten thousand Cleaver Battalion troops were, and so he became even more wary of Di Chun. On the pretext of expanding his personal guard, he forcibly seized half the Cleaver Battalion from Di Chun’s command, leaving Di Chun with only five thousand men.

On the western bank, Li Chi looked back: still no sign of White Mountain troops crossing. He issued his order: “Abandon all supplies and transport. Full speed — fall back another five li.”

On the eastern bank, Lao Yi had climbed to higher ground and was watching through the spyglass. When he saw the Ning Army soldiers throwing down their transport loads and supplies and beginning to run, his composure broke entirely.

“Pass my order: cross the river and give chase!”

Di Chun heard this and his face went cold. He immediately urged: “Young Chief, you must not. The more the Yanshan Camp forces behave like this, the more likely they are planning to counterattack at the moment of our crossing.”

Lao Yi snapped: “They have already withdrawn more than ten li! Even if they want to charge back, we will already have a sizable number across the river — surely that is enough to hold them? If I can keep them occupied for just one hour, I can get twenty thousand men across. They have five thousand men. What can they fight us with?”

Di Chun moved to speak again. Lao Yi cut him off: “Di Chun! I know you carry a grudge. I wonder if you are deliberately letting the Yanshan Camp forces escape, so that they become a thorn in our side for years to come!”

Di Chun’s mouth opened, then closed. An icy laugh rose in his chest. He bowed his head. “Young Chief, forgive me. I was overcautious. I will go now and have the Cleaver Battalion cross.”

Lao Yi shot him a sharp look, then kept urging his men across the river.

When Li Chi saw that the White Mountain troops had begun crowding to cross in a rush, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

“Ning Army!”

Li Chi raised his arm high and drew his long saber, pointing it at the White Mountain Army. “Strike back — not one man standing before us is to be spared!”

“Huo!”

The Ning Army soldiers answered as one, wheeled about, rear becoming front. Their formation held perfectly.

Li Chi at the tip, five thousand men arrayed in a great arrowhead formation, driving straight at the White Mountain Army churning through the river crossing.

Eleven or twelve li: by the time the Ning Army closed the distance, more than ten thousand White Mountain troops had already crossed in a disorganized mass, their unit integrity completely broken.

“Blood enemies — even if they kneel, show no mercy!”

Li Chi was the first to plunge into the White Mountain forces, saber sweeping and spraying blood.

That day, on the western bank of the Xiaoqing River, the ten thousand and more White Mountain Army soldiers who had crossed were slaughtered to the last man. Those caught mid-crossing were cut down by arrows from the bank, and countless others drowned in the current.

So many bodies filled the water that the river was blocked for a stretch, the dead packed dense across the surface, the water itself nearly invisible beneath them.

At that moment, from upstream, a cavalry force of several thousand came thundering in: two riders at the head, one with a long spear and one with a long lance, fierce as killing tigers, leading the charge into the White Mountain forces — like tigers into a flock of sheep.

The White Mountain Army was routed. Of fifty thousand men, more than thirty thousand were killed, over ten thousand surrendered, and several thousand escaped.

Those who escaped were Di Chun’s five thousand elite Cleaver Battalion troops.

—