The drums boomed. Su Zhe came rushing into the main tent with her blade in hand: “Grandmaster! They’re provoking us!”
Zhù Ying set down the book she had been reading. “Come — let’s go have a look.”
The two stepped out of the tent. Zhù Ying asked: “Where is Jin Yu?”
Though the old men Lu Guo and Xi Jin were not particularly well-liked, Lu Danqing and Jin Yu had gotten along reasonably well with Su Zhe and the others. Su Zhe glanced around: “Right — where is he? Jin Yu! Go find him — where has he gone off to?”
Jin Yu came striding over, his face unpleasant. Su Zhe’s question — “Where did you go? Was something going on?” — was barely half-spoken when Jin Yu turned to Zhù Ying and said: “Grandmaster, they’re about to begin.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to restrain the soldiers first — my people should be at the front. Don’t let the newly arrived troops be pushed to the very front line,” said Jin Yu. “The other side will kill slaves first. What they do is horrifying. New soldiers who watch it will lose their nerve entirely.”
Zhù Ying said: “Fine — let’s go and see.”
Su Zhe asked with an edge of urgency: “Do we fight? How? Charge head-on, or counter-strike? Set an ambush, or—”
Zhù Ying said: “We watch first.”
She had never been in large-scale direct combat — not in the north, not in the far west, and not even in the mountain “campaigns.” She had never personally experienced a “large-scale” battle between enemy and allied forces. She needed to hold the line and keep the camp secure, but she also needed to experience it firsthand and take the measure of both sides.
So she had no intention of skulking inside. By default, she permitted Jin Yu to go meet the enemy, and observed carefully.
Su Zhe felt somewhat frustrated but had no choice except to follow Zhù Ying’s arrangement — she organized her own subordinates, stood in strict readiness, and deployed three rows of massive rattan shields in front of the formation.
On the other side, Zhù Ying noticed that Jin Yu’s soldiers were grouped in clusters of five, forming small units rather than one large battle formation. She gave a nod of approval — adapting to circumstances made good sense. In mountain terrain, deploying a large formation of troops was simply not feasible; the small clusters were more flexible and practical. At the front of each cluster was a shield-bearer, behind the shield a spearman, then sword-wielders, then archers — a quite skillful combination.
This was not the training method from Zhù County’s early days. Hou Wu had been more adept at drilling in the style of the imperial army, and all of Wuzhou’s tribal soldiers had initially been influenced by that approach.
On the other side, the enemy did indeed first push out a group of slaves — five to a row, arranged in something resembling a square formation.
Mountain terrain was not like a great open plain. Soldiers were spread out more, and the two sides were farther apart, which also meant they could see each other more clearly. Zhù Ying had her own side beat the drums; the two armies faced each other squarely, in full view.
The opposing chieftain looked at Zhù Ying’s side and saw the formation was orderly and disciplined — not without a trace of envy, though he said dismissively: “All show, no substance! Nothing but a pack of thieves who only know how to sneak around!”
A number of his allied chieftains believed him. Only he himself felt rather unsatisfied. It was not that he had no desire to launch a sneak attack — it was that, given the training level of both sides and especially his own soldiers, without the rhythm of drums and other instruments to serve as a coordinating signal, the majority of his troops would descend into chaos within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, and the battle would fall apart. Large-scale surprise attacks were simply not executable. And night fighting demanded keen eyesight; most soldiers turned half-blind once darkness fell. Smaller surprise raids? Zhù Qingjun’s camp was too solidly fortified — too few attackers made it very difficult to succeed, as two failed attempts had already proven.
The Sangli chieftain, unaware of these inner calculations, simply gave the order: “Kill!”
An executioner let out a great shout, dragged out a slave stripped to the waist with arms pinned behind his back, raised a pointed blade, and drove it into the man’s chest — then with practiced hands, drew it downward—
“Ugh—” Su Zhe made a gagging sound.
Then came the second: not a blade this time, but a bludgeoning. A great iron hammer struck a human body. Those who watched felt as if they could hear the dull impact.
Zhù Ying looked to either side and saw that most of her own tribal soldiers had deeply stricken expressions. Jin Yu said: “This is what they do. At first they just killed for the ritual flag consecration — a beheading. Then they started doing this!”
They had all heard of human sacrifice as children — but only heard of it. Seeing it for the first time, the shock was considerable.
Zhù Ying said: “No wonder you pulled back.” Even if the officers could hold steady, the soldiers’ spirits would inevitably take a blow.
As she spoke, she drew her bow and shot the executioner who had been about to slice into the fourth slave — the third slave had already died while she was speaking.
Her own soldiers gave a loud cheer!
The executioner fell. The other side fell into momentary disorder. Then a man in a blue cotton jacket came forward, brought his blade down on a slave, and opened his mouth to curse. What he spoke was not the Xika tongue — he had switched to the Qixia tongue, and listening closely, one could tell it was aimed in two directions: cursing the women, and cursing the men. He mocked the women — Zhù Qingjun and the rest — with slurs; he mocked the men for following women’s lead and trailing behind their skirts, and so on.
Zhù Ying nocked three arrows and shot them in quick succession. The man in the blue jacket deflected the first, narrowly avoided the second, and was brought down by the third.
The other side stopped killing. The drumbeat shifted. Jin Yu said: “They’re going to charge!”
Zhù Ying genuinely could not picture how one charged in this sort of terrain — then looked and saw immediately that it was nothing like a cavalry charge. That, actually, made perfect sense: in this landscape, an infantry charge in loose and ragged formation was far more fitting.
Her own side had a few short-legged mountain horses, though those were equally unsuitable for charging here. Jin Yu led his unit forward. Zhù Ying watched intently and saw that Jin Yu’s tribal soldiers, in their small clusters, charged as well — moving in coordinated small groups with smooth cooperation. But the opposing side had sheer numbers; it was a vast, dense mass of them. Her own side’s advantage was that the tribal soldiers were reasonably disciplined and well-equipped, and had chosen their camp position to maximum advantage — occupying a vital and difficult pass. They were not giving ground.
Just as she was absorbed in watching, her instincts flared without warning. She leaped sideways — an arrow from across the field flew past and embedded itself in the flagpole behind her. Zhù Ying looked at it, then drew her blade. A second arrow came flying; she swept it aside with the blade. She scanned the enemy line and counted four or five figures all with bows drawn — they were aiming directly at her.
Since coming to Wuzhou, she lived more simply than she had in the capital, but her clothing was still of considerably better quality than an ordinary tribal soldier’s — and standing beneath her banner, she was a clear target. Zhù Biao and others raised shields and moved to cover her; just then another volley of arrows came. Zhù Ying caught one with her left hand and, looking at it closely, confirmed what she had glimpsed an instant before: the craftsmanship of this arrow was far superior to anything made in the mountains. The arrowhead was heavier too — it was Western Barbarian work! Even among the Western Barbarians, such arrows were not within the reach of ordinary people; paired with them, one would also need a fine bow.
“Whoosh—” Zhù Ying reversed the captured arrow and tucked it into her own quiver. She ordered her own archers to return fire, then glanced to the other side — Su Zhe had already ordered the archers to suppress. Only then did Zhù Ying give an approving nod, just as another arrow grazed past her head and sliced open a line across her cheek.
“Grandmaster!” Zhù Qingye cried out in alarm!
“Keep hold of your blade!” Zhù Ying said. Her cheek stung faintly. The arrow had probably been laced with something. She picked up her bow again and began returning fire.
Zhù Qingye did not reach for her blade — she grabbed the gourd at her waist instead: “First clean the wound!” Her voice had gone slightly unsteady.
Zhù Ying said: “We’ll discuss you later.”
The two sides fought for a considerable stretch. Gradually, the enemy’s stamina gave out and their ranks grew increasingly ragged. Zhù Ying pressed the line forward from the rear, slowly advancing. Zhù Qingye followed behind her clutching the medicine kit. Seeing the enemy had retreated well out of range, she pressed forward and cleaned Zhù Ying’s wound, squeezing hard around the wound to draw out more blood, then applied a paste of medicinal ointment. She also demanded back that arrow: “I need to examine the arrowhead!”
Su Zhe and Jin Yu both came running: “Grandmaster!”
“Let’s go back,” said Zhù Ying, handing the arrow to Zhù Qingye even as she spoke. “We’ve seen enough — the soldiers still need more training. We’ll need to select a dedicated company of archers…”
“Your — your face is swollen…” Su Zhe said.
Zhù Ying said: “I know. It won’t be a serious poison. If they had something like that, they’d have given Qingjun a taste of it long ago. Withdraw.”
Among the tribal soldiers who had faced their first battle, someone said regretfully: “We won — so why are we retreating?”
Zhù Ying pressed a handkerchief to her wound and said offhandedly: “Push too far forward and we may not find suitable ground to make camp. To advance properly, we need to prepare well and take the next pass in one decisive move.”
Jin Yu gave that soldier a smack on the back of his neck: “Too much out of your mouth.”
“Don’t hit him — it’s good that he asks,” said Zhù Ying, then added: “Tend to the wounded, collect the dead, station the sentries, and withdraw.”
She had now assessed the level of both sides and was quietly revising her plans — the tribal soldiers would be divided into two parts: one part would continue training by the conventional methods used by officials, and the other would adopt the tactics of Jin Yu’s unit.
Su Zhe said to Jin Yu: “You’re quite good at this! How did you come up with it? It works really well.”
Jin Yu said: “It was Qingjun. She has spent years on the border, and the Sangli family has been endlessly troublesome — but a large army can’t be deployed there. This style of fighting is more effective, and she taught it to us. We adjusted the form a bit as well.”
At first, they had not thought much of the approach; some had even believed that returning to the mountains had caused Zhù Qingjun to abandon proper imperial army techniques. But once they put it into practice, they found Zhù Qingjun’s method more flexible, more convenient, with lower casualties and greater lethality — and then they had all adopted it.
Su Zhe said: “Tell me how to drill it — I’ll try it too.”
Zhù Ying said: “You don’t need to learn that for now. Keep to your original training — I still have a use for that.”
“Eh?”
Zhù Ying was thinking of a particular stretch of open plain: “Return to camp.”
Back in the camp, once the aftermath had been properly arranged, Zhù Ying asked Zhù Qingye for that arrow to study.
Zhù Qingye was in the middle of examining the arrowhead when she looked up and saw Zhù Ying reaching for it — and immediately flung herself forward: “Grandmaster! How do you feel? Is it pain? Is it itching? Is it numbness?”
She was desperately worried, terrified that Zhù Ying would say “I feel nothing” — because then it would truly be over.
Zhù Ying said: “It hurts a bit.”
Zhù Qingye let out a breath of relief: “Good. That’s good. The arrowhead was poisoned, but your wound isn’t deep — if it hurts, you’re not in serious danger. Try not to move if you can help it. Rest is best — ideally don’t even walk. And don’t lose your temper. And absolutely no more training! Wait until you’ve healed before you’re active again.”
Zhù Ying asked: “What kind of poison? Can it kill?”
It had been a very long time since she had been injured. An old memory floated back up, indistinct — it hadn’t hurt as much last time, she thought.
Zhù Qingye replied with irritation: “Snake venom. It entered through broken skin — if the wound had been any deeper, it would have been very difficult to treat. Now come, drink this medicine.”
“Could it kill?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Spread word that I’m dead. Where is Little Sister? Where is Jin Yu? Don’t make any moves these next few days — don’t give chase. Go — have A’Lian prepare more fire oil and dry kindling…”
Zhù Ying issued her instructions one by one, transforming the camp into a trap, her voice gradually growing blurred. Zhù Qingye pressed her palm to Zhù Ying’s forehead and felt a burning heat beneath her hand. She raised her own hand and slapped herself across the face: “Told you not to make light of this!”
Zhù Ying suddenly gripped Zhù Qingye’s wrist: “I’m fine. Don’t panic — and don’t let this get out. Help me up. I need to let everyone in the camp see that I’m still alive.”
With half her face wrapped in bandages, she was still recognizably herself. Morale in the camp gradually steadied, and the soldiers quietly and in good order began pulling back from the encampment. Because of the half-bandaged face, when Zhù Lian saw her, he nearly jumped out of his skin — he assumed she had lost an eye — and stood there simultaneously shocked, furious, and terrified, choking out: “Teacher — what happened to you?!”
Zhù Ying’s head felt faintly foggy: “Alive and well.”
Zhù Qingye said: “Quickly, prepare a quiet room — it’s time to change the dressing.”
Zhù Lian swiftly wiped away his tears: “Yes!” and busied himself at her side, following them in. When Zhù Qingye unwrapped the bandages to reveal Zhù Ying’s half-face covered in medicinal paste — and her eye, entirely intact — he collapsed into a chair.
Zhù Ying said: “No time for resting. Attend to the soldiers who’ve rotated out. Tell Su Zhe and Jin Yu to be ready — the moment the enemy retreats, pursue the advantage immediately. You need to be ready as well: conscript labor, in case the fires spread too far. The fire I’m lighting is for the enemy — don’t let your own side get burned.”
“Yes!”
“And one more thing — bring me some prisoners. Not slaves or ordinary soldiers — I want chieftains. I need to understand how they’ve banded together and why. Something about this isn’t right.”
“Yes! You — you — rest. I’ll see to it immediately!”