MFMH C91

Chapter 91 — Reaping

Developing a weapon that could effectively counter cavalry had, for the moment, dispersed the shadow looming over Great Qi’s army. But to truly banish that gloom, what they needed was victory.

When the barbarians came again to harass, Gu Changfeng requested to go into battle. Since the new recruits had recently been drilled in maneuvers that seemed intended for such situations, Tai Qigang granted his request.

A great battle awaited, and the new recruits had to join the fighting sooner or later — either to be absorbed into the existing forces as fresh blood, or to stand as their own independent unit. Tai Qigang preferred the latter: that the new recruits form their own corps directly under Gu Changfeng’s command. In the past, the Duke had ruled the army with awe-inspiring authority; no one had dared to question him. But the Duke had been gone for more than two years, and though the camp outwardly had not changed much, no one could guarantee that men’s hearts had not shifted. For Gu Changfeng to secure his footing, what he needed was not the lingering shadow of his father’s name, but battle honors of his own.

Thus Gu led fifteen hundred troops to meet eight hundred barbarian horsemen. Among his men were cavalry, spearmen, and shield bearers, their formation adjusted according to Shen Yanbei’s advice.

Before departure, Shen Yanbei urged him: “Be careful in everything. If anything seems amiss, retreat at once.”

“Alright,” Gu answered, tugging lightly at the reins.

With all eyes on them, Shen could say no more. He simply said, “I’ll be waiting for your return.”

Gu held his gaze for a long moment, then pressed his heels to his horse, leading the troops forward.

Shen Yanbei stood watching until the company was gone. One general beside him sighed, “Master Shen and the heir truly share deep affection.”

What? He hadn’t done anything yet — how had they already seen through the closeness between him and his husband? Shen could only smile awkwardly and turn away, heading for the armory. The crossbow had already been handed over to the camp’s craftsmen, who quickly succeeded in replicating it. Now they were working day and night to produce them in batches.

The armory was a heavily guarded part of camp, off-limits to idle visitors, but Shen held Tai Qigang’s writ, granting him free access. While surveying the army’s arsenal, he noticed there were no caltrops, so he sketched out a design for the blacksmiths to forge.

…

“Stop!” Gu Changfeng suddenly raised his hand, halting the march. His eyes narrowed at the faint figures of barbarian cavalry on the barren plain ahead. His expression hardened as he barked, “Scouts — fan out left, right, and forward. Report at once if you see anything suspicious!”

Lately the barbarians had kept sending small units to harass them, usually fleeing as soon as pursuit began. But today was different. Instead of fleeing outright, they lingered just ahead, almost as though luring them deeper. At once Gu grew wary.

It was late autumn. The wind cut like knives, sweeping dust and gravel over the bleak steppe. The new recruits, ordered to hold formation, grew restless as the enemy dangled before them.

“If we don’t chase, the barbarians will be gone!”

“Yeah, what’s the point of fighting if they just run?”

“We even brought the secret weapon. If we don’t give those bastards a taste of it, all the drills these past days will be wasted!”

“General has his reasons,” Zhou Yu snapped. He too felt uneasy.

Gu held the reins tight, his face grim. In the distance, the barbarians they had been chasing wheeled their horses about.

His expression darkened further. At that moment, scouts came racing back, leaping from their horses to report:

“Report! Five hundred barbarian cavalry have appeared on the left, less than twenty li from us!”

“Report! Five hundred barbarian cavalry are closing from the right!”

“Report! The eight hundred horsemen ahead have turned back — they are charging straight at us!”

The recruits froze in shock.

They had fallen into a trap. Three sides, closing in.

Gu yanked his reins and shouted, “Retreat!” The barbarians were cunning, always blurring truth and falsehood. The strategist had warned them: it was impossible the enemy would keep playing the same game of splitting off small detachments. Sooner or later they would change tactics. And now, they had sprung the ploy of luring them in deep.

Fifteen hundred mixed infantry against eighteen hundred cavalry was suicide. Even if they turned immediately, the enemy’s horses were too swift — retreat was impossible.

Gu’s face was cold, but calm. After gauging the wind, he ordered the troops to fall back toward the upwind left. The five hundred horsemen on that side spurred forward, rapidly closing the gap.

“Everyone, mask up! Form ranks!” Gu barked. At once the troops fumbled cloths from their tunics to tie over their mouths and noses. Their horses too were covered. Then they drew up in formation: shield bearers in front, spearmen behind, axemen in the middle, cavalry at the rear, arrayed in a triangle.

The wind howled, whipping dead grass and sand. The recruits, on the verge of encirclement, were trembling — but not from fear. Look closely, and it was excitement in their eyes.

“Pouches — scatter!”

At Gu’s command, the recruits pulled out cloth bags, tore them open, and flung the contents high into the air.

A cloud of crimson dust burst forth, swept by the gale straight into the faces of the charging barbarians.

“Cough! Cough—!” The leading rider, who had been shouting “Kill!” in his tongue, suddenly clutched at his face, hacking violently. His horse faltered with a snort, nearly throwing him.

All at once, the foremost riders reeled as if stricken mad: some gasped with tongues lolling, others clutched their eyes with screams, others choked in convulsions. Their mounts too went wild, sneezing, pawing frantically, tossing riders into the dirt.

The power of a cavalry charge is terrifying. But when the front halts, disaster follows — a chain collision of horses. Those behind crashed forward helplessly, a chaos of men and beasts, shrieks and carnage.

Strike when they’re weak. The recruits surged forward, blades flashing, cutting down the barbarians who were weeping and choking from the pepper powder.

Meanwhile, the five hundred from the right and the eight hundred from the rear arrived. From afar they saw their comrades being slaughtered like cabbages by infantry. Shocked, their commander spurred them to the rescue.

“Form up!” Gu drew his bow. The bow arched, the string twanged, and an arrow dropped a barbarian from his horse.

The recruits, refraining from reckless pursuit, tightened formation. At Gu’s order they reached for their secret weapon. By the time the enemy realized something was wrong and tried to pull back, it was too late.

Another crimson cloud roared through their ranks, burning throats, eyes, and lungs. The powder already on the ground was kicked up again by frantic hooves, mixing with dust into a choking storm.

Cavalrymen and their mounts collapsed in droves. The recruits, faces covered, charged in with blades.

“Kill!”

What followed was a one-sided massacre.

Never in their lives had the recruits dreamed of cutting down the fearsome barbarian cavalry like harvesting grain. Yet they had done it.

When Gu ordered the retreat and tallied the numbers, not a single recruit had died. Fewer than two hundred bore light wounds.

“We did it!” someone shouted. A roar of joy broke out.

“Silence!” Gu’s voice, backed by inner force, cracked like thunder, dragging them back to discipline.

“This was only a cheap trick. Against a true barbarian army, strength will decide the outcome. Mark this well.” The purpose of this victory was not to make them arrogant, but to steady their hearts — to prove cavalry were not invincible.

“Yes, General!” they chorused, chastened. With this battle, their faith in his command deepened further.

“Back to camp!”

“Yes!” The recruits replied, driving before them captured barbarian horses. Though still dazed from the pepper storm, the animals could be washed and nursed back to health. To the recruits, every horse was a treasure — soon they would be mounted themselves.

The news that fifteen hundred recruits had annihilated eighteen hundred barbarian cavalry without loss and brought back horses sent the whole camp into uproar.

Asked how they had done it, Gu and Shen shared a glance. Gu answered, “All thanks to Master Shen.”

Once again, it came back to Shen. All eyes turned to him.

“In the south I discovered a plant with a fiery flavor, excellent as a spice,” Shen said with a mild smile. “I brought seeds to Yongjing and had them cultivated. This autumn they yielded in abundance, so I brought some here. Please, generals, have a taste.” He signaled, and dishes prepared with the spice were carried in.

An irresistible fragrance filled the command tent. The generals stared at the dishes in disbelief.

That heavenly smell was what had toppled the barbarians? Had they been felled by hunger before the killing blow?

“This is dried chili. And this is chili powder.” Shen produced both to show them. “If suddenly inhaled, it causes severe discomfort, coughing, sneezing…”

The generals pictured the scene and exchanged looks, complex emotions in their eyes.

Shen had expanded their conception of warfare far beyond blind bloodshed.

“Brilliant!” The strategist flicked his feather fan, admiration in his gaze.

“Only a trick,” Shen replied. “Used too often, it will lose effect.”

All knew this was true. Yet to devise such a method to ease the crushing pressure of barbarian cavalry — that was true ingenuity.

One general dabbed a little powder to his tongue. At once tears burst from his eyes.

“Hot! Hot, hot!” he cried, tongue lolling.

“Chili drives out cold and damp, aids digestion, stirs the appetite. But some cannot handle the heat,” Shen explained.

The others looked at the poor man with sympathy.

“Master Shen’s gift must not go to waste,” Tai Qigang declared. “Bring wine!”

Shen only sipped politely before excusing himself. Gu also withdrew, citing the need to rest.

“No wonder he was promoted four ranks in a year. The man’s future is boundless,” General Li said, savoring a piece of Kung Pao chicken, eyes closing in bliss.

“If not, would His Majesty have sent him here?” Tai Qigang remarked over his cup.

“Young as he is, I wonder if Master Shen is married?” another general mused.

“Ho! Old Ma, are you thinking of making him your son-in-law? Hoping to wed your daughter to him?”

Old Ma glared. “And why not? He is learned and fine in bearing, perfectly matched for her.”

“Bah! Your girl’s temper could scare a tiger. Master Shen is a scholar — surely he’d prefer a gentle wife. My Ran’er is soft-spoken, cooks well, can write poetry — fit for hall or hearth. She’s perfect for him!”

“Boasting about your own goods!” Ma snorted. “Perhaps Master Shen would prefer my girl’s frank nature!”

Tai Qigang chuckled. “Enough. Master Shen’s marriage is his own affair. Your squabbling is useless.”

“Fine! Tomorrow I’ll ask him myself,” Ma vowed. “A man like him, you can tell he’d cherish a wife. My girl deserves such a husband!”

Meanwhile, Shen set a steaming bowl of chicken soup before Gu. “Here, you’ve worked hard. Drink.”

It was old hen soup, simmered with herbs to nourish blood and qi, rich and fragrant. One sip warmed Gu from stomach to heart.

“The taste of victory is sweet,” he murmured, resting his head on Shen’s shoulder with a low laugh.

How adorable my husband is, Shen thought, hugging him and kissing his cheek. “We will keep winning.”

“Mm.” Gu smiled slowly.