Chapter 51: Strike First to Gain the Upper Hand

Knowing who had captured Luo Shixin, Li Dong believed it was necessary to make a trip to Changcheng Ridge and ask Du Fuwei for help to ensure Luo Shixin’s safety without fail.

On his way there, Li Dong had already devised a plan that would ensure minimal disturbance, avoid drawing the attention of Zhang Xutuo in Qi Prefecture, and still see the matter safely resolved.

Inside Zhangqiu city, when Du Fuwei had persuaded Li Dong to take to the hills as an outlaw, he had more than once explained the route up the mountain. Li Dong, of course, was well familiar with the way.

Stumbling now and then as he retraced his steps to the mountain's edge, he untied his horse, vaulted into the saddle, and rode swiftly along the narrow mountain path toward Du Fuwei’s stronghold.

He galloped the whole way, covering the distance in about the time it takes for a meal. By the time he reached the stronghold, night had fallen completely. The place was utterly silent, not a sound to be heard. Several torches illuminated the open ground before the gate. In front of the stronghold, a squad of guards stood watch, holding gleaming swords and spears that glinted coldly in the torchlight.

Li Dong dismounted, led his horse, and slowly made his way up the slope. When he was still an arrow’s flight from the gate, the guards shouted loudly, “Stand where you are! Don’t come any closer. Take one more step and we’ll shoot!”

Li Dong waved his hands repeatedly and called back, “Don’t shoot! I have urgent business with Du Fuwei!”

The guards were startled by his nerve. Du Fuwei was the chief of the stronghold, and even they were deathly afraid of him—no one would dare address him by name so directly. This fellow must not care for his own life. Thinking this, they set their bows, aimed, and loosed a volley of arrows in Li Dong’s direction.

For all his careful planning, Li Dong had not anticipated that he would be fired upon by guards at Du Fuwei’s gate. Arrows are blind, and being struck is no laughing matter. Annoyed though he was, he had no choice but to draw his sword and knock the arrows aside.

As he parried the incoming arrows, he shouted, “Listen closely, you men in front! I am an old friend of your chief—I have a matter of life and death to discuss!”

The guards made no reply but released volley after volley. Li Dong, fending off the arrows, soon found a heap at his feet. He himself managed to avoid injury, but his horse, being a larger target and unable to dodge, was soon bristling with shafts like a giant porcupine.

Now Li Dong was truly angry. Shooting at a man without so much as a question—anyone with less skill would have been riddled with arrows by now. Furious, he called out, “Du Fuwei! Fu Gongche! Zhang Junke! Get out here!”

His shout carried far in the quiet of night. Soon, several lanterns flickered to life within the stronghold, and a line of torches swiftly advanced toward the gate.

Now the guards could hear him clearly. Anyone who could reel off the names of all the stronghold’s leaders and dare to shout for them to come out must be no ordinary person. They ceased firing, exchanging uneasy glances, realizing they might be in serious trouble this time.

Du Fuwei’s rule within the stronghold was absolute; his control over the men was ironclad. The sentries kept such strict watch precisely because discipline came from the top.

Du Fuwei was infamous for a particular rule: any fighter who returned from battle with a wound to his back was executed on the spot after the fight, with no exceptions. In Du Fuwei’s eyes, wounds to the back came only from cowardice—only those who turned to run would be struck from behind. No matter the reason, such wounds were punished by death.

This threat left all his men in terror of Du Fuwei, terrified of doing anything that might displease him and cost them their lives.

Soon, Du Fuwei and the others arrived at the gate, surrounded by a crowd of men. By the torchlight, they saw a man of middling height, sword in hand, standing before a layer of arrows on the ground. Looking closely, his figure seemed very familiar—surely, it was Li Dong.

Du Fuwei called out, “Is that you, General Li Dong, up ahead?”

“Of course it’s me! Do you still recognize me?” Li Dong snapped, still angry, caring nothing for titles or courtesy.

Hearing his voice, Du Fuwei, Fu Gongche, and Zhang Junke exchanged delighted glances and exclaimed in unison, “He’s come up the mountain!” Before the words had faded, the three of them rushed forward to greet him.

Reaching Li Dong, they embraced him, looking him up and down. Du Fuwei exclaimed, “What wind blew you here? And why come at night instead of by day?”

“Yes, and what happened to your clothes? Did you get shot full of arrows?” Fu Gongche asked.

With the others having spoken first, Zhang Junke could only add, “That can’t be. If you’d been hit, you’d be injured, but your clothes are just torn.”

Li Dong looked down at himself and burst out laughing. Navigating the woods in the dark, stumbling through undergrowth, his clothes had been shredded by branches until he looked quite a sight.

Indeed, to the others, Li Dong appeared rather ragged, his face streaked with black, green, red, and purple—like a little beggar.

No wonder the guards had fired at him, dismissing his words out of hand. Who would believe Du Fuwei befriended a beggar?

Hearing Zhang Junke’s comment, Du Fuwei said nothing, but took Li Dong’s hand and led him to the gate. He turned to the guards, his expression darkening, and demanded, “Which of you drew your bows and fired at this young man?”

The guards turned ashen, terrified out of their wits, bowing and begging Du Fuwei for mercy, pleading for their lives.

As soon as the guards bowed, Du Fuwei knew they were all guilty. Without another word, he stepped forward and slapped them left and right, just as Li Dong had deflected the arrows—smack, smack, smack—until they were dizzy and seeing stars.

Li Dong had not expected Du Fuwei to be so swift and harsh. He moved to intervene but was too late, hastily calling out, “Spare them! They were only doing their duty guarding the gate.”

“Drag them out and behead them!” Du Fuwei, his arms numb from the beating, ordered that the guards be dragged out for execution.

Li Dong was alarmed—this was far too much. After all, he hadn’t been hurt; why go so far? He hurried to persuade Du Fuwei to calm down, urging mercy, saying that excessive punishment would only breed fear and have the opposite effect.

Du Fuwei, still fuming, barked, “General Li has pleaded for you—aren’t you going to apologize? Why are you still standing there? Waiting for the blade?”

The guards rushed to Li Dong, bowing and scraping, pouring out their gratitude for sparing their lives.

Du Fuwei cursed, “Death is forgiven, but punishment remains! Ten lashes each, and then crawl back here. If any of you so much as blink tonight, I’ll gouge out your eyes. Useless fools!”

Li Dong quickly took Du Fuwei by the arm and led him inside, persuading him not to be angry, assuring him that he was unharmed, just startled, and that the punishment should not be too severe lest it backfire.

Seizing the moment, Du Fuwei began explaining his methods for managing the men, asking Li Dong if he thought this was appropriate.

After thinking it over, Li Dong replied, “It’s not just about boosting morale in battle. You must encourage them in daily life, at every opportunity—at meals, in every gesture and word. For instance, when spoils are taken in battle, let the men choose first, and only then do the leaders take what’s left.”

Du Fuwei, a clever man, immediately grasped the principle: a balance of kindness and severity. Li Dong, with just a few words, had solved his great dilemma. From this day, the stronghold would enter a new period of growth. With Li Dong joining the outlaws, what prospects could be beyond their reach?

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