Chapter Eighty-One: Pacifying the Bandit Raiders

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Ironblooded Ming, Unabridged

Eight miles east of Datong lay *, a hamlet inhabited by several dozen households bearing the surname Xu. At the eastern end of the hamlet, beneath an ancient locust tree, stood a modest, solitary courtyard. Though the courtyard showed its age, the three cave dwellings had recently been repaired, and the yard was neat and tidy, with a few rows of verdant scallions planted in a corner.

Just before dawn, a lone rider on a swift horse thundered into *, heading straight for the small courtyard at the eastern edge. Only when he reached the gate did he rein in his mount, leaping off with the agility of a burly man. He tied the horse securely to the old locust tree, unfastened a sack of rice and several pounds of meat from the saddle, and strode toward the gate.

The gate had no frame; a gentle push sufficed to open it, bringing a hint of a smile to the man's face. Entering the yard, he closed the gate behind him and, humming a tune, made his way to the central cave dwelling. The three cave rooms were connected from within, with the central one serving as a living room. He pushed the door lightly, and it swung open, the smile on his face growing more ambiguous.

However, he quickly sensed something amiss. No sooner had he stepped inside than a flash ignited—a fire starter, which then lit a tallow torch. In the crimson glow, the man could see everything in the cave: at the center sat a young man in a brocade robe, upright upon a chair. Behind him stood two burly attendants—one with a full beard, the other bearing a prominent scar across his face. Despite the winter chill, both wore only thin robes, their muscular arms exposed and their thick necks giving the impression that nothing could choke them. One glance revealed them as formidable men.

“You!?” the burly man exclaimed, startled, and turned to leave.

But before he could step back outside, two figures slipped in from the doorway like ghosts, each wielding a hand crossbow aimed at his throat. Simultaneously, two more appeared from the doors to the side rooms, likewise armed.

Every escape route was blocked; six crossbows now targeted his vital points. No matter how skilled he was, he dared not make a move.

“Since you’ve come, you might as well sit,” the young man in the brocade robe smiled from his chair. “Since you’re already here, why rush to leave?”

The burly man slowly turned, his voice deep. “Who are you?”

The young man shook his head. “Those words aren’t very forthright. We are all acquaintances—why pretend we don’t know one another?”

The burly man’s expression stiffened; he said nothing.

The young man smiled. “Leader Zhang, it’s only been a few days since we parted ways at Futu Valley, and here we meet again—who would have thought it would be here?”

“I truly didn’t expect it,” the burly man replied coldly. “So the famed Commander Wang, the hero known across the land, is no more than a petty thief!”

Since his identity had been exposed, the burly man chose to admit it.

“Shut your mouth!”

“Insolence!”

The scar-faced man and the bearded one shouted in unison.

Wang Pu raised a hand to stop them, then asked calmly, “What do you mean by that?”

“What do I mean?” the burly man said in a deep voice. “Ask yourself, Commander Wang—what have you done with Feng and her children?”

Wang Pu said nothing, only gestured with his hand. The two attendants blocking the right passage stepped aside. A curtain was lifted, and a comely woman in plain clothes emerged, holding two children—one older, one younger. The children ran to the burly man with cries of joy, and the woman called out softly, “Father.”

He looked at the woman and the children with concern. “Feng, they haven’t done anything to you, have they?”

“No,” the woman shook her head. “Commander Wang only brought us some food and coal.”

“Dad, he brought sweets too.”

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“And red ribbons, so pretty.”

The boy and girl clinging to the burly man added.

His expression finally eased, the tension in the air faded, and Wang Pu smiled. “Leader Zhang, now can we sit and talk?”

He patted the children’s heads. “Commander Wang, what exactly do you mean?”

Wang Pu glanced at the woman and her children, then asked, “Leader Zhang, do you truly plan to live like this forever? Have you never thought of giving Feng a proper status, letting her and the children live better—safer, more comfortably?”

The burly man was silent. The woman’s gaze lingered on him, her eyes full of gentle grievance.

Wang Pu continued, “Being a bandit, robbing and plundering, may seem exhilarating, and you need not bow to officialdom. But in the end, it’s shameful work, and the authorities will never let you go. The soldiers are always seeking to annihilate you. Can you bear to let Feng live in constant fear for you?”

The woman’s eyes grew more plaintive; Wang Pu’s words struck her heart.

He stood, his tone turning stern. “Though you claim to kill the rich to aid the poor, not all who die by your blade are cruel wealthy men. More often, they are innocent women, children, and elders. The blood you’ve spilled cries out to heaven—everyone would wish to destroy you!”

The burly man’s face changed, his body tensed.

Wang Pu’s voice grew harsher. “In normal times, I would lead my troops to wipe you bandits from the earth. But now, in chaos, the court needs people. I’ll give you a chance to turn over a new leaf—be men again!”

The tension drained from the burly man, but sweat beaded on his brow despite the cold.

Wang Pu added, “I came today without armor or troops, only a few trusted followers. I didn’t want too many to know of this—just to give you a chance. If you wish to start anew, come to the northern camp in three days. If not, prepare for me to bring soldiers and exterminate you.”

With that, Wang Pu waved his hand. “Let’s go!”

The scar-faced man and the bearded one escorted Wang Pu out. As they passed the burly man, the scar-faced one extended his right hand, revealing two walnuts. Before the burly man could react, he closed his fist, and a terrifying cracking followed. When he opened his hand again, the walnuts were crushed to bits.

The burly man’s face changed; he thought, this man’s martial skills rival my own—if the others are as skilled, Commander Wang could capture me with ease.

As Wang Pu was about to leave, the burly man called out, “Commander Wang!”

Wang Pu paused, not turning back. “Leader Zhang, what advice have you?”

The burly man bowed, “This matter is grave—I must consult with the other thirteen leaders. But whatever the outcome, I will meet you at the northern camp in three days.”

Wang Pu turned, his voice deep. “See you then.”

Datong, Superintendent Eunuch’s Residence.

Zhen Youcai greeted Zhang Zian, and they took their seats. Zhen said, “I come at the general’s command to inform you: the mutiny at the northern camp is temporarily under control, but you know as well as I do—it’s only temporary. If the pay issue isn’t truly resolved, there’ll be another mutiny.”

“I know that,” Zhang Zian replied quickly. “So I need to trouble you, Mr. Zhen, to send a message to the prince consort. I’ll need his help to get through this crisis.”

“If the general has promised, he’ll help,” Zhen replied. “But there’s something you must handle quickly. Otherwise, no matter how capable our general is, he won’t reach Guihua or recover the gold and silver you need.”

“Please speak,” Zhang Zian urged.

Zhen said, “The general and I have agreed—the Mongol campaign will begin on New Year’s Day. After that, it’s the first month, which for Han people is festive, a time for visiting relatives, not for war. The Mongols won’t expect an attack now!”

Zhang Zian grinned, “Excellent—Mr. Zhen, that’s brilliant!”

Zhen lowered his voice. “There’s just over a month till New Year’s. You must urge the three arms workshops to forge the two new firearms the general requested—at least five hundred new muskets and five thousand Dragon King cannons in this time!”

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“Rest assured, Mr. Zhen,” Zhang Zian said. “I’ll push them. If the three workshops in Datong aren’t enough, I’ll ask the other four in Shanxi to help. No matter what, we’ll have five hundred muskets and five thousand Dragon King cannons ready before New Year’s.”

Zhen Youcai saluted, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me,” Zhang Zian replied, “You and the prince consort are helping me, so helping you is helping myself.”

Zhen Youcai said, “Then I’ll take my leave.”

Zhang Zian said, “Take care.”

“Farewell.”

Zhen Youcai bowed again and departed.

Watching Zhen Youcai disappear into the distance, Zhang Zian’s face darkened. He turned and called sharply, “Attend me!”

A young eunuch entered, bowing, “Godfather, what are your orders?”

Zhang Zian produced a letter sealed with wax from his sleeve. “This is an urgent dispatch—six hundred miles. Arrange for it to be delivered to the palace, and make sure it’s handed directly to the Ancestor.”

“Yes, father, I’ll see to it.”

The young eunuch turned to leave.

“Come back.” Zhang Zian frowned. “I haven’t finished.”

“Speak, godfather.”

“After you send the letter, go to the arms workshop and tell the managers to visit me tonight.”

“Yes, father. Shall I go now?”

Zhang Zian waved. “Go.”

Kao Lao Mountain, halfway up, Temple of the Mountain God.

Long-neglected, the temple had fallen into ruin.

Inside, flames burned fiercely. Thirteen men huddled around the fire for warmth; among them was Zhang the Monk, who had met Wang Pu that morning. The thirteen sat in silence, as if waiting for someone. Suddenly, urgent hoofbeats sounded outside.

Zhang the Monk sprang up, “Chief Cheng is here!”

The other twelve rose, following him outside. There, a man led a black horse up the path. He was tall and lean, dressed in black, draped in a bearskin cloak, copper-studded bracers at his wrists—a figure of fierce presence.

“Forgive me,” the man saluted, “for keeping you waiting.”

Zhang the Monk replied, “Now that Chief Cheng is here, everyone’s arrived. Let’s speak inside.”

The group answered and followed him back in, seating themselves around the fire. Zhang the Monk spoke, “I summoned you to the Temple of the Mountain God by flying message because there’s something to discuss.”

“What is it?” someone asked, “Another job?”

Someone objected, “At Futu Valley we promised Commander Wang never to rob Ming subjects again. A real man keeps his word—we cannot betray it. We don’t care what other bands do, but our fourteen will only rob Mongols from now on.”

“That’s right. We won’t rob Ming folk again,” another agreed. “Who told us to fall into Commander Wang’s hands anyway?”