Chapter 62: Halting the Return

That very night, Zhao Huai'an led the Baoyi Garrison out of the camp and marched to the vital route through which the Nanzhao army was bound to retreat, waiting in ambush.

Zhao Huai'an had each unit tie themselves together with ropes, front and back, and they finally reached their destination safe and sound with great difficulty.

Yet even so, they still got lost along the way.

Fortunately, the local guide they brought along was reliable, and before dawn broke, they finally arrived behind an earthen slope.

Beneath the slope ran a dirt road stretching all the way to the West River, a tributary of the Min River. Crossing this water would allow them to return to Tang'an.

Behind this earthen slope, Zhao Huai'an ordered the troops to rest in place and make up for lost sleep.

Meanwhile, he and the various squad commanders stood atop the earthen slope, gazing far off to the southwest toward a fortification. That was the Xianren Garrison guarded by the Nanzhao army.

Morning mist hung heavy, making the fortress loom indistinctly.

Suddenly, several heavy, resonant bell tolls echoed out, and the gates of the Xianren Garrison swung wide open.

Han Tong, whose eyes were sharp, caught sight of this and hurriedly shouted:

"The enemy troops in Xianren Garrison are on the move."

Zhao Huai'an had been diligently practicing his archery and eyesight during this period, so he spotted it almost immediately as well.

He nodded, then stared intently in that direction.

Moving his troops here this time carried a certain amount of risk. Although the Baoyi Garrison's establishment was directly subordinate to the Xichuan Central Army, his personal military rank was lower than that of the Fengxiang general.

Now that the Fengxiang army and the Nanzhao army had already agreed on a peaceful handover, regardless of whether it was reasonable or not, that was the command of the superiors.

If the Nanzhao army and the Fengxiang army had reached a settlement, and he, Zhao Da, still took the initiative to ambush them, it would be an offense rather than a merit, because he would be violating military orders and moving troops without authorization.

Yet Zhao Da could not care about so much anymore. He had no intention of letting these Nanzhao people go anyway. If a fuss was made, it would ultimately just amount to taking the matter to Marshal Yang for arbitration.

However, as time ticked by second by second, Zhao Huai'an saw no movement from that direction. It seemed they really were going to reach a peace agreement.

Gritting his teeth, he rallied the squad commanders around him:

"As long as those Nanzhao troops pass by here in a moment, we will wipe them out. Those Fengxiang troops are cowards, but we in the Baoyi Garrison are true men. They think they can just loot and run? Are they dreaming? Did they ask me, Zhao Da? Did they ask our brothers?"

Zhao Da's words were spirited, and the squad commanders let out a low growl in unison. Sun Chuanwei, in particular, was making a great fuss, looking entirely eager to slaughter those Nanzhao troops.

Ever since the Battle of Baishu Waters, this little Sun not only regarded the Yan family of Eastern Sichuan as mortal enemies, but he also harbored an intense desire to quickly eliminate the Nanzhao soldiers who had massacred the brothers of his stronghold.

As for the others, they naturally followed Zhao Da's lead above all else.

After spending so much time together, regardless of what the common foot soldiers thought, the squad commanders present had all grown to admire and submit to Zhao Da wholeheartedly.

However, amidst the group, Gao Renhou noticed some glimmers of light coming from the direction of the Xianren Garrison—presumably the reflection off armor—and thus raised a different opinion:

"Commander, in this subordinate's view, those Nanzhao troops are likely staging a false peace."

Zhao Huai'an was slightly stunned, not knowing why old Gao would make such a remark, and hurriedly asked:

"Old Gao, elaborate."

Gao Renhou analyzed for the others:

"Commander, who ever marches and retreats in full battle array with weapons clashing and armor worn? I reckon those Nanzhao fellows are planning to strike a blow against the Fengxiang army. But then again, the Fengxiang army has many cavalry; if they aren't crushed first, being caught up with during a retreat would be disastrous."

Zhao Huai'an suddenly understood, having learned a new piece of tactical trivia today, and gave Gao Renhou a thumbs-up.

And Gao Renhou proved to be truly prescient. Not long after he made this prediction, earth-shaking shouts indeed erupted from the direction of the Xianren Garrison.

Immediately afterward, Zhao Huai'an and the others saw that the farthest Fengxiang military banners were pulled back.

What?

The Fengxiang army had been routed just like that?

......

Who knew how much time had passed when Zhao Huai'an and the others saw that Nanzhao army winding its way toward them.

Because the dirt road was narrow, these men formed a long, single-file column. The front of the formation was already nearing the earthen slope on Zhao Huai'an's side, while the rear still remained at the Xianren Garrison.

It was also at this moment that Zhao Huai'an and his men finally understood why these Nanzhao troops had feigned surrender and routed the Fengxiang army outside.

Gazing at the endless, meandering train of supply carts on the dirt road, Zhao Huai'an and the others collectively swallowed hard.

Just how much had these Nanzhao dog-slaves plundered? Cart after cart of captured provisions and equipment rolled past, too numerous to take in all at once.

You have to hand it to them; the main general of the Nanzhao army also had a brain. He knew that if those Fengxiang troops saw their mountain of supplies, they would surely break faith and tear up the agreement.

By then, the Nanzhao troops marching on the road would be utterly unable to withstand the Fengxiang cavalry.

Therefore, it was far better for the Nanzhao army to strike first, crushing the Fengxiang army beforehand.

It seemed this Nanzhao general was a sharp-witted fellow as well.

Thinking of this, Zhao Huai'an figured that the Nanzhao general must not be an unknown figure, and hurriedly instructed Guo Congyun to summon a Nanzhao horse-slave over.

Soon, a bowed-legged, fierce-looking Nanzhao horse-slave with his hair coiled in a topknot much like a Tang person's approached.

Zhao Huai'an recognized this man. His name was Duan Zhongjian, and he was the first among the twenty-some cavalrymen to surrender. He was very worldly and could also speak the Tang language.

As soon as the man arrived, he hurriedly kowtowed to the ground before Zhao Huai'an.

When Zhao Huai'an first heard this man's surname was Duan, he even asked if he had a brother named Duan Zhengchun. But alas, the man had stared blankly for a moment before telling him that the Duan clan was a major surname in Nanzhao, so there might be one, but he didn't know him.

In truth, this Duan Zhongjian was indeed no ordinary person; an ordinary family could not have raised a cavalryman of his caliber.

He was considered a descendant of the personal guards of Duan Zongbang, a former powerful minister of Nanzhao.

Within the country of Nanzhao, the prominent military clans included the Duans, the Yangs, the Zhangs, the Zhengs, and the Lis. These five families, together with the royal Meng clan, constituted the core of power in the Nanzhao state.

It was just rather ironic that, apart from the royal Meng clan of Nanzhao, which possessed a distinct ethnic self-awareness and consistently claimed to be fierce warriors who burst forth from Mount Ailao, the other five major clans basically all claimed that their ancestors were Han people, and prominent Han aristocratic families at that.

Take Duan Zhongjian's Duan clan, for instance; they considered themselves descendants of the Wuwei Duan clan from Hexi, with their founding ancestor being the illustrious Eastern Han famous general Duan Jiong.

Look at that—how was one to put it? After fighting a century-long war against the Great Tang, Nanzhao turned out to be fighting a civil war all along.

After summoning Duan Zhongjian, Zhao Huai'an pointed to the Nanzhao military banner on the distant earthen slope and asked:

"Do you recognize the commanding general of this army?"

Duan Zhongjian hurriedly stood up, cautiously climbed up the slope, gazed into the distance for a moment, and then rushed back to report:

"Commander, that is the Wusa tribe of the Thirty-Seven Heicuan Barbarian Tribes. The general of this tribe is called Wumeng Long, notoriously cunning and fierce."

Naturally, Zhao Huai'an knew nothing about the Thirty-Seven Heicuan Barbarian Tribes; he only asked one question:

"Can our army win?"

Duan Zhongjian buried his head in the dirt and replied without the slightest hesitation:

"The Commander is divine and martial, all our troops are fired up with vigor, and we are well-rested waiting for the fatigued, striking the chaotic with the orderly. We will surely win."

Zhao Huai'an shouted a resounding "Good."

From this single sentence, it could be seen that Duan Zhongjian was heavily Han-acculturated and possessed genuine talent.

With no further doubts, Zhao Huai'an watched the approaching Nanzhao army and gave a deep, resolute command:

"Return to your respective units! Watch my banner—we shall conquer!"

The squad commanders roared in unison:

"We shall conquer!"

The metal plates of their armor rattled in a crisp rhythm as they rushed back behind the slope, where over seven hundred officers and soldiers sat cross-legged in absolute silence.

......

Walking at the very front of this retreating Nanzhao army was none other than its commanding general, Wumeng Long. As one of the prominent heroes of Eastern Yunnan in Nanzhao, he was skilled in archery and horsemanship, and particularly well-versed in military strategy and tactics.

At this moment, he wore a suit of black willow-leaf armor lined with chainmail underneath, riding a massive Tibetan horse. The eight-petaled helmet on his head glittered brightly in the sunlight, looking utterly majestic and imposing.

As he rode, he conversed with a Tang scholar who was riding side-by-side with him.

Wumeng Long was quite polite to men of talent, speaking to the man beside him:

"Master Zhang, in my view, the realm of the Li Tang is fading day by day and will perish sooner or later. Rather than staying, why not come south with me to Eastern Yunnan and serve as a peaceful magistrate? Although Eastern Yunnan cannot compare to Nanzhao in vastness, the thirty-six tribes are of one mind and form a state unto themselves. If you serve as our magistrate, while I cannot guarantee generational wealth, I can certainly promise you a lifetime of wealth and glory."

This Tang scholar wore a black headwrap and possessed a dignified bearing rarely seen in the Shu region. Facing Wumeng Long's pitch, the man bowed gracefully and replied:

"The General is perceptive, but this humble servant is of lowly capability and fears he would disappoint the General's expectations."

This scholar was named Zhang Guiling, a literatus from Chengdu in Shu Prefecture, whom Wumeng Long had conscripted and deliberately detained within the army.

As a hero among the thirty-six tribes of Eastern Yunnan, Wumeng Long also harbored a great ambition.

Currently, the Nanzhao ruler Qiulong was aging, and powerful ministers at court like the Duans and Zhengs were all ambitious. Just as the Han people would say, this was precisely the time for heroes to display their prowess.

And Wumeng Long felt deeply that he was that hero.

However, to fulfill his ambition of replacing the royal Meng clan, he needed to gather all sorts of talent. Not only did this Zhang Guiling before him possess a dignified appearance, but his scholarship was also vast; it was said he had once participated in the imperial examinations in Chang'an.

Although this man certainly had not passed—otherwise he would not have been seized by him in the rural fields of Shu Prefecture—the mere experience of having participated in the imperial examinations was already enough for Wumeng Long to treat him with utmost seriousness.

He still remembered when the elders of his tribe had told him how, in former days, a majestic ruler of their Nanzhao had merely captured a magistrate of Xilu, brought him back to the country, and made him their magistrate—and that very magistrate happened to be the seventh-generation ancestor of Zheng Maisi, the most formidable powerful minister currently in their court.

Whenever he heard this story, Wumeng Long felt a deep sense of awe toward the Great Tang.

The Great Tang possessed far too many talented individuals and far too vast a territory. Even though their Nanzhao had exerted the accumulated vigor of ten generations, stretching east to Qianzhong, west to the Ayeyarwady River, northwest connecting to Tibet, north linking to the Dadu River, south bordering the Queen's Realm, and conquering Pyu in the southwest to dominate the lands south of the Great Tang amidst endless forests—

Even so, whenever their Nanzhao invaded Western Sichuan, they merely plundered households and livestock, never daring to harbor the thought of supplanting the Great Tang.

Every year, thousands of Nanzhao elites traveled to Chang'an to study. Had their ruler Qiulong not turned hostile against the Great Tang, Wumeng Long himself should have been one of those studying in Chang'an.

What a pity.

Therefore, Zhang Guiling's ability and scholarship were already sufficient to assist him in achieving his ambitions.

It was just that, for now, the man was compliant in appearance but resistant at heart.

No matter; once they returned to the tribe, assigning him five or six concubines, bestowing dozens of slaves, and rewarding him with scores of cattle and sheep—would one still fear that this man's heart would not turn to him?

Thinking of this, Wumeng Long could not help turning to look backward. There lay the capital that would launch his ambitions.

Yet as he looked back, he failed to notice that Zhang Guiling was gazing thoughtfully at the earthen slope not far away, and even cautiously slowing his horse's pace.

When Wumeng Long turned his head back around, he also cast an inadvertent glance toward the earthen slope, suddenly scoffing in disdain:

"Tang generals are muddle-headed and greedy, destined for this defeat. If it were me, I would definitely ambush a force behind that slope to strike our retreating army. Alas, alas, there are no capable men in the Tang army!"

Just as his voice trailed off, a yellowish-brown military banner suddenly rose atop that earthen slope, bearing the two characters: "Baoyi."

Wumeng Long was so startled that he tumbled right off his horse.