Chapter 49: Formulating Battle Formations

As Huang Quan had anticipated, Liu He did not remain trapped in the isolated city; instead, he chose to fight like a cornered beast and sent a challenge to Liu Zhang.

Liu Zhang, upon receiving the challenge, welcomed it—it was exactly what he had hoped for. The two sides agreed on a date for their decisive battle.

After a night of deliberation among the commanders, dawn came swiftly.

Before daybreak, the army was already filled with the scent of cooking fires. The cooks prepared meals and slaughtered cattle and sheep to feast the soldiers before the impending battle, ensuring the troops had a hearty breakfast—a small but crucial advantage on the scales of victory.

Inside the main command tent, Liu Zhang, too, was preparing for the forthcoming battle. Though he was the commander-in-chief, he, like the ordinary soldiers, needed to don his helmet and armor.

At that moment, served by Wu Ban, Liu Zhang was putting on his armor. Having little prior military experience, he found the weight of the armor somewhat burdensome.

He had briefly entertained the idea of emulating the great strategist Zhuge Liang—riding in a four-wheeled carriage, donned in a scholar’s robe with a feather fan, commanding the army with calm detachment.

But upon further reflection, Liu Zhang dismissed the notion. On the battlefield, swords and arrows showed no mercy; a stray arrow could end his life in an instant.

Better to be cautious—life was precious, and he had miraculously lived this long.

Fully armored, he drew his sword and stepped out of the tent. The day’s plan was set. His generals were methodically directing their troops who had just finished breakfast, marching out through the camp gates to form up on the designated battlefield.

The air was thick with a grim and tense atmosphere, signaling the imminence of war.

Liu Zhang took a deep breath of the morning air, exhaled slowly, and calmed his racing heart and restless thoughts.

This was his first time stepping onto a classical-era battlefield; naturally, he felt some nervousness and unease.

But in just a moment, he composed himself. When facing great events, once the initial tension was released, he found himself growing even calmer.

Huang Quan approached Liu Zhang from the side. He had been waiting for some time, clad in full armor and military attire, ready for the matter at hand.

Alongside Huang Quan was Gao Pei, a mid-ranking officer.

According to the plan laid out the night before, the other captains were commanding their troops to move to their assigned positions.

Only Huang Quan and Gao Pei remained by Liu Zhang’s side to offer counsel.

“Lord Gao, Lord Huang, let us depart,” Liu Zhang said without much preamble, mounting the horse brought by his attendants. Surrounded by his bodyguard cavalry and infantry, he rode toward the battlefield.

“Understood,” Gao Pei and Huang Quan responded, bowing slightly before mounting their horses and following Liu Zhang.

As he rode toward the battlefield, Liu Zhang’s thoughts turned inward, contemplating the art of war—a form of struggle that had been an unceasing topic throughout human history.

War divides into strategy and tactics: strategy views the entire situation, while tactics focus on the finer details.

Regarding the current rebellion in Ba Commandery, strategically, Liu Zhang had the advantage. With internal collaborators, he had seized key locations like Kuimen and Jiangzhou, successfully confining the rebel forces to a single city.

In terms of strategy, Liu Zhang held the upper hand. The question now was tactics.

Both armies faced off. From a tactical standpoint, Liu Zhang could have refused Liu He’s challenge. Despite Liu He’s letter being filled with vulgar insults and even slandering Liu Zhang’s father, Liu Yan, clearly meant to provoke him, Liu Zhang remained indifferent.

A true commander does not wage war out of anger. The infamous Sima Yi, when faced with Zhuge Liang’s taunts disguised in feminine garb, did not rage but rather donned the costume cheerfully, refusing to be baited.

With victory leaning in his favor, Liu Zhang needed only to camp outside Liangping City, keeping Liu He bottled up and unable to leave. Several powerful clans’ armies, along with local chieftains and their followers drawn by promises of gain, crowded the city, inevitably straining its supplies.

Whether one month or three, Liu He’s forces would eventually collapse.

Sometimes, doing nothing is enough for victory to come to you.

Yet Liu Zhang had other plans. He discarded the tactic of waiting Liu He out.

He intended to defeat Liu He decisively on the battlefield.

Though he now held the imperial edict appointing him the legitimate Governor of Yi Province, his prestige was insufficient, somewhat lacking.

There are many ways to establish authority. The simplest, as his father Liu Yan had done upon first entering Yi Province, was to slaughter the powerful clans to instill fear and command respect.

This method was quick and effective but easily led to unrest, as evidenced by the current rebellion in Ba Commandery—one man’s cruelty had sparked a near revolt.

Now, with several families foolishly rising in rebellion, Liu Zhang’s campaign against them was righteous and beyond reproach.

This is why he had not issued an order to punish only the ringleaders while pardoning the rest and seeking to appease the rebellious clans.

He also considered that in the rebels’ weakened state, openly declaring leniency toward all but the ringleaders might be perceived as weakness, inviting scorn.

Pardons and leniency, if granted, would be proclaimed only after victory—only then would such mercy be truly meaningful.

Announcing such before the war would only make the rebels believe they had won their reprieve by their own skill, fostering no gratitude toward Liu Zhang.

Of course, all that depended on winning first.

There was no time for excessive reflection. Liu Zhang had arrived at the command post on the day’s battlefield.

It was a modest elevation, not very high, but sufficient to survey the armies and ideal for the commander-in-chief’s station.

“Dong.”

“Dong.”

The resounding, heroic drumbeats echoed through the misty, chilly morning. The bare-chested drummer struck the tanned military drum with fierce energy, sweat and steam rising from his body.

Amidst the reverberation across the surrounding miles, Liu Zhang’s soldiers, under the command of captains Gan Ning, Ling Bao, Xu Meng, and Xi Su, obeyed the orders of their squad and platoon leaders, moving into their assigned positions.

As the saying goes, “Form ranks before battle.” In classical warfare, armies arranged themselves into orderly formations before engaging the enemy.

An army, as a disciplined instrument of force, relies not on individual valor but on organization and rigorous training, shaping a chaotic mass of soldiers into coordinated formations that multiply their fighting power.

Formations can exponentially enhance the combat effectiveness of an equal number of troops.

Nonetheless, one should not overly depend on formations alone. A great strategist resting by West Lake once said, “Form ranks before battle is the norm in military tactics; the secret to their application lies in the mind.”

Formations are merely conventional means; the key lies in deftly maneuvering troops and formations according to the enemy’s situation to achieve the desired result.

Unfortunately, Liu Zhang was but a novice. Following Gao Pei’s advice, he obediently arrayed his troops.

Looking over his forces, he saw they were divided into several small fish-scale formations, arranged in tiers—five or six layers stacked like steps. The front edges of the formation bulged slightly outward, with Liu Zhang’s command post positioned centrally at the rear.

The “Fish Scale Formation.”

Given his troops’ superior training and combat skills, Liu Zhang adopted this classic offensive formation, which arranges forces in stepped ranks. The slightly concave front concentrated strength to launch a fierce assault on the enemy’s center.

Though ideal for offense, the fish scale formation has a notable weakness: its rear is relatively thinly held. To compensate, Liu Zhang assigned Wu Yi to guard the rear.

With the Shu Han’s General of Chariots and Cavalry protecting his back, security was assured.

After surveying his own deployment, Liu Zhang examined the rebel forces and their formation.

“Ah,” he smiled. It was quite a coincidence—Liu He had also arrayed his troops in an offensive fish scale formation.

It seemed as if both had been taught by the same master.