Chapter Ten: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

By the time they returned to camp, daylight had already broken. Though none had slept through the night, not a soul felt weary; all wished only to boast of their exploits as soon as possible. They had even devised a title for their tale: Eighty Riders Set Fire to the Wu Camp.

Upon hearing his personal guards report, Dou Xin hurriedly stepped out of his tent. He seized Meng Di’s hand just as the latter prepared to salute, and asked urgently, “What’s the situation?”

“It was indeed an empty camp.”

“We set it ablaze, but saw no trace of the main army,” Li Yan added.

“Ah!” Dou Xin staggered, “If that is so, then Yingdu is in grave danger!”

Without another word, he readied his horse and rushed toward the central camp.

Yingdu truly was in chaos. Zhong Jian, leading a dozen or so chariots, had just crossed the Han River when they were ferociously struck by Wu’s general Fu Gai. Fortunately, as the capital’s garrison troops, their fighting spirit was formidable, and, breaking through left and right, most managed to fight their way back.

Urgent bells rang within Yingdu’s walls; all four gates were sealed, and soldiers assembled atop the ramparts. The auxiliary cities of Jinan and Maicheng also quickly entered a state of war readiness.

Zi Xi rushed into the palace to see King Zhao. At this moment, Xiong Zhen was no longer the spirited figure of old, pacing anxiously in the hall. When Zi Xi entered, he asked in a flustered tone, “Brother, Wu has attacked us—what should we do?”

“My lord, do not worry. Yingdu’s walls are high and its waters deep. With Jinan and Maicheng flanking us, even if Wu’s army arrives, it may not gain much advantage.”

Xiong Zhen was somewhat reassured by these words.

Zi Xi continued, “I just encountered General Zhong Jian at the city gate and learned the Wu force numbers only in the thousands, and their king, Helü, is not among them. It must be merely the vanguard. I shall now arrange the city’s defenses; we will surely hold until the Chancellor returns to rescue us.”

“Yes, yes, we must summon Nang Wa back at once!” Xiong Zhen’s eyes brightened, and he hurriedly issued orders to recall Nang Wa.

At that moment, a woman in palace attire entered, her curved robes swaying gently as she bowed to Xiong Zhen and Zi Xi.

“Bi’er, what brings you here?”

“My lord, brother, is it true that enemies have invaded?”

“Bi’er, these matters shall be handled by your king and brother.”

“My lord, since childhood I have studied the arts of shamanic dance with Master Zhu. I wish to aid your cause.”

This was Xiong Zhen’s younger sister, Ji Mi Biwo.

In Chu, shamanism flourished. The Mi clan of Xiong, descendants of the ancient great shaman Zhu Rong, had long held power. Since Chu’s founding, its kings had led the ranks of shamans, establishing the offices of Mo’ao and Chancellor to oversee state rituals. One could say that the court of Chu was composed almost entirely of shamans, who consulted spirits and the heavens on matters both great and small.

In recent years, however, the royal family’s interest in shamanic arts had waned, and state affairs were no longer preceded by divination and sacrifice.

Some great shamans thus separated themselves to form the Shamanic Sect, their relationship with the royal house becoming ambiguous and delicate. The sect gradually developed branches of shamanic dance and medicine from its divination roots.

Biwo, as a direct descendant of Zhu Rong, possessed pure blood and keen intelligence. She had been taken as a disciple by Great Shaman Zhu Mo from a young age and taught the arts of shamanic dance.

Xiong Zhen cherished his sister deeply. Hearing her offer, he was gratified and replied warmly, “Good, Bi’er, your devotion is worthy of our Mi lineage. Should battle truly come, I shall certainly call upon your shamanic arts to assist us.”

When Dou Xin arrived at the central camp, Deputy Marshal Shen Yinxu was conducting divination and sacrifice.

According to Chu’s regulations, all military movements were to be proposed by the Marshal and then divined by burning turtle shells.

Chancellor Nang Wa had never placed much faith in divination, but caught between advance and retreat, he could only let Shen Yinxu try.

The drilled turtle shell, under the flames, slowly revealed intricate and mysterious patterns. Shen Yinxu watched intently, his expression changing.

“What is the result?” Nang Wa, his belly protruding, cast a sidelong glance at the assembly. These days, Chu’s court took an ambiguous stance toward divination; among all Chancellors, he was likely the only one who couldn’t divine, while the practice flourished more among the common folk.

“Most ominous.”

“Divine again.”

“Still most ominous.”

“Again!”

“No, Chancellor. The way of divination is to cast lots before burning. After three times, one must not divine again, lest the spirits be angered and disaster follow!”

“Hmph.” Though skeptical, Nang Wa dared not offend the spirits so deeply rooted in the Chu people’s hearts.

“Withdraw at once!” Nang Wa stood, saw Dou Xin waiting nearby, and, without further words, swept out.

“Lord Shen—”

Shen Yinxu raised a hand to silence Dou Xin, slowly turning the burned shell in his hands, his gaze flickering with thought.

After a long pause, he spoke, “By order of the Chancellor, the army will immediately retreat. Lord Dou, take two hundred chariots to Fangcheng to guard against enemy advance.”

On the north bank of the Han River, Fu Gai led his vanguard in pillage and destruction. The main army was still nowhere in sight, and with only a few thousand men, even his confidence did not permit crossing the Han to attack Yingdu.

The other day, a chariot force from Yingdu crossed his path, and in haste he attacked before his troops were fully assembled. Unfortunately, the force was elite; they broke out, found a shallow crossing, and escaped through the river.

Recalling this, Fu Gai was filled with resentment, executing all captured soldiers. If the main army still failed to arrive, he was uncertain whether to advance or retreat with his few thousand men.

The Wu army was still struggling along rugged mountain paths. Though they had sent covert agents ahead and scouts had explored the route, they had underestimated the difficulties of the march. And, to their surprise, even in winter, the mountains remained shrouded in rain and mist, slippery and treacherous.

“Hurry up!”

One chariot’s wheel became wedged in a crevice, and despite the efforts of servants and armored soldiers, it would not budge.

Wu Zixu raised his whip and lashed out mercilessly, even striking the deputy who came to intervene.

Sun Wu, observing from the side, shook his head and sighed. Revenge was within reach, yet they were stalled on the mountain roads. Wu Zixu’s temper grew ever more volatile; over the past days, several soldiers had been beaten or killed by his hand.

At this moment, a soldier came to report that King Helü had summoned a council of war.

Helü had not brought his own carriage, but instead rode in a standard four-horse war chariot. Upon it was placed a large wooden tray, molded with clay to recreate the local terrain.

This was a treasure brought by Shaman Shengu Wuchen from Jin, along with the art of chariot warfare, and passed on to Wu. To craft this tray, Helü had dispatched countless scouts over several years, and its existence was the very reason he dared attempt a flanking attack.

The generals stood quietly at the edge, not daring to disturb Helü’s contemplation.

After a long while, Helü spoke, “Fu Gai has reached the Han River with the vanguard, but the main army is still crawling through the mountains, a hundred li behind. Do any of you have a good plan?”

“Majesty,” Wu Zixu stepped forward, “I have issued strict orders to speed up. Any who dawdle will be executed.”

All were silent. With rain falling for days, these mountain roads were not easily hastened. Chariots and supply wagons alike dreaded such twisting, slippery paths. If all the slow were beheaded, who would be left to attack Yingdu?

Helü frowned and asked, “Where are the armies of Tang and Cai?”

A general stepped forward, “A hundred li behind us.”

Helü fell back into thought. After a long silence, he said, “Fu Gai reports he has engaged Yingdu’s defenders on the north bank of the Han. I suspect the Chu army will soon hear news.”

The generals began to debate in agitation. If Chu’s main force returned to Yingdu first, not only would their surprise attack fail, but they would be trapped in a dire predicament.

“So, do you all believe we should press forward, or turn back?”