Chapter Fourteen: All Is Gone Like Smoke and Clouds

The crisp sound of hooves shattered the tranquil morning silence of the forest. A troop of cavalry sped through the mountains, when suddenly the leading rider tugged at the reins, halting amid the neighing of horses. The riders behind him promptly brought their mounts to a stop.

“General Meng, have you discovered something?” Captain Li Yan rode forward. The five hundred cavalrymen were divided into five companies, and those who performed well were appointed as captains. Peng Ji, Xiao Wu, and Li Yan were among them.

“The capital of Ying lies to the south, yet the Wu army is heading east.”

Li Yan observed carefully for a moment and nodded. “That’s right. But to the east there are only endless mountains. What could the Wu army be doing?”

“Judging by the trail, the Wu forces seem to have lost quite some time. The main army left here at most ten days ago. According to Sima Shen, the Wu forces north of the Han River should only be a small vanguard. Someone, report to Sima Shen at once.”

All along the way, Meng Di had sensed something amiss; now, he was finally certain—the Wu main army had not arrived at the Han River as expected. As for why they headed east, he had his suspicions, but the most urgent matter was to move south and establish contact with the Chu forces at the Han River.

Ahead lay a vast plain. After this period of constant marching, everyone’s horsemanship had greatly improved. At Meng Di’s sharp whistle, the cavalry let their horses run free, galloping like the wind and rain.

They did not find the Wu army, but instead encountered fleeing Chu soldiers. Meng Di stopped a group of scattered Chu troops and questioned them about the situation.

Among the fugitives was an armored officer, who explained that the Chu army had fought a coalition of Wu, Tang, and Cai at Bai Ju, suffering a terrible defeat. The coalition relentlessly pursued them. Of the hundred thousand Chu soldiers, it was unclear how many remained; they fled in defeat, running all the way to this place, where General Wei She managed to gather about ten thousand together.

As they were preparing a meal, a Wu force suddenly attacked. Wei She was killed, and the remaining soldiers scattered in panic.

Li, who was familiar with the geography, exclaimed in surprise, “It’s nearly two hundred miles from Bai Ju to here. You’ve been pursued all this way?”

The officer wept bitterly. At first, they still had chariots, but as they broke down, they had to flee on foot, escaping for five or six days, nearly to the point of collapse.

Meng Di paused in thought. He had learned that this Wu force marched under the banner of Fu Gai, numbering several thousand, mostly infantry, and were now enjoying the meal prepared by the Chu.

Meng Di recalled hearing Dou Xin mention Fu Gai—a fierce general, always greedy for glory and recklessly bold. According to the officer, the Wu main force couldn’t have arrived so quickly; most likely, Fu Gai, eager for blood, charged ahead alone when the Chu army’s morale collapsed.

Indeed, Fu Gai had earlier been pursued by Nang Wa and was frustrated; this time, he wanted to fight his way back to the Han River for revenge, not caring that the main army lagged far behind.

Five hundred cavalry against several thousand Wu troops—Meng Di thought it worth considering. Though he could lead the way, the mountain paths were treacherous, and the Chu forces under Shen Yinshu were still a day’s march behind. If they could eliminate Fu Gai, gather the routed soldiers, they might still manage a battle.

He had the officer guide them, and several captains quietly circled to the back of a hill to observe. The Wu troops sat on the ground, distributing the food left behind by the Chu. Li Yan, fearless as always, whispered, “General Meng, why not charge them while they’re eating?”

Meng Di shook his head. The Chu soldiers always kept half their men eating while the other half stood guard; even those eating gripped their weapons with one hand. Clearly, Fu Gai was skilled in war, and a frontal assault would not allow the cavalry to exploit their advantage.

They withdrew quietly, split the cavalry into two squads, and set ambushes ahead.

After their meal, Fu Gai urged his men forward. The Wu soldiers were exhausted, and having just eaten, even more reluctant to move.

As they descended the hill, a sudden burst of hoofbeats sounded; dense arrows flew in from the flank. Fu Gai’s men, seasoned veterans, quickly turned and formed ranks to defend, but the cavalry loosed a volley and sped away without lingering.

Fu Gai was astonished. Then, more hoofbeats sounded behind them; arrows rained down, catching the Wu soldiers off guard and leaving many struck and fallen.

In the chaos, the Wu managed to rearrange their ranks, but the cavalry had already withdrawn, and the scattered arrows barely reached their horse tails.

In this era, battles were straightforward—a direct clash. None had seen this elusive, sudden style of fighting.

Fu Gai was indeed courageous; he hurled his spear, toppling a cavalryman, seized the horse, and chased after the riders with his sword.

Their recent arduous training paid off—the cavalry refused to engage him directly, circling the Wu troops instead.

Though bold, Fu Gai’s horsemanship was average. After some fighting, he saw it was futile and angrily returned to his ranks to command.

The cavalry alternated their attacks; each time they drew near, they unleashed a rain of arrows, regardless of whether they hit, always maintaining their speed.

After several rounds, the Wu soldiers could no longer maintain formation. At a shout, they turned and fled.

Fu Gai, furious, struck down several fleeing soldiers with his sword, but could not halt the rout. In the end, his deputy pulled him along, and he too joined the fleeing ranks.

The cavalry pursued them relentlessly for several miles before calling off the chase. Fu Gai’s troops scattered and could not be regrouped, heading straight toward the main camp instead.

The cavalrymen were all smiles, and Peng Ji and the others cried out to march all the way to Bai Ju. Meng Di could only smile wryly. Against the main army, these few hundred cavalry could do little.

Moreover, this cavalry force was still in its infancy—fit only to intimidate. The Wu troops had been exhausted, ambushed unexpectedly, and unsure of the Chu’s strength, they were easily scattered. Few actually died by the arrows.

Thus, Meng Di remained there to gather the remnants.

A day later, Shen Yinshu and Dou Xin arrived, weary and dust-laden, while the Wu army advanced to within fifty miles ahead.

Learning of the cavalry’s remarkable feat, Shen Yinshu praised them loudly; but, realizing the dire state of the war, he fell silent.

Of the hundred thousand Chu soldiers, less than a tenth could be assembled, mostly infantry. It was said that Nang Wa fled with his personal guard, while generals Shi Huang, Wei She, Wu Cheng Hei, and others had all perished. Of a thousand chariots, fewer than a handful remained.

Shen Yinshu was stubborn; after a thousand-mile forced march, he barely brought half his troops, all utterly exhausted.

Yet still, he formed ranks to face the Wu army. The plan to attack from both sides was his own, but now it seemed a joke. Since he could not abandon the field like Nang Wa, he would die to answer his king.

The result was inevitable—three battles, three defeats, and Shen Yinshu took his own life. Meng Di led the cavalry, seized the heads, while Dou Xin, with the remaining chariots, carved a bloody path toward Ying.

The Han River could not be defended. The defeat was total; even the floating bridge was left intact. Soldiers who could not cross either surrendered or fled in all directions. Even the troops stationed at the northern camp were swept along by the remnants, retreating toward Ying.

Thus, the fifteen thousand strong Chu army vanished like smoke.