Chapter Forty-One: Campaign Against the Yellow Turbans (III)

“Qing Province has called for reinforcements—the Yellow Turbans are about to breach the provincial capital.” Liu Bei frowned as he studied the command in his hand. Though their forces now numbered five thousand, these new recruits were nowhere near as formidable as the five hundred seasoned men he had led before.

“Let’s set out at once! If the provincial capital falls, it would be a catastrophe,” Zou Jing declared. The provincial capital was the heart of the entire region; if it were to be captured, the imperial court’s grip on Qing Province would be all but lost. In such a scenario, powerful local clans would rapidly expand their influence, and even if the Yellow Turbans were later subdued, the court’s authority over Qing Province would never be restored.

Liu Bei nodded firmly. “We must make haste.”

The group pressed forward with all possible speed. Along the way, they encountered several small bands of fleeing Yellow Turban soldiers, all of whom they quickly dispatched. After more than ten days’ journey from You Province, they finally crossed into the borders of Qing Province.

Once inside Qing, they were greeted by scenes of utter desolation. Town after town lay in ruins, barely distinguishable from piles of rubble.

“I’ll go ahead and scout the situation,” Sun Meng said. “I have a feeling these Yellow Turbans won’t be so easily dealt with this time.”

“Very well, I’ll trouble you for that,” Liu Bei replied with a nod.

Taking to the skies, Sun Meng flew swiftly toward Qing Province’s capital. It was not long before he saw, spread out below him like a sea of humanity, the vast Yellow Turban army.

At that moment, the Yellow Turban forces had divided themselves into five contingents, besieging the city from four directions, with another group stationed in the main camp. Their numbers far surpassed those under Cheng Yuan Zhi’s command in the past. Even the natural gathering of energy above them had formed into a complete, rotating system.

Inside the city, the defenders relied on the sturdy, sun-warmed walls, adequate supplies, and hastily recruited militia to barely hold off the Yellow Turban onslaught. But from the looks of things, this stalemate could not last much longer. In contrast, the Yellow Turbans rotated their squads in attack, as if using this battle as a training exercise.

Should he enter the city to make contact, or immediately return to report to Liu Bei? “Contestant, do you have any means to send word of your arrival into the city?” A red message flitted across his mind, making the decision for him.

He fired an arrow imbued with inner energy into the city, carrying his voice with it. Under his control, the message could be heard only within ten meters of where the arrow landed—right by the main governmental residence.

Accelerating back, he soon rejoined Liu Bei and the others.

“What’s the situation?” Liu Bei asked at once upon seeing him.

“The Yellow Turbans are numerous. They’ve completely encircled the city, and their army has formed a powerful energy formation—not like Cheng Yuan Zhi’s before, but one strong enough to hamper even Lord Guan and Lord Zhang. Judging by their movements, it seems they’re using this as a chance to drill their troops. I’ve already sent word of our approach into the city. If we can break through the enemy ranks, the defenders will surely sally forth to join us in smashing the Yellow Turbans,” Sun Meng reported.

“But we have only ten thousand men!” Zou Jing interjected, frowning. According to Sun Meng’s estimate, the Yellow Turban army in the main camp alone numbered at least a hundred thousand. Charging in would be suicide, not rescue.

“Even if they have gathered their energy, I suspect it’s much as before—if their numbers or morale waver, the formation can be broken,” Liu Bei mused, stroking his beard. “Let’s probe their strength first…”

In the Yellow Turban camp, the commander watched the siege with satisfaction. Once his troops had completed their training in a few days, he would order a full assault to take the city. When the Heavenly Duke rewarded merit, he would surely be made King of Qing! Imagining his future, his smile broadened.

“Commander, enemy troops are approaching from the rear!” a messenger suddenly reported.

“Oh? Still more government soldiers dare show their faces?” The Yellow Turban leader sneered. Reinforcements had come before, but every time, his army had swept them aside with ease.

“Take a force and deal with them,” he ordered with a wave.

“Yes, Commander!”

“Yellow Turban rebels, surrender now!” Liu Bei and Zou Jing led three thousand riders in a swift charge towards the enemy camp, but the closer they drew, the slower their advance became.

“Haha, dogs of the court! Witness the might of my Yellow Heaven soldiers! The blue sky is dead—!”

“Yellow Heaven shall rise!”

Tens of thousands of Yellow Turbans surged forward. In their midst, Liu Bei observed the shifting energies above their ranks.

Suddenly, an arrow charged with inner power exploded in their midst, blasting a gap in the swirling energy and throwing soldiers below into chaos.

Yet this did not halt the frenzied Yellow Turbans; they drew ever closer.

“Retreat!” Liu Bei shouted, wheeling his horse.

These three thousand men had been carefully chosen for their stamina and speed. Their withdrawal, though it appeared a rout, was in fact a controlled retreat, calculated to stay ahead of the pursuing force. The Yellow Turban officer, however, cared nothing for their tactics. He believed this batch of government troops was even more cowardly than the last—not even daring to fight.

“Now’s my chance for glory! After them!” he laughed, brandishing his great blade, eager to be first into the fray. But he knew his own limits—he might kill a man or two in the chaos, but if he met a real fighter, he might not fare so well.

The Yellow Turban soldiers, unleashed, gave chase like wild horses, heedless of the terrain or the direction of the retreat. In their eyes, cowardly government troops would never turn back to fight; and even if they did, what did numbers matter? They would still be outmatched.

Glancing back at the pursuing Yellow Turbans, Liu Bei nodded to Sun Meng. “Brother Sun, it’s time.” Sun Meng had stayed at Liu Bei’s side throughout, not only to gauge the strength of the enemy formation, but also to give the signal at the crucial moment.

Nothing was better suited to this than his inner energy arrows.

A signal arrow burst in the sky.

From both sides of the mountain path, their hidden troops charged forth, Guan and Zhang at the forefront, bodies wreathed in energy, tearing into the Yellow Turban ranks like rampaging beasts.

This was their chosen ambush site. The pass was narrow and the Yellow Turban pursuers, having chased for so long, had lost all semblance of formation, their energy in disarray. The sudden attack by elite troops, led by the martial prowess of Guan and Zhang, left the enemy with no chance to react.

Sun Meng, who had been watching the Yellow Turban officer throughout, loosed an arrow—before the man could even shout for retreat, his life was ended.

His body was flung into the panicked Yellow Turban ranks and quickly trampled to dust.

Back in the main camp, the sentries on duty were discussing when the detachment chasing Liu Bei would return, when they saw a great cloud of dust on the horizon—throngs of Yellow Turban soldiers fleeing in chaos towards the camp.

“They’ve been routed!” the sentries exclaimed in disbelief. How could such a small force of government troops defeat a ten-thousand-strong army? But their duty was clear: they sent the signal and prepared to open the gates and receive their comrades.

High above, Sun Meng smiled as he watched the gates swing open. After killing the officer, he had flown here to await this very moment. His inner energy arrows were powerful, but the defenders inside the camp still held formation; the swirling energy there would blunt the force of his assault. Only when the gates were opened, creating a breach in the energy, would he have his chance.

Of all Liu Bei’s men, only he could accomplish this.

Drawing a specially crafted long arrow, charged with the full might of a second-rank warrior, he activated his spirit sight. Now, he saw no men, only the flow of energy at the camp gate.

“The moment is now! First Arrow of the Setting Sun!”