Volume Three: The Hero Falls Silent, Heaven and Earth Grow Old – 16: Dongmou I

The following morning, Deng She led his troops out of the city.

Lacking civilian staff, Guan Duo had "specially arranged" for Fang Buzhen to accompany the army, tasking him with the responsibility of grain, fodder, and baggage, so that Deng She could "focus entirely on military affairs without distraction."

Commanding on the battlefield is an arduous task for any general. Guan Duo, with "extraordinary thoughtfulness and special instructions," suggested he bring Li Guixiu along for company, allowing for some relaxation between military duties. Deng She, naturally, was immensely grateful and complied with every request.

The Taizi River flows not far from the city. After the five-thousand-man force departed, they followed the river toward the northeast. By that evening, they reached their designated campsite, situated between Mount Dongmu and Liaoyang, facing the city of Shenyang from the side.

While ordering scouts to be sent out far and wide and allowing the troops to rest, Deng She rode his horse to a nearby highland to observe the surroundings.

The method of setting up camp begins with choosing the right location. Well-read in military classics, he understood the importance of selecting a proper site. As the saying goes, "Every march must be in preparation for battle; every stop must be a fortified camp." A good camp serves to secure one's own forces while holding the enemy at bay.

Zhuge Liang wept as he executed Ma Su; the defeat at Jieting was due entirely to Ma Su’s poor choice of campsite. Instead of guarding the pass between the mountains, he retreated to a waterless hilltop. By failing to hold the mountain pass, he lost the strategic hub and could not check the enemy; by retreating to the summit, he was besieged and cut off from water, unable to defend himself—how could he not be defeated?

Deng She often shared this story with his officers. Yang Wanhu, having learned well, rode a circuit to inspect the area before returning to report. Standing below the highland, he looked up and said, "General, this spot Old Guan chose is not bad. It borders the water with a mountain at our back... Look over there, a vast expanse of grass; the mounts will have plenty to eat."

Deng She gazed into the distance for a moment. The sky was vast and clear, filled with scattered white clouds. His position was two or three miles from the river, with a low, lush, tree-covered hill behind him. In the distance, across the flat plains, he could see a cluster of black shapes in the east. He raised his riding crop, pointed toward them, and asked, "Master Fang, is that Mount Dongmu?"

"Indeed," replied Fang Buzhen.

Deng She nodded, then turned to look toward the northwest across the river for a while. It was too far to see Shenyang. After surveying the terrain, he saw Yang Wanhu still waiting below with his head tilted upward. He smiled and said, "Order the three armies to set up camp here on the highland before the mountain."

Yang Wanhu received the order and galloped away.

Time was short, so there was no opportunity to build a permanent fortress, and a trench camp was out of the question—digging a moat would be time-consuming and hinder movement. The only option was a wooden stockade camp. Following the urgent commands of Yang Wanhu and He Guangxiu, one thousand men were assigned to guard duty, while the remaining four thousand were sent to the mountain to fell trees.

With few soldiers, each man had to cut down two trees. The trees on the mountain were insufficient, but fortunately, there was a small forest nearby. They selected suitable timber and felled them one by one. By dusk, eight thousand logs had been hauled back. After a hasty meal, they continued building the camp through the night. Deng She joined in, first digging small pits to set the posts, then stripping the branches and leaves. With the logs connected one by one, leaning against the mountain and facing the water, they quickly formed a semicircular defensive perimeter.

They erected watchtowers and turrets, set up caltrops and chevaux-de-frise outside the barricades, and dug pits to trip enemy horses. Throughout the night, they worked without pause until the eastern horizon turned white, and the camp was complete.

The march had been relentless, and the soldiers were exhausted from the labor. Leaving sufficient guards, the rest returned to their tents to rest. Deng She had worked all night as well, his hands and body covered in mud. He Guangxiu, dusty and bedraggled, stayed by his side, his bloodshot eyes stinging. He fought back constant yawns, maintaining a forced smile, ready to respond to Deng She at any moment.

Facing the rising red sun, Deng She smiled and nodded to the soldiers passing by, occasionally greeting those he recognized and exchanging a few cheerful words. It is said that one should treat soldiers like one's own children, and it must be said that Deng She always excelled in this regard.

Finding a spare moment, he asked He Guangxiu, "Have the scouts returned? Is there any unusual movement from Nahachu in Shenyang?"

He Guangxiu jumped; he was responsible for the scouts. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and replied, "Reporting to the General, the scouts sent to Shenyang haven't returned yet. Within a twenty-mile radius nearby, there is no sign of the Tatars." He paused and added, "Not only are there no Tatars, but there are very few civilians to be seen either. Perhaps they all fled, seeing that war is imminent?"

Deng She grunted. No sign of Tatars within twenty miles? It was strange. He did not believe Nahachu had no spies in Liaoyang. Nahachu must have known long ago about five thousand troops leaving the city to support Mount Dongmu, yet he remained silent, not even sending a scout. As it stood, he seemed indifferent to Gaizhou, Liaoyang, and Mount Dongmu, which was deeply unsettling.

Deng She felt uneasy. After thinking about Shenyang for a while, his mind drifted to Guan Duo. To be sent out of the city for no apparent reason—the more he thought about it, the more suspicious it felt. What exactly was Guan Duo planning? He pondered for a while but could not fathom it. He stretched his back and decided, "Wait until the scouts from Shenyang return to ascertain the true situation before making a decision."

He Guangxiu had been a commander for several months; though his ability to lead troops in battle had not improved, his sense of status had grown by leaps and bounds. It had been a long time since he had done manual labor or stayed up all night. As the sun rose higher, he could no longer support himself. He stood hunched over, looking at Deng She with longing, hoping to be dismissed to sleep.

Deng She was in high spirits and did not notice He Guangxiu's condition. Hearing a commotion by the river, he turned to look. A group of soldiers was cooling off on the bank, and through the crowd, he saw Yang Wanhu in the middle, surrounded by men, though he couldn't tell what they were doing. From time to time, they would erupt into cheers.

A breeze carrying the coolness of the water blew by, refreshing and pleasant. Deng She, covered in mud and sweat, was feeling sticky and uncomfortable, so he became interested. He signaled to He Guangxiu, "Come, Old He, let's go take a look."

He Guangxiu forced himself to keep up, jogging behind. Exhausted, his focus wavered; he only watched his head and not his feet, stumbling over a stone and nearly falling. Bi Qianniu, the captain of the personal guard, was also by Deng She's side. Seeing this, he reminded Deng She, "General, Commander He..."

Deng She realized what was happening and laughed. He lifted his foot and gently kicked He Guangxiu's backside. "Look at you, you bear. You're a high-ranking commander, yet you look like a mess! Get out of here and go to sleep!"

The generals in the army had different temperaments. Over time, Deng She had learned their personalities and naturally treated them differently.

For those like Wen Huaguo and Chen Hu, who were of an older generation, he was respectful and close. For those like Zhao Guo and Zuo Che'er, former subordinates from the bandit days, he relied on them and treated them with intimacy. For those like Zhang Dai'er, whom he had promoted from the ranks and who possessed both literary and martial talent, he treated with importance and respect. For those like Yang Wanhu, Li Heshang, and He Guangxiu, who were rough men, treating them with formal, high-ranking courtesy only made them uncomfortable. They preferred a style of "a beating is affection, a scolding is love." Especially He Guangxiu, who seemed to have a "masochistic" streak—the more he was scolded, the happier he became. Deng She would often use playful scolding to build their bond.

Indeed, upon hearing this, He Guangxiu acted as if granted amnesty. He knelt, kowtowed several times, and shouted repeatedly, "Thank you for your grace, Great General! Thank you for your grace!" Then, beaming with joy, he went off to sleep.

Deng She's personal guards were all brave and hot-blooded men. Many of them looked down on He Guangxiu. One shook his head and said with contempt, "The General hasn't rested yet, and he has the nerve to leave? Isn't he ashamed of the rank the General gave him? Some people are like mud that won't stick to a wall."

Deng She smiled and said, "He is innocent and pure, without schemes. Isn't that a good thing?"

Another nodded, "The General is right. Even if Commander He isn't great at leading troops, he carries out every task the General gives him with all his heart. A while ago, when the General had him oversee the land reclamation, I saw it with my own eyes—in just a month, he lost over ten pounds. Even though he is a Goryeo man, he can be called loyal and devoted."

They were all close to Deng She and spoke without reservation. However, there were many Goryeo people in the army, and Deng She frowned. "Do not speak such words again. I have said many times that Goryeo and China are essentially one family. Why distinguish between people? We are all Han."

This was true; under the Mongol classification, Goryeo people were considered a type of Han. The personal guards bowed in acknowledgment.

Deng She recalled something. After occupying Pyongyang, he had begun to promote Sinicization throughout the Goryeo army. He asked, "How is the Goryeo camp learning the Han language?"

Bi Qianniu knew a little. "Those at the rank of squad leader and above can already hold simple conversations in Han. Among the soldiers, some are smart and some are slow, so the level varies."

Deng She thought for a moment. To achieve complete Sinicization, language and script were the first steps. The script was easy, as Goryeo did not have their own and used Chinese characters. The focus was on the language. He said, "Make a military regulation: from now on, fluency in the Han language will be a requirement for any promotion of Goryeo officers."

"Understood."

Talking as they went, the group arrived at the riverside. The Taizi River was not very wide. It was late summer, and with plenty of rain, the water level was high. Sunlight cast ten thousand golden rays upon the clear surface. As the wind blew, ripples surged, flowing endlessly southward, the sound of the water constant.

The banks were sandy and soft, yielding underfoot. As they approached, they saw clearly that Yang Wanhu was wrestling with several soldiers. A crowd had gathered around, cheering enthusiastically.

Deng She did not have many attendants, so he did not disturb them. He stood on the edge and watched for a while. Yang Wanhu was shirtless, his frame gaunt, almost skin and bones. On his arms were two embroidered dragons, the tails extending to the backs of his hands and the heads winding up his arms to his back, claws outstretched. Where the dragon maws faced, there was a large pearl tattooed on his back, a "two dragons competing for a pearl" design. It must have been the work of a master, as it looked incredibly lifelike.

He saw Yang Wanhu arch his back, twisting his opponent's waist and arms. As he exerted force, his face turned a pale blue, and he let out a muffled shout. With a nimble turn of his feet, he caught his opponent off guard, easily lifting him over his head, tilting his body slightly, and throwing him aside.

The crowd cheered in unison. Deng She looked closely. Though he knew Yang Wanhu possessed innate supernatural strength, he couldn't help but marvel. His opponent was a big, hulking man, tall and broad-shouldered—a physique rare in the army, weighing at least two or three hundred pounds. Yang Wanhu, by contrast, was thin and small, weighing at most sixty or seventy pounds. The weight difference was three or four times, truly like a mantis trying to shake a tree.

He couldn't help but shout, "Good!"

The soldiers didn't recognize his voice, but Yang Wanhu did. Hearing it, he looked up and grinned at Deng She. Having survived several major battles without a single defeat, Deng She had long since won his complete loyalty. Wanting to show off, Yang Wanhu didn't wait for his opponent to get up; he strode over, grabbed the man by the waist, stood tall, crouched slightly, and let out a roar, lifting the man high with one arm.

Bi Qianniu gasped, "What raw power! General, I reckon the strength in his two arms must be over a thousand pounds!" Yang Wanhu carried the man, spinning around the field a few times. The man kicked and struggled, unable to break free, repeatedly crying out for mercy. It looked like Wu Dalang lifting Wu Erlang, and the crowd laughed heartily.

After turning a few more times, Yang Wanhu dropped the man and knelt in the direction of Deng She. "I pay my respects to the General."

Only then did the crowd realize Deng She was there. They hurriedly knelt down in a sea of people by the riverbank. Deng She walked through the crowd, personally helping Yang Wanhu up, and laughed, "Wanhu, Wanhu, I believe that with your strength, even if a real tiger ('wanhu') came, it would be no match for you!"

Yang Wanhu stood up, his face not even flushed, his breathing steady. "Just a few small tricks, some rustic strength; it’s not worth the General's praise." Despite his words, his expression was proud.

Deng She offered a few more words of praise, told everyone to rise, and chatted with them for a while about Yang Wanhu's strength. He specifically spoke to the defeated soldier, telling him that losing to Yang Wanhu was nothing to be ashamed of.

He had no airs, and soon he was mingling with the crowd, laughing and joking. As they spoke, the sound of hoofbeats came from afar, and someone shouted, "Where is the General?" Two personal guards who had been left to guard the command tent came running. Deng She knew it must be the scouts returning. He had no time to bathe, so he cupped his hands to the crowd and said, "I must go. You have all worked hard all night; go wash up and return to your tents to rest. Once you have regained your strength, we will fight another day and show those Tatars the power of the Shuangcheng army!"

The soldiers roared their assent. They had never received such a gesture from a superior officer, and each was excited and thrilled. Long after Deng She had left, they remained in high spirits, eager to enter the fray.

"Where are the scouts from? Shenyang?" Deng She asked on his way to the command tent.

The guard replied, "Both groups of scouts have returned—the one from Shenyang and the one from Mount Dongmu."

"Good!" Deng She felt his spirits lift. Shenyang was the enemy, and Mount Dongmu was his own. Knowing both, he wouldn't be confused in this battle. He hoped to gain some useful intelligence to help analyze the current situation.

Inside the command tent, besides the returning scouts, Fang Buzhen was also present. He hadn't participated in building the camp at night and had slept well, looking refreshed. As Deng She walked in, Fang stood to welcome him. He sniffed the air and noticed the smell of sweat on Deng She and Bi Qianniu. "General, would you like to bathe first?"

"No need, military matters are urgent."

The tent had an inner and outer chamber. Li Guixiu emerged from the inner chamber with water. Deng She washed his hands and face hastily. True to his habit, he would not allow any outsiders present during military discussions, so he waved for Li Guixiu to leave before sitting down to ask, "What is the situation in Shenyang?"

One scout replied, "The city gates are tightly shut; I couldn't get in. Half of the troops in the camp outside the city have entered the city, and the other half are stationed on a hill, forming a pincer formation with Shenyang. It appears the Tatars intend to defend and have no plans to sally out."

Deng She asked, "Don't we have undercover agents in the city? Were you unable to make contact?"

"The Tatars are watching closely, and the defense on the city walls is very tight. There was no opportunity to contact our agents inside." The scout said, taking a map from his chest and presenting it to Deng She. "The Tatars have designated a five-mile area outside the city as a no-man's-land. I risked my life to sneak in and record the defensive layout of each city gate."

Deng She unfolded the map. The scout's drawing skills weren't great, but it was clear enough. The square city walls were divided into sections, with visible defensive equipment and the banners of the commanders responsible for each section clearly marked.

He examined it carefully. Shenyang's defensive measures were very effective, filled with heavy equipment. The troops guarding the walls included Nahachu's own main force. Fang Buzhen remarked, "The main force is on the walls, sparing no effort. It seems the Tatars are indeed prioritizing defense."

Although he didn't know much about military affairs, he found it strange. "Nahachu doesn't seem like someone with short-sighted vision. Doesn't he know that if our army captures Southern Liaoning, it will break the current stalemate in Eastern Liaoning and give us the complete initiative? At that time, it will be hard for him to keep Shenyang. How could he sit by and watch? Is it because they lost their nerve after our surprise attack on Mount Dongmu?"

"Even if he lost his nerve, there are others in Shenyang, like the Prince of Liao; they shouldn't all be so timid." Deng She flatly rejected Fang Buzhen's speculation. He pondered for a long time and said, "This matter is suspicious. Our army should just sit and observe the changes." Guan Duo's order to him was to support Mount Dongmu in an emergency; as for other matters, like the situation in Shenyang, he assumed Guan Duo had a plan.

Fang Buzhen said, "The General is right." He asked the other scout, "How is General Pan at Mount Dongmu?"

The scout glanced at Deng She, who nodded. The scout then said, "I arrived at Mount Dongmu at midnight last night. General Pan has fortified the mountain with strict defenses. According to General Pan, since capturing Mount Dongmu, the Tatars have only harassed them twice symbolically and haven't engaged in any real fighting."

"How is the morale of the troops?"

"From what I saw, morale is high."

Fang Buzhen interjected, "Young General Pan is a tiger son of a tiger family; he has his own ways of managing the army. General, you need not worry about the morale at Mount Dongmu."

Deng She nodded and continued, "How did General Pan set up his camp?"

"The army is divided into three sections: the main force is stationed on the mountain; a detachment guards the water source; and a flanking force is stationed at the strategic pass on the road below the mountain."

Guarding the pass and stationing on the mountain—this was a typical combination of "checking the enemy" and "securing oneself." Like Deng She, Pan Mei's camp had both mountain and water, and the two had a similar approach. The only difference was their tasks: Pan Mei's priority was defense, so he built on the mountain; Deng She's priority was support, so he built below the mountain.

The two forces combined totaled about twenty thousand men, and the main Liaoyang army could arrive within half a day. Deng She touched the saber lying on the table and stared at the map of Shenyang presented by the scout, remaining silent for a long time. Having received confirmation from Guan Duo that the Liaoning campaign would begin in three days, for some reason, on the eve of the drums of war, a sense of unease suddenly welled up in his heart.

He had fought many battles, but never before had he felt so completely unable to grasp the enemy's intentions, as if he were trapped in a dense fog. He subconsciously looked outside the tent. Hundreds of miles away at the Yalu River, he wondered if Chen Hu had arrived on time.