Volume One: In Troubled Times, Is There Any Path for Mortals? Chapter 18: A Thousand Miles (Part Ten)

The Buddhist servant, realizing he had been thoroughly deceived by the Red Turbans, was furious beyond measure. Dignified as a Grand Secretary of the Central Secretariat, a top official of the highest rank, commanding three thousand valiant and battle-hardened Tumachi cavalry, he had been toyed with by a mere eight hundred Red Turban rebels. How could this be tolerated?

He gazed at the mutilated corpse of the centurion, stripped to the bone, and despite the bitter cold, sweat beaded his brow. If the emperor were to learn of this, he shuddered inwardly. The present sovereign was notorious—not a man to be trifled with. Though he appeared to indulge in wine and women, countless officials had lost their lives in his silent machinations over the years.

He immediately ordered the army to mount up and accelerate the pursuit. Yet, despite relentless chasing, they had lost a night's worth of ground, and even after traveling a hundred miles and glimpsing a distant town, the Red Turbans were still ahead.

The Red Turbans had already passed through the town. Originally, they had planned to occupy the town and await the Yuan army’s retreat. But when they arrived, they found that, perhaps due to Guan Duo’s previous request for grain, the local landlords had united to form a militia in blue robes.

With pursuers at their heels, Centurion Zheng dared not take risks and was forced to alter his plans, skirting the town at a distance. Scouts continuously reported the Yuan army’s dogged pursuit. After a night and half a day of forced marching, their mounts were exhausted. If this continued, it was only a matter of time before they were overtaken. Should battle erupt again, the Yuan forces would not be so easily deceived as they were yesterday.

Centurion Zheng, worn out and anxious, dispatched troops at every crossroads to trample each route, hoping to delay the Yuan army’s pursuit, if only for a while.

Deng She had grown markedly silent. Even when Li Monk provoked him, he turned a blind eye and repeatedly held back Wen Huaguo’s indignation. He was deep in thought about their next move. He no longer wished to travel with Zheng and his men; the Yuan army, now enraged, would show them no mercy.

Besides vengeance, their other purpose in pursuing was likely Lady Wang. The carriage was a conspicuous mark—who else but a noble or close kin would ride in a carriage while fleeing for their lives? Perhaps the Yuan believed the carriage held a wounded commander. The journey had left a trail of Xu Qianhu’s blood seeping through the carriage.

He shared his thoughts with Wen Huaguo and Chen Hu. Both agreed. First, as former bandits forced to join the Red Turbans, they saw no reason to knowingly walk into death. Second, after joining the Northern Expedition Army, they had always served under Guan Duo, with little connection to Wang Shicheng or Xu Jizu, and thus felt little loyalty.

The three quickly came to a decision.

“The Tartars have two horses per man, but we have none to spare. Within two days, they’ll catch up,” Wen Huaguo, rough yet perceptive, had been pondering the problem as well. “Deng, I think we should just tell Old Zheng straight: let’s part ways and go our separate routes.”

“We have only about forty men left,” Chen Hu said. “If we leave, it’ll distract the Tartars for Zheng, and he’ll definitely agree. The hard part is taking more brothers with us. To better protect Lady Wang, Zheng won’t spare a single man.”

Deng She stayed silent, listening as was his lifelong habit—first hear others, then offer his own view. This had earned him a reputation among his brothers as wise beyond his years.

Wen Huaguo shot a glance at Zheng, who was guarding the carriage, and grunted, “So what do you suggest?”

“We take the carriage.”

“What?”

“Zheng only cares about Lady Wang’s safety. The others—though he calls them sworn brothers—everyone can see he doesn’t truly care,” Chen Hu analyzed coolly. “So let’s take on the most dangerous task ourselves. That way, using the pretext of drawing the Tartars away, we can take more brothers with us, and he can break up his force to better protect Lady Wang on the way to Shangdu.”

Wen Huaguo nearly leapt onto Chen Hu’s horse to throttle him. “Chen, have you lost your mind? You, usually so shrewd, are suddenly a fool? Draw all the Tartars to us? We’d be better off fleeing together—at least we might survive.”

But Deng She nodded in agreement. “Chen is right. Zheng would never risk Lady Wang’s safety. If it were just him, maybe he’d hand us all the men and escape alone. But with Lady Wang, if he even lets us take the carriage, that’s a concession. The main force will stay with him.”

Wen Huaguo immediately understood: as long as the main force stayed with Zheng, who the Yuan would chase would depend on their own tactics.

He hesitated. “Will Zheng believe us?”

Chen Hu said nothing, but Deng She replied, “I’ll stay behind with Zhao Guo. You go tell him it’s to protect me. He’ll believe that.”

“That’s not right!” Wen Huaguo flushed with anger, “What do you take me for? How am I supposed to explain this to the old chief?”

“With just me and Zhao Guo left behind, we can leave whenever we want. Life or death hangs in the balance, Wen, don’t argue. Do as I say.”

He rarely spoke in such a commanding tone, and Wen Huaguo was unaccustomed to it, left speechless. Though he knew Deng She was right, the decision was hard. Chen Hu changed his address, saying softly, “Fourth Brother, let’s do as the young chief says.”

“Young chief”—the words acknowledged Deng She as Deng San’s successor.

Chen Hu knew well that without a leader, this band of forty wouldn’t survive in such chaos. Deng She, though young, was respected for his prudence, care for his brothers, valor in battle, and keen mind. Among the horse bandits, none had the prestige of Deng San; for over a decade, only he had earned their true obedience. Both Deng San and Deng She’s father had died covering their comrades’ retreat, further deepening the bonds.

Thus, his words were also a reminder to Wen Huaguo: Deng She was no longer just a youth, but their chief.

Wen Huaguo was silent for a long time. It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept Deng She as their leader—he had watched him grow up, almost as a son, and naturally wished him well. He just hated to see him in danger. Back and forth, he contemplated, but switching places would only arouse Zheng’s suspicion. He had no choice but to nod. “Deng, we’ll wait for you ahead.”

With the plan settled, Chen Hu rode off to speak with Zheng.

As they had expected, Zheng offered token resistance, then agreed. Besides their own two hundred fifty men, he assigned them another hundred—precisely half the remaining Red Turban forces, to further confuse the Yuan army.

He then reported to Lady Wang and requested her instructions. Though not skilled at riding, as a commander’s wife she was not entirely untrained. She immediately understood the stakes and agreed without hesitation. “Xu Qianhu in the carriage is now your responsibility.”

Clad in a skirt, Lady Wang found it inconvenient, so she ordered Zheng to strip the unconscious Xu Qianhu of his clothes and, unbothered, changed into them. Her features were already handsome; in men’s garb, ill-fitting as it was, she cut a dashing figure with a unique charm.

She then untethered the two fine horses from the carriage, riding one and keeping the other as a spare. As for the carriage, they simply replaced the horses—after all, they had captured a few in last night and yesterday’s skirmishes with the Yuan.

The wind was like a blade. Zheng carefully carried the unconscious, barely-clad Xu Qianhu back into the carriage. On his way out, seeing Lady Wang mounting up, he felt a bit embarrassed and explained to the surrounding Red Turbans and Wen Huaguo, “These two steeds were a gift from Marshal Wang. Seeing them brings back memories; the lady has grown fond of them.”

Was that truly the reason? Wen Huaguo was unimpressed. If not for Deng She’s inability to leave yet, he would have voiced his sarcasm. Instead, he pulled Deng She aside and urged, “Don’t wait for nightfall. Slip away at the first opportunity.”

“You two are loyal to the core. If Deng Qianhu’s spirit knows, he’ll be comforted. Don’t worry, I’ll risk my life to keep young Deng safe,” said Zheng grandly at parting, his face full of admiration. “You two must look after yourselves as well. Once we reach Shangdu, we'll slaughter a rooster, burn yellow paper, swear an oath in blood, and become true brothers.”