Chapter Thirty-Eight: Overnight Stay at Crouching Ox Ridge

After issuing his orders, Zhang Juntai swung onto his horse and advanced with the army. Li Wenyuan, still leading his own mount, walked alongside the troops. The soldier from Jiangnan, having rested all morning, regained some strength after lunch. He politely declined Li Wenyuan's offer and returned to his own unit to continue the forced march.

Zhang Juntai was not merely putting on airs as deputy commander; in this era, lacking advanced means of communication, the army's progress depended entirely on the coordination of its officers. Zhang Juntai busied himself riding between the three brigades, ensuring that the rapid march proceeded without incident.

The afternoon passed in the relentless pace of the march. Li Wenyuan patrolled up and down the column, occasionally noticing some disorder in the ranks. Yet, under the officers’ direction, order was always quickly restored. It was clear Zhang Juntai demanded high standards to ensure the effectiveness of their training.

Pushing onward without pause, they managed to reach Woniu Ridge before sunset, where they set up camp outside Yongdeng County. Li Wenyuan sent the cooks into the town to purchase large numbers of cattle and sheep, which were then slaughtered and distributed among the soldiers as a reward.

As the camp bustled with noise and activity, Li Wenyuan left the management of these matters to Zhang Juntai, retreating to his tent to receive the county magistrate of Yongdeng.

“You say there’s a band of brigands on Mount Qinglong north of town, who frequently come down to plunder?” Li Wenyuan asked, frowning.

“Yes, sir. Their chief is a man named Zong Luo Hou, who claims to be the Azure Dragon descended to the mortal world to deliver the people. He’s gathered vagrants and idlers from the surrounding villages and taken over Chishi Mountain north of the city, renaming it Mount Qinglong. They’ve built a fortress on the mountain, and every three to five days they descend to raid the countryside. The people are tormented, yet powerless to resist,” the magistrate replied.

“What about the county’s soldiers? Why haven’t you organized a force to wipe them out?” Li Wenyuan asked curiously.

“My lord, the few able-bodied soldiers we had were all conscripted to Liaodong and have never returned. Now, the county is left with only the old, the weak, women, and children. We truly have no strength left to fight the bandits,” the magistrate said, his face clouded with worry.

Li Wenyuan understood at once. If they had not returned, most likely they never would. His heart softened, and he continued, “Tell me, then, how many bandits are on the mountain?”

The magistrate thought for a moment before answering, “This spring, a group of laborers who should have been sent to Liaodong took to the mountain instead. With stray bandits from other regions joining them in recent days, their numbers are about seven or eight hundred.”

Seven or eight hundred—enough, Li Wenyuan thought, for a real combat exercise. He did not wish to throw his own elite troops into a desperate brawl with outlaws. It was not that he disregarded the lives of the people, but his three thousand loyal soldiers were the seeds from which a force of thirty thousand could be grown, each promoted up a rank in time. When the time came, they could sweep the entire Mount Qinglong clean. But with only seven or eight hundred foes, this made an ideal whetstone to hone his men’s skills.

With this in mind, he asked, “What about their weapons and armor?”

The magistrate shook his head. “They have fewer than a hundred men in armor.”

Li Wenyuan was much relieved. He pressed on, “Is the surrounding terrain recorded in the county gazetteer?”

“Yes,” the magistrate replied. “Aside from this year’s troubles, every year we make detailed surveys and record them in accordance with the Great Sui’s regulations.”

“Good. Go back, close your gates, and rest easy. Tomorrow I’ll visit the yamen to examine the records. Soon, we shall strike at the bandit lair,” Li Wenyuan said, reassuring the magistrate.

After seeing the magistrate off, Li Wenyuan summoned Zhang Juntai to discuss the campaign against the bandits.

Hearing Li Wenyuan’s account, Zhang Juntai also saw this as a valuable opportunity for training. “Let’s just camp here tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow, after we’ve reviewed the records at the county office, we can decide how to proceed.”

Li Wenyuan nodded. “Are the sentries around the camp in place?”

“All arranged. There won’t be any mistakes,” Zhang Juntai replied with a smile.

“That magistrate says the bandits are poorly equipped, but we mustn’t be careless. As the saying goes, ‘A dragon from afar cannot subdue a serpent in its own lair.’ Our presence here will surely have reached their ears. Be especially vigilant against a night attack,” Li Wenyuan cautioned.

“Rest easy, General. Tonight, I’ll personally lead the patrols,” Zhang Juntai promised, smiling.

“Then I’ll leave it to you.” Li Wenyuan dispensed with further courtesies and, after Zhang Juntai left, lay down to sleep in his clothes.

Zhang Juntai led his patrol around the camp, and after his shift was over, returned to his quarters for a brief rest before the next round. Not far from the camp, several pairs of eyes observed the military encampment.

“Big brother, shall we let the brothers get to work?” a thin man asked their leader.

“I’ve heard this is the force of the new Chief Protector of the Western Regions. If things go wrong, there’ll be hell to pay,” the leader replied, frowning.

“No problem. Just have a few brothers sneak into the camp after dark and open the gates for us.”

The leader ignored him, brow furrowed. “If I’m not mistaken, this man is closely connected to Xue Ju of Jincheng?”

“Yes, rumor has it he once saved Xue Ju’s life. They also fought together in Liaodong, so their friendship must run deep.”

“Take the men back to Mount Qinglong. I’ll go meet him myself,” the leader said.

“No, big brother! What if that Li Wenyuan just has you seized? What then?” his subordinate pleaded anxiously.

“Just do as I say. Don’t delay my plans,” the leader barked, annoyed.

The man had no choice but to obey, withdrawing the men who had been preparing to attack the camp and returning to Mount Qinglong. Zong Luo Hou gazed at the distant camp, his eyes shining. Drawing an arrow from his back, he set it to his bow and shot it straight at the gate. Without looking back, he turned and slipped away into the night.

The sentry at the gate, exhausted after standing watch most of the night, suddenly heard the whistle of something cutting through the air. An arrow embedded itself in the gate. As the sentry reached for the alarm to signal an attack, he noticed a letter tied to the shaft. Not daring to delay, he woke his replacement, then hurried to find the officer on duty—Zhang Juntai.

Zhang Juntai read the letter and was startled. Not daring to be careless, he hurried at once to Li Wenyuan’s tent, instructing the guards outside to wake their commander.

Soon, the tent was lit from within, and Li Wenyuan’s weary voice called out, “Let Juntai in.”

Zhang Juntai entered and handed over the arrow and the letter. “General, this was just shot into our gate. Please, take a look.”

Li Wenyuan unfolded the letter and read:

“Respectfully, Zong Luo Hou. I have long heard of your great renown, and now, seeing your encampment—firm without, vigilant within, your command is truly admirable. We, who have gathered on Mount Qinglong, do so out of necessity for survival. We have indeed waylaid passing merchants, grain traders most of all; all gold and silver taken is exchanged with the villagers below for food and rice. The magistrate covets wealth, drives the villagers into town, and seizes all their gold and silver, fearing our retribution—thus he tells you that we are scourges upon the land. I trust you will judge fairly.”