Volume One — The Southern Sichuan Command Chapter 20 — Shifting the Battlefield

Past noon, the army continued its march westward and arrived at the county seat of Jiang’an in the afternoon.

Jiang’an was much smaller than Luzhou, with a population of less than ten thousand—a county seat not exactly bustling, yet lively enough.

The county was garrisoned by three hundred soldiers and several dozen yamen runners. The county magistrate’s assistant and the chief clerk came out to greet the army, paying their respects to Lord Wei, the Prefect of Fufeng.

As Lord Wei conversed with the local officials, he learned that the magistrate and the county constable, upon hearing of the Zhao clan’s extermination, had fled in terror.

After a moment’s thought, Lord Wei summoned Li Qing, Wang Dahu’s personal soldier.

Li Qing arrived and saluted with military decorum. He was about thirty, had a three-inch beard, slightly dark skin, and regular features—more refined than the average soldier.

“Li Qing, Wang Dahu tells me you can read and write. You will serve as magistrate of Jiang’an. Zhang Li will be county constable. I leave two hundred troops for your command,” Lord Wei said, scrutinizing him before making the appointment.

“Thank you for your trust, my lord. I will serve with all my heart,” Li Qing replied respectfully.

“Good. You and Zhang Li shall enter the city to take office. Remember, this army will not forget you. Serve well,” Lord Wei instructed.

“Yes, sir!” Zhang Li and Li Qing answered in unison.

Lord Wei ordered two hundred plain-clothed soldiers to be stationed in the city under their command.

With the appointments settled, Lord Wei ordered the main force to camp outside the city. Soldiers were allowed to enter the city in shifts to shop and stroll, but any who caused trouble without reason would be executed.

Lord Wei did not rest in the city, remaining instead in the central command tent of the Prefect’s army, guarded by over a thousand personal guards and inner sentinels.

Six banners embroidered with firebirds stood tall over the camp, a symbol of the Prefect’s authority. Had old Feng been present, there would have been four white tiger banners; for the Transport Commissioner, four azure dragon banners; for the Prefect’s chief secretary, four firebird banners as well.

Lord Wei deliberately fostered the mystique of military power: the Eight-Battalion Office under Zhuge, with the white tiger for combat and the azure dragon for logistics.

In truth, Lord Wei’s thousand guards served as fire chiefs in various units, rotating between the main camp and other duties.

The inner sentinels, who numbered fewer than thirty, were the most trusted, always closest to Lord Wei. Yet even then, Lord Wei never let down his guard, intentionally keeping them out of the command tent.

The appointments of county officials that day gave Lord Wei the satisfaction of authority, but at a deeper level, he was consolidating loyalty.

By appointing Li Qing, he showed common soldiers the Prefect’s discernment and readiness to use talent.

Promoting Zhang Li had even greater significance; with a colleague as county constable, the inner sentinels would feel a sense of honor and hope for future advancement as local military officials.

“Xiaoxue, help me comb my hair. I’m weary,” Lord Wei murmured languidly. In this camp full of hidden motives, the only one he dared trust was the frail Xiaoxue.

She answered softly, came behind Lord Wei, and gently combed his hair as he closed his eyes.

...

At dawn the next day, the army set out after breakfast.

Fourteen heads had rolled the previous day, hung above the city gates—those of soldiers who had stirred up trouble in the city and were executed by the Prefect’s inspectors as a warning.

Lord Wei, turning a blind eye, acknowledged that such executions were a necessary means to discipline the troops. After soothing the army commanders and allowing the soldiers to relax in the city, he had no choice but to execute those who broke the peace, to establish authority.

Another purpose of these executions was to win the reputation of pacifying the people, for the wealthy and virtuous citizens most despised disorderly soldiers.

A reputation for restoring order would garner broad popular support, and in turn, affect the morale of the troops.

The army pressed westward, entering Nanxi County before noon and reaching the city of Fenrong by afternoon.

Fenrong had a garrison of a thousand, its strategic location allowing access north to Rongzhou and south to Gaoxian and Gongxian.

Rongzhou (modern Zigong) belonged to the Eastern Sichuan Prefecture, bordering Zizhou (Ziyang), which was under Western Sichuan. Both were ancient centers of well-salt production.

During times of peace, the cheapness of sea salt meant well-salt was not highly profitable.

But since the An-Shi Rebellion and the fragmentation of military governors, sea salt supplies to the upper and middle Yangtze had been largely cut off.

Well-salt once more became a highly lucrative commodity; thus, the salt trade of Rongzhou and Zizhou became a major source of wealth for Western and Eastern Sichuan.

Upon reaching Fenrong, Lord Wei ordered the army to block all city gates and shot letters over the walls urging surrender, promising county officials they could retain their positions.

The officials of Nanxi County refused, claiming they could not comply without authorization from the Prefect of Rongzhou, and asked Lord Wei to first go to Bodao County for formal acceptance.

Of course, Lord Wei could not go to Bodao; he also knew that even if he did, the Prefect of Rongzhou would surely refuse him as well.

The Prefect of Rongzhou could use the Western Sichuan Governor’s paperwork to deflect responsibility.

Lord Wei ordered the construction of cloud ladders and once more sent threatening letters into the city: if the gates opened, officials would retain their posts; if the city were taken by force, or if Rongzhou’s Prefect accepted them, all Nanxi officials would be executed.

Outside the city, the army bustled—building ladders, siege towers, beating drums, and drilling for battle.

It was mostly a bluff; Lord Wei had no intention of storming Fenrong’s walls, which rose seven or eight meters high and were well-defended—assault would be too costly.

A day later, the defenders stood watch along the walls, steady and unafraid, showing no sign of panic before the besieging army.

Lord Wei could only sigh. At this moment, Commander Peng Yu came with a suggestion: feign retreat to lure out the defenders.

If the garrison sallied forth, they could be caught in a counterattack; if not, the army could swing north to Rongzhou and join the battle for Luzhou.

Lord Wei approved, and the army moved west, feigning a march toward Bodao County. The defenders merely sent scouts to shadow them.

Thinking it over, Lord Wei ordered the army commanders to select three thousand of the weakest troops, assigning them to three inner sentinel captains to maintain a token siege at Fenrong.

The remaining seven thousand—his best men—set off north for Rongzhou, passing through the wild hills of Yerong and into Fushun County under Rongzhou’s jurisdiction.

Fushun, located along the Tuo River, was a vital waterway—downstream lay Luzhou.

Lord Wei ordered Peng Yu to take the vanguard, scouting ahead, while the main force kept hidden among the hills.

Soon, Peng Yu reported that Fushun was garrisoned by five hundred, and to the northwest, in Gongjing County (modern Zigong), there were five thousand well-armed troops—a regular army.

Half a day later, Peng Yu sent word that scouts had captured a courier from Gongjing.

The dispatch revealed that two thousand regulars from Gongjing were ordered to reinforce Fushun, and the county magistrate was to prepare for their arrival.

The news stirred Lord Wei’s heart; regulars were unlike common soldiers—they were elite, akin to the Governor’s personal troops.

Normally, only critical passes or wealthy regions would be defended by such forces.

Now, knowing that two thousand regulars were en route to Fushun, Lord Wei recognized a rare, heaven-sent opportunity to strike first and weaken the enemy’s strength.

Lord Wei steadied himself and gave orders: “Tell Peng Yu to impersonate the Eastern Sichuan regulars and seize Fushun. Deliver this letter to the magistrate of Fushun.”

The messenger departed, and Lord Wei ordered the main force to advance to the area between Fushun and Gongjing.

Upon arrival, he selected the two thousand best-equipped men and sent them southeast toward Fushun.

Lord Wei, with five thousand troops, followed behind. He had considered leading the ruse himself but changed his mind—not wishing to take the risk and wanting to give his officers a chance for merit.

Peng Yu had already claimed the first achievement; it would not do for him to stand alone in glory.

The two forces marched about ten miles apart, deliberately keeping their pace slow. Near dusk, they reached the western gate of Fushun.

The gate stood wide open. County officials in blue robes came out to greet them, clearly not daring to slight the arriving troops.

Zhou He and Liu Yi, the commanders of the two thousand, exchanged glances, their eyes brimming with delight. They nodded at each other and strode toward the officials outside the drawbridge.

“Thank you for your efforts, gentlemen,” Zhou He called out, striding forward like a tiger.

The county officials hesitated. They knew the local commanders of Rongzhou’s regulars by sight, yet these officers were strangers.

Suddenly, an official with a sword at his waist turned and fled.

With a wave of Zhou He’s hand, the soldiers surged forward like wolves, overwhelming the officials, charging across the drawbridge and through the city gates.

Zhou He seized the magistrate and threatened, “We are the Western Sichuan regulars from Zizhou, here to take Rongzhou by order. Do you wish to live?”

“What? You’re from Western Sichuan Zizhou? You dare invade Eastern Sichuan?” the magistrate cried in terror.

“We act on the governor’s orders. You’re a mere local official—be wise and keep out of military affairs. Order your men to stand down,” Zhou He commanded.

The magistrate hesitated, but the sound of battle and screams reached his ears. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, “Lay down your arms! Do not resist the governor’s troops!”

His call was echoed and relayed through the city. Soon, the fighting ceased, and two thousand Luzhou soldiers took control, securing the city defenses and locking down the streets.

An inspector patrolled the ranks, calling out, “By order of the governor, no one is to harm the townspeople. Rewards await those who merit them—don’t throw your lives away!”

The five thousand following troops entered Fushun. Lord Wei, under the protection of his inner sentinels, ascended the west gate.

Leaning against the parapet, he gazed at the rolling hills beyond, let out a contented breath, and patted the wall with his right hand.

“Come, let’s go to the county office,” Lord Wei said with satisfaction.

Descending from the gatehouse, surrounded by guards, Lord Wei walked along the secured streets. The assembled soldiers greeted him with respectful gazes, reflecting the army’s high spirits.

This proved to Lord Wei that his judgments were sound. Without supreme prestige, he could not yet command the army as one body; winning their loyalty was his chief priority.

At the county office, he met the Transport Commissioner’s adjutant and the Prefect’s inspector—two rival officials—tallying and recording the spoils.

Lord Wei had strictly forbidden harm to the townspeople, so the spoils were limited to the county office’s treasury and the officials’ private wealth.

After a few brief questions, Lord Wei left the office to arrange defenses, not daring to let his guard down with two thousand enemy troops on their way.