Chapter 125: The Cannon Whistle

Even after the capture of the imperial army's commander, the chaos on the battlefield persisted for a long time. Liu Chengzong gathered his four subordinates—Wang Wenxiu, Yang Yao, Gao Xian, and Feng Rang—and led them around, frantically attempting to persuade the government soldiers to surrender.

He knew all too well that it would be difficult for anyone else to convince the soldiers who had followed Li Bei. Even for him, the task was harder than ever before.

"What's so difficult about this?" Wang Wenxiu said. "They've already lost. Aside from those who ran, the rest are just prisoners. Give them a bite to eat; a soldier’s belly needs filling wherever he goes. They’ll eat better with us than they did with those officials."

Liu Chengzong shook his head and instructed the four to keep a close watch on them, regardless of whether they were willing prisoners or recruits. These men were different from those under Liu Guozhen. The battle on that side had been a classic case of the strong bullying the weak; Liu Chengzong’s main force was not outnumbered, and with the three thousand troops of Shangtianhou, the imperial forces were clearly at a disadvantage. Yet, from start to finish, Shangtianhou’s thirty companies had retreated repeatedly without ever showing signs of collapse.

Persuading the defeated to surrender is an art. People are only willing to follow you and gamble on their lives if they perceive your strength. It was already difficult for rebels to recruit government troops, but this time, the defeat had been absolute. Wang Ziyong’s thousand-man force had been chased for several miles by merely eight soldiers. Who could recruit those eight? Even Liu Chengzong couldn't. When Feng Rang’s cavalry arrived, they killed one and captured four; the remaining three fled into the mountains, never to emerge. Those three surely realized that even a trio could accomplish great things. If one can achieve greatness on one's own, why follow anyone else? Even if Liu Chengzong were in their shoes, he wouldn't surrender to someone who had defeated him; he would rather fight to the death.

And so it proved. The scattered imperial soldiers showed little willingness to surrender; they either fled into the mountains to the east and west or fought to the bitter end. In the end, counting those who were too exhausted to move and thus captured, only about two hundred were taken. Conversely, the price they had paid was immense.

Inside Li Bei’s command tent, Liu Chengzong set down a letter and turned toward the tent flap. Liu Chengzu entered with his head bowed, his expression complex—a mix of relief at the end of the fighting and the heavy sorrow of severe casualties. He looked around the tent, sat cross-legged, and sighed.

"Brother," Liu Chengzong asked, "how are the casualties?"

Liu Chengzu gritted his teeth and hammered his fist against the ground, his eyes reddening. He shook his head slightly. "Between the dead, the wounded, and those who ran, we’ve lost nearly two thousand men across all units."

"How many? Nearly two thousand?" Liu Chengzong was stunned.

He and Liu Jiusi had joined forces in the mountains to attack Liu Guozhen. Liu Jiusi’s troops were weak; of his thirty companies, those that suffered five casualties would pull back, and those with only two injuries would also retreat. It was barely a skirmish, yet they had won with a three-to-one casualty ratio, losing over three hundred men to kill Liu Guozhen and his hundred-odd soldiers. Liu Chengzong had earlier estimated their losses: they had deployed six infantry formations and three cavalry ones—over six thousand men in nine formations. The enemy had only eight hundred. Even if they lost two hundred, or traded three for one, he had expected six hundred casualties at most. It was no wonder Liu Chengzu was teary-eyed.

Liu Chengzu sighed, mired in self-reproach. "If your unit hadn't delivered the final blow, this battle would have been a total defeat."

For the first time, Liu Chengzong felt a sense of helplessness in his brother. He could only offer comfort, insisting it wasn't his brother's fault. His brother was an excellent cavalry commander who had brought twenty brothers home, men who obeyed him implicitly. Later, to help Liu Chengzong, he had given up his right-hand man, Gao Xian, along with half his subordinates. Liu Chengzong’s independence had come at the cost of his brother’s control over his own troops. To command five hundred men, one needs at least thirty junior officers, and Liu Chengzu had less than forty percent of that.

It was even harder to command other units. Liu Chengzong sighed to himself; his brother was still the same officer from Yuhe Fortress. For an officer, the greatest failure and sense of powerlessness is not facing an invincible enemy, but the moment the troops lose all organization.

"Brother, we learn from our mistakes," Liu Chengzong said, reaching out to hand him a letter. "This may not be a bad thing."

Liu Chengzu sighed and focused on the letter. It was from the Guyuan-Sanbian Governor’s office, mentioning that Wu Weifan was suppressing the Liu brothers in Qingyang Prefecture. There were two brothers there also surnamed Liu—Liu Daojiang and Liu Daohai, nicknamed Liu Six and Liu Seven, likely borrowing the names of the leaders of the Bazhou Uprising during the Zhengde era. But these names were a bad omen; Zhao Sui, who had risen with the original Liu Six and Liu Seven, had been skinned by the Zhengde Emperor to make a saddle. If those two brothers couldn't stop Wu Weifan, they had only seven or eight days left.

As the brothers discussed their strategy, Cao Yao arrived. The old bandit was accustomed to life and death; he wiped his hands on his clothes, walked into the tent, and chuckled. "Why the long faces? The wounded are all taken care of. Shangtianhou and Chengyun have set up a medical camp and are on their way with medicine."

Li Bei’s tent was a novelty to him; he looked here and touched there, his demeanor relaxed and happy. After waiting a moment and receiving no attention, he sat down next to Liu Chengzong, rubbing his hands together. "Lion, Commander Liu, seven infantry battalions, three cavalry battalions... and not one of you knows how to use artillery."

Cao Yao leaned back with a tactical tilt and nudged Liu Chengzong with his elbow. "Give them to me?"

This attitude was perhaps Liu Chengzong’s greatest source of joy. He laughed, "How many cannons are there?"

"Hah, I’ll have to count them for you properly." Cao Yao clapped his hands, sat up straight, and cleared his throat. "Four 500-jin Falconet cannons. Those elite imperial gunners kept them watered; they didn't take a single hit despite several battles."

"And there are three Great General cannons. Not the old junk from before, but the new ones forged by Lord Ye. Each weighs a thousand jin, made entirely of refined iron. They were forged, not cast, and their quality far exceeds other cast-iron or bronze guns."

Listening to Cao Yao’s description, Liu Chengzong was puzzled. Forged cannons? And better than bronze? Were they steel cannons?

Cao Yao gestured wildly. "The gun carriage for Lord Ye’s divine musket—that was a small version; these are the big ones. They're excellent. Plus thirty smaller guns. Give them all to me, and we can expand your battalion’s artillery detachment on the spot."

Cao Yao had been deeply frustrated by Li Bei’s shelling over the last two days, and now he was eager for payback. "Ten big guns, forty-five small ones—if those Qingyang troops dare to come over, we’ll blast them into submission!"

Liu Chengzong laughed. "You think you’ll get another chance like this? Where are you going to find such a golden opportunity again?"

The success of the battle had hinged on opportunity. They had discovered Liu Guozhen’s force advancing as a detached unit into the mountains, and the lack of heavy fire on that flank had been their true advantage.

Liu Chengzong had his own plans for the guns. He told Cao Yao, "I’ll give you the big guns, but not the small ones. I intend to distribute the small cannons to each company. Look at Li Bei’s formation—he had main artillery batteries, but small guns protected every flank. If we hadn't surrounded him, the cavalry would have had a hard time breaking in."

He had clearly observed Zhang Tianlin’s breakthrough of Li Bei’s formation from the rear. Zhang had used a very standard cavalry tactic against infantry: the final twenty paces. That was where the pressure was greatest; if the formation wavered, the cavalry could drive straight in. If not, they had to pull back and try again. It was only the rare commander like Gao Yingxiang who could smash through a static formation with cavalry alone. But even then, they shouldn't have both charged simultaneously, only to collide inside the enemy ranks.

Liu Chengzu said, "I believe the greatest flaw in this battle was the lack of a central command. The units couldn't coordinate, and even though everyone was fearless, it was hard to win."

Liu Chengzong and Cao Yao agreed, but looked at each other helplessly. Their biggest advantage had been Liu Chengzong’s success on the outer flank, while the lack of unified command had been their greatest weakness. If there had been a signal flag on the mountain, they could have ordered Zhang Tianlin to break the line, left Gao Yingxiang in reserve, and then had Gao finish the job once Zhang had pierced through. It would have been a glorious victory.

Cao Yao sighed. "There’s no one who can command everyone!" He knew better than anyone that unified command was hard enough for the imperial army, let alone a coalition of bandit forces. "When it comes to fighting to the death, can Gao the Bold make Chengzu and Wanqing fight to the end? Can the Lion make the 'Middle Star' push his line into the enemy's faces to eat cannonballs?"

Cao Yao sat cross-legged. "It’s better this way." Besides, both Gao Yingxiang and Liu Chengzong had to lead their own men. Without them, the combat effectiveness of this coalition would drop to the level of a single imperial company.

"A consolidated camp." Liu Chengzong mused for a long time before speaking. "I plan to merge. Merge with Shangtianhou. I’ll make him a deputy commander, appoint the company captains myself, and draft his men as auxiliary troops to expand to a full battalion of four thousand."

Cao Yao, having missed the battle against Liu Guozhen, still remembered Shangtianhou as a grubby man with a ragtag group. He scratched his head through his helmet, surprised. "Shangtianhou is a decent fellow, but his men... Lion, think about it. I’d say Luo Caocao, Guo Tianxing, or Shetaxian would be better as captains than him. Besides, the best candidate is your brother!" He pointed at Liu Chengzu. "If you want elite troops, Liu can organize them; he could pull together a hundred veterans easily. As for Shangtianhou’s beggars, if you bring them in, he’s just changing the place where he digs graves."

Liu Chengzu said nothing, but Cao Yao scoffed, "Our brothers all want to live well; no one cares if there’s a leader to dig their graves after they die. Why make him a grave-digging deputy?" Seeing Liu Chengzong remained unmoved, he whispered, "Besides, we gathered nine thousand men for this battle. Can we afford to feed them once it’s over?"

That was the most critical issue. This force was stationed in the Yanhe valley; three days of fighting had consumed a month’s worth of grain. Whether Shangtianhou was willing to merge was one thing, but even if he were, Liu Chengzong couldn't afford the winter rations.

"Brother Cao, you weren't in the western mountains. Shangtianhou’s men lack equipment and skill, but they are obedient." Liu Chengzong looked at Cao Yao and nodded firmly. "That suits me well."

"As for my brother, my plan is to merge the camps of Shetaxian, Caocao, Chuangtaxian, Guotianxing, and Monk Wang. My brother and father have experience in regional administration, while I will lead the mobile forces." He turned to them. "It’s too early to say for sure, but we must first finish off Wu Weifan, and then we can think about the winter."

"Speaking of what to do," Cao Yao laughed, "what about Li Bei? He’s stubborn as a mule. What do you plan to do with him?"

Liu Chengzong’s face clouded with difficulty. He shook his head. "I don’t know. This is the one thing I can’t figure out."

It was ironic. When Lu Cheng had died, Liu Chengzong’s greatest regret was that the man had been killed by a wood splinter. That regret had fueled endless fantasies—if Lu Cheng had lived, perhaps he could have been won over and put to use. He was a traditional officer, not a small-time captain like them. He was a general.

But now that Li Bei was captured, it was a headache. If he kept him, he couldn't find a reason for Li Bei to surrender; he would never serve them. Releasing him was impossible—he would return next month with renewed vigor and heightened caution. Executing him was equally inappropriate; if they killed a man who had surrendered, no imperial officer would ever surrender again.

Keeping him was just as uncomfortable. If he kept him in the camp, Li Bei was a Ming court commander who could incite mutiny at any moment. "Release me, help me out, and I’ll recommend you for a commission." That would be the end of it, perhaps even followed by an assassination attempt.

Seeing his dilemma, Liu Chengzu suggested, "Send him to Zuantianmao. Let Mr. Yang talk to him, and pick a few reliable men from our clan to watch him. That’s better than anyone else."

It was only marginally better. Blood kin were more reliable, but without shared interests, their betrayal could be even more destructive. Liu Chengzong tapped the table, suddenly remembering someone. He turned to his brother and asked, "Brother, where is Ren Quan?"