Chapter 39 Yan Jingming

The battle of Songzhou had ended over a month ago. Now, the insurgent armies of Wang Xianzhi and Huang Chao had advanced north of the Huai River, reaching a location east of Yingzhou.

Yingzhou happened to be the administrative seat of that notorious Prefect Burial, who had previously led the Huaixi mule cavalry and the immortals to raid Wang Xianzhi's forces, slaying more than two thousand men.

However, Huang Chao and Wang Xianzhi had no intention of going to trouble the Prefect Burial, because the city of Yingzhou was universally acknowledged as easy to defend and difficult to attack. Furthermore, the Prefect Burial's soldiers were elite troops, and there was no need to court frustration.

Continuing eastward along the Huai River, numerous sparsely defended prefectures and counties awaited the insurgents to pillage and sweep through.

That day, Zhu Wen had just risen when he heard a clamor from outside his tent.

"Boss, it's bad!" His little follower, Huo Cun, rushed frantically into the tent.

His preferred form of address for Zhu Wen was usually "Boss" rather than "Camp Commander."

In truth, apart from replacements for those who had fallen in battle, the vast majority of the men in Zhu Wen's camp were still the same band of Tongshan bandits who had followed him for two years. In this regard, Huo Cun did not differ much from the others.

Because Zhu Wen was fond of abandoning his stronghold to roam the world at will, they spent even more time dealing with Zhu Wen's second elder brother, Zhu Cun.

"What is it?" Zhu Wen said indifferently. "Acting like a monkey with its tail on fire over some trivial matter."

"That Huaixi captive I captured, the one called Ma Yin, he's run away!" Huo Cun said with considerable annoyance. "A mere foot soldier like him, with no family to come and ransom him—when he agreed to join our ranks, I actually thought he was sincere."

Of course, what Ma Yin had not told Huo Cun and the others was that he was actually a squad leader in command of ten horsemen, not just an ordinary foot soldier. Because of that, escaping had been somewhat easier.

"To have served as a cavalryman means one always feels they have some sort of future in the imperial army, even if the mount is only a mule." Zhu Wen dismissed the matter entirely.

Yet "Ma Yin" was the fruit of Huo Cun's very first capture in battle, and for the man to have simply run back home, it was only natural for Huo Cun to be this agitated.

Seeing that Zhu Wen did not care, Huo Cun had no choice but to helplessly change the subject: "Boss, you are now the chief strategist for the Salt Commander's army, so why is your rank still just a camp commander? Shouldn't you at least be a header commanding a thousand men?"

"Well said, but the question is where are those five hundred men supposed to magically appear from? Look at Senior Brother Meng Juehai and Junior Sister Duan Hongyan—they have followed Master for all these years, yet each of them still commands only a single camp of five hundred men."

Huo Cun lowered his head and hesitated for a moment.

Naturally, he also knew that newly recruited soldiers lacked training and could not be put to any major use.

"Can't other existing camps be transferred to you, Boss?" Huo Cun asked.

Zhu Wen placed his left palm flat upon the table, gently tapping with his index finger: "Little Huo, you must understand that the truly core combat troops in Master's hands number only a little over two thousand. The two camps belonging to Senior Brother Meng and Junior Sister Duan are among them."

"As for our camp, because we are not elite enough, we are not yet qualified to be included."

"Why are there so few?" Huo Cun asked in puzzlement.

"This is the difference between an insurgent army and an imperial army," Zhu Wen explained. "Insurgent armies are formed when heroes from all over who refuse to submit to the imperial court flock together, rolling like a snowball. Because of long-term mobile warfare, there is a lack of opportunities to break them down and reorganize them. Take my camp, for instance; it still consists entirely of my previous subordinates, with no personnel swapped with other camps."

Huo Cun had also read a bit of military strategy these days, and he grasped the concept instantly: "Boss, you mean that although Grand Marshal Huang enforces military law strictly and trains his troops rigorously, because the integration is insufficient, it is actually difficult for the insurgent army to fight truly hard battles?"

"If that is the case, however, how did Marshal Huang previously defeat and behead the Taping Military Commissioner Xue Chong, and how did we heavily rout Song Wei and Qi Kelang at Songzhou?"

Zhu Wen smiled. "Qi Kelang lacked combat troops, having only five thousand men. As for those pampered soldiers under Song Wei's command, their flaws were far greater than those of the righteous army."

"It is not that I wish to diminish our own prestige, but if we were to face the elite Black Armor Cavalry and Guanzhong garrison troops under the founding Emperor Taizong, Li Shimin, we would probably have been ground to dust long ago."

Huo Cun let out an exclamation of surprise, not expecting the situation to be quite like this.

"Troops should be valued for their quality rather than their quantity," Zhu Wen said. "Wang Jian is merely a humble squad leader with only a hundred and fifty men in his hands, yet those hundred and fifty men can fight better than our entire camp of five hundred right now. Before we expand the army, we had better think of some ways to raise the individual combat effectiveness of the brothers in our camp."

"Understood!" Huo Cun nodded. "This subordinate will strictly supervise their drills without any slackness!"

"Autumn has arrived, the weather is turning cool, and the enemy's scouts are also increasing. We are right at their doorstep, and that 'Prefect Burial' in Yingzhou will certainly not sit idle. I will go out of the camp alone to scout around; who knows, perhaps I might even capture a few prisoners for questioning." Zhu Wen said to Huo Cun.

With that, he walked straight out of the tent, led his horse away, and departed from the camp.

Huo Cun inwardly complained, knowing that Zhu Wen was actually exceedingly lazy, and most of the camp's affairs were left to his second elder brother, Zhu Cun, to handle. His so-called scouting mission outside the camp was nothing more than slipping away to clear his mind.

Yet there was nothing he could do, so he could only go find Zhu Cun to report the unfinished military business.

Compared to Songzhou, which was situated in the heart of the Central Plains, northern Huai, although also belonging to Henan Circuit, had far more water networks and lakes than Songzhou. Still, overall it remained a region where cavalry could operate, living up to the saying: "The terrain is level and accessible, where brave cavalry can gallop."

Born in Songzhou and raised in Xuzhou north of the Huai River, Zhu Wen understood the differences between these places better than anyone.

Due to the moisture brought by the water networks and lakes along the Huai River, a layer of morning dew would often condense amidst the autumn reed beds at dawn. Just as the ancients said: "The reeds are lush and green, the white dew turns to frost."

Ever since his father passed away, Zhu Wen had not read many books, but he still remembered quite a few poems from the *Classic of Poetry*.

"The reeds are desolate and chill, the white dew has not yet dried. The one of whom I speak is by the river's bank."

He liked the term "river's bank"—it was water, it was shore, it was grass, and it resembled a lover's eyebrows; with a slight curve of the brows, it could stir the deepest chords of a person's heart.

Clusters upon clusters of reeds on the river's bank, caught in a sudden thickening of the morning wind, lifted pinkish-white reed catkins tinged with pale purple, dancing fluffily with the wind in the air like falling threads of rain.

This was precisely the "flying snow of reed catkins" that even the noble scions of Chang'an often rushed to the Central Plains to witness.

Zhu Wen spread open his left palm, caught a reed catkin, and observed it closely, feeling a deep sense of tranquility within his heart.

Yet a shrill cry suddenly pierced his ears, interrupting Zhu Wen's leisurely, silent contemplation.

The sound was faint and very slight, but that was only because Zhu Wen was quite far away.

However, his hearing was sharp, and he could vaguely make out that the other party was saying: "You claim to be... the Shanyi League... committing murder and pillaging..."

Such matters were inherently impossible to completely avoid.

Zhu Wen did not consider himself a saint like Kou Qianzhi, who wanted to step forward whenever he encountered an injustice. Perhaps in his teens he still possessed such chivalrous warmth, but after experiencing a few instances where those he saved proved ungrateful or even bit the hand that fed them, he was rarely willing to meddle in such idle business.

Even so, he still mounted his saddle and galloped rapidly along the leaf-strewn ground beside the small river, wishing to figure out what had happened.

According to Zhu Wen's habitual experience, the fellow who had cried out for help earlier was likely already dead by now. For the act of murder was invariably a ruthless, thorough business.

However, when Zhu Wen arrived, he found that the person seemed to still be alive.

It was a youth of small stature, with delicate and refined features, wearing a blue cloth scholar's robe and a moon-white turban on his head.

His complexion was slightly pale, yet he courageously spread his arms wide, shielding an entire caravan behind him. On one side of the convoy were female dependents, children, and hulking giants standing over seven feet tall.

None of these people were as brave as that diminutive youth.

For the two more courageous, tower-like, robust men had already been stabbed to death on the ground nearby, their faces pressed against the earth, their blood congealed into a purple hue, fusing together with the fallen leaves and mud.

"Our Shanyi League is naturally an upright and righteous faction," a sighing voice rang out. "When Alliance Leader Wang raised his troops, he truly declared his intent to equalize the lands of the realm and mend the heavens for the common people."

"However, I, Yan Jingming, have lost quite a bit of gold and silver gambling these past few days, and I am practically reduced to pawning my trousers."

"Besides, these brothers behind me indeed felt that the spoils distributed after the previous battle of Songzhou were not enough to cover their expenses." As Yan Jingming spoke, he gestured toward the group of fierce-looking grassroots soldiers behind him.

"That's right! Elder Brother Yan eats meat and brings his brothers along with him—that is the greatest code of righteousness in the martial world!" A man behind him chimed in loudly. "Elder Brother Yan, those two martial arts masters just now were brawling with you and were run through by your two swords in an instant. Why bother entangling yourself with this bookworm for so long?"

"A bookworm who is neither man nor woman is simply irritating to look at!" another man shouted, inciting the crowd. "If Leader Yan won't make a move, we'll chop him down in our leader's stead!"

The youth blocking the path of the caravan clenched his teeth, but his gaze remained resolute: "You cannot do this! This is murder and robbery—how does this conform to any code of martial righteousness? If word of this reaches Alliance Leader Alliance Leader Wang, he will certainly not tolerate it!"

Hearing these words, one of the grassroots soldiers burst into loud laughter.

"Little bookworm, do you know who our leader is?"

The youth, dressed like a scholar, said softly: "I do not know."

"Yet whoever he may be, must he not still reason and abide by the rules?"

As he spoke, his expression turned intensely serious. Clearly, he believed from the bottom of his heart that these principles should hold true and make sense to anyone.

Zhu Wen was hiding behind a towering ginkgo tree, silently observing all of this.

Naturally, he knew Yan Jingming's identity.

He also knew that Yan Jingming's accomplices would certainly claim that Yan Jingming was Wang Xianzhi's third disciple, ranking just below the two brothers Shang Junzhang and Shang Rang.

In reality, there was still some distinction. Wang Xianzhi had only two formal indoor disciples, Shang Junzhang and Shang Rang, while as for outer disciples, there were plenty. Yan Jingming was merely one of the more favored among the outer disciples.

Sure enough, the sycophant behind Yan Jingming shouted loudly: "Our Elder Brother Yan is none other than the third disciple of Alliance Leader Wang Xianzhi, highly favored by the Alliance Leader! He wants gold, silver, wealth, and women—why don't you ungrateful wretches obediently offer them up?"

Yet another sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked figure, resembling a dog-headed strategist, seeing that Yan Jingming had been entangling himself with this fair-faced youth for so long without making a move, quickly formed a scheme in his mind. He leaned into Yan Jingming's ear, twiddling his fingers and smiling lewdly: "Elder Brother Yan, could it be that you also fancy that sort of taste? As the saying goes—'Three flats are not as good as one round'..."

With that, the dog-headed strategist sized up the stubborn youth who had dared to stand alone against dozens of armed grassroots soldiers. He thought to himself that at first glance the boy seemed unremarkable, but upon closer inspection, his facial features were delicate, his brows and eyes clear and refined, possessing an indescribable, enduring charm that even made the strategist feel somewhat moved.

What the dog-headed strategist said struck a deep chord within Yan Jingming. Yet, could he really voice his penchant for male favorites? If he did, wouldn't his brothers start worrying about their own backsides? Therefore, as Yan Jingming looked at the pretty youth, the more he looked the more he liked him, yet the more he looked the more awkward he felt.