Chapter Five: The Four Marshals of the Great Tang

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The Taining Army was established during the reign of Emperor Xianzong of the Tang Dynasty, following the suppression of the rebellion led by Li Shidao, the military governor of Ziqing. It was formed by dividing the southern part of the Ziqing circuit, with its headquarters in Yizhou, overseeing Yanzhou, Haizhou, Yizhou, and Mizhou.

A man, whose waist was adorned with a massive official’s pen, exclaimed in shock, “How could this be? The Taining Army has been financially strained in recent years, surely they must have disbanded most of their troops. How could Qi Kerang possibly muster forces to march out?”

He was a native of Yanzhou and naturally knew Qi Kerang’s formidable reputation, yet despite his words, his body trembled involuntarily.

The assembled rogue armies exchanged glances, sensing the air freeze once more, as if a heavy leaden cloud pressed down on their hearts.

They comprehended the meaning behind the venomous gaze that had driven away the imperial envoy with a whip.

Soon, every one of you will die! That was the unspoken implication in Ren Qinchai’s words.

The veteran general Song Wei was undoubtedly a renowned commander of the era, but when it came to the pillars of the Tang Dynasty, none stood taller than the Four Marshals of Thunder Flame and Snow Wind. They were the empire’s towering pillars, its golden beams spanning the seas.

The world spoke of them thus: unrivaled in courage, unmatched in wisdom, founding generals of the empire, led by Yingwei, the foremost among the Four Marshals—heroes of the age.

They were even compared to Li Jing, the Duke of Wei under Emperor Taizong, and Xu Shiji, the Duke of Ying—both legendary figures.

Since the fragmentation in the Hebei region, court intrigues among officials, eunuch dominance, rampant corruption, and territorial decline, even though the empire faced turbulent seas after the An Lushan Rebellion, the Tang Dynasty stood tall for over a century, preventing foreign tribes from boldly drawing their bows and grazing their horses. This endurance was thanks to countless fierce warriors guarding its borders.

The Four Marshals were the elite among the ten military governors of the realm, inheritors of the fighting spirit of the great generals of the High Tang.

Some said the Four Marshals embodied the very soul of the Tang army wherever their blades struck.

They had razed the city of Nanzhao, stormed Tibetan fortresses, probed the walls of the Dangxiang, trampled the fields of the Khitan, quelled the banners of Bohai, and uprooted the flags of Champa. Their campaigns swept across the land like clouds and storms, enduring no longer than a mere month in close battles and never more than two seasons in distant campaigns.

Thunder Flame and Snow Wind surged across the ten directions!

Their very existence was the embodiment of terror for all barbarian tribes, like an abyss in the primordial chaos swallowing all in its depths.

For the common people of Tang, these legendary four commanders, all from the same school, were an unyielding source of dread embedded deep within their souls.

Even the once world-renowned Ming Sect leader Pang Xun, who commanded tens of thousands, became but a spirit slain by the third-ranked Marshal Feng!

When righteous forces rose and stirred the winds of the eight directions, the Four Marshals turned their blades inward, using the eight-sided Han swords that once cut down barbarians like grass to sever the heads of their own Han brethren.

Who could not fear them? Who dared defy such might?

Though many heroes had made their names in the outlaw bands for decades, none could claim to rival the battle-hardened spirits forged on countless battlefields.

“This path we walk is one of death; the bread we eat is the severed head’s meal, the wine we drink is the farewell cup. There’s nothing to fear,” Wang Xianzhi sighed. “Our army suffers heavy casualties and must halt in Songzhou to recuperate; retreat is impossible. I cannot abandon the brothers who’ve shed blood for us. This final decisive battle is unavoidable.”

“Why should the leader worry?” Zhu Wen spoke up. “Since the uprising began, we should have been prepared to face the Four Marshals in battle.”

“Those poets and scholars who praise the generals who shake the world, whose blades are stained with the bones and blood of foreign tribes, whose long spears defend Tang’s glory—this is true.”

“But what does any of that have to do with starving commoners, peasants crushed by taxes, corpses along the road to death, or women with white hair mourning lost children? Does so-called imperial glory permit us to disregard the dignity, the livelihood, the hunger of the people?”

“The Four Marshals are unmatched in warfare, yet they cannot defeat the fury of the common folk. Such is the tide of the world. The great current of history surges on—those who follow it prosper, those who resist perish.”

Zhu Wen declared with passion, “Since Marshal Snow, Qi Kerang, emerged undefeated, we heroes of today must break his blade and sink it in the sands!”

Zhu Wen was not one to indulge in rousing speeches lightly.

Yet he felt this was the moment for his passion to ignite.

His usually calm blood blazed fiercely only now.

Though clad in plain moon-white summer robes, his snow-white skin, scarred by countless battles, created a striking contrast. Tall and graceful as a jade tree in the wind, his high nose resembled a towering peak, blending the refined beauty of a youth from the Jianghuai region with the heroic spirit of a northern man. His slightly raised eyes held a cold fierceness, yet also a hint of mischief.

For a moment, all eyes turned to the eloquent young man.

“Moreover, I, Zhu Wen, pride myself on some wit and pledge my humble efforts to the leader and Marshal Huang. I will see that this so-called infallible Marshal Snow is made to suffer greatly.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha…” Wang Xianzhi laughed heartily, patting Zhu Wen’s shoulder. “The young calf does not fear the tiger—truly, the ancients did not deceive! Such boldness in youth is admirable.”

Qin Yan, the young deputy leader of the Bamboo Flower Gang, and others, all young and famed early, were taken aback. Zhu Wen, an obscure rogue, had spoken with such arrogance against the Four Marshals, eliciting scornful glances.

Yet to their surprise, Wang Xianzhi approved of this boldness.

The man from Yanzhou who bore the official’s pen spoke up: “Ambition is necessary, but arrogance and underestimating the enemy is a path to death. This young hero, Zhu Wen, has offered no sound strategy but boasts of teaching the veteran Marshal Snow a lesson. This could unsettle our troops.”

Liu Yanzhang, the refined vice-leader of the Zhenyi Alliance, keenly sensed their discontent toward Huang Chao’s faction. Although Wang Xianzhi did not mind being publicly beaten to assert authority by Huang Chao, Qin Yan and others did. They had hoped to gain rank through submission, but Huang Chao’s interference ruined that chance. Unable to express their frustration, Zhu Wen, as Huang Chao’s new confidant, seemed a convenient target.

Liu Yanzhang, like Huang Chao, had once failed the imperial exams and opposed submission. Earlier, most leaders had been blinded by the lure of high office, but Huang Chao’s arrival changed the tide. Yet Liu knew the divide between the two armies was not easily bridged.

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“Strategies must adapt to circumstances. We have yet to face Qi Kerang or understand the situation fully. How can young brother Zhu propose tactics now? As the saying goes, ‘One man’s plan is short, many men’s plans are long.’ Since we have resolved to fight decisively, we should pool our wisdom against Marshal Snow. Everyone shall have their say then,” Liu Yanzhang diplomatically interjected.

Zhu Wen cast a grateful glance at Liu. Among Wang Xianzhi’s ranks, the men were mixed. Liu was a trusted friend of forty years, noble in character and capable. But many martial heroes drawn by Wang’s fame were less reliable.

“Like chives, cut and they grow again; like a rooster’s head, cut and it crows anew. Officials need not be feared, but commoners must never be underestimated,” Zhu Wen said. “Leader Wang named our army after the common folk, often mocked by scholars. But I know the name stems from an Eastern Han ballad. With such resolute spirit, why should we fear battle?”

“Marshal Yan has long anticipated the heavy casualties your troops have suffered facing strong enemies in the Central Plains. On the northern march, he has recruited numerous skilled healers and gathered abundant medicines to swiftly restore the lightly wounded.”

“Song Wei is closer to our army. We should calculate distances and, before his arrival, dig deep trenches, build high ramparts, and form a defensive camp. Our two armies will form a pincer; when Qi Kerang approaches from the east, he will find no easy encirclement.”

Qin Yan and others were surprised; Zhu Wen indeed showed some military insight.

But the man with the official’s pen, a former clerk and skilled in law, gritted his teeth and challenged, “Though our numbers appear great, most are refugees; few can fight effectively. We favor guerrilla tactics, not fortified defense. Deep trenches and ramparts will drain our strength. If the court assembles heavy forces for a siege, trapping us from all sides, even if we avoid annihilation, we will be besieged to death here in Songzhou.”

This was clearly shifting blame onto Zhu Wen.

The decisive battle at Songzhou was necessary: Wang Xianzhi’s troops were too wounded to retreat, and they needed to forage the fertile lands for supplies. Yet this litigator accused Zhu Wen’s suggestion of deep trenches and ramparts as a death sentence, revealing malicious intent.

His argument sounded plausible, and many leaders nodded in agreement.

Zhu Wen laughed aloud, “What a cowardly leader! Like a bride in a carriage, trembling!”

His robe fluttered as if stirred by a breeze, accentuating his upright and handsome demeanor, his radiant presence like a bright moon in the sky.

The man was momentarily intimidated by Zhu Wen’s bearing but soon regained fervor and retorted angrily, “What nonsense is this? When you cannot argue, you resort to slander? I’ve studied Sun Wu’s Art of War and base my words on it…”

“Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated,” Zhu Wen interrupted. “First ensure you are invincible, then wait for the enemy’s weakness. Hence my proposal for deep trenches and ramparts. As for the court sending reinforcements to encircle us—impossible.”

“You are all frightened by Marshal Snow Qi Kerang. But in truth, who leads the court army: the old rogue Song Wei or Taining’s Qi Kerang? This leader said the Taining Army’s coffers are dry and cannot muster many soldiers.”

The man with the pen urgently said, “Even so, we must not underestimate the enemy and proceed cautiously…”

“Qi Kerang’s involvement is temporary and nominally under Song Wei’s command. Song Wei is brave but lacks wisdom and decisiveness; he is no great commander,” Zhu Wen disparaged the enemy to elevate himself. “Who among you dares claim Song Wei’s talents surpass Leader Wang’s?”

The man exchanged glances with Qin Yan and others.

Though Wang Xianzhi had been defeated thrice by Song Wei, none dared say Wang was inferior.

At that moment, Huang Chao’s powerful voice rang out, directed at Wang Xianzhi.

“Zhu Wen is mostly right. Song Wei is no top strategist—more known for his courage.”

“If we speak of bravery, how could Song Wei rival you, the greatest master in the world? Your past defeats by Song Wei were because of doubt born from forty years of comfort and luxury. But now, you have reclaimed the self who stood tall for family and country, who climbed the Jade Emperor’s peak to slay the demon lord. This Wang Xianzhi is a force Song Wei cannot match!”

Huang Chao spoke with unshakable conviction, each word imbued with irresistible power.

“As for why Zhu Wen’s camp believes the court won’t send reinforcements to encircle us, I have guessed his meaning, but I wish him to explain himself.”

Huang Chao’s public support for Zhu Wen intimidated Qin Yan and the others.

After all, Huang Chao was a martial master famed in the underworld, wielding the Seven-Star Mountain-Cleaving Saber, having slain Xue Chong, descendent of the legendary Xue Rengui, the military governor of Tianping—a feat beyond their reach.

Wang Xianzhi’s expression softened. “Young brother Zhu, say what you have to say.”

Bolstered by Huang Chao’s backing, Zhu Wen’s heart warmed. “The current military governor system divides the empire’s forces; its advantage is constant commanders and strong combat power. But it grants too much local autonomy, breeding arrogant generals who, when coordinating, often delay and shirk, preserving strength but wasting resources.”

“In Emperor Xianzong’s time, when Wu Yuanji of Caizhou rebelled, the court sent sixteen armies led by Yan Shou and Han Hong, with Li Guangyan as senior general. None could coordinate properly, wasting funds and failing for years. It was only when Duke Li Su devised a surprise night attack that the rebellion was quelled.”

“Of course, there are positive examples. During Emperor Yizong’s reign, Ming Sect leader Pang Xun rose and repeatedly defeated court forces, shaking the world. The court appointed veteran Kang Chengxun to command 200,000 troops, surrounding and capturing Pang Xun within months.”

Kang Chengxun was no miraculous general, but his seniority and the presence of the Four Marshals under his command allowed effective coordination. Marshal Feng himself beheaded Pang Xun, while Kang took credit for overseeing the whole.

Zhu Wen continued, “So I ask, how does Song Wei’s capability compare to Marshal Kang?”

The room fell silent.

Though Song Wei was considered a famous general, he was jealous of others, eager to claim glory, and prone to exaggerate victories.

After the Battle of Yizhou, Song Wei falsely reported killing Wang Xianzhi, who later appeared alive and well. Many in court petitioned for his removal, but Song Wei’s seniority and connections kept him in place.

This was the absurdity of the Tang court: seniority and favoritism mattered more than competence. Song Wei’s old networks ensured his position, while Qi Kerang was merely his subordinate in name.

Yet the court knew Song Wei’s limitations and the number of troops under his command. With limited treasury funds, they would not increase forces, nor attempt overwhelming force.

No matter how one looked at it, Song Wei alone had defeated Wang Xianzhi multiple times; coupled with Qi Kerang, they were more than sufficient.

Still, the insurgents had resolved to fight to the death at Songzhou.

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After the discussion, Zhu Wen returned to his camp with Huang Chao.

“Master, please accept a bow from your student!”

Zhu Wen adopted a solemn expression: “For over twenty years, I’ve wandered as if in a dream. Thanks to your guidance, master, you’ve enlightened me and shown me the way anew.”

Between master and student, not only does the master choose the disciple, but the disciple also chooses the master.

Given Huang Chao’s status, even if he had admired Zhu Wen’s talent and courage from the start, even gifting him the treasured Daxia Longque saber seized from Wang Xianzhi, he would not openly declare his intention to take him as a disciple.

Moreover, he needed time to better understand this ambitious young man.

So he chose to let Zhu Wen see and feel for himself.

Only today, at the gathering of heroes, when Huang Chao struck Wang Xianzhi in anger, did Zhu Wen realize that Huang Chao’s generosity and decisiveness surpassed even the forty-year veteran leader Wang.

“You’ve followed me so long. I thought when you made this request, you’d be more casual about it,” Huang Chao said, hands behind his back, leisurely.

“When I took Duan, the girl, as my disciple, she pulled out several of my beard hairs.”

Zhu Wen was stunned.

He had learned from Wang Xianzhi that Huang Chao already had two disciples, a son and a daughter.

He never imagined that the girl, whether senior or junior sister, dared to pull Huang Chao’s beard!

Seeing Zhu Wen’s stunned expression, Huang Chao laughed heartily, “But she was only eleven then, a mischievous little girl. It caused no harm. When you reach that age, if you’re still as unruly, don’t blame me for giving you a sound beating!”

Though his words were teasing, his eyes brimmed with unhidden affection.

Huang Chao was a free-spirited man, with schemes but also straightforwardness.

Zhu Wen suddenly recalled his father striking his palm with a ruler in childhood, a memory that stirred a sudden pang of longing. His eyes pricked with tears.

He had been very small then. Now, recalling his father’s scowling, furious looks, he realized each strike had been gentle.

“My son, I shouldn’t have hit you back then.”

“You are my pride. I disciplined you because you were too clever, too sharp, and I feared others might envy you. I wanted you to understand the virtue of restraint.”

“But I often wondered, if you hid your brilliance, would you still be yourself?”

“I, Zhu Cheng, am but a failed teacher. I never imagined I’d have such a smart, beautiful child, like a prince from legend.”

“You were not meant to be born into the Zhu family, living in poverty. You should have been born into a noble clan where you could freely express your nature.”

“After I’m gone, live your life as you see fit! With your spirit, once you choose your path, not even the heavens can stop you.”

These were his father’s last words.

Villagers said he was a rebellious child who caused his father’s death, a cold boy who never cried.

They did not know that in private, he wept so fiercely his eyes were swollen, but no tears fell.

Do not waste your tears; when eyes dry, bones show, and the world turns heartless.

He simply did not want others to see his weakness.

Now, looking at his master, he saw his father’s shadow.

Yet his eyes were only moist with emotion, then he smiled naturally.

“That boy will stride confidently behind his master and, together, topple the so-called world-shaking Four Marshals of the Tang one by one.”

“Hahahahaha!” Huang Chao laughed heartily, slapping Zhu Wen’s shoulder. “Such spirit is what a disciple of mine should have!”

“The coming battle depends on your further performance.”

Zhu Wen’s face brimmed with confidence: “I will not disappoint you, master!”