Chapter 52: Mountain Bandits

The eleventh year of Chongzhen in the Great Ming Dynasty, October thirteenth. The sky was overcast, with poor sunlight and a dim hue.

Within the territory of Xuanfu Garrison, along the official highway, the willow trees on both sides were left with only withered branches swaying in the cold late-autumn wind, blowing the scattered golden willow leaves on the ground into a rustling, forward-rolling tide.

On the broad official highway, a dragon-like procession of people marched in an orderly fashion from east to west toward the direction of Baoan Guard City. They drove several carts, led numerous mules and horses, and dragged along a multitude of items wrapped in large and small bundles.

This human dragon, consisting of over a thousand people, had more men than women, and even fewer elderly and weak. It stretched for more than a mile along the official highway. They were divided into squads of about a hundred people, interspersed with carts, mules, and horses. At a rough glance, there were as many as thirteen such squads.

Although their clothes were tattered and their faces were full of fatigue and the weathering of bitter journeys, they maintained good order as they marched. The ten large carts were loaded to the brim. Some single-wheeled barrows were interspersed among the crowd, carrying personal belongings, while over a hundred mules and horses also carried packs, toiling forward.

Three sturdy and fierce cavalrymen patrolled at the head of the procession, riding back and forth, scattering and regrouping as if scouting for potential dangers ahead of the group.

About three hundred paces behind them was a squad of stalwart men, numbering around sixty. They held a miscellaneous assortment of long and short weapons. Their clothes were equally tattered, but the dozen or so men walking at the very front appeared to wear battered armor.

"Squad Leader He, when on earth will we reach Xuanfu?" a gruff and booming voice asked.

Right behind those sixty men was a two-horse carriage, where several men were lying or sitting. Following behind the carriage were several warhorses with their reins draped over their necks, making a trotting sound as they trailed the vehicle.

A calm voice came from the carriage, "Sun Dashan, go shout to everyone to be careful. I noticed those fellows with horses back at Zhongzi Shop looked damn suspicious."

The speaker was He Shihui, the squad leader of the Left Platoon of the Cavalry Company of the Right Wing Camp under the Town Vanguard, who was responsible for escorting the wounded soldiers and refugees back to Xuanfu Garrison. After days of recuperation, his wounds had largely healed. Not only him, but many of the lightly wounded soldiers had also recovered, only to lazily lie and sit in the carriages.

Ever since they parted ways with Platoon Leader Zhang Guangda of the Left Platoon at Juyong Pass, they had marched all the way. To conserve grain and provisions, they made camp and rested early every day, then sent people out to dig wild vegetables to mix into the porridge to stave off hunger.

Hurry as they might, covering thirty to forty miles a day, they had now passed Huailai Guard City by more than thirty miles and were roughly thirty miles away from Baoan Guard City—far from any village and isolated from any shop.

Two days ago, when they rested and made camp at Laizi Shop, more than ten horsemen in three or four waves had brushed past their procession. Two waves of riders even rode up to high ground to stop and observe them.

Last night, they rested near Zhongzi Shop. When breaking camp at the hour of Chen this morning, He Shihui had once again spotted three horsemen lingering around the encampment, which was why he had dispatched twelve cavalrymen to patrol the perimeter.

Precisely because he feared trouble, they had skipped the midday meal. He Shihui's plan was to push through this stretch of road as quickly as possible; the closer they got to Baoan Guard City, the safer they would be.

Hearing He Shihui's command, Sun Dashan, squad leader of the First Squad of the Left Platoon's Second Platoon, instantly leaped up from the carriage. Using the momentum for a flip, he landed squarely on the back of one of the warhorses following the vehicle.

He grabbed the reins, turned the horse's head, and dug his heels firmly into its flanks. With a neigh, the warhorse bolted diagonally, galloping along the edge of the official highway to catch up with the three soldiers scouting ahead.

"I say, Big Stone, how come you never seem to get tired? There are fine carts you could ride, yet you insist on grinding down those big soles of yours," He Shihui teased Shizhuzi semi-mockingly.

"Squad Leader He, look quickly! What's happening over there?" Shizhuzi's gruff voice rang out, carrying a distinctly urgent tone.

Hearing the unusual tone in Shizhuzi's voice, He Shihui hurriedly propped himself up into a sitting position and looked toward the northern side of the official highway where Shizhuzi was pointing.

He saw a massive cloud of dust billowing across the wasteland north of the highway, resembling a sudden dust storm. Viewed from afar, the huge plume of smoke and dust was almost obscuring a small peak a few miles away.

Liu Quan, the squad leader of the First Squad of the Left Platoon who had been lying beside He Shihui, also sat up. As he watched the rolling dust cloud to the north, he kept shifting his gaze and cried out in unison with He Shihui, "Bandits! They're mountain bandits!"

He Shihui and Liu Quan exchanged a glance, sprang violently to their feet, and shouted at the top of their lungs, "Pass the order! Everyone halt, unload the carts, gather the mules and horses, and keep calm!"

The marching refugee column fell into a brief chaos. Shizhuzi hauled a long-handled sledgehammer, opened his wide mouth, and roared in a booming voice, "Stop your damn flailing! Stand your ground and don't you dare move around!"

From time to time, men jumped down from various carts, vaulted onto horses, and galloped back and forth along the highway shouting, "Hold steady! Don't run! Stay where you are..."

Bai Shanzi, squad leader of the Third Squad of the Left Platoon's Second Platoon, galloped over on horseback. Seeing a few refugees running around in panic, he swung his horse whip and lashed out fiercely across their heads and faces, shouting, "Damn your souls, stop running like blind fools! Squat down properly..."

He spurred his horse up to the carriage where He Shihui was and yelled, "Squad Leader He, how are we going to thrash these bastards?"

Seeing that Sun Dashan had also galloped back, He Shihui shouted loudly, "Bai Shanzi, command the refugees to align the carts along the northern edge of the highway, leaning against the willow trees to form a semi-circle. Gather all the horses and mules behind them.

Sun Dashan, summon all the brothers who can fight, put on your armor, and await my command. Where is Old Man Shi? Ah, Old Man Shi, call all the refugees behind the carts, tell everyone to take cover, don't panic, don't be afraid!"

After a flurry of commotion, all ten large carts were positioned along the northern edge of the official highway, interspersed with willow trees. A two-pace gap was left between each cart, and some single-wheeled barrows were pushed into place, standing upright between the vehicles. Boxes and bundles were unloaded from some of the carts to serve as roadblocks, forming a neat semi-circle that protected the eastern, northern, and western directions.

To the south of the official highway lay several large pits and ponds choked with overgrown weeds and brush, extremely muddy and difficult to traverse. He Shihui estimated that the bandits would not attack from this direction, so he did not plan to fortify it, focusing instead on the northern, eastern, and western fronts.

Before setting out, the able-bodied men among the refugees had each been issued a wooden staff. Now, they were arranged along the outer perimeter, forming six rectangular arrays of one hundred men each.

Originally, when setting out from Changping, the wounded soldiers and refugees combined totaled fewer than nine hundred people. However, after passing through Juyong Pass, refugees who had fled earlier continually joined them, gradually swelling their numbers to around fifteen hundred.

The women, elderly, and weak among the refugees were concentrated in the middle of the official highway, along with the mules and horses. They too held a wooden staff each—normally used for leaning on and resting during the march—and now gripped them tightly in their hands.

One hundred and twenty stalwart men, armed with a variety of weapons, stood neatly and sternly behind the carts. They were divided into two wings of sixty men each—precisely the strong men with families whom Zhang Chun had selected from among the refugees.

Over the past few days, He Shihui had continuously drilled and tempered them on the march, and they were already beginning to look the part. This composure in the face of danger greatly satisfied He Shihui.

Sun Dashan and Bai Shanzi also galloped back, followed by thirty-six elite Xuanfu cavalrymen. The majority of them, however, were lightly wounded soldiers who had just recovered, and some had not even fully healed yet, yet they insisted on joining the battle.

He Shihui, leaning on Liu Quan for support, stood atop the cart and gazed at the dust cloud drawing closer to the north of the highway.

"Judging by the setup, there must be seven or eight hundred men. Old He, this is going to be tricky," Liu Quan said with a hint of worry.

Seeing two horsemen galloping madly from the north, He Shihui replied, "It's nothing. A mere mob. We've slaughtered Tartars; dealing with a bunch of bandits will be like chopping vegetables."

In the blink of an eye, the two riders sped closer. They galloped through the gap between the carts onto the official highway, and only when they drew near did one notice a man slung horizontally across the back of one rider's horse.

They spurred their horses right up to He Shihui's cart, let go, and dumped a figure dressed as a bandit onto the ground. With disheveled hair, a full beard, hands and feet bound tightly, and a rag jammed firmly in his mouth, the man lay on the ground, making muffled, groaning sounds.

One of the riders reported from his saddle, "Squad Leader He, Squad Leader Liu, they're some mountain bandits, looks like a few gangs lumped together. There are about seventy or eighty horsemen, and the rest are foot bandits numbering around eight hundred. We grabbed a live tongue, but haven't had time to interrogate him yet."

Having heard the scout's report, He Shihui turned to look at Liu Quan. Liu Quan naturally understood his meaning and readily said, "Old He, give the order."

Without any hesitation, He Shihui nodded to Liu Quan and shouted in a deep voice, "Shizhuzi, take the sixty men of the People's Militia Left Squad plus a hundred-man squad of able-bodied men to guard the western side of the highway; Ma Huijun, take the sixty men of the People's Militia Right Squad plus a hundred-man squad of able-bodied men to guard the eastern side of the highway;

Wang Sanhu, take two hundred-man squads of able-bodied men to guard the left flank of the northern front; Du Chun, take two hundred-man squads of able-bodied men to guard the right flank of the northern front. Both of you take orders from Squad Leader Liu;

Sun Dashan, pick twenty elite cavalrymen and prepare to charge their formation—to capture the bandits, capture their ringleader first; Bai Shanzi, lead the remaining elite cavalry to reinforce all sectors at a moment's notice."

Everyone whose name was called shouted their acknowledgment. For a moment, shouts of command and the stamping of feet merged into a chaotic din.

He Shihui remained standing on the cart, watching the dust storm to the north of the highway, which had now drawn much closer and grown much larger. The northern dust cloud was gradually extending toward the eastern section of the highway.

Gradually, the sound of rhythmic hoofbeats could be heard. Judging by the sound alone, there must have been nearly a hundred mounted bandits.

Within moments, these horsemen galloped near the highway. A few bandits with exceptional equestrian skills rode at a gallop while letting out strange, shrill shrieks, rolling back and forth on their horses' backs to show off their horsemanship.

Amidst the rolling dust and rumbling hoofbeats drawing ever closer, one could faintly make out that most of these horsemen on the opposite side wore armor, and almost all of them wore cloaks or capes that billowed in the wind.

Beyond the horsemen who had already reached the highway, a dense mass of people stood in the wasteland three hundred paces to the north. They appeared to be foot bandits, mixed with some tattered, emaciated figures who looked like coerced peasants.

These foot bandits stopped some two hundred paces away. They formed a ragged line, numbering around eight hundred. It was faintly visible that only about three hundred of them carried various long and short weapons, while the rest held farm tools like shovels, pickaxes, rakes, and sickles, and some even held nothing more than crude wooden staffs, much like the refugees on this side.