Chapter Fifty-two: Defeat Like a Landslide

Li Zhenggu remained inactive, continuing to send soldiers out each day to patrol and gather intelligence. The reaction from the Kingdom of Wuyue was minimal; Qian Wenfeng appeared remarkably calm, believing that so long as Suzhou was held and the spring sowing ensured, the greatest merit would be his. Upon receiving reliable news, he nonetheless dispatched envoys to the Tang army, seeking to ransom Fan Mengling at a generous price—twenty pearls from the East Sea, each as large as a thumb. In addition, there was a considerable sum of gold and silver, enough for an ordinary family to live comfortably for a lifetime.

By all rights, Fan Mengling, as a strategist, should have been deeply grateful for Qian Wenfeng’s efforts. Yet he refused the offer, choosing to remain in the Tang army’s camp. Yang Lian tried to persuade him, but Fan Mengling replied that, having revealed Suzhou’s defenses to the Tang, he had already committed an act of disloyalty and dared not return. He could only fail to repay Qian Wenfeng’s kindness.

With neither side making a move for the time being, the Suzhou-Changzhou front was peaceful compared to the turmoil in Fuzhou. Time flowed swiftly by. Yang Lian’s wounds gradually healed, and upon hearing the news, the Prince of Qi sent excellent medicinal herbs to treat him. It was rumored that Princess Huairou, upon learning of this, was quite dismissive, but a few days later, Yang Lian secretly received items from her as well—fine medicines, two small bottles of yellow wine, and so forth.

After half a month of recuperation, Yang Lian’s health was restored, and he began to intensify the soldiers’ training. During this period, the two sides continued their skirmishes with scouts, but no large-scale battles erupted. Yang Lian was somewhat disappointed; although he knew the true purpose behind the Emperor’s order for Li Zhenggu to campaign, he still harbored hopes of winning greater military distinction.

As April arrived and the weather warmed, the Southern Tang army had been stationed for some time, consuming much money and supplies to no effect. One morning, after his exercise, Yang Lian was about to return to rest when Chen Tie hurried over. “General Inspector, Commander Zhou orders all soldiers to assemble.”

Yang Lian’s spirits rose. An assembly—could this mean Li Zhenggu was finally going to engage the enemy? With Fan Mengling’s map of the defenses, even if the number of soldiers in the fortresses had changed, Qian Wenfeng could not have built new forts to fill the gaps in such a short time. If the plan was thorough, victory was still possible.

With this thought, Yang Lian’s fighting spirit burned anew. His health restored and his experience in skirmishes growing, he felt confident of greater achievements.

The drill grounds were already crowded when Yang Lian found the Third Command Battalion. Following custom, each squad reported its numbers to the Inspector, who relayed the count to the Captain, who in turn reported to the Commander.

Zhou Hongzuo stood upon a high platform, gazing coldly down at his comrades-in-arms. “By the order of our superiors, you are to return and pack your belongings. Tomorrow at dawn, we set out for Jinling.”

“What? Back to Jinling?” a Captain called out. What was the meaning of this? They had not yet fought a decisive battle with Wuyue—why retreat?

“There is no need to question my command. I am perfectly clear-headed and have said nothing in error,” Zhou Hongzuo replied.

Immediately, the crowd below erupted in murmurs. Yang Lian and Lin Renzhao exchanged glances and nodded subtly. It seemed the Fuzhou campaign had ended—and in defeat. The news must have reached Jinling, alarming His Majesty and prompting the recall of Li Zhenggu.

Yang Lian could not be certain of his guess—he dared not speak it—but all he could do was pack up and prepare to return with the army to Jinling.

That night, the Tang camp was unusually quiet. The soldiers had long since packed their belongings and gone to bed early, planning to rise before dawn and withdraw before Qian Wenfeng discovered their intentions. At the third watch, Yang Lian awoke, roused his subordinates, and after a hurried wash, the troops gathered their things and, under cover of darkness and moonlight, marched north toward Changzhou.

The night was dim and indistinct. Most soldiers carried torches, but many still could not see the road; night blindness was common among them, as even Imperial Guards, despite decent rations, often suffered from it. In such darkness, those with poor vision brought up the rear while those with keen eyes led the way, and the army crept slowly toward Changzhou.

Yang Lian, his vision sharp, led at the front with Lin Renzhao and the others. All was silent under the night sky; with his eyesight, Yang Lian could see even the trembling of leaves in the dark, the blackness enveloping all, and the distant bushes swaying—who knew what might be hidden within?

They proceeded cautiously for about five miles. The sky remained pitch-black; by their reckoning, it was still before the fifth watch. Yang Lian quickened his pace—when suddenly the entire column grew restless, and someone shouted, “Enemy ambush!”

At that cry, chaos broke out. Most soldiers could not see the road; hearing only shouts, they panicked. Some bolted forward, breaking formation; others, in confusion, drew their weapons and lashed out blindly in the darkness.

In less than half an hour, the army was in utter disarray. Yang Lian, Lin Renzhao, and Chen Tie stuck together, riding along the main road, cutting down anyone who tried to act against them. They had not gone half a mile when the clamor behind them grew—clearly, the Wuyue forces were upon them.

At this moment, Li Zhenggu was nowhere to be found, and the army lacked direction. Yang Lian whispered, “Do not linger—move!” Who knew how Qian Wenfeng had learned of their plan and set this ambush to intercept the Tang army.

Lin Renzhao answered, and the three of them spurred on. Ahead, more Tang soldiers were fleeing desperately; some engaged in desperate combat with the enemy, leaving bodies in their wake and a thick stench of blood in the air.

As he ran, Yang Lian remained alert. Suddenly, in the darkness, an arrow flew toward him. He quickly raised his blade and struck it aside.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A Wuyue cavalryman charged at them, having seen Yang Lian, Lin Renzhao, and the others on horseback and guessing they were officers. Failing in his ambush, he had no choice but to attack directly.

Yang Lian sneered. He swung his blade fiercely as their horses passed, their weapons clashing with a crisp ring. Yang Lian’s arm went numb—clearly, this opponent was strong. He dared not be careless.

The man, seeing his first blow had failed, exclaimed in surprise, wheeled his mount, and attacked again, determined to entangle Yang Lian.

Yang Lian grew angry. Though his body had mostly recovered, he was not at full strength; otherwise, he believed he could kill this foe with ease. But with the Tang army under attack and the enemy’s numbers unknown, he refused to be drawn into a prolonged fight.

He swiftly took the spear from his back and, as the man pursued, hurled it hard. Caught off guard, the man ducked low on his horse, his helmet struck with a clear clang, sent flying by the spear.

Startled, the man turned in time to see Chen Tie bearing down on him with a lance. He raised his sword to parry, only to have his arm go numb from Chen Tie’s strength. Before he could recover, Lin Renzhao attacked with his blade as well.

The three of them beset the Wuyue soldier, who could not withstand them; feinting, he retreated. Yang Lian nocked an arrow and fired twice into the darkness, uncertain if he hit anything, then galloped on.

That night, they fled over a hundred miles, fighting who knows how many skirmishes. By dawn, their arms were numb with exhaustion. Yang Lian, Lin Renzhao, Chen Tie, and fifty-odd soldiers hid atop a hill—not high, just over thirty zhang, covering an area of about a hundred paces, surrounded by dense forest with only one exit, easily defensible by a small force.

As the sun rose, its warmth on the hilltop was comforting, but many soldiers squatted on the ground, faces clouded with grief, as if they had lost their parents. Attacked in the night, they did not know how many comrades had fallen. Now, trapped here, weary and hungry, if the Wuyue forces discovered and surrounded them, this group would be doomed.

Yang Lian coughed, stood, and swept his gaze over the men. “Up now—enough with the long faces! Are real men going to die of fright?”

A soldier with the look of a Captain glanced at Yang Lian, stood, and barked, “What rank are you, to shout orders here?”

Yang Lian shot him a fierce look. “Inspector-General.” This man wore the armor of the Tianxiong Army, clearly unwilling to take orders from the Shenwu Army.

The man laughed derisively. “And I thought you were someone important—just an Inspector-General! We have Captains here—what right do you have to issue commands?”

Yang Lian sneered. “It’s true you’re a Captain. If you can lead everyone back to Changzhou, I’ll hand command over to you—what of it?”

The man pursed his lips and said nothing. Though a Captain, he had no solution and resented being commanded by a mere Inspector-General. After a moment, he retorted, “So you have a plan, do you?”

“Plans are made by men,” Yang Lian replied coolly.

“Hmph! Useless—you’re all talk…” The Captain got no further. Abruptly, as hurried footsteps sounded, Yang Lian’s fist shot out, cutting off his words. The man tried to dodge but was too slow; Yang Lian’s blow caught him squarely on the jaw, knocking out several teeth.

“Disrespect me, and this is what you get,” Yang Lian said coldly.

The man spat blood, furious. “How dare you strike me!”

“And what if I did? Back when Chen Decheng crossed me, I struck him as well!” Yang Lian stared him down.

The man was taken aback. The tale of Chen Decheng’s beating was widely known in the Tianxiong Army—he’d heard the stories, but never expected to meet Yang Lian here.

“Why should men from the Shenwu Army command those of the Tianxiong?” the Captain protested.

“The army is defeated, the commander’s whereabouts unknown, and both generals missing. Right now, our only concern is getting back to Changzhou. Yet you’re still quibbling over old rivalries? Truly laughable!” Yang Lian’s gaze grew steely. For this rotten apple spoiling the batch, he saw fit to remove it.