Chapter 13: Come and Catch Me If You Can

When the news that Wang Gushan had led men in pursuit to slaughter the Wei troops reached Zhang Yunliang's ears, the commander of Chen’s cavalry was struck dumb on the spot.

In that moment, everyone could sense his breath growing heavier, his expression increasingly grim, and a flush rising in his face like the glow of fire.

Just moments ago, this General Zhang had been inwardly pleased that Wang Gushan was considering the larger picture and refraining from rash assaults. How long had it been since then? Now, that very man had taken a band of soldiers and charged out to attack—the slap to his face could hardly be more blatant.

For Zhang Yunliang, matters took an even worse turn. If Wang Gushan and his men fell into an ambush…

After seven rounds of probing and skirmishing, the scouts Zhang Yunliang had dispatched had finally discerned the size, equipment, and movements of Zheng Dali’s force. Just as they prepared to deploy troops for a decisive strike against the Wei army, Wang Gushan had acted on his own initiative, launching an unauthorized attack.

This immediately threw Zhang Yunliang’s arrangements into chaos, rendering all previous reconnaissance efforts wasted.

Most critical of all, Wang Gushan’s charge had thrown the entire Chen vanguard into disarray. If they were lost, the consequences for the campaign would be devastating.

At this moment, Zhang Yunliang truly wondered if Wang Gushan had the mind of a pig. Could he not see through such an obvious ruse?

But what was done was done—Zhang Yunliang could no longer change anything. All he could do was hope Wang Gushan would defeat his shadowy foe and return to rejoin the main force as quickly as possible.

Or, at the very least, hold out until dawn and await the army’s rescue.

…

On the other side of the mountains, the thunder of hooves shattered the silence, transforming the quiet forest utterly.

Wang Gushan no longer cared for concealment; he ordered his men to light torches and spurred them to pursue Zheng Dali and his fleeing soldiers at breakneck speed.

To escape their pursuers and move faster, Zheng Dali too ordered torches lit to illuminate the way ahead.

There was no other way—without light, one risked tripping at every step, and the overhanging branches along mountain paths could whip a man senseless.

Thus, on that summer night, a spectacle unfolded in the woods: fires scattered across the hills as both sides, like summer fireflies, flickered and danced across the land in their chase.

“Scoundrels ahead, if you have any guts, stop running!” Wang Gushan shouted insults as he rode, his voice never ceasing.

“Cowardly turtles, all you’re good for is drinking your Grandpa Wang’s piss!”

Seeing their enemies forced into silence, the Chen soldiers felt a burden lifted from their hearts, and joined in the jeers.

“Hahaha! You rats, are you in such a rush to be reborn?”

“A moment ago you were all swagger and arrogance, but now that the general’s after you, you’ve turned into grandsons?”

…

The insults from behind grew ever more vile, but Zheng Dali and his men only fled faster. Their faces burned with anger, but they knew that to turn back meant death.

“Boast all you like! Soon you’ll run straight into the young master’s ambush—then we’ll see how cocky you are,” Zheng Dali muttered, a sentiment shared by every weary Wei soldier.

Initially, they had worried that if the entire Chen vanguard came, it would be hard to swallow them even with an ambush. But as it happened, Chen had sent only a detachment of a thousand men.

Still, clear-headed officers existed on both sides. The deputy general whom Wang Gushan had knocked from his horse earlier now caught up, compelled by duty to follow.

“General, beware of a ruse! We should halt our advance and return to the center,” the deputy pleaded.

But Wang Gushan, blazing with rage, would hear none of it. The deputy’s words nearly earned him another fist the size of a sandbag.

Though he restrained himself, Wang Gushan roared at him nonetheless: “Gao An, open your mouth again and I’ll cut you down myself!”

“General—”

“Enough! Get out of my sight!”

Gao An, the deputy, was left helpless, like the officer on the banks of the Ling River who could not prevent his troops from marching to their doom.

He sighed and said no more, but stayed with the group, praying this would not end like it had by the Ling River.

The chase pressed on, and though it was night, cavalry moved swiftly. Before they knew it, they had covered several miles.

By this point, Zheng Dali and his men were nearly at their goal—the prearranged site of the ambush lay close ahead.

Having left the main force far behind, Wang Gushan now felt a twinge of unease. Though hot-tempered, he was not truly reckless, or he would never have risen to the rank of captain.

“Could this be an ambush?” the thought suddenly crossed Wang Gushan’s mind.

A distance of several miles is nothing to cavalry by day, but in this pitch-black night, it could be deadly.

With their destination almost in sight, Zheng Dali finally breathed a sigh of relief. Though the Wei army had lost a dozen men, drawing the Chen troops into their trap would make it all worthwhile.

This, however, made Zheng Dali anxious—he could not let victory slip away.

He noticed the taunts from behind had grown quieter, realizing the Chen troops might sense something was amiss.

Pressing his horse onward, Zheng Dali once more exploited Wang Gushan’s irascibility.

“How’s the dust taste, you brats? You’ve been eating it for miles—how do you like that?” Zheng Dali shouted, mimicking Wang Gushan’s earlier bravado.

At this, Wang Gushan’s anger, which had begun to subside, flared up again.

Gao An, seeing Wang’s reaction, felt his heart sink—this boded ill.

Sure enough, Zheng Dali’s words were fuel to Wang Gushan’s fire, rousing the entire Chen contingent to a murderous frenzy.

Zheng Dali’s voice rang out again: “No wonder you can’t catch up! I hear you’ve spent too much time in Lady Chen’s bed. They say the women of Chen are insatiable—seems the rumors are true…”

“Ah, truly a blight upon the land! Hahahaha…”

The Wei soldiers burst into laughter at their general’s words. The scene now was a mirror of earlier, only the roles were reversed.

Wang Gushan’s face darkened; one hand gripped his reins like a vise, the other lashed his horse with the whip. Murder blazed in his eyes.

“Bastards! You’ll all die!” Wang Gushan roared.

“Kill!”

“Slaughter the Wei dogs!”

The surrounding soldiers echoed his fury.

Zheng Dali’s insults had effectively slandered the womenfolk of Chen. In a clan-based world, such an affront could justify exterminating an entire family.

First, however, they would kill these Wei soldiers before them—that had become their highest priority.

“Calm down—everyone, keep your heads!” Gao An’s voice sounded again, ever the voice of reason within the Chen ranks.

But this time, few listened.

To the Chen soldiers, they saw themselves strong in numbers, their foes fleeing in panic—what danger could there possibly be?

Besides, if the general gave no order to halt, who would heed a deputy’s protests? Clearly, Gao An was branded a coward, unworthy of their respect.

Seeing no one paid him heed, and the troops charging blindly ahead, Gao An’s hope was extinguished.

“Does Heaven truly abandon Chen?” he thought.

How could Wang Gushan not see through such an obvious lure? Or perhaps the aid from Qin had made them forget their own precarious position—Gao An could not fathom it.

But he knew one thing: whether or not Qin could help Chen resist Wei, the fate of Chen lay in their own hands.

And those hands, for now, were following Wang Gushan—rushing straight into the flames like moths.

Gao An slowed his pace, drifting to the rear of the column. He had no intention of dying alongside Wang Gushan’s folly, but neither would he desert. He would stay, to see for himself who waited in the darkness ahead.

In the distance, Wang Gushan brandished his sword atop his horse, leading more than a thousand men forward, charging headlong into the endless night.