Chapter 21: General of the Ancient Locust Tree

When Miss Wang was conversing with the elderly lady, Zhang Chi and his companions had already arrived at the military camp.

Just as Zhang Chi was about to ride through the camp gate, a burly soldier clad in armor seized the reins of White Snow and said, “Young Master Zhang, we meet again.”

“Commander Du?” Zhang Chi exclaimed in surprise, dismounting swiftly. “How is it that Commander Du is here in the camp?”

This man, whom Zhang Chi called Commander Du, was naturally none other than Du Ximing, the commander from the cavalry squad. Du Ximing smiled, saying, “Miss Wang feared you might not be accustomed to military affairs, so she ordered me to come and serve as your deputy. I arrived before you and have been waiting quite a while.”

Zhang Chi knew well that Du Ximing was originally a general, well versed in the ways of the army. Delighted, he quickly called his companions over to greet Du Ximing. Du Ximing exchanged courtesies with them all, then turned to Zhang Chi and said, “Young Master, now is not the time for reminiscence. You must meet the Central Army General. Shall I lead you there?”

The group walked together and soon arrived before the central command tent.

The Central Army General was named Canghuai. True to his name, he was as imposing as an ancient locust tree—tall and powerful, nine feet in height, broad-shouldered and stout. Everyone addressed him as General Canghuai; few knew his surname. When Zhang Chi entered the general’s tent, Canghuai glanced at him once, then turned his gaze away, a look of disdain in his eyes.

“This is the new military advisor sent by the headquarters?” Canghuai asked Du Ximing, who had led the way.

Du Ximing did not reply. Canghuai had not expected him to respond, and continued, “Soft and feeble—what kind of warfare could he possibly manage!”

Canghuai had climbed the ranks from a common soldier, earning his position through countless battles and brushes with death. He naturally looked down on those who attained high office merely through recommendation.

Zhang Chi was arrogant by nature and would not tolerate insult. Hearing the general’s words, he retorted, “Then, General, what sort of man do you think is fit for war?”

“Someone like the Overlord of Western Chu, of course!” Canghuai declared. His greatest admiration was for Xiang Yu, the Overlord of Western Chu, believing only men of such caliber were true warriors.

Zhang Chi smiled faintly and shook his head. “The Overlord of Western Chu may barely qualify, but he was ultimately defeated. He cannot be called the greatest in warfare.”

Canghuai was incensed to hear Zhang Chi disparage Xiang Yu, demanding angrily, “You’re just a scholar—what do you know? If not the Overlord, then who else from ancient times can you name as a master of war?”

“The true masters of warfare are precisely those scholars you scorn,” Zhang Chi replied with a smile.

“Nonsense!” Canghuai slammed the table, furious. “At the Battle of Julu, the Overlord destroyed twenty thousand enemy troops with only fifty thousand men using the strategy of breaking the cauldrons and sinking the boats. Such courage and bloodshed—what scholar could match that?”

Zhang Chi had been waiting for this response. As soon as Canghuai finished, Zhang Chi raised his voice and confronted him, “The Battle of Julu—Xiang Yu’s fifty thousand defeated twenty thousand. But, General, do you know of the Battle of Red Cliffs in the Three Kingdoms, where Zhou Yu led thirty thousand sailors to shatter Cao Cao’s force of eight hundred thousand?”

Between five versus twenty and three versus eighty, the disparity is clear enough; Canghuai was momentarily speechless.

“Zhou Yu was a scholarly general, wielding a feather fan and wearing silk headgear. With laughter and conversation, he wiped out eighty thousand troops,” Zhang Chi said with a smile.

Canghuai had nothing to say, though he remained unconvinced. He retorted stubbornly, “There are countless martial generals, but you’ve named only one scholarly general. Do you have other examples?”

“The Qin of Fu Qian gathered eighty thousand troops to drink from the Yangtze, only to be defeated by Xie An’s laughter. Surely the General knows this,” Zhang Chi replied, still smiling. “He rested on Eastern Mountain for forty years, and a single musical gathering shattered Fu Jian. How carefree! Scholars may not fight hand-to-hand, but they can defeat the enemy with wit and humor.”

“Words are useless; true skill is seen in action,” Canghuai said, knowing he was outmatched in debate. He continued, “There have been repeated attacks by small bands of bandits southwest of Jiankang. I’ll give you five thousand troops. If you can wipe out these bandits, I’ll admit your worth. Do you dare?”

Zhang Chi, who had never commanded troops, hesitated. Canghuai pressed him, “If you dare not, it matters not—a mere band of brigands, I could send a deputy to crush them.”

Zhang Chi’s arrogance would not allow him to back down. “Why wouldn’t I dare?”

“Will you sign a military pledge?”

Even before the words finished, a soldier had already brought forth the pledge. Zhang Chi realized this was Canghuai’s provocation. Yet, his temperament would not let him shrink away; he snorted coldly, took the brush, and scrawled his name across the pledge.

“Excellent.” Canghuai collected the pledge and said, “That band of bandits numbers less than a thousand. I give you five thousand men. You may go to the drill ground to muster your troops. If you fail to wipe out the bandits, do not blame me for enforcing military law!”

Zhang Chi said nothing, turning to leave the tent. Du Ximing followed. Zhang Chi knew he was unfamiliar with ancient tactics and formations, but Du Ximing had been a general and surely knew much. He turned and said, “Brother Du, in a moment of pride I signed the pledge, but I know nothing of commanding troops. I must rely on you to instruct me.”

Zhang Chi now called him Brother Du, a term that sounded more intimate.

Du Ximing waved his hand with a smile. “Young Master, you’re too modest. Miss Wang sent me to assist you, and she specifically instructed me to help you become a famous general. If Miss Wang holds you in such esteem, you must have abilities others lack.”

Du Ximing’s greatest admiration was for Miss Wang, whose foresight was legendary. Since she valued Zhang Chi so highly, he instinctively believed Zhang Chi must possess something exceptional.

Zhang Chi knew his own limitations and shook his head. “I have no special abilities—Miss Wang is simply mistaken in her judgment.”

Du Ximing refused to believe it. “Young Master, don’t be so humble. As you said, ‘resting on Eastern Mountain for forty years, a musical gathering defeated Fu Jian’—such a realm is truly carefree. Perhaps your achievements will rival those of Xie An.”

Zhang Chi shook his head helplessly, unwilling to dwell further on the topic. “Brother Du, shall we go to the drill ground to muster troops?”

Du Ximing glanced at Jiuniang, who had been following Zhang Chi, and suggested, “There’s no rush to muster troops. Let’s first arrange for your household members to rest.”

Du Ximing looked at Jiuniang, and by “household members” he meant her.

Jiuniang blushed deeply, knowing Du Ximing had misunderstood. “General, you’re mistaken. I am merely Young Master’s maid. No need for special arrangements.”

Du Ximing realized his error and smiled awkwardly. Zhang Chi said, “Brother Du is right. War is a man’s business. Let’s settle Jiuniang in the camp first, then go to muster troops.”

…

Once everyone was settled, night had already fallen, and they each retired. The next morning, Du Ximing had already mustered five thousand elite soldiers for Zhang Chi. Zhang Chi mounted his white horse—this was his first time leading troops, and as the commander. Seeing five thousand men and horses with banners fluttering, he could not help feeling excited.

No matter how old, every man harbors some dream of battle deep in his heart.

Ding Yizhi rode alongside Zhang Chi as the troops left the camp gates. He said, “General Canghuai is rough but shrewd, much like Zhang Fei. Using provocation to send you against the bandits, I suspect he has other intentions. You must be cautious.”

This adopted cousin rarely spoke, but whenever he did, he warned Zhang Chi of important matters. Over time, Zhang Chi sensed his loyalty, though he remained puzzled why this cousin followed him so faithfully, never asking for anything in return.

Zhang Chi nodded. “Rest assured, cousin. Dao Xuan is highly skilled—should any assassin try a surprise attack, so long as Dao Xuan is by my side, I doubt I’ll be harmed.”

Dao Xuan, hearing Zhang Chi praise him, proudly pouted at Santong, clearly showing off.

“Besides, Brother Du is seasoned in battle. With him leading, I doubt that crushing a band of brigands will be any difficulty.”

Zhang Chi was, after all, a modern man raised in an era of peace. He had not been in this world long and understood little of ancient schemes. Ding Yizhi thought far more deeply, but he did not analyze things for Zhang Chi, only smiled and changed the subject, joining Zhang Chi in calling Du Ximing “Brother Du.” “Brother Du’s command is orderly and disciplined—he truly has the bearing of a great general.”

At that moment, Du Ximing rode back from the front, overhearing their praise. He laughed, “What bearing? I can lead at most tens of thousands of troops—any more and I would be overwhelmed.”

Zhang Chi asked, “Whether it’s one sheep or two, the herding is the same. Why can’t you lead more than tens of thousands, Brother Du?”

Du Ximing laughed aloud. “Leading troops is nothing like herding sheep, Young Master. You must have heard the story of Han Xin and his ‘the more, the merrier’ approach to mustering soldiers.”

Zhang Chi knew this story and nodded. Du Ximing continued, “King Liu Bang of Han could lead at most a hundred thousand troops—any more, and he was lost. But Han Xin could handle as many as needed. Han Xin was a famous general. I can only lead tens of thousands—how could I call myself a great talent?”

“Why couldn’t Liu Bang lead more?” Santong interjected. “If the enemy is few, you don’t need strategy—just rush them and flatten them.”

Du Ximing laughed. “If you lack the ability but lead too many, you end up like Fu Jian.”

“Fu Jian led eighty thousand troops—a massive force. He pressed to the river for battle, outnumbering the Jin tenfold. By normal reckoning, ten against one is certain victory. Yet, just because Fu Jian ordered a slight retreat, his troops were routed by eighty thousand from the Northern Army. Do you know why?” Du Ximing asked Zhang Chi.

Zhang Chi was puzzled. Du Ximing explained, “Mobilizing tens of thousands is complicated. Orders must be relayed through layers. On the battlefield, most soldiers don’t know the general’s intent. They follow the crowd—charge when others charge, retreat when others retreat. Even a half-step withdrawal can confuse the troops. The rear sees the front retreat and follows suit; the front sees the rear retreating and withdraws even faster.”

“Thus, Fu Jian’s simple command to ‘retreat a little’ turned into a farcical race among eighty thousand troops,” Du Ximing laughed.

Zhang Chi finally understood. In ancient times, there were no telescopes or telephones. He didn’t know how many eighty thousand troops really was, but it was certainly vast—relay commands by word alone was no easy task. No wonder they were routed by a mere eighty thousand from the Northern Army.

With conversation and laughter, Du Ximing continued to instruct Zhang Chi in military matters as they traveled, making the march anything but dull. Before they knew it, they reached the mountain region. Du Ximing pointed with his whip. “According to scouts, the brigands lurk around these Chu Mountains, but we only know their general location.”

Zhang Chi gazed at the mountains stretching for a hundred miles, feeling overwhelmed.

“Are we to search every peak one by one?” Zhang Chi asked in frustration.