Chapter Ninety-One: Fighting the Northern Fief Army Again

From the crest of a low hill, Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan gazed into the distance and faintly made out San Tong amid the chaos of battle near the shore.

At that moment, San Tong was fighting desperately, soaked in blood as he hacked at the Northern Garrison Army. Back to back with him stood the woman whom he called elder brother, the one who served as ritual minister among the Five Bushels of Rice Way.

Who would have thought that this woman was also a heroine in her own right, gallant and valiant on the battlefield? Though the situation was grim, her spirit burned bright and her bearing did not falter.

Year after year the Five Bushels of Rice Way had been on the move, and those who entered the faith were mostly poor commoners. Women, too, had to take the field, so that was nothing unusual. But for a woman to be so formidable in battle was indeed rare.

Jiu Niang and the other women whom Zhang Chi had once rescued were kept to the rear. Yet in the confusion of battle, these followers of the Way possessed no military discipline at all; by the time they were cut down to this point, there was no formation left to speak of, and the whole field had descended into utter chaos.

Even as he fought, San Tong glanced back and saw that men from the Northern Garrison Army had already broken through to where Jiu Niang and the others were standing.

Women are always the vulnerable ones in times of turmoil, especially gentle women like Jiu Niang. Yet in the days since she had followed Zhang Chi, though she remained delicate, she had gained a measure of resilience.

Had it been before, Jiu Niang would likely already have been lost and weeping, pleading heaven for mercy. But now, facing danger once more, though she still felt fear, she was entirely different from the women Zhang Chi had recently saved. Confronted by the surging army, though she was powerless to change anything, at least her expression remained calm.

By contrast, when San Tong saw Jiu Niang in peril, he became frantic.

Before leaving, Zhang Chi had told him to look after Jiu Niang and the other women. San Tong was an honest man; once he had given his word, no one would be allowed to harm Jiu Niang unless he first fell in battle himself. He hurriedly shouted, "Sister, come with me and fight our way back to save them!"

Since following Zhang Chi for more than a month, San Tong had trained under Dao Xuan in martial arts. Though his progress had not been great, he was still far stronger than when he had once been a bandit in Huainan.

In truth, what San Tong understood best in his heart was that his greatest growth during these days had not been in his skill at arms, but in something subtler, something he himself could not clearly name.

Before meeting Zhang Chi, whenever trouble arose, his first reaction had always been fear of death and panic. But now, in moments of crisis, he could remain far clearer-headed, and he was even willing to prize loyalty above his own life. This was not because he did not know how to cherish life. On the contrary, it was precisely because of such convictions that a person’s life in a chaotic age could possess real worth.

It was like the words Zhang Chi had once spoken outside Jiankang City, when he went to rescue Lady Wang: for fame and rank, even if one killed a million and won merit and a marquisate, that was not a hero; but to risk everything willingly for love and righteousness, even if one’s blood stained the battlefield, that was a true man.

San Tong and the woman stood back to back because, amid the chaos, blades and spears had no eyes; one might defend the front yet still be struck from behind by a hidden attack. By leaning together, the two could guard one another, leaving no opening in their defenses. But now San Tong was desperate to turn back and save Jiu Niang, and in the heat of battle the woman failed for a moment to react in time. San Tong had already rushed two steps away.

Yet it was those very two steps that left an opening, and a long spear had already pierced San Tong’s back.

San Tong roared in pain, then blood gushed forth, splattering the woman behind him.

Hearing his cry and feeling the hot blood spray onto her hand, the woman finally understood what had happened to San Tong behind her. When she turned back, he was already collapsing to the ground, and several spears were thrust straight toward him.

"Elder brother!" the woman cried out, then lunged forward, using her single blade to parry the enemy spear, and in one motion she gathered San Tong into her arms.

The spear had struck San Tong in the back; it was clearly a grievous wound. As soon as she took him into her arms, he coughed up a mouthful of blood. His lips trembled, opening and closing, but no sound came.

Seeing how badly San Tong was injured, the woman’s cheeks ran with tears. She cast aside both blades and, ignoring the surrounding swords and spears of the charging troops, simply held San Tong tightly in her arms and lifted her face to the sky in a mournful cry: "Elder brother!"

At that moment, she had already resolved to die with San Tong.

But just then, a dragon's cry thundered across the heavens beside her ear.

Of course there were no dragons in this world, and that cry of a dragon was in fact White Snow's high-pitched neigh as she reached the wounded San Tong's side.

Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan had still been on the hill only moments before, but when they saw San Tong in dire straits amid the chaos, they immediately spurred their horses downhill. White Snow was so swift that in the brief span of that moment, just after San Tong had been struck in the back, she had already flashed to his side like lightning.

With White Snow's speed, and with Dao Xuan wielding his single blade so flawlessly that no blade or fire could pierce his defense, and with the two of them charging in from behind the Northern Garrison Army, they tore through the chaotic ranks as though there were no one there at all.

Though Zhang Chi held no weapon in his hands at the moment, the impact of White Snow's charge instantly broke the encirclement around San Tong. Seeing how badly San Tong had been wounded, Zhang Chi hurriedly dismounted and rushed to his side, embracing him.

"Where is Master Sun Tai? Where are the rest of the men from the Five Bushels of Rice Way?" Zhang Chi asked, meaning of course the woman beside San Tong.

"The master is dead. The others have already gone into the sea. Elder brother said he would wait for you, Brother Zhang, and refused to enter the sea, so he could only claim to stay behind and cover the retreat. He never expected to be surrounded by the army."

Sun Tai is dead? Zhang Chi was surprised for a moment, but there was no time to ask further. The army was surging in. Zhang Chi picked up a spear from the battlefield at hand, and together with Dao Xuan remounted. San Tong was in danger, yes, but how could one save him in the middle of battle? The urgent matter was still to break the immediate crisis.

Zhang Chi had been somewhat wary of the woman’s status as a ritual minister of the Five Bushels of Rice Way, but seeing how deeply devoted she was to San Tong and that she was willing to die with him, his opinion changed considerably. "Protect San Tong well, and do not make a sound. We will crush the enemy first."

"Crush them?" the woman thought. She had only a thousand followers from the Five Bushels of Rice Way under her command. How could they possibly defeat an army several times their number?

She thought this because she had never witnessed Zhang Chi’s heroism on the bank of the Yangtze, where he startled the arrogant Gao Zhi from his horse, nor his furious slaying of General Cang Huai within Jiankang City. At this moment Zhang Chi had no time to say more. He and Dao Xuan mounted again, and White Snow, agile as a swimming dragon, had been beside San Tong one instant and the next was already racing through the chaos straight toward the enemy commander’s banner.

No need to kill the foot soldiers; one could never cut them all down anyway. If one meant to strike, one struck the commander. With a fine steed like White Snow and a master like Dao Xuan, what was there for Zhang Chi to fear?

"These followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Way are nothing but a rabble. In less than half an hour, they will surely..."

Gao Zhi was joking with Daoist Elder Shouyin amid the army when he suddenly saw a white horse charging toward them from afar. Such a magnificent white steed could not be matched by any other in the world; without needing to think, he cried out in terror, "The Heavenly Strategist!"

No wonder he was shocked. He had enjoyed smooth sailing all his life, attaining high rank at a young age, and before meeting Zhang Chi he had never tasted a single defeat. But after the humiliation Zhang Chi had inflicted on him before, perhaps for the rest of his life he would never be free of Zhang Chi’s shadow.

He had never imagined that he would encounter Zhang Chi here as well. In his panic, he instinctively wheeled his horse around and tried to flee.

Seeing Gao Zhi’s flustered expression, Daoist Elder Shouyin gave a cold smile. He had come for the art of immortality, only to arrive half a step too late; the Five Bushels of Rice Army had already gone into the sea. Now the only way was to capture the followers of the Way and question them under harsh torture, which would surely reveal the direction in which the Five Bushels of Rice Way had fled.

Of course Daoist Elder Shouyin wanted to kill the Heavenly Strategist. Moreover, he wanted the secret of immortality even more. Seeing Gao Zhi instinctively turn his horse in panic, he despised him in his heart, though he still had to rely on the Northern Garrison Army: "General, he comes alone on horseback. What is there to fear?"

Hearing this, Gao Zhi thought to himself: Yes, what is there to fear? Why is it that every time I meet him, I am like a mouse seeing a cat?

"Because of your last defeat, this man has become your inner demon. If that demon is not banished, General, you will never amount to much. You must face him and defeat him. Your future will be boundless."

With Daoist Elder Shouyin at his side, cheering him on, Gao Zhi finally calmed a little. He no longer tried to flee. Thinking that the Daoist’s words were reasonable indeed, he wondered how he was ever to lead troops in battle if he could not first dispel this inner demon.

Thinking thus, Gao Zhi straightened his chest slightly and, pointing toward Zhang Chi, who was rapidly approaching in the distance, commanded the officers around him: "Hack that man riding the white horse to pieces for me!"