San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 83

As has been said, the veteran warrior Huang Chung was among the officers who followed the First Ruler to war against Wu. When he heard his master talk of old and incapable leaders he girded on his sword and with a few faithful followers made his way to the camps at Iling. He was welcomed by the captains there, but they knew not why he had come.

“For what reason do you come, O Veteran?” asked they.

“I have followed our lord the Emperor ever since he left Changsha, and I have done diligent service. I am now over seventy, but my appetite is good, I can stretch the strongest bow, and I can ride any distance without fatigue. I am not weak or worn out. But our master has been talking of old and stupid leaders, and I am come to take part in the fight with Wu. If I slay one of their leaders he will see I may be old but not worn out.”

Just about that time the leading division of the Wu army drew near, and the scouts were close to the camp. Huang Chung hastily rose, went out of the tent and mounted to go into the battle.

“Aged General, be careful,” said the captains.

But Huang Chung paid no attention and set off at full speed. However, Feng Hsi was sent to help him. As soon as he saw the array of the enemy, he pulled up and challenged the leader of the vanguard. The van-leader, P‘an Chang, sent out one of his subordinates, Shih Chi, to take the challenge. Shih Chi despised his aged antagonist and rode lightly forth with his spear set, but in the third bout Huang Chung cut him down. This angered P‘an, who flourished Black Dragon, the sword of the old warrior Kuan which had passed into his possession, and took up the battle. These two fought several bouts, and neither was victor, for Huang Chung was brimful of energy. His antagonist, seeing that he could not overcome the old man, galloped off. Huang Chung pursued and smote him and scored a full victory.

​On his way back he fell in with the two youthful captains, Kuan and Chang, who told him they had come by sacred command to aid him if necessary.

“And now that you have scored so complete a victory we pray you to return to the main camp,” said they.

But the veteran would not. Next day P‘ang Chang came to challenge again, and Huang Chung at once accepted. Nor would he allow the young men to come with him, or accept assistance from any other.

He led out five companies. Before many bouts had been exchanged P‘an Chang made a feint and got away. Huang Chung pursued, shouting to him not to flee.

“Flee not, for now will I avenge the death of Kuan Yü,” cried he.

Huang pursued some score li, but presently he fell into an ambush and found himself attacked on both flanks and in the rear, and the erstwhile flying enemy turned, so that Huang was surrounded and hemmed in. Suddenly a great storm came on. The wind blew violently, forcing Huang to retreat. And as he was passing some hills an enemy cohort came down the slopes, and one of the arrows wounded the veteran in the armpit. He nearly fell from his horse with the shock. The men of Wu, seeing Huang wounded, came on all together, but soon the two youthful captains, Kuan Hsing and Chang Pao, drove them off and scattered them. Thus they rescued Huang Chung.

He was taken back to the main camp. But he was old and his blood was thin, and the wound gaped wide, so that he was near to die. The First Ruler came to visit him and patted his back and said, “It is my fault, O Veteran, that you have been hurt in the battle.”

“I am a soldier,” said the old man. “I am glad that I could serve Your Majesty. But now I am seventy-five and I have lived long enough. Be careful of your own safety for the good of the state.”

These were his last words. He became unconscious and died that night. A poem was written of him:—

The First Ruler was very sad when he heard of Huang Chung’s death and made him a grave in Ch'êngtu.

“My brave captain is gone,” sighed he, “and the third of my brave leaders, and I have been unable to avenge their death; it is very grievous.”

​Next Liu Pei led the Imperial Guard to Hsiaot‘ing, where he summoned a great assembly. He divided his forces into eight parts ready for an attack by land and water. The marines were placed under Huang Ch'üan, and he himself led the land forces. It was then the second month.

When Han Tang and Chou T‘ai heard that the army of Shu was approaching, they marched toward it. When near, the two armies were arrayed. The two leaders of Wu rode out and saw the First Ruler standing beneath the great standard with his staff about him. A silken umbrella splashed with gold was over his head; right and left were white banners, golden axes and other insignia of an emperor. Then Han Tang spoke:

“Your Majesty is now Ruler of Shu; why do you risk your life in the battle-field. It would be most regrettable if any untoward event happened.”

The First Ruler pointed the finger of scorn at the speaker and said, “You dogs of Wu bereft me of my brother, and I have sworn that you shall not live with me under the same sky.”

“Who dares plunge in among the enemy?” asked Han Tang, turning to those in his train.

A certain Hsia Hsün set his spear and rode to the front, and as he did so Chang Pao with a roar galloped out to meet him. But this thunderous voice affrighted Hsia, and he sought to flee. Then Chou T‘ai’s brother, Chou P‘ing, seeing that his colleague was panic-stricken, flourished his sword and rode out too. At once Kuan Hsing dashed to the front. Chang Pao roared again, and thrusting at Hsia bore him from his steed. This disconcerted Chou P‘ing and enfeebled his defence, so that Kuan speedily slew him. Then the two youths rode furiously at the two leaders. They sought refuge in the rear.

“The tiger fathers have not begotten curs of sons,” said the First Ruler with a sigh of satisfaction.

Then he waved his whip as a signal to fall on, and the Wu army suffered a great defeat. The force of the eight divisions was irresistible as a river in flood, and the slaughter was immense.

Kan Ning was in his ship ill, but he roused himself when he heard the armies of Shu had come, and mounted to go into the battle. Soon he met a cohort of the Man soldiers. These men wore their hair loose and went barefoot. Their weapons were bows and crossbows and long spears and swords and axes. And they had shields to ward off blows. They were led by their own Prince Shamoko. His face was spotted with red as if splashed with blood, and his eyes were grey. He rushed among Kan Ning’s men wielding a spiked iron staff with bone pendants, and he had two bows slung at his belt. He was terrible to look upon. Kan Ning recognised that he ​had no chance of victory against such a man and did not engage him, but turned his steed to flee. But as he fled Shamoko shot an arrow that pierced Kan Ning’s skull. Wounded as he was, he rode on to Fuch‘ihk‘ou, but there he dismounted and sat under a tree, where he died. On the tree were many hundreds of crows, and they gathered round the corpse. The Prince of Wu was sore grieved at the news of his death, and had the remains buried honourably. Moreover, he raised a temple to his memory.

This victory gave the First Ruler possession of Hsiaot‘ing. But at the muster after the battle Kuan Hsing did not appear. Search parties were sent to find him, and they went far and wide beating the country around.

However, the dashing young soldier was only following in his father’s footsteps. When Kuan Hsing had got in among the men of Wu, he had caught sight of P‘an Chang, his especial enemy, and galloped in pursuit. In terror, P‘an took to the hills and disappeared in one of the valleys. In seeking him Kuan Hsing lost his way and went to and fro till it grew dark without finding a way out. It was clear moonlight. Near midnight he came to a farm, where he dismounted and knocked at the door. A venerable old man appeared and asked who he was.

“I am one of the leaders of the army, and I have lost my way. I beg a meal, for I am starving,” said Kuan.

The old man led him into a hall lit by many candles, and there he saw a picture of his dead father. At once he began to wail and bowed before it.

“Why do you wail thus?” asked the old man.

“This is my father,” said Kuan. At this, the old man prostrated himself before his guest.

“Why should you treat my father with such respect?” asked Kuan.

“This place is sacred to his honoured spirit. While he lived the people served him, and now that he is a spirit should they not revere him the more? I have been waiting for the armies of Shu to avenge his death, and it is indeed the great good fortune of the people that you have come.”

Then he brought forth wine and food and served his guest. Moreover, he unsaddled and fed his horse.

​Some two hours later a knocking came at the door, and when the old man opened it, the visitor was no other than P‘an Chang, the Wu General. He also asked shelter.

As he came in Kuan recognised him and drew his sword, crying, “Stay; you ruffian! Do not flee!”

P‘an turned and would have gone out, but on the threshold suddenly appeared a figure of ruddy complexion with bright eyes and heavy eyebrows, and a long, flowing beard. And it wore a green robe and golden armour and was armed with a huge sword.

P‘an shrank back, for he recognised the noble Kuan in spirit form. He uttered a shriek and became as one distraught, but before he could turn, Kuan Hsing raised his sword; it fell, and P‘an lay dead. Taking the heart-blood of his dead enemy Kuan poured it in libation before the picture of his father. After that he took possession of his father’s sword, Black Dragon, curved as the young moon.

Having hacked off the head of his fallen enemy he fastened it to his bridle. Then he took leave of his aged host, saddled his enemy’s horse and rode away toward his own camp. The old man dragged the corpse of the dead soldier outside and burned it.

Kuan had not gone very far when he heard the neighing of horses and soon met a troop led by Ma Chung, one of P‘an Chang’s lieutenants, who was looking for his chief. Ma fell into a great rage when he saw the head of his chief swinging at the neck of Kuan Hsing’s horse and beheld the famous sword in his hand. He galloped up furiously, and Kuan Hsing, who recognised an enemy of his late father, rushed to meet him. Just as he would strike, however, Ma Chung’s men galloped up to support their captain, and Kuan Hsing was surrounded. He was in dire danger, but just opportunely came up a troop of horse led by his cousin Chang. At this, Ma, thinking discretion the better part, drew off his men and rode away.

The two cousins pursued him. Before they had gone far they met another force under Mi Fang and Fushih Jên, who had come out to seek Ma Chung. The two bodies of soldiers met and fought, but the men of Shu were too few for victory and drew off. Thence they made their way to headquarters, where they told their adventures and presented the head of their late enemy.

Ma Chung went back and rejoined Han Tang and Chou T‘ai. Many men were wounded. Then they marched to Chiangchu and encamped. The night they arrived many men were groaning with the pain of their wounds. Mi Fang, who was listening unknown to the men, heard one of them say, “We are Chingchou men and victims of Lü Mêng’s vile machinations. If we had only remained under Liu Pei! Now he ​is Emperor and has set out to destroy Wu, and he will do it one day. But we have a special grudge against Mi Fang and Fushih Jên. Why should we not kill these two and go over to Shu? They will think we have done well.” Another said, “Do not be hasty; we will do it presently when there is a chance.”

Mi Fang did not like this at all. He told his colleague the men were mutinous and they themselves were in danger.

“Ma Chung is an object of especial hatred to the Ruler of Shu; suppose we kill him and surrender. We can say we were compelled to give in to Wu, but as soon as he came near we wanted to get back.”

“It will not do,” said Fushih. “If we go they will kill us.”

“No; the Ruler of Shu is liberal and kind. And the heir, Atou, is related to me. They will surely not do any harm to a connection.”

In the end they decided to go. And in the third watch they made their way into their chief’s tent and stabbed him to death. Then they cut off his head, and with their grisly trophy and a few followers they set off for the camp of the Ruler of Shu. They arrived at the outposts and were taken to see Chang Nan and Fêng Hsi, to whom they told their tale. Next day they went into the camp and were admitted to the presence of the First Ruler, to whom they offered their trophy. And they threw themselves on the ground and wept, saying, “We are not traitors. We were the victims of Lü Meng’s wickedness. He said that Kuan Yü was dead and tricked us into giving up the city. We could not help surrendering. When we heard the 'sacred chariot' had come we slew this man to satisfy your vengeance, and we implore forgiveness.”

But the First Ruler was angry, and said, “I left Ch'êngtu a long time ago; why did you not come to confess your fault before? Now you find yourselves in danger and so you come with this specious tale to try to save your lives. If I pardon you, how shall I look my brother in the face when we meet beneath the Nine Springs?”

Then he bade Kuan Hsing set up an altar to his father in the camp, and thereon he offered the head they had brought in sacrifice before the tablet of Kuan Yü. This done, he had the two deserters stripped and made them kneel before the altar, and presently with his own hand he hewed them in pieces as a sacrifice.

Presently Chang Pao came in and wailed before him, saying, “The two enemies of my uncle have been slain, but when will vengeance be taken upon those of my father?”

“Do not grieve, my nephew,” said the First Ruler, “I am going to lay waste Chiangnan and slay the whole of the curs that live there. I will assuredly capture the two murderers of your father, and you shall hack them to pieces as a sacrifice."

​Chang Pao went away, still weeping.

About this time the fear of the First Ruler was very great among the men of Chiangnan, who stood in dread of him so that they grieved night and day. Han Tang and Chou T‘ai were rather frightened too, and they sent a report to their master of the assassination of Ma Chung and what had befallen the assassins.

Then Sun Ch'üan was distressed and called together his counsellers. At this meeting Pu Chi proposed submission and self-humiliation for the sake of peace.

Said he, “There were five persons whom Liu Pei had a grudge against, and they are all dead. Now the objects of his hate are the murderers of Chang Fei. Why not send back Chang Fei’s head, and these two assassins, and give up Chingchou and restore the Lady Sun and ask for peace and alliance against Wei? This will make the men of Shu retire, and we shall have peace.”

This proposal seemed good. So the head of Chang Fei was enclosed in a sandalwood box; Fan Chiang and Chang Ta were bound and put in a cage-cart. All these were sent, with letters, by the band of Ch'êng Ping to the camp at Hsiaot‘ing.

The First Ruler was about to march farther east when they told him that a messenger had come from Chiangnan and what he had brought. The Ruler struck his forehead with both hands, saying, “This is the direct gift of Heaven through my youngest brother’s spirit.”

He bade Chang Pao prepare an altar whereon to sacrifice the heads of his father’s assassins. When he opened the box and saw the features of his brother he seemed at first outwardly unmoved, but soon he broke into wailing for the dead. Then the son hewed the two men in pieces and offered them upon the altar.

But this sacrifice did not appease Liu Pei’s anger, and he still desired to destroy Wu. Whereupon Ma Liang remonstrated.

“Your enemies are now all dead: you are avenged. Wu has sent a high officer with large concessions and awaits your reply.”

But Liu Pei savagely replied, “The one I would grind to pieces is Sun Ch'üan. To act as he proposes and enter into alliance would be treachery to my two brothers and a breach of our oath. Now I will exterminate Wu, and Wei shall follow.”

He wished also to put the messenger to death, but relented when his officers interceded; and poor Ch'êng Ping ran off terrified, glad to escape with life. He went back and told Sun Ch'üan how implacable his enemy seemed.

Sun Ch'üan was frightened and bewildered. Seeing this, K‘an Tsê stepped forward and said, “Since there is a sky-supporting pillar, why not use it?”

​“Whom do you refer to?” asked Sun Ch'üan.

“You once had perfect confidence in Chou Yü, and he was followed by Lu Su, equally able. Lü Mêng succeeded and you pinned your faith upon him. Though now he is dead, yet there is Lu Hsün. And he is quite near, in Chingchou. He is reputed to be a scholar, but really he is a bold and capable man, no whit inferior to Chou Yü, in my opinion. The plan that broke Kuan Yü was his. If anyone can destoy Shu, it is he. If he fail, then I will stand the same punishment as may be his.”

“If you had not spoken thus my whole scheme might have gone amiss,” said Sun Ch‘üan.

“Lu Hsün is a student,” said Chang Chao. “He is no match for Liu Pei. You may not use him.”

Ku Yung also said, “He is too young and too inexperienced. I fear he will not be obeyed, and that will be mischievous.”

Pu Chi also said, “He is well enough to control a district, but he is not fit for a big matter.”

K‘an Tsê got desperate. “It is the only hope,” shouted he. “I will guarantee him with the lives of all my house.”

“I know he is able,” said Sun Ch'üan, “and I have now made up my mind he is the man. Gentlemen, that is enough.”

Lu Hsün was called home. Lu Hsün was originally named Lu I: his tzǔ was Po-yen. He was a native of Wu, son of Lu Chün, who was Tu-yü of Kiukiang and grandson of Lu Yü. He was of medium height, with a clear complexion, “like the finest jade.”

Having arrived at court and made his bow, Sun Ch'üan said to him, “I wish to send you in supreme command of all the forces against Shu.”

“Sir, you have numerous old and tried officers under your command; I am very young and not at all clever,” replied Lu.

“K‘an Tsê goes bail for you and pledges his whole house. Moreover, I know your abilities. You must be Commander-in-chief and may not refuse the appointment.”

“But what will happen if the officers do not support me?”

“Here is authority!” said Sun Ch'üan, taking his own sword from his side. “Slay the disobedient and report afterwards.”

“I am grateful for this proof of confidence, but I dare not accept forthwith. I pray you to assemble all the officers and confer the office upon me in their presence.”

Said K‘an Tsê, “The ancient fashion was to set up a platform and thereon present to the leader-elect a white yak’s tail and a golden axe with the seal of office and the fu (commission). Thereafter his dignity and the reverence due from others were beyond all question. It would be well, O Prince, to follow the old rule. Choose a good day and appoint Lu Hsün before all the world, and no one will refuse support.”

​An altar was begun at once. They worked at it day and night, and as soon as it was finished a great assembly was called. Then Lu Hsün was requested to ascend and make his bow on receiving his appointment as “Commander-in-chief, Leader of the Senior Guardian Army of the West and Marquis of Fênglou.” The sword of authority and the seal of office were presented. His powers extended over the six districts and the eighty-one departments (of Chiangnan), over the forces in Chingchou and Chin.

And in charging him Sun Ch'üan said, “Domestic affairs belong to me; outer affairs are under your direction.”

Lu Hsün then descended. He chose Hsü Shêng and Ting Fêng as commanders of his guards, and the army lost no time in taking the field. The various dispositions of horse and foot were made, and despatches were sent to the outlying commanders.

When the despatch reached Han Tang and Chou T‘ai they were much upset at this appointment of a mere bookish student to command them. So when the new Commander-in-chief came they showed their discontent by a lack of hearty support. Lu Hsün went to his tent to receive the reports, and there the majority of the officers manifested only sullen respect and unwilling deference.

Then Lu addressed them, saying, “By order of my superior I am Commander-in-chief, and my commission is to destroy Shu. You, gentlemen, all know the ordinary military rules, and you would do well to obey them. The law is no respecter of persons, as those who disobey will find out. Do not have to regret when it is too late.”

They nodded in sullen acquiescence. Then Chou T‘ai said, “There is Sun Huan, nephew of our prince; he is surrounded at Iling and is short of food. I venture to request you to send relief to him and get him out so that the prince’s heart may be comforted.”

“I know all about him. His men are faithful, and he can easily maintain his position. There is no need to go to his aid. When Shu is broken he will be free to come out.”

They all sniggered as they left the tent, and Han Tang did not fail to express his contempt for the newly appointed “scholar.”

“This will be the end of Wu,” said he to his colleague. “Did you note what he said?”

“I tried him just to see what he would do,” said Chou T‘ai. “You see he had no plan ready; he destroy Shu indeed!”

Next day general orders were issued for defence and prohibitions against giving battle, which provoked more laughter at the incapable pedant, as they thought him, in command, and secret resolves to disobey. Moreover, the officers showed their contempt by a general disregard of orders. So once more Lu Hsun assembled them and said, “You know I am in command; ​yet the recent orders for defence have been disregarded. Why?”

Then Han Tang spoke up, “Some of us followed General Sun when he first subdued Chiangnan. Others won fame in destroying rebels, or in following the present prince in his campaigns. All of us have donned our armour and gripped our weapons in many a bloody fight. Now, Sir, you have been placed in supreme command to repulse Shu, and there should be some plan of campaign made for us at once, some dispositions of our forces and some definite advance toward that end. Instead of that we are told to strengthen our defences and are forbidden to fight. What are we to wait for? Will Heaven destroy our opponents for us? We are not afraid to die. Why is our keenness left to be eaten away and our energies wasted in idleness?'

All the others applauded this speech and cried that the speaker had expressed their own ideas.

“General Han Tang just says what we think: let us fight a decisive battle,” they cried.

The new general waited till the uproar had subsided. Then drawing his sword, he shouted, “That I am a student is true. But I have been entrusted with a great task, a task for which the prince considers me competent and for the performance of which I am prepared to bear all the responsibilities. As for you, you will do well to act on the defensive as I ordered and not allow yourselves to be led astray into any attacks. And. I shall put the disobedient to death.”

This speech had little effect, and they dispersed mumping and grumbling.

As has been told, the First Ruler had made a long chain of stations reaching back to his base, and these camps looked very imposing with their fluttering banners by day and their fires at night. Then the spies came in and told him of the new commander of the Wu army and his policy and orders to defend.

“What sort of a man is this Lu Hsün?” said he.

“He is famous as a scholar among the people of Wu, and, though young, he is very talented,” replied Ma Liang. “His schemes are very deep. He was the author of the villainous and crafty plan of attack on Chingchou.”

“His crafty scheme caused the deaths of my brothers, the blockhead; but now I shall have him,” said Liu Pei.

He gave orders to advance. But Ma Liang ventured to remonstrate and dissuade him. “Be very careful,” said he; "this Lu Hsün is no whit inferior to Chou Yü.”

“I have grown old in the field,” said the king. “Don‘t you think me a match for this callow youth?”

He confirmed the order to go forward, and they attacked pass and ford and redoubt wherever they were. Han Tang ​notified his chief of the attack, and Lu Hsün, still rather dubious of the strict obedience to his orders, hastened to the point of danger. He found Han Tang on a hill surveying the enemy’s force, which advanced like a great wave. Amidst the army they saw a wide yellow umbrella, and Han Tang pointed it out.

“That must be Liu Pei,” said he. “I should like to kill him.'

“Careful,” said Lu Hsün. “So far he has scored victory after victory, and his men are very keen and confident. Maintain a careful defence and do not go out to battle. If you do, you will lose. Impress that upon your officers and men and make them understand the strategy while you follow the enemy’s moves. They are hastening into the wide open space of P‘ingyüan, and I do not wish to hinder them. Nor will I accept any challenge to battle, but wait till they have moved their camps into the forest and among the trees. Then I shall have a scheme ready.' ”

Han Tang agreed so far as words went, but in his heart he was still mutinous and ill-conditioned. When the Shu army drew near, a small force came to challenge. They shouted all sorts of abuse and hurled reproaches to put their opponents to shame, but Lu Hsün took no notice and bade his men stop their ears. He would not allow them to go out to battle, but he went from fort to redoubt encouraging the soldiers to remain carefully on the defensive.

The First Ruler’s heart burned within him at this refusal to come out to battle, and it angered him none the less that Ma Liang dinned into his ears how deep Lu Hsün was and crafty.

“He recognises the disadvantages of Your Majesty’s troops in being far from their base, and from spring to autumn he will not come out to fight till some move occurs that he may profit by.”

“What ruse can he be contemplating?” said Liu Pei. “The real fact is that he is afraid. Their army has suffered nothing but defeat times and again. They dare not meet us.”

One day the leader of the van, Fêng Hsi, memorialised the First Ruler, saying, “The weather is scorching and the troops are camped in the full glare of sun. Beside, water is scarce and hard to get.”

Thereupon orders were given to move the camps into the shade of the forest close by and near the streams till the summer heats should have passed. This order given, Fêng Hsi was the first to choose a retired and shady spot for his men.

Ma Liang said, “If our men move, the enemy will rush out on us and we shall be hard set.”

“I will provide for that,” said the First Ruler. “I will send Wu Pan with a legion of our inferior troops to camp near their lines. But I will choose eight companies of veterans and place them in ambush. Wu Pan will have orders to flee ​before the men of Wu and lead them into my ambush if they come out, and I will cut off their retreat. We ought to capture this precocious youth.”

“A genius in plans, a marvel of prevision!” cried all those about him as this plan was unfolded. “None of us can approach him in cleverness.”

So they felicitated their ruler. But Ma Liang said, “They say the Prime Minister is on a tour of inspection of the fastnesses in the eastern portion of Shu, seeing that they are in good order against any attack on the part of Wei. Why not send him a sketch of your present dispositions of troops and ask his opinion?”

“I also am not entirely ignorant of the art of war, and I see no reason to seek advice,” was the cold reply.

“There is an old saying about hearing both sides,” said Ma Liang.

“Well, then; you go round to all the camps and make a map and take it to the Prime Minister. If he finds any fault you may come and tell me.”

So he went while the First Ruler busied himself with getting his men into shelter from the fierce heat of summer. His move was no secret, and the scouts soon told Han and Chou, who rejoiced at the news and soon went to tell Lu Hsün that all the enemies' camps had been moved into the shade.

“Now, Sir, you can attack!” said they.

Whether Lu Hsün acted upon the suggestion of his subordinates will be seen in the next chapter.