Chapter 347: Two Willow Branches

In their retreat, Dong Zhuo’s two thousand mounted scouts and six hundred infantry maintained a noticeable distance, appearing disjointed. After galloping three li, Dong Zhuo whistled, pulled his reins, and let the tip of his Green Spring spear carve a furrow in the yellow sand. Looking back, he regretted that the Snow Dragon cavalry hadn’t pursued. He pursed his lips, removed his crimson-tasseled helmet, and tucked it under his arm, revealing a sullen expression to his troops without a care. A loyal officer, dismounted and now marching with the infantry, caught up to Dong Zhuo’s horse. Having feigned defeat for three li, running like a stray dog, he stopped with apparent ease, cursing loudly, belittling the so-called elite cavalry of Beiliang for lacking courage. Such was the nature of Dong Zhuo’s soldiers, all cut from the same cloth. Dong Zhuo placed his Green Spring spear on the rack, donned his helmet, and said, “Move out.”

The officer trailing Dong Zhuo’s horse, a broad-shouldered, bear-bodied man, asked, “General, are we really just going to leave? No counterattack?”

Dong Zhuo gave no answer, and the officer wisely dropped the question. This was the unspoken understanding of Dong’s army. Dong Zhuo was not only skilled in leading small elite cavalry forces on long-range raids but also excelled in the art of the counterattack. Many fierce battles had seen his forces retreat dozens or even hundreds of li, even under slight disadvantage or balanced conditions, only to turn and fight again, securing victory. The counterattack tactic was a double-edged sword—used well, it yielded extraordinary results; used poorly, it backfired catastrophically, leading to a rout and collapse. It required an acute understanding of one’s own morale and the enemy’s resilience. Such tactical calculations, involving the lives of hundreds or even thousands, were no mere academic exercise.

Dong Zhuo muttered to himself, “Six thousand against four thousand, a draw. We’ve more or less gauged the Dragon and Elephant Army’s strength. Wazhu and Hong Gu’an’s defeat was not undeserved.”

The officer chuckled, speaking without restraint, “If the court officials heard you say that, they’d accuse us of shamelessness again.”

Dong Zhuo clicked his teeth, slightly lifting his buttocks. His wife, a royal relative, always teased him about having calluses there, making him uncomfortable to sit with. She urged him to ride less. Dong Zhuo, a man of great intelligence, understood the true meaning behind her playful words—she wanted him to avoid the front lines. Though young and of imperial lineage, he should take fewer risks. With patience, he could rise to high rank. Yet, this time, with the perilous situation in Ligǔ Maolong, he couldn’t entrust the mission to anyone else. Losing six thousand elite soldiers stung, but Dong Zhuo was famously cold-hearted. As long as the calculations didn’t show a loss, he saw no need to feign sorrow. His true strength lay not in cavalry, but in twelve thousand infantry. Had he lost six thousand infantry, he would have stormed the gates of generals in the Southern Court—Huang, Song, and Pu—to curse them.

A few li down the road, they encountered another five hundred riders of Dong’s army. This elite force silently merged into the main body. Dong Zhuo was known for his cunning strategies, preferring not to gamble everything in a single desperate move. His counterattacks, though rare, succeeded because he always kept at least a sixth of his total forces hidden and fresh for the counterthrust.

In the Battle of Hulukou, Dong Zhuo had anticipated that the Dragon and Elephant Army, daring to set an ambush, would not commit fully. Thus, he initially withheld his full eight thousand cavalry. Events proved his calculations mostly correct, save for the unexpected emergence of Yuan Zuozong, the legendary “White Bear.” Without him, Dong Zhuo could have not only defeated the four thousand Dragon and Elephant riders but also captured the son of the Butcher King. Dong Zhuo wasn’t afraid of the Snow Dragon cavalry. With his five hundred hidden riders, he could have destroyed Yuan Zuozong. Yet killing both Yuan and Xu Longxiang would have been difficult. Dong Zhuo considered himself a frugal man, managing his six thousand troops like a thrifty husband. Without achieving his primary goal—slaying Xu Longxiang—killing a few hundred or thousand Northern Liang soldiers would have been insignificant, costing him dearly. He was reluctant to pay such a price.

The fat officer, looking gloomy, sighed, “After this return, I won’t be able to visit my father-in-law under the guise of New Year’s greetings to pick up gifts. Worse, I might not even touch my little wife’s hand for a month.”

The deaths of Gong Pu, the guest scholar, and the Penglai strongman didn’t stir Dong Zhuo’s conscience. He merely lamented the future complications, as his father-in-law, who commanded the militarized Tianshan, was known for his cold cunning.

The officer cautiously asked, “General, aren’t we heading in the direction of Maolong?”

Dong Zhuo, already in a foul mood, glared, “Are you in a hurry to reincarnate? Haven’t you seen the Snow Dragon cavalry of the Northern Liang King? Only eight hundred have appeared so far. Where are the rest? They must be attacking Ligǔ Maolong! Otherwise, why would four thousand Dragon and Elephant cavalry wait at Hulukou to trap us?”

The officer scratched his head, muttering, “My sister said not to let the general take on this hot potato, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Dong Zhuo smiled brightly, waving, “Yelü Chuci, come here!”

The officer shuddered, pretending not to hear.

Dong Zhuo grinned, “Bro-in-law!”

The officer reluctantly approached, and sure enough, received a kick. The fat man felt refreshed after venting his frustration. “You see how beautiful your sister is, yet look at you—ugly as a broken melon. The first time I met you, I said you couldn’t be your parents’ real son; you must’ve been picked up somewhere.”

The officer, a genuine royal relative, dared not retort, showing the extent of Dong Zhuo’s tyranny. He swallowed his anger, lamenting his luck with such a rogue brother-in-law.

Dong Zhuo suddenly turned serious, “Spit it out.”

The officer, usually seen as a reckless fighter, ran near Dong Zhuo’s horse, “Victory over Wazhu’s Leaving the city without permission force by ten thousand Dragon and Elephant troops isn’t surprising. But for four thousand Dragon and Elephant troops to appear at Hulukou while the Junzige fortress remained intact suggests something’s wrong there. Our Northern Yan fortresses, though not as formidable as those in Central China, can’t be easily taken by cavalry alone. Attacking a fortress with cavalry that lacks siege equipment is absurd. This implies Northern Liang’s infiltration of our border forces far exceeds Southern Court expectations. Perhaps even Hong Gu’an’s decision to leave the fortress was influenced by spies.”

Dong Zhuo neither nodded nor shook his head, asking, “Then tell me, what’s the point of the Dragon and Elephant Army’s deep incursion? With only four hundred left at Hulukou plus the wounded, their ten thousand elite troops have dwindled to less than two thousand. What’s the gain?”

The officer, often teased as “Golden Branch and Jade Leaf,” thought, “Wazhu, Junzige, Ligǔ, and Maolong are all fortresses easily defended but hard to attack. Without significant strategic value, Northern Liang would be foolish to garrison them, waiting for Southern Court generals to retaliate. Honestly, I don’t understand the purpose of this battle. Is the Northern Liang King losing his mind, or is he eager to appoint his second son as a general?”

Dong Zhuo kicked him, but the quick officer dodged, the fat man grinning, “You didn’t hit the mark at all. Your sister was right—you’ve read too many military treatises and failed to grasp what’s beyond them.”

The officer, accustomed to his brother-in-law’s rough affection, grinned, “General, your wisdom enlightens me.”

Dong Zhuo smiled faintly, “Previously, all border fortresses near Northern Liang were confident in facing their cavalry head-on. Not only generals like Hong Gu’an believed this, but even Southern refugees longed to return, to honor ancestors or reminisce about the South’s comfort. They pushed for conflict, but it was all empty fervor. Southern Court underestimated Northern Liang’s military, leading to a restless court, affecting the Emperor’s mindset. His haste in targeting Buddhism stemmed from the belief that Northern Liang could be crushed decisively.”

The officer hesitated, “Then attack. If one Dragon and Elephant Army can cause chaos in Longyao Province, we should strike hard. Our Southern Court’s arrogance will lead to defeat. Why did Northern Liang attack now? Could it be the King really lost his mind? This battle shows Longyao’s weakness, and the Empress’s famed network of beacon towers and fortresses was shattered instantly. Facing the master of such systems, Northern Liang, we’re outmatched. Thus, Northern Yan should proceed cautiously, spending years to build practical defenses. Then Northern Liang’s advance northward would be blocked, forcing them to retreat south.”

Dong Zhuo slowly uttered two words, “Time.”

The officer blinked, puzzled, “What?”

Dong Zhuo caressed the Green Spring spear on his saddle, softly, “Xu Xiao, the old tiger of Northern Liang, waits for his heir to gain enough strength to inherit the army. To ensure his eldest son doesn’t fall behind Chen Zhibao, who has immense advantages from the Spring and Autumn Wars, Xu must gradually sideline Chen, buying time for his son. If Northern Yan advances too quickly, even hastily installing the heir won’t sway the army, which mostly supports Chen. Only the Snow Dragon, Dragon and Elephant, and Weixiong cavalry would remain loyal. Thus, this campaign against Northern Yan, led by his second son with the Dragon and Elephant Army, was Xu’s only choice. It serves both sons and appeases Chen’s faction. This campaign avoids using his core forces, saving face. In short, Xu’s strategy is elegant, leaving no room for criticism within Northern Liang.”

Dong Zhuo muttered, “If I were him, I’d spare no cost, even if the Dragon and Elephant Army were wiped out. The loss of generals and commanders differs from losing soldiers. Besides, two thousand Dragon and Elephant troops remain. Rebuilding the force with eight thousand fresh cavalry won’t significantly reduce their strength. I know those eight thousand will be neutral figures during the transition, their veteran troops ensuring the new King and Chen’s factions balance. This is the art of strategy, beyond any textbook.”

The officer stammered, “So the Butcher King planned this far ahead?”

Dong Zhuo laughed, “Otherwise, how could Northern Liang stand as a triad with Northern Yan and Liyang? I heard of a strategist named Li Yishan in Northern Liang’s Tingchao Pavilion. Long underestimated as merely an administrator, even inferior to the late Zhao Changling in military and strategic matters. I think Li was hiding his brilliance. This scholar, blending orthodox and unorthodox methods, is the one I respect. Northern Liang’s thirty thousand cavalry maintained their strength for years, isolated yet powerful, largely due to Li. I wonder who could replace him if he dies.”

The officer chuckled, “Can’t we have Zhuwang assassinate him?”

Dong Zhuo struck his brother-in-law’s helmet with his Northern Yan saber, “Just told you of the importance of strategy, and you think of such tricks? You’re a stone in a latrine—unteachable!”

The officer whined, “But General, aren’t you renowned for your cunning in Northern Yan?”

Dong Zhuo unusually fell silent, inwardly mocking: I give as much as I gain.

The officer, unable to bear his brother-in-law’s silence, asked curiously, “General, do you think the Butcher King’s second son survived the heart-piercing sword? In Zhuwang, we have a killer known for ‘piercing the heart.'”

Dong Zhuo recalled the assassin’s sword, lamenting, “That sword was fearsome, but not enough to kill Xu Longxiang.”

At Hulukou, Yuan Zuozong, the “White Bear,” glared at the sword in Xu Longxiang’s chest. A top general in the Liyang army, he knew the sword’s danger—never to be pulled hastily. The blade initially aimed at the heart had deflected to the left chest due to Xu’s energy. The sword pierced through, leaving a rootless willow branch-like presence. Sword energy flourished within the boy, still bleeding, though the flow had slowed.

Though furious, Yuan controlled his temper, silently noting the assassin—Zhuwang’s top killer, famed for “piercing the heart.”

Xu Longxiang asked his second question, “Do I need to go further north to find my brother?”

Yuan felt a pang, smiling bitterly, “Father said reaching Hulukou means going home. The Young Prince will return soon.”

Xu nodded, “Then I’ll wait here.”

Yuan said, “No need. Father instructed that the Prince’s return bypasses here.”

Yuan expected resistance from the young prince, but the black-clothed boy merely pondered and nodded.

Gazing at the blood-soaked battlefield, Yuan for the first time longed for the General’s eldest son to return.

He recalled Xu Fengnian’s three journeys.

On Northern Liang’s The Post Road, willows swayed. A scholar led a little girl, no horse, no carriage, yet they walked leisurely, sheltered by the shade.

The pair, bound by hardship, found joy in their journey, unafraid of toil.

“Chen Gege, are we going to see that Xu Young Master?”

“Not necessarily. I must search all of Northern Liang first. Whether he sees me is another matter. He’s the hereditary heir, no ordinary man.”

“Xu Young Master is kind. He fished coins for me in the wishing pool. The watermelon he gave us—Chen Gege, didn’t you say the rind was delicious?”

“Good men can do bad things; bad men can do good. It’s unpredictable.”

The girl didn’t understand but smiled, “Oh.”

Seeing no one, the scholar secretly broke a willow branch, weaving a crown for the girl.

He once vowed to be posthumously honored as “Wenzheng.” He once submitted the “Six Matters Memorial” to General Xu Gong. He once rose to fame at the Baoguo Temple in Jiangnan, discussing kingship and hegemony.

This was Chen Liangxi, the poor scholar wandering with a little beggar girl.

Recall that Yangcai Zhao Changling first met the Butcher King Xu Xiao, accompanied by six hundred servants and maids.

Yincai Li Yishan came alone, equally destitute.