Chapter Three: Quick Wit Captures the Bandit Leader Alive

Zhang Huaiwei gazed at everyone and asked, “What do we do now?”

The group looked at each other, wide-eyed and awkward, the atmosphere unbearably tense.

“Listen up, everyone inside! Come out and surrender, and your lives will be spared!” Hundreds of soldiers from the Western Qin army shouted in unison. “You have three breaths—come out and surrender!”

“Three!”

Zhang Huaiwei’s eyes darted restlessly, his mind torn and uncertain. Yet what surprised everyone most was Chen Ying’s demeanor. Whether it was Zhang Huaiwei, or even You Ziying who had bullied him before, their gaze upon Chen Ying had changed.

No one could have imagined that the frail and slender Chen Ying, more delicate than a beauty, was in fact a ruthless killer. Moments ago, he had slain at least sixteen Western Qin soldiers with his own hands.

You Ziying, in particular, looked at Chen Ying with a tremulous gaze, verging on fear.

Chen Ying remained silent, aware of the looks cast in his direction. He knew that from this day forward, none would dare bully him again.

But it was still too soon to ponder such matters.

At that moment, resistance within Jingyang County had ended. The Western Qin troops, now fully in control, divided into dozens of squads, bursting into the homes of the local people. Even without seeing the details, the cries and screams—especially the women’s shrieks and sobs—spoke clearly of the soldiers’ atrocities.

You Ziying whispered timidly, “Maybe... maybe we should surrender? Does it matter whose grain we eat? Guanzhong used to belong to the Yang family, and I ate Yang’s grain. Half a year ago it became Li’s, so I ate Li’s grain. Now it looks like it’ll be Xue’s—eating Xue’s grain is just the same.”

Zhang Huaiwei smacked his lips. “And you all?”

“Do you want to consort with beasts?” Chen Ying glared fiercely at them. “Look at what the Western Qin soldiers are doing...”

For a moment, no one could speak.

Chen Ying’s history teacher had died early, and his knowledge of the Sui-Tang era was vague. Yet he knew the most basic point: since the first year of Wude, the Great Tang had gradually defeated Wang Shichong of Luoyang, Dou Jiande of Hebei, and subdued Du Fuwei and the Xiao clan in the south. The Western Qin Little Tyrant, Xue Ju, would not last much longer. Surrendering to Western Qin would not end well.

You Ziying shrank back, falling silent.

Zhang Huaiwei scratched his head. “So what do we do now?”

Everyone turned to Chen Ying. Unbeknownst to them, Chen Ying had become the backbone of their group.

The military is a place governed by the law of the jungle—survival of the fittest. Zhang Huaiwei had been a squad leader, and in the recent fight he’d killed five Western Qin soldiers. But Chen Ying was fiercer, having slain sixteen, three times as many.

“Two!”

Chen Ying turned his gaze to the granary. To guard against theft, it had been constructed with rammed earth mixed with glutinous rice soup, making it exceptionally sturdy. Even if the Western Qin soldiers battered it with beams, it would hold for a while. Through the gaps between bodies, Chen Ying saw that only about a hundred Western Qin soldiers remained outside.

The reason: after resistance in the city ceased, the Western Qin army split up to pillage the populace. In groups or squads, they smashed open doors and ransacked homes for valuables, and any woman of decent appearance was subjected to unspeakable acts.

A heart-rending scream rang out. A naked woman bolted from her house, terrified by the mass of Western Qin soldiers in the street. A Western Qin officer, followed by a dozen men, cursed and chased after her.

The officer snatched a spear from a nearby soldier and thrust it into the woman’s back.

The spear pierced her easily, destroying her insides. Her life was leaving her swiftly, but she seemed unaware, blood bubbling from her lips.

A child, about four or five years old, ran toward her, sobbing.

“Mother… mother…”

When the child was still four or five steps away, a whistling sound split the air—a sharp arrow pierced his body.

Chen Ying was stunned by the brutal scene, something he’d only seen in nightmares. Killing enemies in battle was nothing like slaughtering unarmed captives and civilians.

The horror felt strangely familiar. Where had he seen such a scene before? Was it during the brawl at Shallow Water Plateau?

No, not then. That day had been chaotic and dangerous, but nothing so visually shocking.

When was it? A movie—yes, a movie, a documentary. Auschwitz. Nanjing. Back then, civilians were abused and slaughtered in just such madness…

Chen Ying moved. He approached You Ziying, pulled an arrow from You’s shield.

Ram’s head arrow: a type of arrowhead shaped like a ram’s head, known in later times as a three-sided arrow.

He snapped the arrow at the head, leaving a five-inch shaft. He tucked the short arrow into his sleeve, then crawled out through the gap among the bodies at the door.

Feigning terror, Chen Ying raised his sword overhead, but a faint, ruthless glint flashed in his eyes.

Inside Dai’s Grain Shop, Qiu Shengde watched Chen Ying’s back and spat, “That gutless rabbit—he’s chickened out…”

Zhang Huaiwei glared, shouting, “Shut up, all of you!”

Chen Ying deliberately quavered, “Don’t… don’t kill me, I surrender… I surrender!”

Zong Luo Hou, observing Chen Ying’s bloodstained form, noted that with every step, a bloody footprint marked the ground.

Zong Luo Hou shouted, “Drop your weapon!”

Chen Ying suddenly gripped his sword tighter, pausing at the doorway.

Even this simple gesture made the Western Qin soldiers step back in unison.

Zong Luo Hou’s expression darkened as he watched.

Chen Ying looked at him. “My lord, I—accidentally—killed more than a dozen of your men. I… I surrender… You won’t hold it against me, will you?”

Zong Luo Hou hadn’t seen Chen Ying kill anyone, and looked questioningly at his hundred or so troops.

A junior officer stepped forward. “It… it was him. Wang Mazi, Yang Wannian, Chen Yongfu—all killed by him!”

Zong Luo Hou knew these men. Wang Mazi was famed for archery, but weak in close combat, so his death was unsurprising. But Yang Wannian was a renowned Western Qin fighter; his heavy saber weighed eighteen pounds, and he’d never been bested in battle. To fall in this small town—it was unexpected.

Zong Luo Hou mused, “It doesn’t seem possible. How could Yang Wannian fall to him?”

Yang Wannian stood eight feet three inches tall, weighed over two hundred pounds, wielded an eighteen-pound saber—not something a mere nine-pound sword could match.

The officer swallowed nervously. “He killed Yang Wannian with one kick and one slash!”

“Oh! So he’s a real expert!” Zong Luo Hou’s eyes brightened. He looked more closely at Chen Ying’s slender frame, growing ever more impressed. “Well, if he killed them, so be it. Those useless men were just wasting food anyway.”

“Thank you, my lord, for sparing me.” Chen Ying knelt on one knee, presenting his sword blade upwards, the hilt pointed at Zong Luo Hou, raised above his head.

Chen Ying’s heart pounded. He’d watched the Three Kingdoms drama, where surrendering warriors were always treated with respect by enemy commanders. He gambled that Zong Luo Hou would try to win him over.

Zong Luo Hou didn’t disappoint. Seeing Chen Ying kneeling, he dismounted and slowly approached.

He pressed his left hand to his sword hilt, took Chen Ying’s weapon with his right, inspecting it. The blade was pitted, evidence of fierce combat.

He returned the sword to its sheath and helped Chen Ying to his feet.

As Chen Ying rose, he caught sight of five or six of Zong Luo Hou’s guards forming a fan around him. Any sudden move would mean instant death.

Chen Ying thought it a pity, but he could only wait and watch.

Zong Luo Hou asked, “What’s your name? What is your rank?”

Chen Ying bowed. “I am Chen Ying of Chang’an, currently a common soldier.”

“People say Li Shimin understands warfare!” Zong Luo Hou snorted. “I don’t believe it. He may know how to use men, but not always wisely. From now on, you are my Yixing King’s personal Captain of the Guard.”

The rank of Captain was high in Han times, but by the Wei-Jin and Northern-Southern dynasties, it had declined; in the Sui-Tang era, it was a junior command. Western Qin, like Tang, followed the Sui system: five men per squad, a squad leader; ten per group, a group leader; five groups per company, a company leader; two companies per battalion, a battalion chief; two battalions per regiment, a Captain. In this era, a Captain commanded two hundred men (sometimes three hundred if three battalions), equivalent to a company-level officer.

“Thank you, my lord!” Chen Ying knelt once more.

Zong Luo Hou was pleased to have such a fierce warrior submit to him. His guards looked at Chen Ying with mixed feelings, knowing they would soon be his subordinates.

Zong Luo Hou said, “Captain Chen, no need to keep kneeling—stand up quickly!”

He reached out again to help Chen Ying. At that instant, Chen Ying sprang up, and before Zong Luo Hou could react, locked his arm around the lord’s neck. As Zong Luo Hou prepared to counter, he found a five-inch broken arrow in Chen Ying’s hand, its sharp ram’s head pressed against his throat.

Zong Luo Hou’s guards were shocked, but seeing their master in Chen Ying’s grasp, dared not move.