Chapter Twenty-Seven: Reorganization Before the Battle

There were no private kitchens in the Yellow Turban camp.

The guards outside Wang Luo’s tent glared with suspicion at the would-be assassin who was building a hearth just beyond the command tent. She wore shackles at her ankles and smiled sweetly at them.

There was little to season with—only a scant supply of salt, and nothing like soy sauce or vinegar. In the end, Zhou Suyan simply boiled a pot of meat porridge.

“Tastes quite good,” Wang Luo commented after sampling it.

“She’s not trustworthy,” Zhou Yingxiong, who had arrived upon hearing the news, offered his opinion while drinking the porridge.

“I don’t need her to be trustworthy,” Wang Luo replied. “As long as she’s useful, that will do. There’s no shortage of unreliable people in our camp… one more makes no difference.”

“In fact, you could find someone better,” Yang Wentian said lazily. “Few can command soldiers effectively.”

“I can’t really tell good from bad. I met her, so it’s her,” Wang Luo replied.

A powerful logic… Realizing their friend was not someone easily fooled, Zhou Yingxiong and Yang Wentian, who had been about to advise further, remained silent.

After supper, Zhou Suyan underwent the process of “defection.” According to Wang Luo, it didn’t really matter, but if she didn’t formally change sides, she might be accidentally harmed in camp—so it was still necessary.

That night, Wang Luo assembled all the soldiers in the camp—men and women, young and old—without exception.

The first order of business was restructuring the army. Wang Luo divided the three thousand plus fully armed soldiers who had won the previous day’s battle into seven teams, each with over four hundred men. Zhou Yingxiong, Su Si, Zhang Stone, Zhang Xiong, Iron Pillar, White Second Catty, and Wang Luo himself each led one team. Then, from the original camp, he selected the strongest, as well as half of the surrendered Han soldiers (about four hundred from the eight hundred captives), to fill each team to a thousand.

As for the remaining women with children, the elderly, the sick, and the infirm, Wang Luo organized them into three teams and put them under the charge of Liu San, Mao Man, and Lin Qi’s officers. Their main duties were chopping wood, cooking, mending and washing clothes, and managing supplies.

Whether these people felt discontent or not was no concern of Wang Luo’s—if everyone had to be satisfied and happy, then nothing would get done.

To his surprise, Lin Qi did not object—this was a relief to Wang Luo. In truth, having just reached their agreement, this Taoist leader was unlikely to oppose his arrangements, but unforeseen events could never be ruled out.

Yang Wentian’s scout unit had expanded to over a hundred men. Wang Luo allocated the captured warhorses to him as well, hoping his good fortune would continue.

Some of Su Si’s men were reassigned to Zhang Stone in this round of reorganizing. Su Si made no objection—Wang Luo judged him to be someone with a broad perspective, and after recent events, likely felt some remorse. Such an opportunity was not to be wasted.

They then inventoried provisions and equipment. Most of the Han soldiers’ captured armor was distributed according to merit. Thus, out of the main force of over seven thousand, more than three thousand now had full armor and weapons.

The iron ingots and ore Lin Qi brought were enough to forge three to four hundred sets. Their food stores could last half a month.

Wang Luo had his men line up to practice formations and crafts. Because of his agreement with Lin Qi, they could no longer shout ideological slogans, so Wang Luo chose to recite military regulations instead.

“Those who disobey orders—behead!”
“Those who slaughter prisoners—behead!”
“Those who laugh and jest loudly—behead!”
“Those who leak military secrets—behead!”
“Those who feign illness or injury—behead!”
“Those who leave the ranks, violate women, or loot—behead!”

Wang Luo couldn’t remember all the military regulations he’d read before. In any case, he knew this: when numbers are small, overly harsh discipline breeds resistance and can cause a unit to fall apart. But as the ranks grow, strict laws, strictly enforced, actually make the army stronger.

He would add a reward system later; this would be beneficial for morale. First, they would internalize restraint and pressure, then think about rewards—like enduring bitterness before enjoying sweetness.

With this restructuring, drilling, re-arming, and new system of rewards and punishments, the fighting power of this force would rise sharply. Once a culture was established, new recruits would also improve faster.

But how much time was left?

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Han Army Main Camp, Commander’s Tent

“The two squads we sent out on their own were completely wiped out.”

A murmur spread among the Han officers gathered below.

Huangfu Song waved his hand. “I won’t pursue the earlier matter further. Tomorrow, reinforcements arrive. Once they’re here, we march with the full army—first to crush these Yellow Turban rebels, and then to strike north to Guangzong and eradicate the outlaws!”

“Yes, sir!” The officers rose as one and answered in unison.

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“Tomorrow the reinforcements arrive, and the Han army will launch a full attack.” In a large tent on the outskirts of the camp, a disfigured dwarf missing half his nose pulled two wires from his ear and addressed his comrades.

“They’re heading for the Yellow Turban camp?” asked a man clad in golden armor.

“Yes,” the dwarf replied. “Reports from the other side say the Yellow Turban forces in this area have gathered under the new leader. They’re forging armor and training troops. Huangfu Song likely wants to give them no time to prepare and annihilate them here.”

“Nothing more to say then—let’s fight!” A towering, muscular woman stood up. “Boss?”

The dwarf, the golden armored man, and the dozen others in the tent all looked to an elderly man with a kindly face leaning on a cane. After a moment, the old man tapped his cane. “Then get ready. Tomorrow we all go out with the Han army.”

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Meanwhile, in another, smaller tent in the Han camp—

“Mr. Lank, we’ve just received word—the Han reinforcements have arrived. Dalbo and the others are preparing to march,” a slender youth reported, head bowed to a burly man with a bushy beard.

“My shoes heard you, Rick. If you’d look up, my ears might hear as well.” Lank sighed. “They’re earlier than expected. Is it that witch’s doing again? Rest well—tomorrow we go out with the Han army.”

“Yes, Lank,” replied several of the four or five people in the tent. Some simply nodded.

“Did you detect anything in that witch’s tent?”

“N-no, sir. Sorry, sir.” The boy’s head drooped even lower.

“I was just asking. I didn’t expect you to break through. Rick, I’ve told you—there’s no need to be so nervous.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“…Fine, suit yourself.” Lank stroked his beard, recalling the boy’s pitiful state when he’d rescued him from his last group, and sighed.