Chapter Sixty: Farewell to Zang Ba

Sun Ce watched as Jiang Wen became lost in thought before the map. Zhou Tai and Gan Ning exchanged a glance, rose from the table, and asked, “Has the Advisor sensed something amiss?”

Jiang Wen turned and replied, “There may be trouble. Zang Ba has led twenty thousand men from the western outskirts of Wancheng, taking the small roads. Unlike the main thoroughfare, these paths have no waystations. There is simply no way to replenish the rations and fodder needed for such a march!”

“This… no resupply?” Gan Ning was startled. “Does he intend for these twenty thousand to march to their deaths?”

“Armies move on their stomachs,” Jiang Wen said solemnly. “Zang Ba leads a force of twenty thousand against us at Wancheng, yet does not prepare ample rations. He seeks a swift victory. Such reckless advance means he knows there are spies he’s placed within our ranks—he is certain of it.”

Sun Ce nodded gravely. “Gan Ning, hear my command: lead five thousand elite soldiers to reinforce the city defenses at once. Zhou Tai, take one thousand and patrol the city. Any who stir up trouble or spread rumors are to be seized on the spot; those who are especially disruptive, execute immediately!”

“We obey!” Gan Ning and Zhou Tai saluted, took their helmets from the table, and withdrew.

Once the two generals had gone, Sun Ce turned to Jiang Wen. “Do you think the city can be held, Changsu?”

Jiang Wen answered with a relaxed air, “Zang Ba aims for nothing but a swift assault. As long as we hold fast and do not sally forth, within five days he will be forced to withdraw.”

Sun Ce felt somewhat reassured. “My father entrusted me with the defense of Wancheng while he campaigns against Yuan Shu—I must not fail him.”

Sun Jian had mobilized a hundred thousand to confront Yuan Shu at Hefei; Jiang Wen did not know how the battle fared, but with Sun Jian’s command and his strategists by his side, victory seemed assured. What worried Jiang Wen, knowing Sun Jian’s temperament, was that he might become carried away and plunge too deep into enemy lines.

Though he feared and even dreaded Sun Jian, now was not the time for that man to fall. Should he die, Sun Ce and Sun Quan would surely vie for power, while the Han Emperor and loyal court ministers still awaited their moment. A letter to Sun Jian, requesting a redeployment, must be written at once.

Sun Ce paced anxiously along the hall, concern clouding his face. “Changsu, Gongjin has only thirty thousand men on this expedition, while Han Xuan and the traitors command eighty thousand. Can Gongjin prevail?”

“War is not decided by numbers alone, but by the people, by the times, by the terrain—and most of all, by the commander,” Jiang Wen replied. “In days past, Xiang Yu with thirty thousand routed over five hundred thousand of Gaozu’s men at Pengcheng. You may rest easy, General.”

The mighty river rolls eastward, sweeping away heroes of every age.
On the western shore, it is said, once stood the Red Cliffs of Zhou Yu.
Rocks pierce the sky, waves crash upon the shore, churning up a thousand heaps of snow.
The land is like a painting—how many heroes arose in such times!
I recall Gongjin in his prime, newly wed to Xiao Qiao, full of vigor and pride.
With feather fan and silken cap, laughing and talking as enemy ships turned to ash.
Wandering in dreams of a vanished land, how the sentimental must laugh at me, my hair gone gray so soon.
Life is but a dream; let us pour a libation to the moon over the river.

With a single poem, the spirit and indomitable pride of Zhou Yu were immortalized; his effortless brilliance inspired awe in generations to come.

Warships rocked upon the surging waves, stirring unease in all who beheld them. The sky was dark and overcast, thunder and lightning splitting the heavens, cold wind cutting through the armor of the soldiers, leaving a chill deep to the bone.

“Reporting, General! The Red Cliffs are just ahead!”

Zhou Yu narrowed his eyes, gazing at the jagged stone cliffs looming into the sky, joined together in a fortress that blocked the raging torrent.

“Order the army to enter the Red Cliffs at once!”

The signal horns sounded, their reverberations carrying over the river as the warships struggled into harbor, making it safely into the city.

Within his command tent, Zhou Yu faced his officers. Taishi Ci stepped forward with a salute. “General, Han Xuan and his men have passed Dongting Lake and are now camped at Baling.”

“Bring the map.”

A general unrolled a sheepskin before Zhou Yu; he noted that Baling lay five hundred li from the Red Cliffs.

“Jiang Qin!”

“At your command!”

“Take elite troops and survey the surrounding terrain. Bring me back a detailed map.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Taishi Ci!”

“At your command!”

“Take five thousand elite soldiers and reinforce the city defenses.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The rest of you, rest well and prepare for battle!”

“Yes, sir!”

Zhou Yu retreated to a simple, unadorned wooden tower to rest, lacking the grandeur of a mansion. He removed his armor, his expression heavy, and laid his hairpin aside.

Four soldiers entered, kneeling in greeting. “General!”

Zhou Yu handed each a bamboo tube. “These are my letters to Han Xuan and the others. Remember, deliver each one without fail—none must be lost. Go now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Baling, nestled by the Yangtze, gathers the waters of the three Xiang rivers and four lakes, famed as the shore of Dongting Lake, where later poets would ascend the towers and leave behind their verses.

Han Xuan's eighty thousand camped outside the city. In Han Xuan’s residence, a leering official reported to him, while three women clad only in thin undergarments lounged enticingly on the floor.

“Reporting, General, these are the most beautiful women in the city. Do they please you?”

Han Xuan’s lecherous appetite was aroused, but as a general, he maintained a composed face. “You’ve done well, Magistrate. Go collect your reward from the Central Guard. How are the other generals faring?”

“All have been settled, General. They’re quite satisfied!”

“Good, now leave!”

“Yes, sir!”

An old general with white beard and a heroic visage drew back his bowstring—a four-stone bow, impossible for ordinary men to bend, yet he arched it to a perfect crescent with ease. His eyes were keen as blades; stepping back ten paces, he loosed another arrow, striking the bullseye once again.

“Your archery astounds me, Old General!” exclaimed Wei Yan, one of Han Xuan's officers. He was rugged, with a full beard and dusky skin, heavily built.

Huang Zhong set the bow aside and washed his hands. “Why do you not join the others at the feast, Wen Chang, and instead keep this old man company?”

“If the others had your skill and fortitude, Old General, I’d gladly join them. But those sackfuls of wine and meat are hardly worth my time.”

“Why not attend the feast yourself?” Huang Zhong smiled, his face heavily lined. “At my age, I only wish to spend more days with my bow.”

“You didn’t come to flatter me, surely. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m puzzled as to why we are attacking Sun Jian. We have just thirty thousand men, and I hear Sun Jian commands two hundred thousand. How can we possibly prevail?”

Huang Zhong was silent, caressing his bow as if it were his child. Seeing this, Wei Yan knew further questions were pointless. “Since you do not wish to discuss it, Old General, I’ll take my leave.”

Jiang Wen inspected the soldiers at the city gate. Sun Ce, nodding, remarked, “Their quality is not much behind our own.”

“Sun Ce, you coward, hiding inside your city! Do you dare come out and fight?” A general rode out—Zang Ba, with a long, rugged face, sharp features, and a tall, powerful frame like a wolf or leopard. He brandished a massive broadsword as he sat astride his warhorse, stopping fifty meters from the gate, unafraid of hidden archers.

Sun Ce’s expression darkened. Jiang Wen said nothing. Zang Ba, after joining Cao Cao, had fought Sun Quan many times with more victories than defeats, his fame resounding in the east. But Sun Quan was a strategist; now he faced Sun Ce, a true tiger general. Even Gan Ning had fared poorly against him—the title “Little Conqueror” was not undeserved.

Zang Ba circled at the gate, shouting, “What’s wrong, Sun Ce? Scared stiff by your grandfather’s reputation? I hear they call you the Little Conqueror, but I think ‘little bastard’ suits you better!” His men roared in laughter, chanting, “Little bastard! Little bastard!”

Sun Ce’s face grew grim. “Bring me my weapon!”

Gan Ning saluted, eager to volunteer. “Why should you, General, trouble yourself with a mere underling? Allow me, Gan Ning, to claim his head for you!”

Zhou Tai also stepped forward. “Let me go, General. I’ll have his head in moments!”

Sun Ce refused. “Such an upstart dares insult me? If I do not take his head myself, my anger will not be appeased—and I would shame my title!”

“Advisor, if anything happens to the General, how can we answer for it?” Zhou Tai appealed to Jiang Wen. “Please, persuade him.”

Jiang Wen replied, “You know the General’s temper by now. Let him go. But you two wait at the gate in support—be on guard for any tricks.”

“Yes, sir.”

The gates opened. Sun Ce rode out on a white horse, facing Zang Ba from afar.

Zang Ba eyed his opponent—a golden spear in hand, mounted on a powerful white stallion whose thick mane and sturdy frame sent up clouds of dust with every step. Such valor inspired fear.

“Just a showy spear and a waxed head—looks impressive but is useless!” Zang Ba sneered, though inwardly he was wary. Sun Ce’s fame resounded even in Luoyang, the capital, whose people still longed for the Han Emperor, now taken to Xiangyang by Sun Jian. Any news of Sun Jian spread through Luoyang like wildfire.

Yet Zang Ba, as Lü Bu’s second general, respected few others.

“Sun Ce, you’re not such a coward after all. Tell me, how should your grandfather deal with you?”

“Is talking all you can do?” Sun Ce retorted coldly. “Are all Lü Bu’s men like you—sharp tongues, no skill? Even a three-year-old would bite if provoked, but you, a general, are all bluster. How shameful.”

“Bold words! Had you not spoken thus, I might have let you live. Now…” Zang Ba’s smile vanished. Their horses stamped, nostrils flaring, hooves pawing the earth—the atmosphere tense as drawn blades.

Sun Ce’s horse stepped forward to within ten paces. “If you kneel and call me grandfather now, I may spare you.”

“Die!” Zang Ba roared, swinging his broadsword in a gust of wind, the blade flashing down with deadly force.

Sun Ce, holding his spear in one hand, thrust straight at Zang Ba’s face—a move as fierce as a dragon, certain to pierce Zang Ba’s skull in an instant.

Zang Ba, seeing Sun Ce ignore his sword and aim for a deadly exchange, panicked. He hastily withdrew his blade to parry. The spear tip struck sparks off the blade with a screech, leaving a mark.

With a sweep, Sun Ce spun his spear like a crane spreading its wings, reversing his grip and swinging the butt like an iron whip at Zang Ba’s side.

In a duel of masters, the smallest hesitation is fatal. Zang Ba’s moment of fear put him at a disadvantage, forcing him on the defensive. The shock from the impact numbed his hands, but Zang Ba bellowed, “Wretched cur!” and forced Sun Ce’s spear aside, swinging his blade in a vicious arc at Sun Ce’s waist.

The killing intent was palpable. Sun Ce ducked low on his horse, the blade whistling past his face.

Another swing came—a downward chop. Sun Ce raised his spear, the shaft meeting the blade with a resounding clang. The spear bent but did not break.

On the walls, Zhou Tai and the soldiers sweated nervously. Sun Ce was their commander—if he fell, morale would collapse.

Jiang Wen appeared calm, yet deep down he too was worried.

“Die, whelp!” Zang Ba roared, putting all his strength into a final, crushing blow.

Sun Ce, unfazed, suddenly leaned left, letting the blade slide down his spear, leaving only a faint scratch. Even so, Sun Ce winced at the mark and immediately thrust at Zang Ba.

Like a bolt of lightning, the spear shot forward. Zang Ba, off-balance from his wild swing, could not recover in time. Cold terror flooded him—he dove forward, tumbling from his horse.

“Help me!”

Grabbing his sword, he fled toward his men, calling out. Guo Si shouted for the troops to charge.

Sun Ce, brimming with fury, charged boldly ahead, heedless of the enemy’s numbers. Jiang Wen, watching, remarked, “Truly his father’s son!”

“Gan Ning, Zhou Tai—attack at once!”

“Kill!”

The cavalry, long poised at the gate, thundered forth against Zang Ba’s army.

Behind him, the hoofbeats grew ever closer. Zang Ba dropped his sword, desperate to reach his men—ten paces, five, three…

With a sickening crunch, a spear burst from his throat. Rage echoed in his heart, but he could not speak. Sun Ce howled and lifted Zang Ba aloft on his spear—this general who had bested Sun Quan so many times, who had not yet seen his moment of glory, died here in battle.

“Kill!” Sun Ce hurled the corpse into the enemy ranks and charged, the tip of his Conqueror’s Spear tracing a trail of blood. Guts spilled from his foes’ bellies, painting a grisly scene.

“Gan Ning is here!”

Gan Ning’s iron whip crushed a soldier’s waist with a sickening snap, blood spraying as the man fell, trampled by the charging horses.

“Kill!”

With Zang Ba dead, the army’s morale soared—like famished tigers scenting prey.

“Zhou Tai, go aid the Cavalry General!”

“Yes, sir!” Gan Ning’s double halberds reaped lives, his might and cunning leaving a trail of carnage.

The gong sounded—the enemy, leaderless, scattered in panic, cut down without mercy.

They had come swiftly, but were defeated even faster—at the cost of their own lives. Jiang Wen looked on the heaps of corpses without emotion.

In Xuchang, Jia Xu and Lü Bu discussed matters in their tent.

“Your Majesty, something terrible has happened!”

“What could possibly justify such panic?” Jia Xu snapped.

“General Zang Ba has been routed—ten thousand casualties among his troops, and the general himself…”

“He must have challenged Sun Ce directly!” Jia Xu fumed. “He claimed the city’s garrison was but ten thousand, that if he lured Sun Ce out and killed him, Wancheng would fall easily!”

Lü Bu’s face twisted in rage. “Sun Jian stole my beloved Diao Chan and now has killed my general—he will pay for this!”

Jia Xu had sent Zang Ba merely to draw out Sun Jian’s forces for Yuan Shu’s benefit. He had warned him explicitly: only maneuver, then return to Lushan and guard against Sun Ce. But the fool attacked the city, lost ten thousand men—and his own life.

Jia Xu cursed inwardly, but said, “Now that Zang Ba is dead, your majesty should send Pang De with ten thousand men to hold Xiangcheng, lest Sun Ce strike at our rear.”

At Hefei, in Sun Jian’s grand camp, the old generals and strategists argued endlessly. Sun Jian stood by the map, his back to the assembled officers.

“Reporting, Chancellor! News from Wancheng!”

“Bring it here!”

Sun Jian turned and took the dispatch.

Sun Quan smiled, “Father, what news of Wancheng?”

Sun Jian broke into laughter. “Bofu is truly a tiger’s cub—he has slain Lü Bu’s general Zang Ba, killed over four thousand enemies!”

Sun Quan’s smile faltered.

Sun Jian shook his head. “Sometimes, being too capable is not always a good thing.”

“Father, here’s another letter.”

Sun Jian read it carefully. “This is a request from the Advisor for redeployment. Now that Wancheng is secure, he asks to assist me in the campaign against the false emperor.”

“The Advisor’s wisdom is unmatched—if he joins us, victory over Yuan Shu is certain!”

“His insight outshines us all. Though we have many strategists, the Advisor is extraordinary—please, Chancellor, consider it carefully.”

Sun Jian looked to the old general beside him. “Demou, what do you think?”

“I believe, Chancellor, though the Advisor is talented, your officers are no fools. Even without him, this campaign will succeed!”

Sun Quan nodded. “Father, these old generals have followed you all their lives and are no less skilled at war. My brother must guard Wancheng against another attack by Lü Bu. Though he is a fierce general, he lacks a strategist at his side. I believe now is not the time for the Advisor to join us.”

“Well said, Young Master!” the assembled veterans shouted in unison.

They all knew whose man the Advisor was, and the glory of defeating Yuan Shu was a prize none wished to share. Should the Advisor come, how much of that glory would be his?

Sun Jian looked at his youngest son, then at the veterans, and nodded. “Since you are all so confident, I shall not summon the Advisor.”

PS: Overestimated my writing speed—here are six thousand words for now, the remaining four thousand will come tonight.