Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Shocking Turn in the Dead of Night

Veteran officers who had long served on the frontier, men who had spent years in the border army, had already surmised the situation of the barbarian horde. Everyone had relaxed, and even the Grand Marshal Zhang Chaoyang wore a hint of a smile. Only Zhao Hengyi, stationed steadfastly in the Xuan Battalion, remained tireless in his orders, commanding his soldiers to prepare war machines and drilling them relentlessly. Had he not led the men to two unimaginable victories, there would likely have already been unrest among the ranks.

Even when Lord Song Ying'an was in charge of the Xuan Battalion, things had never been so arduous! The soldiers of the Xuan Battalion looked with envy at the neighboring camps, where the reinforcements strolled about at their leisure, everyone beaming as though the barbarian horde had already been annihilated to the last. Even if they said nothing aloud, they harbored some resentment in their hearts.

Yet when rewards sent by the Grand Marshal arrived, Mr. Zhao—bearing the title of administrative assistant—took not a single thing for himself. He even dispatched a disciplinary squad to supervise the distribution, ensuring every soldier received his due share without embezzlement. Because of these various factors, though the soldiers of the Xuan Battalion were discontented, they still obeyed orders and drilled properly.

All this did not escape the eyes of the old general Zhang Chaoyang. The blacksmith he had once looked down upon, Zhao Hengyi, now appeared as a rare military genius. What pleased Zhang Chaoyang most of all was that Zhao Hengyi’s background was spotless and humble, and he was as close as brothers with Song Ying'an, Zhang’s beloved officer. With just a little effort, he could secure yet another great general for Yonggu Fortress.

Given the merit Zhao Hengyi had now earned, a noble title was certain. After the Ministry of War dispensed its rewards, a fine military post would surely follow. Zhang Chaoyang had already decided that once the barbarian horde retreated, he would immediately write a memorial recommending Zhao Hengyi for his unparalleled achievements.

This old general, resigned to his fate as nothing more than a paperhanger for the Yan Empire, could not help but imagine that, once he retired, Yonggu Fortress would be in the hands of Song Ying'an and Zhao Hengyi—two brothers whose defense would be impregnable. When that day came, Yonggu would shine with twin stars, and the barbarian horde would not dare look southward.

Yet just as all awaited the arrival of final victory, an unexpected disaster struck.

*

The refugees who had once been driven into battle by the barbarians had, due to their status, been confined within the auxiliary camps supporting the Xuan Battalion. It was understood that, once the barbarians retreated, these people would be resettled around Yonggu Fortress to farm the land.

No one had anticipated, however, that among these refugees were spies planted by the barbarians! Some were coerced by threats against their families, others, like the middle-aged scholar at Tuoba Dewang’s side, sold their souls for riches. Whatever their reasons, these traitors took advantage of the guards’ negligence, set fire to the camp at night, and released nearly five hundred barbarian prisoners.

These captives, by regulation, were to be sent to the capital as proof of merit—a reason why so many officers had opposed Zhao Hengyi’s earlier proposal to execute them. No one had expected that, on the eve of victory, the prisoners would break free.

The burning camp, the chaos among the soldiers, and the desperate, armed barbarian prisoners who hacked their way toward the mountain pass turned the blackness of night into a scene of carnage.

Even the old general Zhang Chaoyang could not intervene in time. An arrogant officer, eager to follow the Xuan Battalion for a share of the glory, only staggered drunkenly from his tent after the prisoners had already burst from the camp.

In the age of cold steel, a midnight assault on a camp was a nightmare, especially when the attackers erupted from within. Had this happened days earlier, even the Xuan Battalion’s camp might have been overrun, allowing the prisoners to slaughter and escape into the mountain pass.

But under Zhao Hengyi’s leadership, the men of the Xuan Battalion had drilled daily, with every ten-man squad forced to eat and sleep together, forging an almost unnatural camaraderie. Even though they were stationed behind the frontlines and victory was near at hand, sentries stood watch through the night. When flames and uproar erupted from the auxiliary camp, the sentries sounded the alarm.

As if by instinct, each ten-man squad grabbed their weapons and rushed from their tents, blocking the way from the auxiliary camp to the Xuan Battalion’s position—and cutting off the prisoners’ escape.

Other soldiers poured out soon after, and though the initial chaos could not be avoided, they quickly fell under their officers’ control. They could not form an effective fighting force in such a short time, but they were not the rabble that panicked and scattered in the auxiliary camp.

Just as the prisoners thought escape was at hand, the ten-man squads, acting as they had practiced countless times, shouted their commands. Four spears thrust forward, four shields guarded the flanks, and two swords followed close behind. Moving as one, they advanced in measured steps, spears darting in and out, methodically and efficiently felling the charging prisoners.

When the rest of the Xuan Battalion’s soldiers fell in and joined the fray, the escapees’ fate was sealed.

It was only after all five hundred prisoners had been subdued that chaos still reigned in the auxiliary camp.

*

Scouts were sent out from Yonggu Fortress, city gates sealed, wary of a barbarian night raid. In the flickering glare of torches, Zhang Chaoyang’s face was etched with worry. Only when the scouts returned with good news did the fortress breathe easy.

Meanwhile, Zhao Hengyi had already dispatched the Xuan Battalion to reinforce the newly rebuilt defenses at the mountain pass, guarding against any attempt by the barbarian army on the other side to join with the escaped prisoners in a surprise attack.

As the archers loosed flaming arrows into the gorge, in the sudden burst of firelight, the startled faces of barbarian soldiers attempting a stealthy assault were revealed.

Even as all rejoiced at their narrow escape, a single thought flashed through everyone’s mind: that Mr. Zhao truly had a prophet’s foresight. Were it not for all the preparations he had insisted on after the last great victory, tonight might have ended in catastrophe.

But Zhao Hengyi himself wore a face of iron, cold as frost, his thoughts unreadable.

At dawn, the defeated barbarian army finally broke camp and retreated.

In the chill morning air, smoke from the burned camp stung the nostrils. The arrogant officer who had volunteered to assist the Xuan Battalion, seeking to vent his frustration and cover his own negligence, gave the order to slaughter every refugee under his charge.

When Zhao Hengyi learned of this, his eyes blazed with murderous fury.

Those poor souls—driven from their homes by crushing taxes and forced labor, they had fled to live under the barbarians’ iron heel, never knowing if they would survive another day. Taken as human shields by the barbarians, they had been rescued by Zhao Hengyi’s hand, hoping to settle by Yonggu Fortress and live in peace. Yet in the end, because of the incompetence of a worthless officer, they lost their lives—killed by their own countrymen, dying in the cold hour before dawn.

With such an Empire of Yan, with such officers—what difference could he make, even if he helped them win a hundred more victories?