Prologue

Banners fluttered in the wind, the air filled with the cheers of men and the neighing of horses, as a long column wound its way through the depths of the mountain forest.

At the very front rode a white horse, sleek and powerful, clearly a steed of exceptional quality. Astride the saddle sat a man of about thirty, clad in bright, gleaming armor. His brows were fierce, his eyes fine and sharp, his mouth broad, and his chin strong. A long scar, twisting and raw, ran from the corner of his left eye all the way to the corner of his mouth, the flesh ridged and rolling like waves, lending him a fearsome visage.

In his hand he carried a spear of refined steel, over twelve feet in length, its crimson tassel streaming wildly in the mountain wind.

The column was pressing forward at a swift pace.

From the distance, a galloping horse approached, hooves striking the earth with thunderous urgency. A flock of birds, startled from the dense woods, took wing and vanished in an instant. The horse bore a young soldier with a large head; he reined in beside the scarred-faced man, dismounted in haste, and, arms crossed over his brow, reported: "News, Zhi Shilang! Five miles ahead lies Zhangqiu County seat."

The man addressed as Zhi Shilang raised his long spear high and roared, "Let us not die in vain in distant lands! Sing!"

The entire column joined in song: "Before Mount Changbai stands Zhi Shilang, robed in red silk and padded cloth. His spear pierces the sky, his blade glitters in the sun. In the mountains we feast on deer, in the valleys on cattle and sheep. When word comes of the imperial troops, we raise our blades and press forward. If we must die in the distant east, what is it to lose our heads?"

The song told of Zhi Shilang, a man of Changbai Mountain, born to wealth and fine silks, unwilling to be conscripted by Emperor Yang of Sui to wage a pointless war against the northern kingdom of Liaodong. Instead, he had risen up in rebellion, vowing to overturn the heavens themselves and dim the sun and moon. Those who followed him would want for nothing; even if the imperial army arrived, they would face death without fear. To be conscripted to Liaodong meant certain death—better to rise, seize one’s fate, and die on one’s own terms.

"My fate is mine, not Heaven’s," their song declared. "Even if I am wrapped in a horse’s hide and my blood is spent, I shall not regret it." The army of a hundred thousand conscripts sang in unison, their bold voices surging with heroic spirit, their courage and resolve unshakable.

In the seventh year of the Daye era, floods ravaged Shandong and Henan. Ignoring the pleas of his ministers, Emperor Yang of Sui conscripted a million laborers from these provinces to transport provisions for the imperial troops waging war against Goguryeo. Of those conscripted, seven or eight in ten perished. Calamity upon calamity left the people in agony, resentment filled the land, and anger soared to the heavens.

Wang Bo of Zouping, in Qi Commandery, gathered followers and rose in revolt against the cruel Sui, joining Meng Rang in taking up arms at Mount Changbai. The people, desperate to escape the misery of conscription, flocked to their banners, swelling the army to a hundred thousand strong. Now, he led his forces against the nearby county seat of Zhangqiu, determined to seize it swiftly, establish a foothold, and prepare for a prolonged struggle against the Sui forces.

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