Chapter 68: Let Them Go

Scarface responded with a thunderous shout, then turned back and barked, “Form up! Immediately, form up!”

The more than one hundred household soldiers gathered atop the pass wall swiftly arranged themselves into formation, each squad numbering over twenty men, with six squads in total. At Scarface’s command, the first squad rushed forward two steps and half-knelt behind the battlements.

Amid the chaotic thunder of hooves, over a hundred mounted bandits split from the main force ahead.

These mounted bandits, torches in hand, surged toward Futu Valley Pass. The entrance to Futu Valley was constructed entirely of wood, making the bandits’ intent obvious: to set the walls ablaze first, then charge through the gap with their horses.

A sharp metallic screech rang out as Scarface slowly drew his saber and raised it high above his head, his voice harsh and cruel: “First squad—prepare!”

More than twenty muskets were raised in unison, their dark barrels aimed squarely at the oncoming bandits. Hooves pounded, dust billowed, and in the blink of an eye, the mounted raiders were within a hundred paces. Murder gleamed in Scarface’s eyes as he suddenly slashed his steel blade downward and shouted, “Fire!”

A deafening barrage erupted as more than twenty muskets belched flames almost simultaneously. Hundreds of pellets from muskets and triple-barreled guns instantly engulfed the hundred charging bandits. Though the scorching shot wasn’t enough to kill outright, it inflicted searing pain on both men and mounts.

The foremost dozen or so raiders, each man and horse struck by dozens of pellets, tumbled from their saddles with anguished cries. Their panicked, wounded mounts, driven mad by pain, bolted in every direction, throwing the raiders’ charge into complete disarray.

“Second squad—prepare.”
“Fire!”
“Third squad—prepare.”
“Fire!”

Scarface’s expression was twisted as he repeated the order to fire again and again. After six volleys, most of the hundred mounted bandits lay in pools of blood, with only a dozen or so fleeing back to their main force in terror. The battlefield, filled with the cries of horses and men, gradually fell silent, save for the ceaseless wailing of the wounded bandits echoing through the night.

Unwilling to accept defeat, the bandits launched two more assaults, only to suffer the same disastrous losses. The wounded and wailing on the field now numbered over two hundred. The remaining two hundred riders had lost all will to attack; they hesitated before the pass, unwilling to retreat but too fearful of the troops’ firearms to attempt a rescue.

Scarface glanced back at Wang Pu and said in a fierce tone, “General, let me take some men and finish off those bandits—and the wounded horses too. If we butcher the horses and sell the meat in Datong, we can at least make a little money.”

Wang Pu’s brows furrowed in disapproval. “What are a hundred warhorses worth as meat? Just a few taels of silver?”

By Wang Pu’s side, Zhen Youcai’s eyes flickered. He lowered his voice and said, “General, if you want to win over these bandits, you should let them go. Let the uninjured ones rescue their wounded, and let them take the injured horses too.”

Wang Pu asked quietly, “Why?”

Zhen Youcai gave a sly grin. “These bandits are elusive, blending in as ordinary folk until they gather for a raid. Miss your chance tonight, and you’ll never find them again. But if they take those hundred wounded horses back, I’ll have a way to track them down.”

Wang Pu’s heart gave a start. “You mean…”

Zhen Youcai stroked the whiskers on his lip and nodded slightly.

Wang Pu raised his head abruptly and called out in a commanding voice over the walls, “Bandits outside, send someone to answer me at once!”

There was a moment of silence beyond the pass, then a single rider emerged from the bandit ranks, crossing the littered battlefield to the gates. He straightened in the saddle and asked, “What does Commander Wang wish to say?”

Wang Pu asked coldly, “Are you their leader?”

The bandit replied, “Say what you have to say.”

Wang Pu said, “Listen carefully. You got lucky tonight. Because I am in mourning, I cannot slaughter you all. Our guns were loaded with pellets, not balls; your men and horses are wounded but not dead. You may take your wounded and your horses with you. But I have one condition.”

The bandit cupped his fists in salute. “Please state your terms, Commander Wang.”

Wang Pu declared solemnly, “From this day forward, you are forbidden to harm the people of the Ming Empire. If you consider yourselves men, go beyond the border and rob the Manchus or the Mongols.”

The bandit hesitated. “That…”

“What?” Wang Pu sneered. “Do you lack the courage?”

“Fine, I accept.” The bandit suddenly lifted his head, his voice deep. “But I can only speak for my own men. I can’t vouch for the other bands.”

Wang Pu asked, “How many bands are there in Datong Prefecture?”

“I don’t know,” the bandit replied warily. “Why does Commander Wang ask?”

“No reason,” Wang Pu replied coolly. “Just curious. Since you’ve agreed to my terms, you can start taking your wounded away. Remember, bring them up in batches—not all at once—to avoid any misunderstandings.”

“Thank you for your mercy, Commander Wang,” the bandit said with a salute. “Someday, I will repay your kindness.”

With that, he turned and shouted, “Wang Mazi, bring men to carry our wounded brothers. Black Tiger, gather men to lead the injured horses back.”

At his commands, two groups of bandits cautiously approached the pass, first retrieving their wounded comrades, then leading away their injured horses. In less than half an hour, the entire force withdrew from Futu Valley, leaving not a trace.

Just then, the bearded officer hurried over from the western wall. Only now did he realize the bandits had been bluffing; they had barely more than five hundred riders in all.

■■■

The journey passed without incident, and ten days later, the column finally returned to Datong.

The Provincial Governor of Shanxi, Wang Qiaonian, the Provincial Administration Commissioner, Chen Chunde, and the Commander-in-Chief of Shanxi, Zhou Yuji, had all arrived in advance. Together with Wei Daben, the Prefect of Datong, Zhang Zi’an, the Imperial Eunuch and Military Commissioner of Datong Garrison, and dozens of deputy generals, brigadiers, and lieutenants, they came out of the city to welcome the returning party.

Except for Prince Dai, Zhu Chuanqi, nearly every prominent figure in Datong Prefecture was present. Wang Pu was not just a bereaved commander of the Capital Garrison returning home; he was also the Imperial Son-in-Law of the Ming Dynasty. Although he had not yet formally married the Princess of Changping, in everyone’s eyes he was already kin to the royal family.

Because Wang Dayou had just passed away and Wang Pu was still observing mourning, the civil and military officials of the garrison did not offer a welcoming banquet. Instead, they accompanied him to the ancestral hall of the Wang family’s manor to pay their respects to the late patriarch. For a mere merchant to be mourned by so many high officials was, in itself, a rare honor.

Back at the Wang family estate, Wang Pu and his elder brothers, Wang Ju and Wang Hua, met again—and as custom demanded, they performed the ritual wailing before their father’s spirit.