Chapter 731: Dead End

Gourd Mouth was dotted with signal towers. The furthest distance between two towers was no more than thirty *li*, the closest less than three *li*. Hong Xinjia was extremely meticulous in choosing sites for each signal tower he built; from any watchtower, at least two neighboring signal towers would always be visible. Among the numerous signal towers that formed a continuous chain, visible from one another along the border, Deer Tail Signal Tower, located on a Gobi corridor, was an unassuming one. Customarily, it had one commander, two vice-commanders, and four beacon soldiers. After Beiman attacked the pass, Deer Tail Signal Tower was reinforced with five additional beacon soldiers and one post horse.

Deer Tail Signal Tower was located to the left of Gourd Mouth, part of the stronghold cluster centered around Bell-Drum Stronghold, positioned further left and rearward than Date Horse Stronghold. As the Beiman vanguard army swept south, although Bell-Drum Stronghold had not yet experienced large-scale attacks from Beiman cavalry, the beacon soldiers at Deer Tail Signal Tower could already clearly feel the war approaching. Groups of Beiman skirmishers, cloaked in iron armor, appeared nearby, scouting the terrain. Yesterday, more than a dozen audacious Beiman scouts even charged directly towards Deer Tail Signal Tower. The two sides were less than eighty paces apart, and a dozen or so sharp-eyed Youzhou soldiers inside the signal tower could even discern the faces of the Beiman barbarians. Commander Sima Zhenming drew a powerful bow and shot down the leading rider with one arrow. The Beiman scout leader was clearly astonished; after retrieving the body, he left resentfully, pointing his saber at Deer Tail Signal Tower before departing.

At dawn this morning, Sima Zhenming, who was personally responsible for the latter half of the night watch, stood on the high platform, looking up at the cage named "Douling" suspended from the well sweep. As the head of Deer Tail Signal Tower, unlike most illiterate beacon soldiers, Sima Zhenming was a renowned scholar from near Bell-Drum Stronghold; his official documents and transfer papers were beautifully written. Sima Zhenming also possessed excellent archery skills, which led to his promotion to commander in less than half a year after joining the army.

The Sima family was a prestigious clan in Youzhou. Although Sima Zhenming was a concubine's son from a side branch, he could have relied on the family's influence to work in a nearby county office, easily transitioning from clerk to official within a few years. The reason he came to Gourd Mouth, enduring wind and sun, was due to Sima Zhenming's momentary impulse. Everyone knew that in earlier years, the Crown Prince had 800 personal guards called the White Horse Righteous Guard, all riding large northern Liang horses from Qianli Ranch, wearing white armor, armed with sabers and crossbows. A few years ago, the White Horse Righteous Guard was seen as a "chicken rib" (something of little value but not worth discarding) by first-class influential families; only third-rate or lesser military families in Beiliang were willing to send their sons there. However, after Xu Fengnian's remarkably smooth succession, the slightly expanded White Horse Righteous Guard became highly exclusive. Sima Zhenming unfortunately failed to be selected, while a close friend of his, a peer from a prominent family in the same commandery, was chosen. Last autumn, that fellow enthusiastically departed for Liangzhou. It was said that several respectable young women from noble families in the commandery, who were previously very discerning, almost offered themselves to him. While Sima Zhenming was happy for his close friend, he inevitably felt a loss of face. In a fit of pique, he ran off to Gourd Mouth, almost the northernmost border.

Initially, the veteran soldiers at Deer Tail didn't bother with him, and the former commander, in particular, disliked him, this handsome "weak scholar," even threatening him to "clean his butt" at night. Sima Zhenming, enraged, immediately turned hostile and had a fierce fight with the old soldier. Afterwards, he assumed that having beaten his superior, he would be disgraced and forced to pack up and leave. Unexpectedly, the former commander, who resembled a bear in appearance and stature, was also tough. Although he never showed Sima Zhenming a good face afterward, he didn't deliberately make things difficult for this rebellious beacon soldier who didn't understand the rules. He only made Sima Zhenming a cook for two full months. Sima Zhenming, not caring about the gentleman's adage "a gentleman keeps his distance from the kitchen," simply accepted it. At the end of last year, when various strongholds and signal towers went to Bell-Drum Stronghold for military drills, Deer Tail Signal Tower reluctantly pushed Sima Zhenming forward, unexpectedly earning him a personal commendation from the Youzhou Deputy General. Sima Zhenming still remembered riding back to Deer Tail Signal Tower side by side with the commander, repeatedly catching glimpses of the burly man, whose face was flushed and who seemed on the verge of speaking, like a prim woman. All the little resentment Sima Zhenming had vanished. This spring, outside Gourd Mouth, scouts from Beiliang and Beiman engaged in frantic skirmishes, risking their lives almost daily. At such a time, the commander of their Deer Tail Signal Tower was suddenly promoted directly to the head of Fengqi Stronghold. Sima Zhenming heard from the old soldiers in the tower that the commander and the leaders of many strongholds like Date Horse Stronghold and Rooster Crow Stronghold had been brothers-in-arms, sharing life and death for over twenty years. In their youth, they were all heroes who had killed Beiman barbarians within Beiman territory.

The two beacon soldiers replacing them arrived promptly at the watchtower. Hearing their footsteps, Sima Zhenming turned to look at their two distinct faces: one youthful and energetic, clearly a child of only sixteen or seventeen; the other weathered and ordinary. The former was one of the newly added beacon soldiers. As the old veterans of the signal tower would say, he was a greenhorn from Youzhou, "even his farts smell fragrant, unlike us old-timers, who've been here so long even our shit has no smell." The latter was an old veteran of Deer Tail Signal Tower, surnamed Xue. It was said he was among the first garrison soldiers at Gourd Mouth's signal towers. After Deer Tail was built, he was one of the first beacon soldiers to reside there, toiling for many years before becoming a vice-commander. Yet, the younger generation at the signal tower liked to call him "Old Man Xue." Even the previous commander didn't know how the nickname originated. Old Man Xue had a good temper and never minded; he would always smile and nod when called by that name.

The other vice-commander at Deer Tail Signal Tower, Guo Xi, was in the prime of his life. He was the only one who called Old Man Xue "Master Xue." He was also an eccentric, rarely smiling. There were many smooth, rounded wooden beams running through the signal tower; Guo Xi would practice a set of punches on them repeatedly every day for half an hour. When on night duty, he would practice his punches on the edge of the high platform. Sima Zhenming had practiced martial arts since childhood with a famous Youzhou boxing master, and he generally understood the depth of Guo Xi's skill. Perhaps his moves weren't flashy, but his foundation was solid. Therefore, after becoming commander, Sima Zhenming always treated the steady Guo Xi with respect, regarding him as an elder brother.

Sima Zhenming smiled slightly at the young beacon soldier: "Spring sleep is precious. Go get some more rest, I'll take over the watch for you."

The young man shook his head, smiling brightly: "No, thank you. Brother Shao and the others snore like thunder. Commander, you should go rest quickly. With me and Old Man Xue on duty, nothing will go wrong, I promise!"

The old man smiled kindly.

Sima Zhenming, who clearly knew well the men's thunderous snoring, smiled knowingly: "Then I'll stay with you for a while. I'm not sleepy anyway."

Sima Zhenming kept a thought unspoken in his heart: "Perhaps there will be plenty of sleep later."

The young beacon soldier stood like a spear at the edge of the watchtower, gazing into the distance.

The short Vice-Commander Old Man Xue walked up to Sima Zhenming, reaching out to pinch the dry, old cotton-padded lapel of his collar, remaining silent.

Sima Zhenming lowered his voice, sighing: "Vice-Commander Xue, it seems our Deer Tail will not be lighting the peace fires many more times. Although the main Beiman vanguard might not even notice us here, even if they rush directly to set up camp outside Wohong City, as long as they covet the cities of Luanhe and Xiaguang behind Wohong City, then this area around Bell-Drum Stronghold will surely be a thorn in their side. Now, we just wait to see who will lead the attack."

The old man, whose eyes were cloudy and dim, grunted, rubbing his hands as he softly asked: "Commander Sima, a few honest words, don't get angry. We old soldiers at Deer Tail are actually quite clear-minded. You're very different from us. You don't need to wait for death here. Your family could spend money and use their connections to get you transferred back to a safer area within Youzhou. Commander, are you truly not afraid of death, or have you gone mad wanting military glory?"

Sima Zhenming did not get angry; he gave a bitter smile. "Of course, I've thought about it. But a family letter I received early last month made me stop thinking about it altogether. Although my Sima family is a major clan in Youzhou, worthy of being called a 'commandery luminary,' not to mention the previous generation, in my generation alone, four Sima descendants serve in the Youzhou army. Including me, three of us are at Gourd Mouth. I joined the army latest, and my rank as commander is nothing to boast about. My eldest brother, the eldest grandson of the main branch, is now an inspector in Xiaguang City, just one step away from becoming a captain. The family's original intention was to use all their influence to help him find a respectable excuse to withdraw him back inland. Who knew my eldest brother is so stubborn and refused to leave? So the family had to settle for the next best thing: moving my fourth younger brother, who has a slightly lower official rank, back to Youzhou. But the generals of Youzhou's border army aren't blind, and my Sima family isn't truly omnipotent. If my fourth brother, from the eldest branch, leaves, then naturally I, his third brother, must stay. My father wrote the letter in a roundabout way, but that's essentially what he meant. I suppose this is for the best. At least I have a ten-year-old half-brother; with him by Mother's side, he'll be able to support her in four or five years. If I shamelessly return to Youzhou, my parents and my brother would never be able to hold their heads high for the rest of their lives."

Sima Zhenming's bitter smile began to take on a touch of carefree nonchalance. After glancing at the young beacon soldier, he looked at the old man and said, "I dare not, nor can I bear to, ask the young beacon soldier, but I am very curious what Vice-Commander Xue and Vice-Commander Guo Xi are thinking. Before I arrived at Gourd Mouth, I heard that old soldiers like you are the cleverest when it comes to war: first, save your life, then worry about military achievements."

The old man reached out and leaned on the cold well sweep. His old face was wrinkled like a withered tree, each furrow etched with an unknown amount of joy and sorrow. The old vice-commander said calmly, "Commander Sima, to be honest, this old man has never been on a battlefield in his life. I've never experienced the thick of battle, only seen it from afar a few times many years ago. Since arriving at Gourd Mouth seventeen or eighteen years ago, I never imagined I'd see the Beiman army while I was still alive. People die in war. This old man has lived so long, I'm already the kind of person who might just fall asleep one day and never wake up. It's not a matter of fear or not, I just recall many horrific things that happened after wars, and I dare not think about them. Many years ago, before I came to Beiliang, I saw 'two-legged sheep' being sold by the roadside, by weight, with butchers holding knives and large cauldrons of boiling water nearby. Dog meat cost five hundred *qian* per *jin*, but this 'lamb' was only one hundred *qian* per *jin*."

Sima Zhenming looked puzzled, not understanding what was remarkable about selling or eating lamb.

The old man's fingers trembled slightly as he whispered, "'Those 'two-legged sheep' are people, with only two legs. Women were called 'stew-lamb,' and thin, young children were called 'bone-rot.' Some rare scholars, as long as they weren't too gaunt, would fetch a higher price and were called 'literary-scented lamb.'"

Sima Zhenming almost vomited, but while his scalp tingled, the commander narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the elderly vice-commander, whose household registration stated he was from Sheliu Commandery in Youzhou. One hand rested on the hilt of his Liang saber.

At this moment, Vice-Commander Guo Xi, having finished his practice, arrived quietly. He glanced at Sima Zhenming, then silently walked over to the old man.

Old Man Xue said calmly, "At a time like this, in front of the Beiman army, does it matter whether one is a native of Beiliang or a refugee from the Spring and Autumn Period Central Plains? Don't worry, this old man is no Beiman spy. I wouldn't disgrace my Xue family ancestors."

Sima Zhenming sneered in response, "Does it truly not matter?"

The old man suddenly chuckled happily, pointing at the always taciturn Vice-Commander Guo Xi. "Commander, your archery skills are comparable to his, but in one-on-one combat, you're far behind."

Then, the old man, who was usually joked about by everyone in the signal tower, ignored Sima Zhenming, his face filled with deep reminiscence. He spoke to himself, "Back then, in the Central Secretariat's department of the 'cold yamen' in Western Shu, I merely copied scriptures and engraved official seals. My annual salary was less than a hundred *shi*. I was a Central Secretariat Drafter, a petty official of the seventh rank. Of course, there were no 'ice-gifts' or 'charcoal-gifts' whatsoever. So how did we earn money to support our families? We had our ways. During festivals in the imperial palace, many Spring Festival couplets needed to be posted. That's when we drafters came into play. Before writing the couplets, eunuchs would bring cinnabar and gold powder for mixing ink. At this point, I'd pull out a large brush from my sleeve, dip it vigorously into the gold powder, 'Oh dear, the brush is broken!' I'd put it back in my sleeve, take out another, 'Oh, that one's broken too!' I'd 'break' a dozen or so brushes this way, one after another, before finally finding a good one and starting to write properly. After leaving the palace with bulging sleeves, I'd carefully shake out the gold powder. It would weigh at least two *liang*. Take it to a money changer to be melted down, and it would become a joyful-looking gold ingot."

The old man, completely lost in his memories, chuckled, "Back then, I bought and collected books, all thanks to those gold ingots."

Sima Zhenming was dumbfounded, unsure how to deal with this Western Shu remnant who had been lurking in Beiliang for so many years. Was he truly going to draw his saber?

Guo Xi said calmly, "Commander Sima, after the war, if Master Xue and I survive, you can report the truth. In the second year of Yonghui, I, Guo Xi, was the assassin who shot six consecutive arrows at the Great General outside Liangzhou Pass. However, if Master Xue and I both die and you survive, I hope the commander will not mention this matter. Since the sixth year of Yonghui, I, Guo Xi, have had no thoughts of revenge. Of course, whether you believe it or not is up to you."

Suddenly, the young beacon soldier on watch frantically shouted, "Bandits approaching! Over 120 cavalry!"

Sima Zhenming said without hesitation, "Whole tower prepare for battle!"

Although the vanguard army had effortlessly razed the Date Horse Stronghold cluster, killing over three thousand enemies, none of the generals, from commander Yang Yuanzan to his chief officers, felt any ease. Four thousand of their own men had died, so how many must be wounded? Fortunately, it wasn't the scorching summer, when epidemics spread most easily. Otherwise, given the usual ruthless style of northern nomadic tribes, severely wounded soldiers who were difficult to treat would be killed on the spot and not counted as battle deaths!

However, within the vanguard army, a group of people remained quite relaxed and comfortable. Most of them had elite cavalry escorts, ranging from twenty or thirty to several hundred riders. They were generally young, mostly between fifteen and twenty-five. If the commander of Deer Tail Signal Tower had missed the White Horse Righteous Guard, a regret for Sima Zhenming, then these sons of powerful Southern Dynasty officials or descendants of Xidi on the grasslands were quite resentful that they hadn't been selected as front-line military strategists. Of Beiman's three battle lines, the most crucial central line was firmly controlled by the Southern Court Great King Dong Zhuo, who personally oversaw military affairs. Besides the Dong family's private army, the other forces were primarily elite troops from major border towns. Moreover, under Dong Fatty's direct supervision, it was difficult for outsiders to intervene. The western line had Liu Gui, and later the Northern Court Great King Tuoba Pusa, plus eight thousand Qiang cavalry were utterly annihilated "without a fight" – only a fool would go there to suffer. Therefore, the eastern line in Youzhou was filled with many descendants of great nobles who wanted to avoid risk yet still gain military merit. Great General Yang Yuanzan, who had always maintained good relations with various factions, was not unsympathetic to this. He tacitly allowed the "sand-mixing" behavior of various prominent clans, and even specifically permitted these individuals to detach from the main army and actively seek out and plunder signal towers within Gourd Mouth. If they had the courage and strength to fight strongholds to the death, Yang Yuanzan would not stop them; their lives and deaths were their own responsibility.

During this period, groups of cavalry, varying in number, constantly hurried in and out of the main camp. Many cavalry units stationed outside Gourd Mouth even rushed over upon hearing the news, joining this hunting game, which resembled a bloody feast slowly unfolding.

It was heard that yesterday evening, the second young master of the Xie family from Longyao Prefecture returned with eighty cavalry, laden with spoils. Sixteen bloody heads of Youzhou beacon soldiers were hung on the sides of their horses, and two warhorses deliberately dragged the bodies of two signal tower commanders into the camp. The two corpses were dragged all the way across the sandy ground, their flesh and blood mangled, with bones visible on their backs.

In the latter half of the night, another group of grassland barbarians returned, over four hundred cavalry formed from three tribes. They directly broke through a river valley garrison fort on the outskirts of Wohong City. These blood-soaked barbarians rode into camp, brandishing their sabers. Those sabers, clearly different from the barbarians' curved swords, were none other than the renowned Xu family's Beiliang blades! Several young barbarian chieftains, while riding into camp, laughed as they tossed down several crumpled items. When someone picked them up, they discovered them to be the 'Xu' banners!

After the battle at Date Horse Stronghold cluster, the vanguard army, whose morale had been slightly dampened, immediately swelled with arrogance.

This morning, at first light, seven or eight more groups of cavalry eagerly galloped out of the camp.

As a large variety of siege weapons were continuously transported, the attack on the nearby Wohong City was imminent.

A tall, bearded man of indiscernible age walked casually through the military camp, accompanied by a maidservant who was infinitely more striking than him. The young woman wore a beautifully embroidered, exquisite silk pouch at her waist, but unfortunately, its fragrance was completely overwhelmed by the pervasive stench of the camp. As these two walked past, the low-ranking Beiman soldiers sleeping beside their horses all cast predatory glances. In large-scale military campaigns, Beiman had no custom of bringing women in earlier years; this practice was entirely a bad influence from those Southern Dynasty officials. As long as a family's status was sufficient, the royal court's supervising officers, regardless of their origin, could only turn a blind eye. Among Beiman's ten top-tier "A-grade" noble families, seven were from the North and only three from the South. However, for the "B-grade" noble families, the Southern Dynasty clans had a slight advantage in number. Currently, on the Youzhou eastern front, there were countless sons of influential families from major prefectures like Longyao and Guse, whom soldiers unable to even afford tents could not provoke.

The man who openly brought a woman with him walked at a leisurely pace, stopping now and then, occasionally looking up at the towering Wohong City. Finally, as he passed a cluster of tents, he was spotted by a sharp-eyed young noble in sable fur. The latter quickly scurried up to the man, his face full of flattery, and whispered, "Brother Zhong, what a coincidence."

The man rubbed his beard, glanced at the scene behind the young noble, and chuckled, "Looks like someone was 'hanging horse heads' all night. What, can't resist? Are you going to attack a few signal towers too?"

The young man chuckled, "My buddies and I made a pact. Before the siege, we'll each take a few signal towers to warm up, and try to collectively capture a large stronghold before the main attack. That way, our elders back home will be proud, and they won't say I'm good-for-nothing."

The man, whose surname was somewhat unusual compared to the great Southern Dynasty clans, grunted noncommittally. His gaze passed over the head of this third-generation scion from Guse Prefecture, seeing four or five young men in brocade robes and sable fur clustered together. They clearly didn't recognize him, and their arrogant eyes held a hint of hostility. The man glanced at their horses behind them; all were highly-ranked warhorses from the grasslands. The key was that good horses also needed good training. Beiman had a custom of "hanging horse heads." When trained well, warhorses would not only maintain identical strides during a charge but even keep their heads at the same height, preventing any ragged appearance. While running, they would look like a line of eagles soaring across the ground. In Beiman, men needed to be proficient in both horsemanship and archery, and the skill of "hanging horses" was also very important. This was probably like the four arts (qin, chess, calligraphy, painting) for scholars in the Central Plains.

The man withdrew his gaze and smiled at the young man from the B-grade clan of Guse Prefecture. "Be careful, there will be plenty of big battles in the coming years."

The young noble, a scion of an influential Guse Prefecture family, was flattered. He nodded vigorously, then whispered mysteriously, "There's a fellow named Pang among them. His father is the new general of Wazhu Military Town in Guse Prefecture. This guy is highly regarded in his family. He's my close friend, and he told me his old man secretly assigned a master as his personal bodyguard. Tsk, tsk, a Grandmaster of second-rank strength. So today, I'm just going with him for fun. Although we only have a little over a hundred cavalry combined, with that master, what signal tower can't be taken down? He alone could probably kill half a Youzhou stronghold. But his old man doesn't want him to show off, so I can't force him to do anything, and that master is also very arrogant, always looking at me sideways, damn it! Haha, Brother Zhong, you go on with your business, I'm heading out with them."

The man smiled faintly: "Go ahead."

Just as the young noble turned and took two steps, he spun back, asking cautiously, "Brother Zhong, can I find you for a drink tonight? I've secretly stashed away some good wine this trip!"

The man nodded: "Sure, as long as it's not my turn to lead the siege, it's fine."

The young noble grinned so wide his mouth almost reached his ears, then ran off.

Led by five noble scions, some four hundred cavalry galloped away with shouts and whoops. As the noble scion smiled at the man from his horseback, the man raised his arm and waved faintly with a shallow smile.

After exiting the camp, the four hundred cavalry did not immediately split up. They chose the stronghold cluster where Bell-Drum Stronghold was located. Their general direction was the same; they would only separate and charge forward individually to find their targets once they drew near.

As they rode, they passed many signal towers and strongholds that had already been casually destroyed by the main army, leaving widespread devastation. All the bodies of the Youzhou soldiers had been decapitated.

Those heads were heavy military merits.

This group of cavalry finally began to split up upon reaching their destination. The two close friends did not separate their forces, which didn't surprise the other three, who were instead filled with mockery: two descendants of prominent B-grade clans, combining for only 120 cavalry, truly pathetic.

This cavalry force gradually advanced deeper, though they dared not approach too close to the signal towers attached to strongholds.

They had actually inquired about the details of this hunting expedition yesterday. Knowing the truth greatly dampened their initial enthusiasm. It turned out that while those cavalry units had indeed earned tangible military merits, their own casualties and losses were not small. Especially the barbarian soldiers who captured the garrison fort and seized the Xu banner – the reason they appeared to have returned victoriously was because these fellows had not even bothered to retrieve all their own fallen comrades' bodies, leaving them on the battlefield. Moreover, various rumors indicated that although those signal towers looked no bigger than sparrows, their archer beacon soldiers were often very troublesome. Even if they managed to break in, it would still devolve into desperate, close-quarters combat to the death, with no quarter given.

Surrender? What a joke! Beiman and Beiliang had fought so many bitter, death-defying battles for years; who had ever heard of anyone accepting surrender? And who would even be willing to surrender?!

It was rumored that even the former Southern Court Great King Huang Songpu, upon his return, proposed in court whether they could accept surrenders. At that time, not only did the generals holding imperial credentials react as if they'd smelled dung, but even His Majesty the Emperor's face turned ashen on the spot. Ultimately, it was the Taiping Ling (Grand Councillor) who helped Huang Songpu out of the predicament, stating that accepting surrenders was not urgent; they could wait until Beiliang was defeated. The Taiping Ling even made a rare joke: "Once our army's hooves have trampled the Beiliang Road, even if Lord Huang stubbornly tries to prevent surrenders, I'm afraid our Great Beiman generals and the smiths refining blades in the rear will also protest together, saying 'Stop the killing, we don't have enough blades!'"

The 120 cavalry finally found an excellent prey.

Young Master Pang, whose father was the general of Wazhu Military Town, raised his arm and pulled out a parchment map from his robe. The third-generation Southern Dynasty scion who had been ingratiating himself with the man named Zhong leaned over to look, exclaiming, "Pang Rui, you're impressive! You even have this kind of thing. It seems only chiliarchs on our eastern front are qualified to carry such treasures, right?"

The young man named Pang Rui's lips curled up. He put away the map, having looked at the signal tower marked "Deer Tail" in tiny regular script, and nodded. "Every chiliarch has one, a total of sixteen parchment maps. I borrowed this from one of them last night; it took his men half a day to find