Section Four (Part One)

“These are cavalrymen from the Plain White Banner,” Zhao Guangyuan fiddled with the corpse on the ground and nodded with certainty. “They’re under General Lai Ta, who’s in charge of pacifying the south!”

Lin Feng was surprised. Identifying the corpses by their uniforms was not difficult, but to deduce their commanding officer from that alone seemed almost inconceivable. “Commander Zhao, how can you tell these are Lai Ta’s men?”

Zhao Guangyuan pointed at the body of the sentry officer. “This fellow was Lai Ta’s personal guard. We used to drink together.” Confronted with the corpse of a former acquaintance, his expression remained calm, utterly unfazed. Clearly, years of warfare had numbed him to the matter of life and death.

The situation was dire. This convoy of troops and civilians was now right in the middle of the battlefield. At any moment, they might collide with the Qing army. If they ran into the enemy’s main force, the battle would be over before it began. Just a cavalry charge of a thousand or two riding back and forth twice would spell doom for them all.

Lin Feng frowned, hands clasped behind his back, pacing in front of the others. Suddenly, he remembered his original intention was to defect to Kangxi. Perhaps surrendering here would suffice. But first, he needed to gauge the officers’ sentiments. “Guangyuan, according to Qing army custom, if we surrender here on the field... would they be too harsh?”

The officers stared, mouths agape, exchanging uncertain glances. Zhao Guangyuan was stunned for a moment before replying in disbelief, “Sir, don’t you know? They call us ‘rebels’ over there. What good could come from surrendering? If we’d capitulated earlier when we had the upper hand, perhaps it would have been fine. But now that our forces have been routed, as a rule, even if we surrender, we’ll just be sent to Ningguta to serve as armored slaves!”

Lin Feng was dumbfounded, cursing his luck inwardly. That brat Xu Shangchao was truly hopeless—couldn’t he have lost earlier or later? The moment I step onto the battlefield, he loses. Now, even surrender isn’t an option.

Wang Dahai stammered, “Sir, we just killed Lai Ta’s personal guards. They’ll probably catch up with us in a few hours. If we’re defeated by then, I fear... I fear...”

Annoyed by his hesitation, Lin Feng snapped, “What ‘sir’ am I? Who gave me a title? Don’t talk nonsense—out with it! Stop hemming and hawing, spit it out!”

“Sir, Lai Ta is a hot-tempered man. If we lose, I fear... I fear he’ll massacre us all in revenge.”

Lin Feng felt a rush of despair. So, being sent into slavery was actually the better outcome—this one might not even leave them alive. He couldn’t help but give a bitter laugh. “What’s Lai Ta’s role anyway? Why isn’t he fighting with the main force? What’s he doing behind us? Is the scenery here so lovely?”

“They’re here as light cavalry to cut off our retreat and mop up fleeing soldiers. We must have just run into one of his flanking patrols!” Zhao Guangyuan, a cavalryman by training, was no stranger to basic tactics. His face grew worried. “If he hasn’t gotten a report from his flankers by now, he’ll likely bring the main cavalry force to search!”

Lin Feng was alarmed. “Then... when will he arrive?”

Zhao Guangyuan held up a finger, his face grim. “An hour, maybe two at most.”

Doomed. Qing soldiers were everywhere, surrounding them like a net. Suddenly, Lin Feng remembered the tactics the Eighth Route Army had used to break Japanese encirclements back in the day. Inspiration struck, and he burst out laughing, leaving the officers staring at him in shock.

“I have a plan that can ensure our safety!” Lin Feng struck a commanding pose, trying to appear profound, though he lacked confidence inside. After all, the Qing troops were not Japanese invaders; who knew if this would work on them.

By contrast, the officers had more faith in Lin Feng. Their spirits lifted at his words.

“Wang Dahai!”

“Here, sir!”

“Split the infantry. Assign a team of soldiers to watch each group of porters and drive them all up the nearby hill. Hide in the grass, stay well concealed. Make sure they understand: even if the Qing soldiers walk right past us, not a sound is to be made. Anyone who disobeys, cut him down on the spot...” Lin Feng paused; he still didn’t trust the porters. “Best stuff a wad of wild grass in everyone’s mouth. No one is to take it out without orders. Any violator will be executed!”

Though puzzled, Wang Dahai recalled that strategists in “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” always issued odd orders. He dared not question it. “Yes, sir!”

“Old Liu, number four!”

“Here, sir!”

“Weren’t you a cattle-herder in the mountains? Listen up. After everyone is hidden on the hill, take a team and tidy up the slope. Leave no trace. Remember, even if a blade of grass is bent, you straighten it up!”

“Yes, sir...” Old Liu was troubled—how could he tidy all the grass after so many people climbed the hill? But Lin Feng’s fierce glare and the obedience of his comrades stifled any protest.

“Zhao Guangyuan!”

“Here, sir!” Hearing Lin Feng’s final order directed at him, Zhao Guangyuan felt somewhat honored.

“I’ve heard you fought from Liaodong all the way to Guangdong, survived countless battles, and crawled out of piles of corpses three or four times—is that true?” Lin Feng’s tone stretched out, as if doubting the claim.