Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Retreat of the Army (Fourth Update, Subscription Request)

On the open plain, the spring wind blew.

On the left bank of the surging river, the men of the Cao army stood in disciplined ranks, arrayed to meet the foe.

After joining up with Shen Chen, Gan Ning had also restored order to his troops and formed them into several square formations.

The two sides stood less than a li apart; the soldiers at the very front could already make out one another’s faces.

Yet neither side moved. They only watched each other in a tense standoff, and no one took a single step forward.

Cao Cao was holding back because they had only just fought a battle. The soldiers were still gasping for breath, their strength drained, and they were taking advantage of the moment to recover.

Gan Ning’s army was slightly less exhausted than the Cao troops, but they too needed a respite. At the same time, he was waiting for Zhang Xiu to gather up the routed men.

Zhang Xiu’s defeat was certainly a tremendous blow to the allied forces, cutting their strength by nearly half.

And Cao Cao had achieved all this with only the eight thousand men on this side of the river. He still had another three or four thousand across the water, and they were now gradually making their way over.

Thus neither side dared make any rash move. It was not until quite some time had passed that a long, mournful blast sounded from the distance.

Though the defeat had been disastrous, the Cao army did not pursue. Zhang Xiu’s main force had fled several li, and by means of the horn signals they began gathering the scattered survivors. Before long, they had rallied four or five thousand men and formed ranks once more.

Seeing this, both sides understood that further fighting was impossible. With their numbers and morale now roughly equal, another clash would most likely leave both badly maimed. So the only choice was to halt the battle.

Most importantly, Cao Cao had already begun to think of withdrawal.

When he had first come south to Nanyang, Zhang Xiu had surrendered before he even arrived, and Liu Biao, knowing full well that Nanyang had fallen, had not dared send troops. But now Zhang Xiu had rebelled again, and when Cao Cao saw Gan Ning’s army, he knew Liu Biao’s men had entered the war.

If the thirty thousand elite troops he had brought south were still intact, he would not have feared this. But with Dian Wei, Cao Ang, Cao Anmin, Cao Ren, and Yue Jin all dead in succession, and more than ten thousand soldiers lost, he could no longer afford to linger in Nanyang.

Withdrawal was inevitable.

Now that he had crippled Zhang Xiu’s army, and need not fear pursuit, he could leave at leisure.

Soon the soldiers by the riverbank began to move. The three or four thousand men who had crossed over from the far bank had not taken part in the battle; most of them were sent to the hills on the left, to the small rise that Shen Chen had occupied earlier.

The remaining Cao soldiers began to cross the river in orderly succession. Aside from the formations still standing guard on the outer edge, the bridge itself filled with an organized retreat.

Farther away, the remnants under Yu Jin were also arriving to provide support.

So the two armies continued to watch each other. Gan Ning turned to Shen Chen and asked, “Aren’t we going to fight?”

Shen Chen pointed toward the little hill. “We just shot them with arrows. If we take the initiative now, they’ll be the ones shooting arrows at us.”

“What a pity.”

Gan Ning licked his dry, cracked lips. Coming from the lowest ranks, he yearned for military merit and promotion more than anyone.

Of course, he understood that under a ruler like Liu Biao, no amount of merit would truly matter.

Because the ones he trusted were kin.

Aside from Huang Zu, most of the senior figures in Jing Province were Liu Biao’s relatives; military achievements meant very little.

But things were different for him now.

He had backing.

Deng Hong had now entered Liu Biao’s circle of kin as well, and was even a favored man under him, someone with real influence. If Gan Ning earned military merit and had Deng Hong’s support, perhaps his rank could still be raised a step or two.

Even if he could not match Cai Mao, Zhang Yun, or Huang Zu, he might at least enter the second tier and secure a post as a colonel.

So Gan Ning’s hands itched for battle, and he longed to fight.

Shen Chen shook his head. “Nothing to regret. If we kept fighting, there’s a very good chance we’d lose.”

Gan Ning bristled. “Our forces are about the same. Why would we lose?”

Shen Chen nodded toward Zhang Xiu’s side. “The Western Liang troops are already low in morale. If the fighting continued, Cao Cao would certainly break them open. Once they collapse, the ones in trouble will be us.”

Gan Ning spat on the ground. “Bah. So Cao Cao gets off easy, does he? I’d planned to hack him down with my own hands.”

Shen Chen glanced at him and thought to himself: Uncle Xingba, you truly are fearless through ignorance. If you knew what he would accomplish later... well, a hundred riders raiding Cao’s camp? Oh, then there’s no issue.

At that moment, a rider slowly emerged from the front of the Cao army.

Cao Cao was still standing on the slightly higher ground by the riverbank, gazing from afar. The two sides were about a li apart, and yet they only stood there in silence, watching one another.

The rider came galloping to the front of Gan Ning’s army and shouted, “Who is Shen Chen?”

“I am.”

Shen Chen mounted his horse and rode out from the crowd. In the three years since coming to Jing Province, his greatest gain had not been anything else, but rather a stable place in which to grow.

Among those gains was the gradual mastery of essential skills such as horsemanship and archery.

The rider said, “The Grand Governor says that one day, he will surely take your life.”

So he’s throwing down threats, is he?

“Hm?”

Gan Ning’s brows shot up. “You want to die?”

The rider was young, around eighteen or nineteen, and said with proud defiance, “What is there to fear in death?”

Buzz—

Gan Ning drew his steel blade, its bright edge flashing in the sunlight.

Shen Chen rode forward to block him, and looked at the Cao cavalryman just a few paces away with approval. “A brave man. It’s a pity you followed Cao Cao. Still, each man has his own ambitions; you chose your own road, and no one may force you otherwise. What is your name?”

“Li Dian.”

So said the young Li Dian.

The Li family of Shanyang was itself a prominent local clan. Li Dian’s uncle, Li Qian, had thousands of retainers. When Cao Cao came to Yan Province, Li Qian went to serve him, and from that day the Li family worked for Cao Cao.

Two years earlier, when Cao Cao fought Lü Bu, Li Qian died in battle, and Li Qian’s troops came under the command of his son Li Zheng.

Li Dian, meanwhile, followed his cousin and was currently serving as a low-ranking officer in the Cao army. In the future, when Li Zheng died during the Battle of Guandu, he would take over Li Zheng’s troops and thereafter follow Cao Cao through countless campaigns, becoming a formidable general.

Seeing this later famed general of Wei, Shen Chen treated him with due respect and nodded. “General Li, please convey one more message to Cao Cao for me.”

“Speak.”

Li Dian looked at him.

“I never doubt his ability. But do not forget: this Great Han is, in the end, the realm of the Han people, not of Cao Mengde.”

Shen Chen said gravely, “He is cruel and merciless, hated by gods and men alike. The whole world will remember it. One day, there will be no need for him to come for my life. Sooner or later, I will seek him out myself, to avenge the people of Xuzhou and the more than a hundred members of my own family!”

Li Dian heard no filthy abuse in those words, only warning and threat, and so he nodded. “I understand. I will return and repeat your words to the Grand Governor exactly.”

“This is a poem I wrote.”

Shen Chen took a bamboo slip from his robes. It had long been tied up and ready; he tossed it over and said, “I wrote it especially for Cao Cao. Tell him to read it carefully.”

Li Dian caught the slip, gave Shen Chen a deep look, then turned his horse and galloped toward the bridgehead.

By then, most of the Cao army had already withdrawn to the far bank, and Cao Cao himself was among them, riding on the bridge at its center and watching the situation from afar. Only after Li Dian received the bamboo slip and started back did he cross to the opposite bank.

After a while, Li Dian returned to the right bank of the surging river and came before Cao Cao, where he dismounted, knelt on one knee, and reported with clasped hands, “Grand Governor.”

“Mmm.”

Cao Cao nodded. “What did that boy say?”

Li Dian relayed Shen Chen’s words verbatim, then raised the bamboo slip in his hand. “Shen Chen said this was a poem written for the Grand Governor.”

A poem written for me?

Cao Cao’s expression darkened. What kind of poem could a child possibly write?

Most likely it was only some coarse, insulting verse aimed at him.

Still, he did not throw it away outright. Instead, he unrolled the bamboo slip and began to read.

If it were truly some vulgar childish poem, there would be nothing to fear. To speak of it would only make a joke of it.

But after only a short while, Cao Cao’s expression grew solemn.

With his level of discernment, he could naturally see that this “Poem of Seven Sorrows” was, among the poems of the age, a work of high quality.

Its content was sincere, its phrasing smooth and fluent, easy to recite, and it possessed great literary worth. After reading it, one could not help but feel the brutality of Cao’s army and the desolation of the age of chaos.

And that was precisely what displeased Cao Cao most.

For the poem was excellent, but its content condemned him for cruelty.

To be honest, the Cao Cao of this time had not yet completed many of the famous poems that posterity would cherish.

For example, “Gazing upon the Sea” was composed after his campaign against the Wuhuan. “Though the Tortoise Lives Long” was written after he had pacified the north and set out southward to campaign against Liu Biao. “Short Song Style” came from the eve of the Battle of Red Cliffs, when he recited poetry with spear in hand.

Not even “The Road to the Mound” would be written until the latter half of this year, or perhaps before the Battle of Guandu, because its line about the prince of Huainan referred to Yuan Shu’s claim to imperial title.

Yuan Shu had only just proclaimed himself emperor this year, and the news had only recently reached places like Henan and Jing Province. It would be impossible for Cao Cao to have learned of it and immediately composed “The Road to the Mound.”

So, at present, the only truly famous poem he had written was “Plume on the Wild Onion,” a sister piece to “The Road to the Mound,” composed when he welcomed the Son of Heaven to Xuchang at the end of last year and, lamenting the emperor’s suffering, swept his brush across the page.

Yet in literary value and poetic accomplishment, “Plume on the Wild Onion” was far inferior to “Poem of Seven Sorrows,” whose subject matter and scope were both greater.

“Plume on the Wild Onion” described the loss of the Han throne and essentially did no more than recount the destruction wrought upon the imperial house by He Jin, Zhang Rang, and Dong Zhuo.

“Poem of Seven Sorrows,” by contrast, wrote of the warlords’ harm to the realm and the suffering and disaster brought upon the common people of the Great Han by the battles among the feudal lords.

One poem concerned only the imperial house and the powerful elite; the other concerned the countless people under heaven and reflected upon war itself.

Its depth and intent were naturally of another order.

Even if “The Road to the Mound” were brought out, it would likely stand at the same level as “Poem of Seven Sorrows,” and among all of Cao Cao’s poems, it would rank in the top five.

And Cao Cao had not yet written his top five poems.

So in a certain sense, none of the poems he had written so far surpassed Shen Chen’s “Poem of Seven Sorrows.”

That was what troubled him most.

“Hmph.”

Cao Cao gave a cold snort, rolled up the bamboo slip again, and said to those around him, “Nothing but the arrogant words of an ignorant child.”

None of the generals nearby noticed that while he called it arrogant nonsense, he nevertheless rolled the slip up and tucked it into his robes, plainly intending to take it back and savor it later.

By now Yu Jin had already arrived and asked, “Grand Governor, what should we do now?”

Cao Cao said in a low voice, “Withdraw the army and return to court!”

“Yes!”

The soldiers and officers answered weakly.

On this campaign into Nanyang, they could be said to have suffered enormous losses.

Dian Wei, Cao Ang, Cao Anmin, Cao Ren, and Yue Jin had all died in battle, and many soldiers had been lost as well.

At the very least, once they returned home, they would likely need a long period of recovery before they could campaign abroad again.

The remaining daylight...