Chapter 39: Examining the Severed Head

The fourth day of the tenth lunar month, in the eleventh year of the Chongzhen reign of the Ming Dynasty. At the beginning of the You hour (5:00 PM to 7:00 PM), the wind died down and the snow ceased.

In the deep autumn of the Ming Empire's northern frontier, the sky was already dim at the start of the You hour. The sun hung obliquely on the horizon, its feeble light barely perceptible. Though it could no longer illuminate the earth, the faint glow of the setting sun falling upon one’s face and body still brought a touch of warmth.

In an open field within the camp of Zhang Yan, a regional vice commander (Canjiang) of the Xuanfu Garrison, rows and files of soldiers stood in neat formation. Though they stood orderly and appeared high-spirited, the fatigue was evident on their faces. Most of their armor was stained with dark, dried blood, and some pieces bore deep gouges from arrows or blades. A few suits of armor were even cracked, the jagged fissures a testament to the ferocity of the day’s battle.

Three large carts were parked in front of the formation, carrying one hundred and forty-four severed heads. Their expressions were ferocious, eyes bulging and teeth bared. Each head was shaved clean, save for a small patch of hair at the back of the crown, no larger than a copper coin, which had been braided into an ugly little queue.

In front of the carts, thirty large wooden stakes had been temporarily erected. Bound tightly to each stake was a burly man clad in armor. Their helmets had been removed, revealing shaved heads that also featured the distinctive, rat-tail-like queues at the nape.

A military officer, clad in heavy iron armor and a bright red cloak, stood before the formation. Despite the weathered look of his square face, he carried an air of natural authority, the bearing of a commander tempered by long years of warfare. This was Yang Guozhu, nearing his fiftieth year, serving as the Assistant Commissioner of the Rear Chief Military Commission, General of the Zhenshuo Garrison, and Commander-in-Chief of the Xuanfu Garrison.

Upon hearing the report of victory from Zhang Yan’s scout leader, Lin Zhiyi, Yang had first been excited, then grew cautious. Given the gravity of the matter, he had personally led his personal guards, the guerrilla general Guo Yingxian, and several clerks to verify the heads of the Tatars and the true identities of the captives. Of course, that was not the official reason; publicly, General Yang was simply visiting the brave warriors who had fought so valiantly against the Tatars.

In reality, he did just that. After exchanging courtesies with Zhang Yan upon his arrival, Yang strode directly to the formation of Zhang Cheng’s thousand-man unit. He didn't even glance at the heads or the captives, choosing instead to walk among the soldiers, checking on them and offering words of encouragement.

Meanwhile, his personal guard commander, Guo Yingxian, led two clerks in verifying the heads one by one, checking their facial features, braided hair, and teeth, just as Zhang Yan had done earlier. Two other officers in round-collared, heavy-duty iron armor stood nearby, whispering to each other as they inspected the spoils. These were the guerrilla generals of the Xuanfu Garrison, Li Jianming and Wen Hui. Upon hearing that Zhang Yan’s scouts had encountered the Tatars and, after a fierce battle, had "severed 144 heads and captured 30 prisoners," they had rushed to the commander's tent to see for themselves. Li Jianming, tall and nearing forty, and the slightly stout, honest-faced Wen Hui, who appeared over forty, were both present.

After personally verifying the heads on two of the carts and leaving the third to his clerks, Guo Yingxian turned to Yang Guozhu. Guo, also in his forties and clad in heavy vermillion-oiled iron armor with a bright red cloak, bore the scars of many battles. His voice boomed like thunder: "Commander, every single one is a genuine barbarian head. That lad Cheng has done something extraordinary."

"Haha, no need to say it! That boy is a real troublemaker, a born killer," Yang Guozhu laughed heartily. Zhang Cheng was a subordinate of Zhang Yan, who in turn was under his command. Now that Zhang Cheng had killed 143 Tatars and captured 30, it was a victory for the entire Xuanfu Garrison. As the commander, he would share in the military merit and gain great prestige.

He walked toward Zhang Yan and said loudly, "Brother Zhang, I must congratulate you."

"It is all thanks to your wise guidance and steady command, Commander. My men only fought because of your leadership. How could I claim this merit alone?" Zhang Yan replied, cupping his hands in a salute.

They were all shrewd men; by speaking this way, they ensured that the credit remained with the leadership, leaving little for the likes of Li Jianming and Wen Hui. With the commander providing the strategy and the soldiers under Zhang Cheng’s command executing it, the victory was secured. Li and Wen could only look on with envy and a hint of jealousy.

Yang Guozhu waved for Zhang Cheng to step forward. "Zhang Cheng, you've done well today. You’ve brought honor to the Xuanfu Garrison and bolstered the prestige of the Great Ming, ensuring the barbarians no longer dare to look down upon us."

Zhang Cheng replied tactfully, "It is entirely due to Commander Yang’s strategic planning and Vice Commander Zhang’s steady command. This is not my achievement, but the result of the soldiers fighting to the death."

Yang and the other generals nodded in approval. To be so fierce in battle yet modest in victory—this was the mark of a true commander. Yang thought to himself, *This boy, Zhang Cheng, was like a walking calamity back in Xuanfu. Who would have thought he would show such talent during this campaign to relieve the capital? Could he be a talent worth cultivating?*

He offered further comfort: "Thousand-man commander, do not be so humble. With such a great achievement, I suspect you will soon be the youngest guerrilla general in the Xuanfu Garrison." Yang paused, patted Zhang Cheng on the shoulder, and continued, "It is a pity the Commissioner-in-Chief went to the capital to meet the Emperor last night and has yet to return. Wait a little longer, and when he returns, I will personally report this victory of our Xuanfu warriors to him."

Zhang Cheng bowed. "It is all thanks to your authority, Commander. I leave everything to your decision."

Amidst the cheers, the heads and prisoners were verified. Zhang Cheng’s men began the process of picketing the heads. Yang Guozhu then invited the officers of the rank of thousand-man commander and above to his tent that night for a celebratory banquet.

...

Zhang Cheng returned to his camp first. His wounded soldiers were settled in several large tents, attended to by military physicians who were busy extracting arrows, cleaning wounds, and applying medicine. Outside the tents, large pots of water were boiling. Used instruments were boiled for half an hour before being reused, and wounds were cleaned with strong liquor. Even the bandages had been boiled and kept in oil-paper packets. These changes had begun since his rebirth, and they were the beginning of his quest to change this decaying world.

Zhang Cheng visited every wounded soldier, asking about their condition and offering words of comfort, especially to those who were severely injured. He promised that when the army returned to base, they would be well-provided for and never abandoned.

"Chen Zhong, what of that Tatar bondservant who fought back?" Zhang Cheng suddenly recalled the bondservant who had dared to kill his master at the west end of Mafang Village.

Chen Zhong replied softly, "That bondservant has a lot of backbone. His right eye was gouged out, yet he endured it without a sound, even as a large chunk of his scalp was torn away with his hair."

"Hmm." Zhang Cheng couldn't help but gasp. His interest in this man deepened—he was no ordinary individual. "Take good care of him," Zhang Cheng said firmly. "I want him to live!"

...

Leaving the camp, Zhang Cheng felt a great inner turmoil. He asked himself: was all of this worth it? He did not know. The question now was not whether it was worth it, but how to survive. He had to survive first, and only then could he strive to help others live—to live well.

In a blink, he reached the open field reserved for his infantry unit, where the rescued refugees were temporarily housed. He Kuan, the leader of the C-team of the rear guard, had been keeping watch. The tents captured from the Qing army had been pitched; the elderly, women, and children were inside, while the men sat around campfires. Over each fire, a large pot was filled with fresh horse meat, and many people sniffed the air, unable to hide their longing.

"Commander, you haven't rested yet," He Kuan said, running over to report. "The eighteen tents captured from the barbarians are all up. The old, the young, and the women are inside, and the men are outside. Twelve large pots—half with horse meat, half with porridge."

"Very good. Thank you and the soldiers for your hard work tonight. Keep a watch to ensure no evildoers cause trouble," Zhang Cheng ordered. He turned toward the refugees and asked, "Where are Shi Tiegen and his group?"

He Kuan led him to a campfire. Old man Shi Tiegen stood up immediately upon seeing Zhang Cheng. "Everyone, stand up quickly! General Zhang is here!"

Zhang Cheng smiled kindly. "Everyone, sit. There is no need to stand." As he sat down, the crowd shifted nervously, squeezing together to make room for him.

"Don't be nervous," Zhang Cheng said with a laugh. "I am not a man-eating demon." The people around him shifted slightly further away, a mix of awkwardness and repressed smiles on their faces. Even the aroma of the meat seemed to lose its appeal.

Zhang Cheng turned to Old Man Shi. "Elder, have the people with skills been recorded?"

"Yes, we've recorded them all," Shi replied, calling over the scholar Wang Yuanjing. "Scholar, tell the General."

Wang Yuanjing scurried over and crouched beside Zhang Cheng. "Reporting to the General, we have found two carpenters, one mason, two blacksmiths and one apprentice, one stonemason, two men who can keep rough accounts and read a bit, and seventeen who have worked with horses. Most of the women can sew and mend..."

Zhang Cheng stopped him and pulled him down to sit. "Yuanjing, with nearly a thousand people, you cannot record everything at once. Take your time. Record anyone with a skill—I may have use for them in the future. If you need anything, find Huang Daguang." He pointed to Huang Daguang, stood up, and gave him a few instructions.

As they were talking, one of Zhang Yan’s personal guards hurried over. "General Yang is hosting a banquet for the officers tonight and specifically requests that Zhang Cheng bring the scout leaders who fought in today's battle."