114 Lifeline

On the eighth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of Emperor Guanghe’s reign, Luan Yi, Pontiff of the Holy Mother Church, carried out Heaven’s punishment and slew the rebel Zhu Ying with a thunderbolt from the Five Thunders.

Once the news spread, the lands around Jinan, together with the provinces of Qing, Yan, Ji, and Yu, were thrown into an uproar. The faithful of the Holy Mother Church were especially jubilant, celebrating the miracle with thunderous cheers and solemn offerings.

At the same time, the victory report from the Kingdom of Jinan, announcing the defeat of the Yellow Turban rebels, reached the capital and brought another wave of rejoicing.

Since the Yellow Turban Rebellion had begun, the imperial armies throughout the Han realm had suffered defeat after defeat. Numerous commanderies and counties across the northern provinces had fallen into the hands of the rebels, and reports of disaster had poured into Luoyang like snowflakes.

Meanwhile, the northern army dispatched by the court, under the command of Lu Zhi, faced the main force of the Yellow Turbans led by Zhang Jue along the borderlands of Ji and You Provinces. Though the two sides had clashed repeatedly, the engagements had remained small-scale, and neither had achieved a decisive victory.

Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun each commanded an army, controlling more than forty thousand men drawn from the Five Military Schools, the cavalry of the Three Riverlands, and newly recruited soldiers and warriors. They had entered into a major battle with more than a hundred thousand rebels around Yingchuan in Yu Province.

The war had scarcely begun when the first battle ended in defeat for the imperial forces. Zhu Jun’s army was beaten by the Yellow Turban commander Bo Cai and driven back dozens of miles, suffering countless dead and wounded. He had no choice but to join Huangfu Song in garrisoning Changshe, where Bo Cai’s vast army surrounded them so completely that not even water could pass. The Han forces were few, and their morale had sunk to its lowest point.

When the urgent reports reached Luoyang, the court and the populace alike were shaken.

It was at this critical moment, when the war had clearly turned against the Han dynasty, that news of Jinan’s great victory arrived in the capital.

Luan Miao, Chief Administrator of the Kingdom of Jinan, had joined forces with his son, Luan Yi, Pontiff of the Holy Mother Church. With a mere ten thousand troops, they had defeated a Yellow Turban army five times their size, captured the rebel leader Zhu Ying, executed him by the most severe punishment, slain more than ten thousand enemies, and taken over ten thousand prisoners.

One smooth report after another brought a ray of warm sunlight to the gloomy capital, sweeping away the shadows cast by the war.

The emperor was delighted.

Wang Yun and Cai Yong seized the opportunity to praise Luan Yi’s talents, adding that Xu Zijiang had judged him thus:

“In letters, he can lift a brush and pacify the realm; in war, he can dismount and settle the world. He is a talent born to save mankind.”

Emperor Ling of Han had already heard much about Luan Yi, and many of the beauties in the imperial harem were particularly fond of his writings. Taking into account the achievements Luan Yi had now accomplished, the emperor immediately decided to recommend him as a Filial and Incorrupt Candidate, appoint him Chancellor of the Kingdom of Jinan, and enfeoff him as Viscount of Licheng County. He was also ordered to lead his army eastward at once and aid Qing and Yan Provinces in suppressing the rebellion.

Huang Chou delivered the imperial decree.

Thus Luan Yi became a viscount of a county—and not just any county, but Licheng. Though Licheng lay beyond the passes and was technically an outer fief, with only five hundred households assigned to his revenues, it possessed one great advantage: it was located within Jinan, the territory Luan Yi had cultivated for years. He knew how to manage every matter there with ease.

What truly astonished him was that Emperor Ling had actually appointed him Chancellor of Jinan. Would that not mean Cao Cao had lost his chance to take up a post in Jinan? And after Cao Cao earned merit suppressing the rebellion, where would he be appointed?

The bustle of his duties soon left him no time to dwell on the matter. He simply set it aside and waited for time to provide the answer.

An army does not move until provisions move first.

In truth, Luan Yi had begun preparing for the campaign into Qing Province long before this. At the beginning of the year, he had ordered dozens of great granaries built in Dongpingling County, on the border between Jinan and Qing, and in Xipingling County, on the border between Jinan and Yan.

After the battle with the main enemy force, he had instructed Mao Jie to transfer grain from every region into the eastern and western Pingling fortresses, while Xu Shu arranged the defenses of every county in Jinan.

Everything had long been ready. Even if the emperor had issued no decree, Luan Yi would have chosen an opportunity to send a great army to relieve Qing and Yan Provinces. Now that the expedition had been authorized by imperial command, the coming campaign would be all the more convenient.

On the fifteenth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of Guanghe, Luan Yi appointed his commanders and ordered the army to march from the main hall of the Holy Nuwa Cathedral.

Guan Yu, Taishi Ci, Mao Jie, Wu Tian, and Li Zhuang remained behind with five thousand troops to defend Jinan and secure the homeland.

Luan Yi appointed Xu Shu as military adviser and personally led Dian Wei, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, Huang Zhong, and Xu Chu. Along with the newly expanded Divine Wind Camp and Divine Rampart Camp of the Cathedral Warrior Corps, the Templar Cavalry, and the great army of Church Guards—more than eight thousand men in all—he set out from Dongpingling County and crossed the border between Jinan and Yan.

War was about to erupt.

The Yellow Turban rebels in Yan Province were not numerous, and most of their main forces had been pinned down around Shanyang Commandery by the provincial governor, Liu Dai.

Thus, when the Church army entered Yan Province, the commanderies of Mount Tai, Dong, Rencheng, and Jibei were relieved one after another. More than a thousand enemy heads were taken, and countless prisoners were captured.

The army advanced like a breaking flood, reaching the outskirts of Shanyang Commandery.

By coincidence, Shanyang was being besieged by more than twenty thousand Yellow Turban rebels under Fan Tong. Governor Liu Dai had repeatedly attempted to send messengers for help, but every one of them had been intercepted and driven back.

No message could get out, and no news could get in. Liu Dai was frantic with anxiety.

Then, suddenly, he remembered that when the Yellow Turban Rebellion had first begun, he had sent an urgent appeal to neighboring Jinan. That appeal had now become the only straw by which he might cling to life, and he could do nothing but place all his hopes in Luan Miao, Chief Administrator of Jinan.

Yet on second thought, the entire Han realm was now in chaos. How could Jinan possibly be faring well? If the kingdom had already fallen, and the court had no troops to dispatch, would Yan Province not soon fall into rebel hands as well?

The Yellow Turbans attacked with greater fury each day. The soldiers and civilians within the city were exhausted and could scarcely fight any longer.

Burning with anxiety, Liu Dai paced back and forth atop the walls. As he turned, the corner of his eye caught a streak of white on the horizon beyond the city.

He assumed that worry and exhaustion had made him see things.

But when he stared more carefully, the white streak was still there.

It was indistinct because of the distance, yet as it drew nearer, its shape became clearer. It was a banner: pure white cloth embroidered with an enormous blood-red cross.

“What is that? What flag is that?” he shouted, hastily summoning a junior officer and pointing toward the horizon.

The officer gripped the battlement and craned his neck to look. The despondency on his face instantly bloomed into the smile of a man returned from the brink of death.

“That... that is the banner of the Kingdom of Jinan!”

“Are you certain?”

“There is no mistaking it. It is the sacred banner of the Holy Mother Church. No one else in the Han realm uses such a flag.”

As he spoke, the officer pointed to the wooden cross hanging over his own chest.

“Look! I am a believer of the Holy Mother Church myself. I could never mistake it. The Church army has come to rescue us!”

The moment they heard that reinforcements had arrived, soldiers and civilians throughout the city erupted in cheers.

But what followed drenched them from head to toe like a basin of cold water.

The force approaching from the distance was pitifully small—barely more than a thousand men, utterly disproportionate to the Yellow Turban army surrounding Shanyang. Their equipment was not especially fine, either. They carried only ordinary swords and spears, and none wore armor.

They halted about a mile from Shanyang. A fierce-looking commander burst from their ranks, holding an eight-foot serpent spear, and challenged the rebels between the two armies.

“Rebel vermin! Your grandfather Zhang is here! Which of you dares fight me?”

It was Zhang Fei himself.

“You black-faced brute, do not be so arrogant! Taste your grandfather’s spear!”

A Yellow Turban commander charged from the rebel ranks and rode straight at Zhang Fei.

The two horses met with a clash of weapons.

Zhang Fei pretended to fend him off, then feinted and wheeled his horse around. As he fled, he cried out in exaggerated astonishment:

“This fellow is far too fierce! Old Zhang is no match for him! Run!”

The thousand-odd Church Guards who had followed him immediately turned and fled as well.

The Yellow Turban commander was utterly baffled. Their fight had been proceeding perfectly well. Though the black-faced man’s skill had been slightly inferior to his own, the fellow had clearly possessed some ability. Why had he so suddenly led his troops into a rout?

His overwhelming arrogance, combined with the eagerness to win merit that afflicted the commander of this Yellow Turban force, gave birth to a reckless notion.

Drums thundered.

The Yellow Turbans split into two divisions. One continued surrounding the city, while more than ten thousand troops abandoned the walls and pursued Zhang Fei.

On the battlements, the commander of Yan Province stared at the scene in disbelief.

The officer beside Liu Dai asked in shock, “The Church army has actually... retreated?”

“What did you expect?” Liu Dai snarled.

His eyes were bloodshot with rage. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he paced faster than before and sighed furiously:

“So this is the so-called genius of Luan Yi!”

The Yellow Turbans chased Zhang Fei all the way, but his troops were lightly equipped and swift of foot. In scarcely any time, they vanished from sight.

The rebels pursued for another five miles, until they reached the foothills of Zongshan, where they finally caught sight of the enemy again.

But by then, Zhang Fei was no longer fleeing.

His troops had formed ranks, and the thousand Church Guards under his command had donned heavy armor. Rather than retreat, they now advanced toward the Yellow Turbans.

From the dense forest to the west and the hills to the east came the simultaneous pounding of war clubs. Blood-red cross banners appeared one after another from concealed positions.

“Kill!”

“This is bad!”

Only then did the Yellow Turban commander realize that he had fallen into an ambush. He tried to withdraw, but it was already too late.

From the left, Luan Yi and Dian Wei personally led their troops into the attack. Their momentum was terrifying, their killing intent chilling, and their valor unmatched. Wherever they passed, cries of anguish filled the air and corpses piled high.

A commander was the soul of his army. With their pontiff at the forefront, the Church Guards were utterly ferocious. Every man fought as though he did not fear death, slaughtering the rebels until they fled in terror.

From the right, Huang Zhong and Xu Chu emerged from the hills like heavenly generals descending from the skies, leading Church Guards in gleaming armor.

Under the protection of Xu Chu’s troops, the archers of Huang Zhong’s Divine Wind Camp drew their bows to full strength. A rain of arrows filled the air, sending the Yellow Turbans scrambling for cover.

Zhao Yun’s Templar Cavalry emerged from behind the mountain and swept around to the rebels’ rear. Together with Zhang Fei’s Divine Rampart Camp, which was charging toward them from the front, they formed a pincer.

The four divisions—east, west, south, and north—completed their encirclement of the Yellow Turban force.

Zhang Fei bellowed wildly as he led his troops into the fray, cutting straight toward the rebel command center.

All the frustration he had been forced to swallow during the feigned retreat now burst forth. In an instant, he reached the Yellow Turban commander and thrust his spear at him.

At that moment, the Yellow Turban champion realized that Zhang Fei was entirely different from the man he had faced outside Shanyang.

Whether strength or technique, he had grown more than a notch stronger.

Only then did the rebel commander understand that his opponent had not shown his full power beneath the walls of Shanyang. Now that they were fighting in earnest, he clearly had no hope of gaining the upper hand.

Zhang Fei attacked with broad, powerful strokes, his long spear stabbing and sweeping from side to side. The Yellow Turban commander could do nothing but defend himself desperately, unable to find even the slightest opening for a counterattack.

Every time he blocked the serpent spear rushing toward him, he felt as though he had narrowly escaped death.

The weapon struck with immense force, yet its movements were treacherous and unpredictable. The shock shook him to the soul. His heart pounded violently, rising and falling in his throat, as though it might burst from his mouth.

He resisted with all his strength for more than ten exchanges, but in the end his inferior prowess and failing stamina betrayed him. Zhang Fei feinted with a thrust, drawing him into the trap, then swept him from his horse with a single stroke.