125 Reform Through Labor (Seeking Flowers)

"Rebel Peng Tuo, do not flee!" The roar, full of fury, made Peng Tuo’s blood boil. He desperately wanted to turn back and engage the challenger in a life-or-death battle, but seeing the hundreds of elite guards surrounding his pursuer—while he had only thirty men left—he realized he was hopelessly outmatched. Swallowing his pride, he buried his head and fled, cutting down a dozen sentries who dared to block his path before bursting through the camp gates.

Luan Yi followed hot on his heels, the gap between them closing to less than a hundred paces.

It was in this moment that the quality of their mounts became glaringly apparent. The horses ridden by Luan Yi and his personal guard had been purchased at great cost from Liang Province and Bing Province. While they were not fabled "thousand-li" steeds, by the standards of the Great Han, they were magnificent—sturdy, well-fed, and glossy-coated.

In contrast, the horses under Peng Tuo’s men were common farm animals requisitioned from the local peasants of Yu Province. They were suited for plowing fields or hauling goods, but when it came to carrying riders into battle or sustaining a high-speed pursuit, they were woefully inadequate.

As the race intensified, Peng Tuo watched in despair as his pursuers drew ever closer. One hundred paces, ninety paces…

"General, we cannot go on like this!" his chief clerk cried out in alarm.

Peng Tuo was livid. Since he first rose in rebellion alongside the Grand General of Heaven, he had never been so humiliated. He had always been the hunter; he had never been the one chased like a stray dog. "Then let us turn back and fight them to the death!"

"No, General, do not be rash! You must not fall into enemy hands." The clerk, panicked, racked his brain until a desperate plan formed. "General, give me your armor!"

"What are you doing, Clerk?"

"Oh, stop asking questions! Just take it off!"

Peng Tuo had always trusted the old man implicitly. Without further hesitation, he handed over his helmet and armor. The clerk stripped off his own robes, helped Peng Tuo into them, and then suddenly yanked the reins, bringing his own horse to a rearing halt. The guards behind them, confused, also reined in their mounts to avoid a collision.

"Clerk, what is this?" Peng Tuo began to ask, but he was cut off by a shrill scream from his horse. The clerk had driven a long sword into the animal’s hindquarters. Maddened by pain, the horse bolted into the dense woods, sprinting over fifty paces in a single burst. "Clerk!" Peng Tuo wailed.

"Retreat, General! I shall hold them off," the old clerk shouted, waving his arms. Watching Peng Tuo vanish into the distance, he turned his horse around with grim resolve. "Men, protect the General!"

"Charge!"

In the distance, Luan Yi saw the rebel force stop and was overjoyed. Wielding his lotus-shaped maces, he spurred his horse toward the rebel clad in the most magnificent armor.

As he drew near, he saw that the rebel wore a long, silver beard. He knew that Peng Tuo, in the prime of his life, could not possibly have a white beard—not even premature graying would turn both hair and beard white. Realizing he had been tricked, his anger flared. Ignoring the spear thrust at him by the old man, Luan Yi reached out, grabbed the shaft with one hand, and bellowed, "Come here!"

The old man felt a surge of overwhelming force; he was jerked from his saddle and hoisted into the air. After a dizzying moment, he looked down to see that Luan Yi was using the spear as a lever, suspending him over four meters off the ground. At such a height, a young man might survive a fall, but with his old, brittle bones, he would surely be crippled. He wasn't afraid of death, but he dreaded the agony of broken limbs. Clenching his teeth, he clung to the spear for dear life, his thin legs kicking frantically.

As he kicked, the sounds of clashing steel echoed around him. Peering down, he saw Peng Jiu fall, a gaping, bloody hole in his chest where a spear had pierced through. Of the thirty remaining guards, only six were still standing, surrounded and immobilized by the government troops.

The old clerk glanced toward the pitch-black forest, calculating that Peng Tuo was surely far enough away to escape. He let out a long breath and pleaded, "Spare me, Officer! I surrender! We all surrender!"

"Surrender?" Luan Yi sneered, looking up at the old man. "Where is Peng Tuo?"

"He has escaped!" the clerk replied defiantly.

"In which direction?" Luan Yi demanded.

"To answer you, Excellency, he has vanished into the woods!"

Luan Yi looked at the dark, impenetrable forest and sighed. This operation had been meticulously planned, and the death of Peng Tuo was a crucial step for the future of the pacification of Yu Province. Now, due to a moment of carelessness, he had slipped away. Luan Yi was filled with regret, but he knew it was too late. He gestured to the six remaining guards and told his men, "Take them!" He then lowered the old clerk to the ground. Once his feet touched the earth, the shaken man collapsed onto his backside. Glancing at the unique weapon in Luan Yi’s hand, he suddenly remembered the legends of the "Divine Talent" Luan Yi. "Are you... Master Luan Ziqi?"

Luan Yi did not answer, merely nodding as he looked down at him. "And who are you?"

"I am Zhao Lin, the chief military clerk," the old man introduced himself.

"A joke!" Luan Yi scoffed. "Rebels dare to call themselves an army?"

Embarrassed, Zhao Lin lowered his head. "Indeed, in the presence of the Divine Talent, we are unworthy of the title." As he spoke, two guards stepped forward to bind him. "Wait!" Zhao Lin cried, pushing them aside. Seeing his advanced age, the guards hesitated, waiting for Luan Yi’s command.

Zhao Lin looked up. "Before I am taken, I have one question. I hope Master Ziqi will enlighten me!"

"Speak," Luan Yi replied, never one to mistreat the elderly.

"How is it that Peng Tuo guessed your strategy of 'increasing troops and reducing hearths,' yet we found no trace of your main force, and instead walked straight into your ambush on the way back?"

Luan Yi laughed. "Warfare is the art of deception. It is about shifting between the real and the false. A true strategist never copies the classics blindly. Just the other day, I did use the tactic of 'luring the enemy in' by feigning retreat, and yes, I did reduce the number of hearths to make Peng Tuo believe my troops were deserting. But I knew Peng Tuo would see through that. So, I never intended to set an ambush at the mountain pass. Instead, I had my 'retreating' forces circle around and take small paths to get behind you. As a native of Yingchuan, I know every inch of this land. There are countless paths here."

Luan Yi paused. "In fact, my main force arrived behind you two days ago and finished gathering yesterday. We were simply waiting for you to stop and camp for the night!"

"But our scouts found campfires and cooking traces by the road yesterday!" Zhao Lin exclaimed.

"Ah... that was because you were indeed chasing my troops—or rather, the Temple Knight Battalion led by General Zhao Zilong! Cavalry moves fast. Everywhere they went, they built fires and pitched a thousand tents, letting Peng Tuo believe the main church army was still ahead. In reality, there were only two thousand cavalrymen!"

"So that is it," Zhao Lin nodded repeatedly. "I have been defeated by a superior mind. I can die content."

"Die? Who said you were going to die?"

"Hmm?" Zhao Lin’s eyes widened. "I have committed treason. Will you not execute me?"

"The Church of the Holy Mother never kills captives. You will be spared the death penalty, but you will still face labor. You will be sent to Jinan to serve a few years of reform-through-labor!"

Zhao Lin, hearing the term for the first time, asked, "Reform-through-labor? What is that?"

Luan Yi did not bother explaining that it meant slave labor in the factories or infrastructure projects of Jinan. Of course, being a slave in Jinan was actually quite comfortable. Luan Yi mandated that labor could not exceed six hours a day, with Sundays off for collective worship. Meals were plentiful, with meat served every other day. The Church provided durable, warm clothing and bedding. Such treatment was far better than that of most free peasants in the Han Dynasty, who were at the mercy of the elements and the bullying of the aristocracy. Many former Yellow Turban rebels found that living as "slaves" in Jinan made them feel more like human beings than they ever had at home.

Even better, those who performed well—especially those who showed ideological growth and devotion to the Church—could have their sentences reduced, gain early release, and receive the status of Jinan citizens.

Jinan citizens... an enviable title. The prisoners watched the local citizens work with enthusiasm, earning incomes far higher than anywhere else in the Empire. They lived in bright, clean homes, some built by the Church’s support. They returned after a day’s work to warm meals and cozy beds, often with a wife provided by the Church’s matchmaking services.

Was there any life better than this on earth?