Then he mustered the remainder of his forces to reinforce his commander.
Meanwhile, the First Ruler had ordered all his marine forces to sail down the river and take up positions along the banks deep inside the territory of Wu.
Huang Quan, however, spoke against this: “It is easy enough for the ships to go downstream, but how about returning? Let me make the first advance, and Your Majesty can follow in the rear. Then there will be no danger of anything going wrong.”
“Those Wu dogs are scared,” objected the First Ruler. “What can go wrong if I make a dash at them?”
Although many others also tried very hard to dissuade him from taking such a great risk, the First Ruler would not heed any of them. Then dividing the army into two portions, he placed Huang Quan in command on the northern bank to keep a watch on Wei, while he commanded the force on the southern bank. They made encampments on both sides of the river.
Spies of Wei duly reported these moves to Cao Pi, who laughed aloud when he heard of Liu Bei’s long line of camps among the trees and beside streams.
“Liu Bei is going to be defeated,” he said.
“How do you know?” asked his courtiers.
“Liu Bei does not know the strategies of war. How can he beat off an enemy along an encampment of seven hundred li? The tenets of war forbid camping in open plains, among marshes, or amid precipitous heights. He will lose the battle to Lu Xun, and we will hear of it in ten days.”
His courtiers felt more than doubtful and entreated their master to prepare an army. But Cao Pi replied, “If he wins, Lu Xun will lead all his force westward to seize Shu and his country will be defenseless. Then, under the pretense of sending help, I will order my army to set out in three divisions, and I will overcome Wu easily.”
They all bowed to him in admiration.
Without delay he ordered Cao Ren to lead an army to Ruxu, Cao Xiu to take another to Dongkou, and Cao Zhen to command a third one to Nanjun. The three armies were to merge on a given date for a surprise attack on Wu. Cao Pi himself would go and support them later with the main force.
Here it is necessary to follow Ma Liang’s journey back to Shu to see Zhuge Liang. On arriving at Chengdu, he lost no time in seeing the prime minister and presenting the maps of the army’s encampment. He said, “Now the forces are stationed on both sides of the river in forty camps, extending along a front of seven hundred li. Each camp is either beside a stream or brook, among thick growths of trees. At our lord’s command I prepared these maps and he sent me to ask your opinion.”
Zhuge Liang took the maps and looked at them. “Who advised the Emperor in such an arrangement? He ought to be put to death, whoever he was,” he cried in despair, striking the table with his fist.
“It is entirely our lord’s own work; no one else had any hand in it,” replied Ma Liang.
“The days of the Hans are gone indeed,” sighed Zhuge Liang.
“Why do you say so?” asked Ma Liang.
“Our lord has committed most serious faults against the rules of war. The camps are built among thick groves or beside streams, where free movements are impossible, and nothing can save the army if the enemy uses fire. Besides, what defense is possible along a seven hundred li front? Disaster is imminent and Lu Xun has anticipated it all, which explains his obstinate refusal to come out into the open. Go back as quickly as you can and tell our lord that it is imperative the camps be changed at once.”
“But what if I am too late? If Wu has already attacked and won.”
“The enemy will not dare to pursue our troops into Chengdu for fear of attacks from Wei. So this city is secure. If our lord is in danger, tell him to take shelter in the city of Baidi. Before I came here I had already placed 10,000 men in ambush at Fishbelly Creek.”
Ma Liang was astonished. “How can that be? I have been up and down that creek several times without seeing a single soldier. Why do you try to deceive me, sir?”
“You will see later—don’t ask so many questions now.”
Carrying the great strategist’s letter, Ma Liang hastened back to the imperial camp, while Zhuge Liang went to the capital to prepare relief forces.
Seeing the men of Shu become slack and idle and no longer maintaining adequate defense, Lu Xun decided that his moment to strike had arrived, so he called his officers to his tent to receive orders.
“There has been no fighting since I received our lord’s command. But in the meantime I have acquired a good knowledge of the enemy. As a preliminary operation I want to capture a camp on the south bank. Who will volunteer to go?”
Out stepped Han Dang, Zhou Tai, and Ling Tong, all three at once, each crying that he wanted to be sent. But the commander did not want any of them. Instead he called up the junior officer, Chunyu Dan, and said to him: “I will give you 5,000 men to take the fourth camp on the south bank. It is held by Fu Tong. I will send more troops to support you.”
When Chunyu Dan had gone he summoned Xu Sheng and Ding Feng, to whom he said, “You two each take 3,000 men and position yourselves five li distance from the camp. If your colleague is repulsed and pursued, go out and rescue him—but do not pursue the enemy.”
Chunyu Dan started at dusk but when he reached the Shu camp it was already past midnight. Amidst the beating of drums his men attacked at once. Their opponents came out, led by Fu Tong, who set his spear and rode straight toward Chunyu Dan and forced him back. Suddenly there arose the roll of other drums and a troop under another Shu officer barred the way. Chunyu Dan managed to escape, but many of his men were lost.
However, he was not yet safe. Some distance farther he encountered the barbarian leader, Shamoke. After a desperate fight Chunyu Dan broke through, pursued now by three parties. Soon he reached the spot five li from the Wu camp and here his two colleagues emerged to rescue him. Once the men of Shu withdrew, Chunyu Dan was escorted back to camp.
He had been wounded by an arrow, and with the arrow still undrawn he went in to see Lu Xun and pleaded guilty for his failure.
“It was no fault of yours,” said the commander. “I wanted to test the strength of our enemy. My plan of attack is quite ready.”
“The enemy is very strong and cannot be easily overcome,” said Xu Sheng and Ding Feng. “We will only suffer a great loss to no purpose.”
“This plan of mine will not be able to deceive Zhuge Liang, but fortunately he is not here. His absence will allow me to score a great success.”
Then he summoned his officers to receive orders. Zhu Ran, leading the marine force, was to fill his ships with reeds and straw and advance after noon the next day, when the southeasterly wind would be strong. Han Dang was to attack the north bank, while Zhou Tai, the south bank. Each soldier, in addition to his weapons, was to carry a bundle of straw or reeds with sulfur and niter hidden inside, as well as a piece of tinder. When they reached the enemy encampment they were to start a conflagration at every other camp, twenty in all, leaving the other half to the care of the wind. All the troops were to take with them their own food for the expedition and advance day and night, without pause, until they captured Liu Bei. Taking their orders, the officers and men set out.
In the meantime the First Ruler was in his own camp, pondering over a plan to destroy Sun Quan, when suddenly the great standard in front of his own tent fell over and lay flat on the ground. There was no wind to account for this, so he turned to the libationer Cheng Ji and asked him what it might portend.
“Could it mean that the men of Wu will raid the camp tonight?” he answered.
“They will not dare to come again after the defeat of yesterday.”
“But maybe that was only a reconnaissance—what then?”
Just then a report came in to say that the men of Wu were seen from far off moving eastward along the hills.
“These are only meant to put us off the scent,” said the First Ruler. He ordered the officers not to move but told his two nephews, with five hundred mounted men, to go out to investigate. It was d
usk when these two returned to report fire among the camps on the north bank. The First Ruler hastily sent Guan Xing to the northern bank and Zhang Bao to the opposite side to find out what was really happening.
“If the men of Wu have come, let me know at once.”
And the two cousins set out. About the first watch a strong southeasterly wind rose. Then fire broke out on the left side of the imperial camp; before guards could be sent to extinguish this flame another fire was spotted on its right. With the aid of the strong wind both fires became fierce, and soon the trees also caught the flame. A confused roar showed the gathering strength of the fire, as the soldiers of the burning imperial camp rushed out to escape for their lives. In their confusion they trampled on each other. Many died under the heels of their fellow men.
Behind them came the men of Wu, bent on blood. Ignorant of how many they might be, the First Ruler mounted and dashed for Feng Xi’s camp, only to find it also swallowed up by flames that seemed to reach the very sky. By this time raging fires were burning on both banks of the river, making the night as bright as day.
Feng Xi leaped on his horse and fled, followed by a few of his mounted men. This small force ran into the men of Wu under Xu Sheng and the two fought. Seeing this the First Ruler turned and galloped toward the west. Xu Sheng saw him and at once went in pursuit, throwing aside his opponent. The First Ruler was quite alarmed but worse was yet to come. Presently another party of soldiers under Ding Feng blocked his way and he became really scared, caught between two enemy troops. There was no possibility of escape—no road was open.
Just at this moment, however, one of his own troops broke through the encirclement and rescued him. Its leader was Zhang Bao, who, leading the Imperial Guard, escorted the First Ruler in the flight. Soon they fell in with Fu Tong and his men. The two forces combined and continued their escape, with the Wu army following in hot pursuit. The fugitives finally reached a hill, called the Saddle Hill. Here the First Ruler was urged to mount the hilltop to avoid immediate danger. But almost at once thundering shouts rose underneath as Lu Xun’s main army arrived and the hill was completely surrounded. The two officers strove desperately to hold the path up the hill and keep the enemy from ascending. Looking from the summit the First Ruler saw the whole wilderness turning into an endless line of fire and numerous corpses of his men being washed downstream in heaps.
Soon the men of Wu set themselves to burning the hill. The First Ruler’s remaining escort ran hither and thither, like rats in horror, and their lord was in despair. Suddenly he saw in the fire an officer, followed by a few horsemen, cutting his way through and coming up the hill. As he drew nearer the First Ruler recognized him to be Guan Xing, who quickly dismounted and bowed to the ground, saying, “Your Majesty, the fire is rampant all round and this place is not safe at all. Please leave immediately for the city of Baidi, where you can regroup your forces.”
“Who dares to stay behind to keep off the enemy?” inquired the First Ruler.
Fu Tong volunteered for this most dangerous task. At dusk they started, with Guan Xing leading the way, his cousin in the middle, and Fu Tong holding the rear. Keeping their lord firmly in their protection the three officers and their men dashed down the hill and ran westward. The men of Wu, each anxious to gain the greatest merit by the capture of the First Ruler, pressed forward in pursuit. The pursuing troops were so great in number that they seemed to blot out the sky and cover the entire earth. The First Ruler ordered the men to make fires from their clothing and armor in the road to hold back the pursuers.
But the danger was far from past. Soon, another force led by Zhu Ran came up from the riverside and intercepted the First Ruler’s troops amid terrifying shouts.
“This is my end!” cried the First Ruler in utter despair.
His two nephews dashed to the front, attempting to cut a way through, but returned wounded by enemy arrows and could no longer fight. Worse was still to come. Shouting arose from behind and Lu Xun, with his main army, came rushing up from the valley.
At about the first glimpse of dawn their case seemed hopeless. But just as things were at their worst they saw Zhu Ran’s men suddenly begin to break up and scatter, tumbling into streams or rolling down precipices. To his immense relief, the First Ruler found that his faithful general, Zhao Yun, had come to his rescue.
Zhao Yun had been in Jiangzhou, and the news of the battle between his country and Wu had reached him there. So he had set out at once. On the way he saw the towering flames in the southeast, which filled his heart with apprehension. He sent scouts to find out what had happened. When he learned that his lord was in dire straits he rushed at the fastest speed and arrived just in time to save him.
As soon as Lu Xun heard that it was Zhao Yun who had appeared, he ordered the retreat. Zhao Yun came upon Zhu Ran, whom he slew with his spear in the first encounter. The men of Wu dispersed and retreated, and the First Ruler proceeded toward the city of Baidi.
“Though I am safe, what about the other officers?” asked the First Ruler.
“The pursuers are close upon us and we cannot wait,” said Zhao Yun. “Pray get into the city as quickly as possible and I will go back to rescue the others.”
When the First Ruler reached Baidi he had only about a hundred men left.
A poem was written concerning the victory of Lu Xun:
He grips the spear and kindles fire, the camps are swept away.
Liu Bei to Baidi city flees, lonely and sad today.
But Lu Xun’s meteoric fame now shoots through Shu and Wei,
For the scholar the Prince of Wu has naught but good to say.
Fu Tong, who commanded the rear, was surrounded by the enemy.
Ding Feng shouted to him, “You had better surrender. Many of your men have fallen, more have surrendered, and your lord is a prisoner. You have no hope against us with your scanty force.”
But Fu Tong replied, “I am a general of Han—I will never give in to the curs of Wu!”
Undaunted, he rode at his opponents and fought over a hundred bouts, trying to break through the encroachment. But all his effort was in vain and in the end he died among his enemies.
A poem celebrates his valor:
Wu, at Yiling, strove with Shu,
Flames, not swords, used crafty Lu.
Worthy of a place among
Han’s bold captains is Fu Tong.
The libationer Cheng Ji, having got clear of the battle, rode swiftly to the riverbank and called to the marines to join in the battle. They landed, but as they saw the men of Wu coming in pursuit they soon started to flee. One of his officers shouted to him to run for his life, for the men of Wu were drawing near, but he answered angrily: “Since I first followed my lord I have never run before a foe.”
Hardly had he finished speaking when the enemy came up and surrounded him. There being no way out, he took his life with his own sword.
Noble among the warriors of Shu was Cheng Ji.
He kept his sword for the service of his prince.
When danger pressed near he wavered not,
So his name remains forever honored.
Now Wu Ban and Zhang Nan had been besieging Yiling, when Feng Xi arrived to tell them of the plight of their lord, so they led off their army to rescue him. The siege of Yiling was then lifted as Lu Xun had foretold would happen.
As the three officers and their men hurried along, their progress was suddenly halted by the men of Wu both in front and behind, for as soon Sun Huan was free he set off in pursuit of his late besiegers. A battle was fought, during which both Feng Xi and Zhang Nan perished. Only Wu Ban broke through. He was pursued, but he luckily fell in with Zhao Yun and got safely to Baidi.
The barbarian chieftain Shamoke was flying from the battlefield all alone when he met Zhou Tai, who slew him after a short fight. Several Shu officers surrendered to Wu, as did many soldiers. Of the supplies and weapons in the camps of Shu, nothing was saved.
When the news of the defeat of Shu reac
hed Lady Sun, and with it the rumor that the First Ruler had been killed in battle, she gave herself up to unutterable grief. She went down to the riverbank in her carriage and, gazing westward, wept and lamented. Then she threw herself into the stream and was drowned. A temple called the Shrine of the Bold Beauty was erected for posterity on the shore, and a poem was dedicated to her memory:
The king, defeated, fled, and rumor said he’d died;
His consort in deep grief committed suicide.
A stele stands by the stream even today
To tell all how heroic the lady had died.
Lu Xun had by then won a sweeping victory. Anxious to push his advantage as far as possible, he led his exultant army westward. But as he drew near Gui Pass he suddenly pulled up his horse, for he sensed an aura of death emanating from between the hills and the river.
“There must be an ambush,” he said and ordered the army to stop advancing.
So they retreated about a dozen li and formed a battle array in the wide open ground, bracing themselves against any sudden attack. Meanwhile, scouts were sent out to reconnoiter. They returned reporting no soldiers ahead. Lu Xun doubted their words and climbed an elevation from where he could survey the country. The aura was still visible to him and so he dispatched more scouts to investigate. But he received the same report: there was not a man nor a horse in front.
Still, as the sun was about to sink in the west he could see the air of death accentuated, and he felt gravely worried. Again he sent men to find out, this time his own confidants, who returned to say that there were only about a hundred heaps of boulders by the riverbank, but no soldiers nor horses.
The commander, greatly puzzled, called in several natives to ask them about the stones.
“Who put the stones in heaps there?” he asked. “Why is there an air of death arising?”
“This place is called Fishbelly Creek. Before Zhuge Liang went west into Shu he came here with a lot of soldiers and heaped up the boulders like that on the sandy shore. Since then vapor has often risen from inside the place.”
The Three Kingdoms, Volume 3: Welcome the Tiger: An Epic Chinese Tale of Loyalty and War in a Dynamic New Translation Page 14