Chapter Forty-One: Putting Knowledge into Practice (Part One)

Spring had arrived. People awoke from their winter slumber, the wild boars entered their rutting season, and all things began to grow. Once again, Feng Xiaobao made his way to Green Willow Manor to help hunt wild boars. This time, he came armed with experience: for those boars encased in their natural “armor,” he aimed to break their limbs; for those without such protection, he felled them with arrows to the head—safer that way. His efforts proved unstoppable; he brought down over a dozen wild boars, which were then smoked into cured meat, shared generously among friends and acquaintances.

He chuckled to himself—having leveled up, slaying minor foes was now child’s play.

Their businesses—pills and soap—continued to flourish. Though counterfeit products popped up in other places, their brand held exclusive sway in the twin capitals of Chang’an and Luoyang. After all, if the Princess and her circle of confidantes could not secure dominance in both capitals, then her title as Lady of the Empire would ring hollow indeed!

The market of those two cities alone ensured that Feng Xiaobao and the Princess grew wealthier by the day.

Yet Feng Xiaobao devoted little thought to his commercial ventures. Instead, he and his companions, Cheng Boxi and Yang Chengxian, were busy putting their studies to practical use. First, they took up work as caravan guards, living rough and wild for a time, repelling two bands of roadside brigands—though without bloodshed—and gaining invaluable experience in the wild.

Next, they enlisted with the government troops to participate in the campaign to eradicate the bandits of Xindu Mountain in Mianchi!

That year, a great scandal erupted among the bandit clans that plagued the road between Luoyang and Chang’an. It became a story known far and wide: a retired high official of the capital, traveling with his wealth and his newly acquired concubine, was waylaid on Xindu Mountain. The old official was found dead—without a drop of blood on his person, but dead nonetheless—his possessions and concubine plundered.

Such an incident was grave for the authorities, but equally so for the bandit world—it broke the code.

Even thieves had their rules; not all things could be done at whim. For one, it was best not to provoke the authorities—though the authorities, for their part, should respect the bandits. After all, the government held the machinery of violence, but bandits were not easily cowed, otherwise they would not dare rob officials. It was more a matter of avoiding trouble.

They were forbidden from robbing travelers of everything—at most, half. If they took it all, no one would travel the road, and the bandits would starve.

The bandits of Xindu Mountain had broken these taboos, provoking a harsh response from the authorities, who resolved to wipe them out.

The task fell to the Mianchi garrison: five hundred troops were dispatched, but the bandits proved formidable, soundly defeating the government forces, with over half the soldiers killed or wounded. The disgrace was profound; the garrison found itself in dire straits.

The dignity of the state could not be sullied. Official letters and private appeals sped back and forth, and the authorities scrambled to deploy reinforcements.

Among them, Deputy Commander Chen Anzhi of the Mianchi garrison wrote to his former superior, Yang Deqing, asking for aid. As it happened, Yang Deqing deemed Feng Xiaobao’s training ripe for real combat experience, and immediately resolved to send Feng Xiaobao, Yang Chengxian, Cheng Boxi, along with his trusted guards Yang Debiao and Yang Deyong—a thunderbolt of reinforcements to stamp out the Xindu Mountain bandits.

Before their departure, Yang Deqing gathered Feng Xiaobao, Yang Chengxian, and Cheng Boxi for counsel: “Soldiers are raised for a thousand days for use in a single moment. When you go into battle, remember—do not show off, do not act recklessly. Give your all, but work in concert. Above all, preserve your lives…”

“Yes, sir!” the three replied in unison.

Yang Deqing repeated his instructions at length, never tiring of the sound of his own voice. While he paused for tea, Yang Chengxian grumbled in a low voice, “He’s even more long-winded than my mother!” Then, with a touch of envy, he added, “He’s never said this much to me before. It’s always just a few words and then he tells me to get lost. So, which one of us is his real son—you or me?”

Feng Xiaobao was exasperated. “Nonsense! Say another word and when we get back, I’ll go after your little sister—get her pregnant, and then I’ll really be the son-in-law!”

Beside them, Cheng Boxi interjected, “My sister’s eighteen, loves playing with swords and spears, but she’s scared off all suitors. You should go after her!”

Such a way to sell out one’s own sister! Feng Xiaobao and Yang Chengxian rolled their eyes in unison.

Seeing their scornful looks, Cheng Boxi cried out in anguish, “My sister’s too strict! Come home late and I get scolded, any friends I make she wants to know all about. Even if I earn a little money, she takes it to save for my future bride! She’s been managing me my whole life!”

Poor soul! No wonder he was so upright—it was because his sister confiscated all his money!

Feng Xiaobao and Yang Chengxian couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Cheng Boxi’s words had the opposite effect—Feng Xiaobao shrewdly resolved never to get involved with the Cheng girl, lest he too end up under her thumb, unable to spend as he wished.

Yang Deqing then instructed Yang Debiao and Yang Deyong: “Your task in this campaign is to safeguard the three young masters—nothing else matters!”

For the five of them were joining the battle as private individuals; any merit would go to others, but their lives were their own. Survival was paramount—training, secondary.

Yang Debiao was the blade-master who had previously instructed Feng Xiaobao; Yang Deyong, too, was a master, skilled with the staff. Both were veteran infantrymen, hardened by many battles. With such bodyguards, Feng Xiaobao might not win every fight, but he could surely escape.

Both Yangs promptly acknowledged the order.

...

Feng Xiaobao packed his gear, and the Princess, noble as she was, insisted on preparing his kit herself, needing no help from others.

A long spear, a round shield, a bow and fifty arrows, a crescent-bladed saber, and a dagger—these were his weapons.

As they were attacking a mountain stronghold, not breaking a battlefield formation, there was no use for a cavalry lance.

He did not wear the Tang army’s bright armor; though it offered good protection, its dazzling gleam drew too much attention—fit for generals on the grand battlefield, but too conspicuous for small-scale skirmishes, making one a magnet for attack.

Instead, his armor was made of crocodile hide, covering his torso securely, with matching greaves, bracers, and helmet—both sturdy and light, granting agility on foot or horseback. Crafted by master artisans in Luoyang, its cost was steep, and it was rarely seen for sale, as crocodiles were not easily hunted—they ruled the waters!

The Princess had spent a small fortune to procure this armor for Feng Xiaobao, preparing it as soon as he began training under Yang Deqing.

Thus, the advantage of having a caring, capable elder sister far surpassed that of any young maiden!

Once armored, Feng Xiaobao looked even more robust, as imposing as one of the legendary Three Hundred Spartans.

The Princess patiently fastened his armor, whispering, “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry—I will.”

Then they stepped outside. At the gates, the Princess sternly commanded the ten household retainers, “Guard him well. If anything happens to him, don’t bother coming back alive!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Their families were effectively hostages in the Princess’s hands: if Feng Xiaobao achieved glory, they would share in his success; if he perished, they would have no choice but to die as well, lest their families suffer. Thus, they were bound to protect him with all their strength.

These ten retainers were all strong men, some with experience in battle, and responded with respectful affirmation.

Feng Xiaobao had many other “small items” for the campaign: belts, horse feed knives, pliers, locks, medicine pouch, salt pouch, flint, knot-hammer, whetstone, clothing, hats, blankets, food—everything essential for the road.

Each man had two horses: one to ride, one to carry his gear and supplies.

Feng Xiaobao enjoyed the privilege of mounting by stepping onto a retainer’s back, then bade farewell to the Princess and set off.

As she watched him leave, the corners of the Princess’s eyes grew moist. She murmured, “This parting may be forever. May you soar high and far, like the great roc upon the wind…”

He was no ordinary fish in a pond—the Princess felt it in her soul: the farther he ran, the more certain she was that she would lose him in the end.

...

After meeting up with Yang Chengxian and the others, they exchanged knowing smiles. All wore light leather armor and were accompanied by sturdy retainers—ready to fight or flee as needed.

They set out for Mianchi, and found themselves among many like-minded companions—sons of noble houses, wandering swordsmen from Luoyang—all bold and spirited, gathering at Mianchi.

The sons of noble families might seem illustrious, but only the eldest legitimate sons inherited titles, and even then, only if they were the firstborn. Those who received official posts by imperial grace were few, as positions were limited—and the patriarchs had many legitimate sons, even more illegitimate ones, all needing to find a way. Soldiering was one such path.

On the road, Cheng Boxi and Yang Chengxian encountered several old acquaintances, greeting them warmly. Among them were both scions of noble houses and wandering swordsmen. In the Tang dynasty, the spirit of the wandering knight was strong; even the Poet Sage Li Bai was one of their number, famed for his sword and chivalry. These knights prided themselves on keeping their word, risking their lives freely, valuing honor, and aiding the needy. Now that the authorities faced trouble, and were in the right, the wandering knights rallied to the cause!

Crowds surged into the eastern camp of the Mianchi garrison, where ten tables had been set up. Scribes beside each table registered “volunteers” eager to join the fight, drafting standardized contracts—simple and clear: volunteers provided their own food and lodging, their lives were their own responsibility, and the government held no liability. Payment was made for each bandit’s head brought in; the authorities would issue a certificate and a cash reward. Of course, the credit went to the government, and any promotions would go to the garrison—never the volunteers.

Though the terms were unequal, the bounty and the certificate were tempting enough: ten strings of cash per head.

Was that high or low?

By comparison, a high Tang official’s monthly salary at one time was eleven strings for a first-rank, nine for a second-rank. So, ten strings per head was no small sum.

The reward was set so high because the authorities wanted to cut through the mess quickly—the longer the farce dragged on, the more face they lost, so the bounty was drawn from the highest funds.

Merchants even sponsored the campaign—they wanted to make an example of the bandits and reopen the trade route as soon as possible.

With both fame and fortune on the line, volunteers flocked in droves. Feng Xiaobao and his friends signed the contract as well.

Yang Chengxian, his eyes glinting, urged the group to rest while he sought out his father’s old subordinate, Deputy Commander Chen Anzhi, to gather intelligence.

The camp was chaotic and teeming with all sorts. Feng Xiaobao and Cheng Boxi, both naturally a bit well-behaved, stayed quietly in place. Their innocent air marked them as easy targets.

Enter Tang Tianning, a burly, fearsome man from Chang’an, flanked by a gang of rough brothers from the underworld.

Such men might be flush with cash one day and penniless the next, living for pleasure and excess. When it came time for battle, half their number might still be in rags.

Spying two “goody-two-shoes” youngsters with a retinue, Tang Tianning could not resist—these were his favorite marks! Their followers looked sturdy enough, but Tang Tianning believed that “a weak leader makes for a weak troop”—he resolved to see what could be squeezed from them.

It was easy to provoke trouble. The gang jostled their way over, so that a rack of wine jars on a scrawny mule toppled, smashing four jars to the ground. The acrid stench of cheap wine filled the air, making everyone wrinkle their noses and give way.

Tang’s men surged forward, shouting, “Watch where you’re going!”

Yet it was clearly Tang’s men who had run into them, not the other way round.

Feng Xiaobao was speechless, sorely missing the one sure defense against such trickery—a dashcam!

“You broke our wine jars! This is the famous Peach Blossom Spring wine from Chang’an—one jar is worth a hundred strings!”

Nonsense—no one would take that swill even if you paid them!

Cheng Boxi’s face flushed—he’d never tasted such vile wine in his life.

“It’s obvious you bumped into us first! Is your wine really worth a hundred strings? Maybe your vinegar is worth that much—tell us the shop, and we’ll be sure to pay them a visit in Chang’an!”

The last jab drew laughter from the crowd.

Feng Xiaobao’s chief retainer, Kang Da, and Cheng Boxi’s headman, Hu Da, both seasoned and fearless, stepped forward to argue, undaunted by Tang’s bluster.

The dispute grew heated, and the onlookers stood by, uninterested in intervening. Even the officials simply glanced over and moved on.

The wandering swordsmen were headstrong, and the authorities preferred to avoid unnecessary trouble, letting them resolve matters themselves.

More gathered to watch, and Kang Da and Hu Da argued all the fiercer.

Tang Tianning sneered, “Whether you pay or not, you’ll pay today—four hundred strings. Not a copper less, or don’t expect to leave here alive!”

At his signal, his men drew their blades in unison, a menacing wave that drove the crowd back. Kang Da and Hu Da, at the front, felt the threat like needles against their skin.

“Well said!” Feng Xiaobao stepped forward, smiling coolly. “No need for all this talk. We’ll each send five men—let’s settle this on the stage, life and death—what do you say?”

At his words, the gangsters fell instantly silent.