Chapter Thirteen: Trading Heads for Grain

This spectacular and unusual battle began in haste and ended just as suddenly. Li Xiuning had not yet recovered from her shock before the fighting was already over.

Ma Sanbao stared in disbelief, frowning as he asked, "Why are the Western Qin troops so weak? Are they really just this rabble? Three thousand elite Western Qin soldiers, dealt with as easily as slicing melons—just like that?"

"It's not that the Western Qin soldiers are weak," Xue Wanche replied, his tone more objective. "It’s just that Commander Chen Ying is... is truly..."

He repeated the word "truly" three times, but still could not bring himself to say the word "despicable."

"Your subordinate comes to report."

Chen Ying, whose handsome face seemed almost too good to be true, wore a faint, elusive smile as he stepped before Princess Pingyang, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, the three thousand Western Qin soldiers have all been beheaded. Our casualties are thirty-seven dead, sixty-one wounded, and as for spoils… we haven’t had time to tally them yet..."

"Commander Chen, your victory is truly... truly brilliant!" Ma Sanbao did not care for Chen Ying’s ruthless methods.

He had just witnessed the Western Qin soldiers being slaughtered mercilessly—first beaten savagely, and even when some had clearly surrendered, the Jinyang militia paid no heed, swinging their weapons at vital points. Of the three thousand Western Qin soldiers, less than half had bodies that could still be recognized as human; most were either pulped or hacked beyond recognition.

Ma Sanbao mused, "But... Commander Chen, your methods are hardly honorable!"

He had thought Chen Ying would be angered by this, but instead Chen Ying simply chuckled and replied, "Doesn't matter if it’s a black cat or a white cat—as long as it catches mice, it’s a good cat. Likewise, whether it’s conspiracy or open strategy, any plan that wipes out the enemy is a good plan!"

"What a saying—black cat or white cat, as long as it catches mice, it’s a good cat!" Li Xiuning said. "Commander Chen, you have truly grasped the essence of the art of war..."

"I don’t know any art of war, honestly," Chen Ying replied. "It’s all just guesswork. I figured this out by myself since I was a child. You all saw how skinny and weak I was, always bullied. Especially that neighbor of mine..."

At this, Chen Ying recalled the chubby, round face of a certain person from his later life. Chen Changgen was a relation of his, a cousin within the fifth degree, but he was wicked. Whenever Chen Ying had a toy, Chen Changgen would snatch it; and when it came to fighting, he could thrash Chen Ying three times over.

"So I didn’t want to be bullied every day," Chen Ying continued. "I was always thinking about how to get back at them."

At this point, Ma Sanbao finally understood. Chen Ying’s ruthless streak had been cultivated since childhood—this man was a petty villain through and through, someone you should never cross, lest you meet your end without even knowing how.

But the same words, when heard by different people, had different effects. In Li Xiuning’s ears, she heard hints that Chen Ying’s upbringing had not been a happy one.

Her gaze toward Chen Ying softened.

Li Xiuning knew well that a person’s environment shapes their character. For Chen Ying to be so ruthless, he must have endured hardships unimaginable to most.

...

Outside the city, in front of the Western Qin army’s central tent, Xue Renguo—the Little Overlord of Western Qin—gazed at Jinyang City, his eyes blazing with fury.

Zong Luo Hou had fallen at this tiny city, and even Yao Damu had perished here. Though Yao Damu was born a Qiang slave, he possessed superhuman strength and the ferocity of a tiger. Though not the brightest, he had always been loyal to Xue Renguo, never wavering in his allegiance.

Now, both his left and right arms had been broken at Jinyang—how could he not be furious?

At that moment, the Western Qin general Pang Lei stepped forward. "My lord, our army has suffered a setback and morale is low. Perhaps we should temporarily halt the fighting and wait until our siege equipment is ready before attacking again."

Xue Renguo’s face twisted with menace. "What did you say?"

Pang Lei was instantly so terrified he nearly wet himself. "Your subordinate... Your subordinate!"

"You dare shake the army's resolve?" Xue Renguo said with disgust. "Men, drag him out and behead him!"

Two fierce guards seized the unfortunate Pang Lei and dragged him away without another word.

Struggling, Pang Lei pleaded for mercy. "Spare me, my lord! Spare me!"

"Behead him!"

A swift slash, and Pang Lei’s head tumbled to the ground.

The Western Qin officers exchanged glances, each silently vowing that even if it cost their lives, none would so much as mention a truce or ceasefire to Xue Renguo again.

Gradually, Xue Renguo calmed, a profound sense of helplessness welling up within him. Without siege equipment, even this tiny city of Jinyang had become an insurmountable barrier.

The Western Qin war drums thundered louder and louder, and the militiamen and Li Xiuning’s troops atop the city walls grew increasingly tense.

Watching the soldiers beside him trembling like leaves, Chen Ying strode forward and kicked one of them. "You cowardly bastard, what are you so nervous about?" he snapped. "The Western Qin army doesn’t have wings—they can’t fly up here. Even if they start making siege equipment now, it’ll be at least two hours. Cooks, get to work and prepare food! We’re having an extra meal today—once we’re full, we’ll get back out there and give them hell!"

"On the battlefield, swords and spears don’t care who they strike—you never know if you’ll survive," said a young militiaman, clutching his spear and puffing out his chest at Chen Ying. "I’m not afraid to die, but I’ve grown this big and never even tasted a woman..."

Laughter burst out all around.

A middle-aged militiaman with yellow teeth chimed in, "The widow Liu from Ninth Alley—she’s wild and insatiable, guaranteed to satisfy. Commander Chen says we’ve got two hours before the fight starts—go now, and you won’t miss a thing."

Chen Ying had heard plenty about Widow Liu, but never met her. She was the most renowned prostitute in Jinyang.

"Get lost, you rascal!" Chen Ying scolded with a laugh. "Don’t corrupt the youngsters. Looks like you’re the one itching for some release, eh?"

"So what if I am?" the old militiaman retorted. "As long as you give the word, Commander Chen, I’ll go see her right now."

In truth, with Chen Ying’s mix of kicks and jokes, both the Jinyang militia and the Tang soldiers relaxed considerably.

Ma Sanbao brought over a bowl heaped with millet, topped with two chunks of fatty horse meat. Ever since Princess Pingyang took command, she had never sought special treatment—she ate and slept alongside her troops.

Li Xiuning watched Chen Ying blend in so seamlessly with the soldiers, joking in the most vulgar terms, and felt a bit lost. She wasn’t sure which was the real Chen Ying.

Ma Sanbao exclaimed in surprise, "This Commander Chen really can chat with anyone—he doesn’t seem to have a serious bone in his body!"

"That’s not it," Li Xiuning countered. "Chen Ying may be young, but he’s a born commander!"

"A born commander?"

"Yes," Li Xiuning replied. "The benevolent do not command troops, and the righteous do not amass wealth—Chen Ying was born for war, a natural leader of men!"

Zhang Huaiwei stared solemnly at the city below. "It’s starting," he murmured.

Chen Ying gazed at the Western Qin camp, where at least forty or fifty makeshift ladders had been assembled, and was quietly astonished. He had just been about to count how many assault troops the Western Qin had.

"No need to count," Zhang Huaiwei said. "Two thousand at least, if not more."

Chen Ying smiled unconcernedly. "Brothers, watch closely—two thousand Western Qin soldiers. Don’t worry about me running out of food. Just bring me their heads and I’ll trade you for grain!"