Chapter Fifty-Three: The Initiative

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“Zhang Xiong has taken the county town? What are the casualties?”
The three units, following Wang Luo’s orders, continued eastward after Bai Erjin’s force was wiped out. They left the nearby hills and entered areas with a denser population.
Communication had not broken off. Each unit sent back regular reports, brought in small numbers of farmers willing to enlist, and requested the main camp to send more grain.
The captured county town was not large, nor did it have many Han troops. News had spread about the revolutionary army’s land distribution and strict discipline, so there was no mass flight among the people. After a brief, not particularly fierce battle, Zhang Xiong’s force entered the town and immediately began dividing the land.
“Commander Tie and Commander Lao Zhang met no resistance along their route either. Just as you ordered, General—wherever we went, after providing relief to the disaster victims, many flocked to us. The grain supplies are running low. Please allocate more as soon as possible.”
After the scouts finished their report, Wang Luo fell silent for a while.
This campaign’s purpose was to lure the enemy out and eliminate them.
If Charles was a spy, he would likely harbor resentment and pass on information; if there were other spies in the camp, similar scenarios could happen. Either way, the forces were now split. For the enemy, these troops were ripe targets.
The emptiness of the main camp was intentional—a deliberate vulnerability, a left-behind weakness. Wang Luo gathered the scout cavalry, and ambushed two elite units near the camp, waiting for the enemy to strike.
But after three days of deployment, despite the units purposely spreading out—sometimes even deliberately isolating themselves—the enemy did not attack again.
There was no trace of the enemy at the main camp either. News from Zhou Yingxiong, who had deliberately relaxed security, showed no sign of enemy raids.
The few remaining scouts had not encountered further attacks. The force of over a thousand men that had previously been defeated seemed to have vanished from the battlefield.
Instead, the units advancing east made smooth progress. The local populace seemed accustomed to the “revolutionary army” and no longer feared them.
Were it not for the contract holders’ inability to leave the battlefield, Wang Luo would be tempted to lead his troops eastward. There, without the main Han army, he could train soldiers, cultivate officials, spread ideology, build strength, and expand the ranks while the Han and Yellow Turbans battled—step by step, until he gained an advantage, then march nationwide.
But the development could not go as ideally as that. Wang Luo, and the other contract holders, could not go to the county town Zhang Xiong had seized.
Enough—no need to stir things up. Perhaps the enemy saw through the ambush, or maybe they had other plans... it didn’t matter.
“The grain is already on its way; it will arrive soon.”

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“Relay my orders: The main camp will send personnel to oversee land distribution and recruitment. Tell Zhang Shitou and Tie Zhu’s units not to advance further east; bring most of their forces back quickly. Leave a few soldiers in each village where land has been distributed—ones who understand our policies—to guard and recruit new troops. Order Zhang Xiong’s unit to keep moving forward, distributing land, recruiting, and spreading our policies wherever they go.”
“Yes, sir!” The scouts departed with their orders.
“Someone come here!” After they left, Wang Luo issued another command. “Notify all units: leave a few soldiers in each village to garrison, and have the rest return to camp!”
“Yes, sir!”
The soldiers departed. Wang Luo sat in his chair, unmoving for a long while.
Though he had crafted the plan and issued the orders himself, the news still gave him a sense of unreality—that he was changing history.
He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t personally oversee the land distribution in the newly occupied villages. How were they doing? Would there be mishaps? Disputes?
There wasn’t time! Perhaps a genius might master public speaking in an instant, but training competent propagandists could not be accomplished in days. Not only the outsiders—even among his own troops, those shouting slogans might not understand their meaning; they were just loud, nothing more.
No... don’t worry about these things, don’t waste energy on trivial matters.
Wang Luo shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. Otherwise, wasting energy would be minor; getting distracted would be disastrous.
What mattered most now? Combat! This was a battlefield—what else could matter but fighting?
Over these days, the small Han forces nearby had either fled or been cleared out. All that remained was... to seize the Han army camp at the river crossing?
But what if Han reinforcements arrived during the attack? Yang Wentian had said that after defeating one side’s main force too early, reinforcements were very likely to appear—a double increase in difficulty and reward. But... when would they come?
Seize the camp at the crossing, join forces with the Yellow Turban main force, absorb it, reorganize it. Gain full initiative on the battlefield, reap the greatest rewards, achieve the objective. But the enemy was not weak, and their capabilities were still largely unknown.
If they used some device, and as soon as we attacked the crossing, Han reinforcements entered the field, plus that strange blood rain... it could lead to total annihilation.
Even with such risks, it was still the most suitable and proactive course of action.

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Revolutionary army main camp, Charles’s tent.
“They’ve returned,” a voice said gleefully.
“Yes,” a listless voice replied.
“Looks like not only the enemy, but even your commander doesn’t trust you anymore, haha.”
Charles sat there without a word.
Rank looked at Charles inside the tent. These days, the former deputy commander of Wuzhou had lost all his former glory; his expression was as wilted as a frost-bitten eggplant.
The Yellow Turbans... before the revolutionary army set out, the enemy leader (to Rank, the one who destroyed his ally and hope, so he remembered clearly) had rebuked Charles, and Rank had laughed heartily at it.
There was not a good soul in Wuzhou. Even if his brothers died, they died in battle, and Rank would avenge them if he had the chance, but his hatred was not so deep. Yet Charles, who had surrendered, kept sending information to the Wuzhou team (as Gertini had told him), and that disgusted Rank.
A petty man is always a petty man—two-faced, treacherous, faithless, never understanding what honor means.
Unlike himself, who maintained his pride even in defeat and captivity.
This enemy was not harsh. After surrendering, they could still perform simple tasks, earning general points from other captives. They could also ask others to exchange food, medicine, and equipment for them.
Rank thought about this as he looked at the task he’d taken on: “Teach revolutionary army soldiers to recognize at least three thousand Han characters.”
Such tasks were done during soldiers’ rest, teaching batches at a time; even textbooks were assigned. Using the “Selected Works of Mao Zedong” to teach literacy? That wasn’t exactly suitable.
He needed to find those with ample spare time to complete it.
Yes, the soldiers’ families—the women—they had time.