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Sun Jian’s small army encountered its first Yellow Turban contingent
before a rendezvous with Zhu Jun could be achieved: the Turbans outnumbered
them by at least three-to-one, but the majority of their infantry was
poorly-trained and driven solely by frustration. Their leader, Liu Pi, had
heard of Sun Jian and was making an attempt to turn the new force back with a
show of strength before it could threaten the Yellow Turban efforts in northern
Runan.
“Blimey,” Zu Mao exclaimed as he observed the peasant army. “S’all sorts
amongst that lot. Do we have a plan?”
“They’ve commandeered that village over there as a base,” Cheng Pu said
as he pointed northward. “The people don’t seem to be too happy about it, which
is a good thing of course. Our main aim is to push them away from us and
simultaneously rescue those poor people.”
“We’ll split our forces, then,” Sun Jian decided. “Huang Gai, Han Dang:
you’ll take half of the men and make a show of strength here, while Cheng Pu,
Zu Mao and I go and-”
“Ayah! You’re off already!” Wu Jing cried. “Send your officers to the
village and hold here! Swap the orders! You can’t-!”
“I’m not going to let the enemy retreat to the village,” Sun Jian said.
“I’m the commander, and that will reassure the-”
“Ayah! Fool! Reckless,
death-seeking fool!” Wu Jing sobbed.
“My sister will-!”
“Forgive me, Brother-in-law, but… I order you to say no more,” Sun Jian
said sternly. “I’m going, and that’s that. Cheng Pu, Zu Mao: let’s prepare.”
Huang Gai and Han Dang followed their own orders and led a small group
forward to distract the Yellow Turbans while their leader readied his team.
“What’s the matter with these southern men?” the
Yellow Turban officer Liu Pi wondered as he watched Huang Gai and Han Dang’s
battle with his front-line infantry.
“I was hoping they’d come across the river
to join us… not fight us! Why would they love the empire so much?”
Liu Pi’s subordinates were uncomfortably silent.
“They’re good,” Liu Pi noted. “You see it too: why couldn’t they be on
our side???”
Liu Pi’s subordinates remained silent; Huang Gai and Han Dang’s small
militia was carving through the infantry with painful ease, and defeat was a
definite possibility.
“…I need to rally them,” Liu Pi murmured. After a few moments of
thought, he decided to use the infamous sixteen-word mantra that had been
passed down by the founder of the ‘Way of Peace’, Zhang Jue: that small yet
memorable statement had been the instrument of recruitment for the sect, and it
might, Liu Pi mused, be the saviour of the day.
“…Han’s mandate has passed!”
Liu Pi screamed. His subordinates knew the words as well as they knew the backs
of their hands, and they immediately joined in with Liu Pi’s recital.
“Yellow Sky, soon here!” a
larger group of Yellow Turbans bellowed.
“What the-!” Han Dang exclaimed.
“In this renewing year:
prosperous all, at last!”
The words were being carried across the ranks of the Yellow Turbans with
alarming speed, and they seemed to be doing the desired job of restoring their
resolve and making them act as one. The effect on Sun Jian’s forces was the
exact opposite: the sight of thousands of people uttering the same words as a
toneless, synchronised drone was disconcerting and demoralising.