Chapter Fifty-eight: Pacifying Yingchuan

Not long after, a cold voice echoed across the field: “From the command of Liu Yao, Governor of Youzhou—Huang Zhong, styled Han Sheng, has waited long enough. Bo Cai, prepare to meet your fate!”

Poor Bo Cai, who had only just begun to feel relief, found his heart seized with terror once more at this thunderous shout. Turning toward the direction of the voice, he saw two mighty generals leading five thousand soldiers surge forth from the woods.

The sight broke Bo Cai’s courage. Those two were none other than Huang Zhong and Gao Shun, along with the elite five thousand of Liu Yao’s Formation Breakers.

“Retreat! Quick, retreat!” Bo Cai cried out in panic. He scrambled onto his horse and fled without a backward glance. Only now did he realize something was amiss. The attack on the Yellow Turban camp had come only from Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun’s armies; not a single one of Liu Yao’s crack troops had appeared—because they had lain in wait here for him.

“Ow!” Peng Tuo, seeing Bo Cai bolt, tried to rise and follow, but as he stood, his legs gave way and he collapsed. Anyone who has traveled dozens of miles and then sat to rest knows the feeling: when you try to stand again, your limbs are numb and powerless.

Such was Peng Tuo’s plight now—his whole body weak, unable even to muster the strength to crawl. The remaining Yellow Turbans fared little better; fewer than ten thousand managed to escape with Bo Cai, and these were the most resilient among them, able to push through the aches and keep moving.

“Brother Bo Cai, don’t leave me behind!” Peng Tuo cried after Bo Cai’s receding figure, his voice plaintive.

Bo Cai heard him, but paid no heed. He had no intention of risking his life for Peng Tuo; he had only brought him along for the influence of the Yellow Turban forces in Runan. Now that Runan was no longer an option, Peng Tuo’s life was worthless to him. He would not spare a thought for Peng Tuo’s fate; indeed, their relationship had never been close—Bo Cai would rather see Peng Tuo dead.

Huang Zhong watched Bo Cai and the remaining Yellow Turbans flee, sneering but making no effort to pursue them. After all, two ferocious men awaited them ahead. Though Huang Zhong and Gao Shun could easily annihilate the fugitives, they would not claim all the credit for themselves. Capturing Peng Tuo here was enough; Bo Cai could be left to Zhang Fei and his men.

Turning to the powerless Yellow Turban soldiers before him, Huang Zhong roared with disdain, “Those who surrender will not be killed!”

Instantly, the Yellow Turbans threw down their weapons without hesitation and became prisoners. Gao Shun ordered his Formation Breakers to guard them carefully, lest any mishap occur.

Huang Zhong rode up to Peng Tuo, his great blade resting on Peng Tuo’s neck.

“Please don’t kill me, General! Spare my humble life!” Peng Tuo pleaded, groveling before Huang Zhong.

Huang Zhong frowned, disgusted by such spinelessness, and snorted, “To kill a wretch like you would only sully my precious blade.” He waved his hand. “Two men—bind him and take him back for the lord’s judgment.”

At once, two Formation Breakers soldiers appeared, swiftly tying Peng Tuo up tight.

Peng Tuo, his life spared, continued to shout, “Thank you, General, for not killing me! Thank you, General, for your mercy!”

Huang Zhong’s distaste only deepened at this display. “Take him away,” he ordered, then gazed toward Guangzong in Ji Province.

Meanwhile, Bo Cai, after fleeing, ran for dozens of miles, not stopping until his exhausted Yellow Turban soldiers could go no further.

Looking behind him once again and seeing no pursuers, Bo Cai finally relaxed.

A junior officer approached, concern in his voice. “Commander, where should we go now? We can’t return to Runan, and Longshe is even more impossible.”

Bo Cai frowned. “We have nowhere else to go. Our only hope is to join up with the Great Immortal Lang Shi at Guangzong; there, perhaps we might survive.”

“But…” The young officer hesitated, then continued, “But Commander, if Liu Yao could set an ambush in Runan, might he have troops lying in wait on the road to Guangzong as well?” He was, in truth, quite astute.

“Nonsense!” Bo Cai erupted in anger. “How could Liu Yao possibly know everything in advance? Do you think he’s a god?”

The officer shrank back, silenced.

“Humph.” Bo Cai snorted, then commanded, “Everyone, follow me toward Guangzong. If we can reach Guangzong, there’s hope for survival. Stay behind, and it’s certain death.” With that, he spurred his horse forward.

The remaining Yellow Turban soldiers, driven by a powerful will to live, found new strength, forgetting their aches and pains as they rushed after Bo Cai.

But after traveling barely ten miles, Bo Cai and his men were confronted by a scene of utter despair. Ahead stood Zhao Yun and Zhang Fei, mounted and imposing, leading five thousand well-rested and battle-ready Assault Troops. Bo Cai stopped in his tracks, muttering in disbelief, “Impossible… How could Liu Yao have foreseen it all?”

“Ha ha ha! Zilong, Bo Cai really has come—our lord truly has the mind of a sage,” Zhang Fei laughed heartily, surveying Bo Cai and his followers.

“Indeed. It seems the credit this time will fall to us,” Zhao Yun agreed, nodding.

Zhang Fei stared fiercely at the Yellow Turbans and shouted, “Our lord commands that those who surrender shall be spared!”

His thunderous voice rang clear in every Yellow Turban’s ears. At once, they threw down their weapons and fell to the ground, surrendering.

In truth, seeing the five thousand Assault Troops, the Yellow Turbans had already lost all will to fight. Worn out and powerless, how could they contend with this crack force, so well-rested and armed to the teeth, famed for routing tens of thousands? Their only thought now was survival, and the promise of mercy made their decision easy.

“You…” Bo Cai was furious—even his most loyal guards abandoned him, casting down their weapons in surrender.

Zhang Fei, pleased with the scene, mocked, “Bo Cai, will you surrender quietly, or must I pierce you full of holes with my spear?”

“You…” Bo Cai raged. Once, he had commanded over a hundred thousand Yellow Turbans—now, a tiger brought low, humiliated by lesser men. Of course, he saw himself as the tiger and Zhang Fei the dog, though the truth was quite the opposite.

“Zhang Fei, how dare you insult me so! I will fight you to the death!” With that, he charged at Zhang Fei.

Zhang Fei scarcely glanced at him. Turning to Zhao Yun, he said generously, “Zilong, last time I slew a great Yellow Turban general. This time, I’ll leave Bo Cai to you.”

Zhao Yun was surprised by Zhang Fei’s magnanimity, but did not hesitate. Credit was to be earned. “Yide, I owe you for this—next time, I’ll treat you to wine.” With a sharp whistle, his Jade Lion steed surged toward Bo Cai.