Chapter Seven: The Archery Contest

Meng Di sat upright in the tent, smiling as he listened to Peng Ji and the others recount their journey with excitement. Only now did everyone realize that Mo Cheng was also a general commanding a hundred chariots—at last, they had found someone to rely on.

"From now on, address him as General Mo. Stop calling him just Mo Cheng, understand?" Peng Ji was clearly displeased with everyone’s casual manner.

The others were already counting on their fingers how much reward they might receive. Even Gan Ying, usually quiet and reserved, was cheerfully calculating whether he could finally shed his craftsman status.

"Meng, do you think they’ll grant you a title?" Li, grinning, leaned in. "Your achievements this time are certainly no small matter."

"A title?" Meng Di remained silent, gently stroking his bandaged left arm. He had offended Bai Bing as soon as he entered the camp; if he escaped punishment, it would be a stroke of luck. Did they not see the squad of guards outside, eyeing him warily?

It was only then that everyone noticed Meng Di was injured and hurried to crowd around, asking what had happened. As they spoke, a soldier entered, notifying Meng Di to step outside for an archery contest.

"An archery contest!" Everyone was stunned. Wasn’t he here to be rewarded?

"Meng’s injured—how can he compete?"

"Who’s he competing against?"

"General Bai Bing."

Meng Di touched his nose, his face bearing a wry smile—so it had come to this, after all.

When he arrived at the field, the generals had all gathered. The military revered strength, and loved games of skill; though the soldiers stood solemnly around, their eyes betrayed their excitement.

Mo Cheng, supported by others, came forward and immediately noticed the cloth wrapped around Meng Di’s left arm. He knew nothing of Meng Di’s confrontation with Bai Bing; the matter had been put under a strict gag order in the army.

"How did you get injured?"

Meng Di smiled faintly. "It’s nothing."

He came before Dou Xin, who glanced at Meng Di’s left arm and frowned, saying, "Meng Di, General Bai wishes to test your skill with the bow. If you win, you shall be made an armored warrior and command a chariot. What say you?"

Following Dou Xin’s gaze, Meng Di saw Bai Bing already standing fully armed atop his war chariot. Since this was an archery contest, they would use a light chariot drawn by two horses; aside from Bai Bing, only a driver was present.

An armored warrior, a chariot commander—this was true nobility. The apprentices were wild with excitement; Peng Ji’s envy was plain to see, oblivious to the mocking looks of the seasoned soldiers nearby.

Dou Xin continued, "General Bai’s archery was taught by the renowned Yang Youji—none in the army can match it. If you deem yourself unworthy, you may concede now."

Mo Cheng spoke up, "Sir, Meng’s arm is injured. Might the contest wait until he recovers?"

"Is it truly an injury, or is he afraid to compete? Mo Cheng, didn’t you just praise him to the skies? Why grow timid now?"

Dou Xin’s eyes sought Meng Di’s answer.

"Sir Dou, I am willing to compete with General Bai, but may I propose a change to the terms?"

"Oh? What change would you suggest?"

Mocking laughter sounded from the side. "You don’t know your place, do you? Looks like you haven’t grasped the situation at all—do you actually hope to win?"

The generals shook their heads and sighed.

Meng Di was unmoved, calmly declaring, "If I am fortunate enough to win, I wish to serve as a cavalryman."

"Cavalry? So your ambition is to be a scout? Very well. The chariot and driver are ready—board the chariot at once."

"Sir, since I wish to be a cavalryman, the contest should be on horseback, not by chariot."

At these words, a commotion broke out.

In this era, especially in the southern regions like Chu and Wu, cavalry were mere auxiliaries—a single chariot could best ten mounted soldiers. The main reason was the lack of saddles and stirrups; ordinary riders could not shoot from horseback, so scouts carried short bows and had to halt their mounts to fire.

Peng Ji and the others had already heard from Xiao Wu and Xiao Liu that Meng Di could shoot from horseback, so they were not surprised. Yet, hearing the murmurs about Bai Bing’s exceptional archery and seeing Meng Di wounded, their worry grew.

Ten targets had been set up on the field. According to custom, the contestants’ chariots would race from one end to the other, and they had to shoot ten arrows while in motion. Whoever hit the most bullseyes would win.

Bai Bing, confident in his strength, had placed the targets a hundred paces away. At such a distance, striking the target while moving was difficult; standing still, it would still require a master’s skill.

At the signal, the two-horse chariot shot forward. The driver was impartial, giving Bai Bing no time to aim as the chariot sped past.

Bai Bing stood tall and unhurried, drawing arrows from his quiver and loosing them with fluid movements, as natural as flowing water.

Arrows flew relentlessly; in the blink of an eye, the chariot halted. All eyes focused on the targets—every arrow had struck. Soon, a soldier reported: all ten arrows had hit the bullseye.

The field erupted in cheers. Dou Xin stroked his beard, smiled, and nodded. "Truly a peerless archer."

Bai Bing returned in triumph, casting Meng Di a sidelong glance and sneering, "Well?"

"General Bai’s archery is superb."

Bai Bing laughed heartily. "Concede now and obediently remain an apprentice. I’ll be generous and won’t hold it against you."

Meng Di said nothing more, gently squeezed his horse’s flanks, and his mount sprang forward.

The targets had been replaced. Meng Di, left hand holding the bow, drew four arrows with his right hand and shot them in rapid succession. He repeated this with another four, not pausing for an instant.

The last two arrows he held but did not shoot, for reasons unknown. When the horse was almost out of bounds, he suddenly leaned across its back and fired in quick succession.

The crowd looked at the targets—there were no arrows in them. Had he missed entirely? After a stunned silence, jeers came in waves. The apprentices lowered their heads, ashamed in the face of such scorn.

Dou Xin looked at Mo Cheng in surprise.

Only Meng Di remained composed, gazing calmly at the field.

After a moment, a soldier reported, "There are no arrows in the targets. However…"

"However what?"

"Each bullseye has a hole," the soldier replied hesitantly.

Everyone quieted. What did that mean? Had the arrows pierced through the half-finger-thick wooden targets?

"Impossible!" Bai Bing was the first to shout, others echoing him. How could anyone shoot through wooden boards from a hundred paces?

"Bring the targets here."

"Yes, sir."

The targets were brought forth; each bullseye bore a hole. The crowd’s gaze toward Meng Di changed completely.

Meng Di wore a bitter smile; in truth, he suffered in silence. When shooting the last two arrows, his left arm’s wound reopened, nearly causing him to drop the bow. He had to brace the bow with his body to fire, barely managing not to fail.

Only Mo Cheng noticed Meng Di’s sweat-soaked brow and the blood seeping through his arm bandage. He hurried over, asking, "Your wound reopened?"

"Yes."

"Quick, let’s get it bandaged."

Just then, as everyone was still stunned, a trumpet sounded. A soldier came to report: "The Chancellor has arrived."

"Open the gates at once! Generals, follow me to receive him," Dou Xin commanded, shaken from his reverie.

Though he had reprimanded Dou Xin, Nang Wa knew that Dou Xin’s three hundred chariots, positioned at the Huai River’s edge, were pivotal to the campaign. So he came in person to supervise.

A dozen war chariots entered the camp in procession. Dou Xin and the others were waiting at the gate and hurried to accompany them. The group headed straight for the central command tent, but seeing the lively scene along the way, Nang Wa summoned Dou Xin to inquire about the cause.

"This is the apprentice who reported the Wu army’s advance?" Nang Wa sat upright in his chariot, speaking slowly.

Dou Xin quickly brought Meng Di forward to pay respects.

"Weren’t they just competing in archery? Who won?"

"Chancellor, we both hit the bullseye, and the match was a draw," Bai Bing stepped forward to answer.

Many quietly grumbled, but had to admit that, by the rules, it was indeed a tie.

"Oh? To think an apprentice could match the archery of General Bai Bing, who leads all three armies?" Nang Wa squinted, his tone inscrutable.

"Chancellor, the targets are lifeless objects. Since the contest was inconclusive, I am willing to fight this man in person!" Bai Bing bit his lip and declared loudly.

The crowd was thrown into chaos. Everyone could see Meng Di’s left arm was soaked in blood, making it impossible for him to wield a bow.

Nang Wa nodded slightly. "Agreed."

Mo Cheng hurried forward, "Chancellor, Meng’s wound has reopened—he cannot draw a bow. This contest is unfair!"

"Mm? Insolence! Mo Cheng, even your father would not dare speak to me thus. Do you presume I will not punish you?"

Dou Xin quickly pulled Mo Cheng back—Nang Wa held the power of life and death; to incur his wrath was to invite ruin.

Zi Chang signaled for the group to proceed to the contest field. Dou Xin followed reluctantly, ordering that arrows without heads be brought.

Nang Wa snorted, "No—use real arrows, real weapons."

This was tantamount to sentencing Meng Di to death. Dou Xin now understood: Nang Wa intended to make an example, a warning to himself.

Dou Xin struggled to restrain Mo Cheng, sighing deeply—such skill, wasted.

Meng Di stood at the edge of the field and bowed, "I accept defeat."

"Accept defeat? It will not be so simple. Whether you flee or lose, all apprentices will be put to death."