Chapter Eight: Reversal

The personal guards surged forward with long halberds in hand, encircling the foot soldiers completely. The faces of those within turned ashen, their legs growing weak. Just moments ago, they had been inwardly sympathizing with Meng Yi, but how had disaster suddenly descended upon them instead?

“Why?” Nang Wa narrowed his eyes at Meng Yi. At this moment, to remain so calm and question him—there were few among all the court officials who could do the same.

“If you win, I’ll believe your words. If you lose, you and your men will be judged as spies.” Meng Yi understood that nothing could be changed now. He clasped his fists toward Peng Ji and the others. “Brothers, I never thought I’d bring harm upon you all.”

“Meng, don’t say that. Without your leadership, who knows if we’d have already died and rotted in the wild,” someone replied.

“That’s right. In this life, just to have learned to ride and shoot—it's worth it!”

Though they trembled with fear, the men forced smiles, turning instead to comfort Meng Yi.

Even Zhong Ying, who rarely spoke, said quietly, “It’s only death.”

“That’s right—it’s only death. Good brothers, I’ll go ahead.” Meng Yi laughed heartily, spurred his horse, and leapt into the arena.

The dying sun was like blood; the cold wind howled. The galloping warhorse raised its head and neighed, rearing suddenly, its front hooves striking at the air.

Meng Yi raised his longbow with his right arm, turned back and pointed at Bai Bing, shouting, “Come and fight!”

The surrounding soldiers felt a silent awe. Man and horse together evoked a tragic heroism of the battlefield. The army always revered heroes; if Bai Bing were inferior in skill, that was one thing, but to resort to such despicable tricks—though none dared to speak under such tyranny, contempt had already taken root in their hearts.

Bai Bing had been blinded by jealousy and acted rashly. Now, with his mind clear, he realized that after this affair, he would likely become the laughingstock of all.

Hesitating, he was startled by Meng Yi’s thunderous challenge, his spirit shaken, momentarily seized by Meng Yi’s imposing aura, and stood frozen.

It wasn’t until Nang Wa’s dissatisfied snort reached his ear that he snapped back to himself, hastily urging the driver to charge the chariot forth.

By the rules, neither side could leave the field; only bows and arrows were allowed.

Though the crowd admired Meng Yi’s courage, they knew the outcome was already set—this was not a contest, but a hunt.

Meng Yi did not simply wait for death. He urged his horse to circle the arena.

Bai Bing, after years on the battlefield, quickly collected himself, bow at the ready, eyes fixed on Meng Yi.

The war chariot gradually pressed closer. Bai Bing grinned viciously, raised his bow, and loosed an arrow. The twang of the bowstring sounded, but Meng Yi’s figure suddenly vanished.

The horse did not stop. Out of range, Meng Yi reappeared atop its back.

A gasp went up from the crowd; all were moved. Mo Cheng’s eyes flashed with hope, then dimmed—evade one arrow, but there would be another. Either way, it was death.

Even Bai Bing was startled by Meng Yi’s horsemanship, drawing another arrow and firing again and again.

Meng Yi rolled and tumbled atop his horse, at times even slipping beneath the horse’s belly, miraculously evading each shot.

The spectators were dazzled, unable to restrain themselves from whispering. Hope flickered in Peng Ji and the others—could it be that if Bai Bing ran out of arrows, Meng Yi would win?

Nang Wa’s anger only deepened; he ordered the drums to be beaten, their sound echoing through the field.

By then, the war chariot had pressed Meng Yi into a corner, greatly limiting his room to maneuver.

Spurred by the drums, Bai Bing steeled himself, drew several arrows at once, and fired them in rapid succession. This was his secret technique—one man, one bow, but firing a rain of arrows like blossoming flowers. Though less lethal, the broad coverage left almost no room to dodge.

Sure enough, a muffled grunt was heard. Meng Yi slumped over his horse’s back, motionless, his body swaying, the longbow in his hand drooping by his feet.

A hush fell over the arena, even the drums ceasing.

Mo Cheng, Peng Ji, and the others turned deathly pale. Although they’d known the outcome, they’d still clung to a shred of hope. Now, only despair remained.

Nang Wa nodded in satisfaction, signaling Dou Xin to join him in the command tent.

The one with the most complicated feelings was Bai Bing. Facing an opponent with an injured arm who could not draw a bow, he had nearly exhausted his own quiver before finally winning with his secret skill. He put away his bow, his spirits low, and signaled his driver to approach.

Suddenly, a change—Meng Yi abruptly lifted his head, twisted, and lay supine across his horse’s back. His right foot hooked the longbow, his right hand gripped an arrow, nocked it, and shot in a flash of lightning.

Bai Bing, wholly unprepared, took the arrow in his right shoulder, cried out, and toppled from his chariot.

Only a handful clearly saw what had happened.

Meng Yi had feigned injury to lure the chariot closer, then used his foot to steady the bow, his hand to draw, and shot Bai Bing unawares.

But where had the arrow come from? When Meng Yi had entered the arena with unyielding resolve, he’d carried no arrows. All had assumed he’d given up on life, but in retrospect, it was a calculated ruse—Bai Bing, unsuspecting, had let down his guard.

The conclusion: the arrow had come from one of Bai Bing’s own volleys.

The soldiers erupted in cheers. Most did not know how the reversal had occurred, but it did not stop them from expressing their admiration for Meng Yi.

Nang Wa’s face was dark as thunder as he watched Meng Yi sit upright on horseback, saluting from afar.

With his years in office, Nang Wa knew: the will of humble soldiers is weak and fragile, but united, it cannot be lightly provoked. This is why the wrath of the masses must not be ignored.

“Fools!” Nang Wa flung his sleeve and, without even entering the command tent, returned straight to his own camp.

The days that followed were much easier.

Bai Bing hid in his tent all day nursing his wound, and even once recovered, likely would not dare show his face.

By prior arrangement, Meng Yi was made a cavalryman. Dou Xin assigned him a company of one hundred mounted men and horses, with Peng Ji and the others included under his command.

This cavalry company was placed under Dou Xin’s direct leadership; no other officer in the army had authority over them.

Meng Yi spent his days drilling his men in riding and archery. Some armored chariot soldiers scorned the idea of becoming cavalry, but greatly admired Meng Yi’s marksmanship and found excuses to learn from him.

Meng Yi held nothing back, teaching whatever was asked. The camp was filled with a spirit of friendly competition.

In the command tent, Dou Xin and two deputies discussed matters. The Wu army’s camp showed no sign of change. Two groups of scouts had been sent south, but none had returned, likely fallen.

“Why not let me take a hundred chariots to charge the Wu camp and see what’s what?” Mo Cheng, now mostly recovered from his wounds, was eager.

“No, moving the main force requires written orders from Lord Magistrate or Lord Sima.”

“Then let Meng Yi’s cavalry probe the camp. Perhaps they’ll discover something.” Zhu Qu suggested this. Since Meng Yi’s extraordinary display, everyone’s expectations of him had risen greatly.

Dou Xin considered this. “The cavalry has only been formed a few days. Who knows how their training has gone?”

“I hear Meng Yi’s training methods are novel.”

“Oh? Let’s go see.”

Undecided, the three simply went to observe the cavalry camp themselves.

The cavalry camp was set apart from the main tents. When the three arrived, they were baffled by the lively scene before them. Some soldiers brushed horses, others fed them, and some even whispered softly into their manes. Not one was training.

Meng Yi hurried over to greet them. Dou Xin asked in surprise, “Didn’t we assign any grooms?”

“Cavalry doesn’t need grooms. I sent them all away.”

Seeing their confusion, Meng Yi calmly explained.

To use horses, one must first tame them. Though horses are intelligent, they are still beasts; to make them understand a rider’s intentions, one must foster a bond between man and horse. Frequent stroking, scratching their itches, providing water and feed, and personally grooming them—all these build affection and ultimately unity between horse and rider.

These principles opened Dou Xin and the others’ eyes, but their chief concern remained: when would this cavalry be ready for battle? No one expected them to reach Meng Yi’s level, but—

“Three months’ training and they’ll barely be fit for the field. To become a truly victorious force would take at least three years. And of these hundred horses, less than half are really suitable for cavalry—the rest are draft animals for chariots and supply wagons.”

So it was— the three exchanged wry smiles, realizing their earlier hopes had been overly optimistic.

Seeing their disappointment, Meng Yi inquired about the situation. Learning he was needed for a scouting mission, he thought a moment and said, “If I can choose fifty men and have fifty scouts assigned to me, it could be done.”

“You’ll get only thirty scouts. Set out tomorrow!”