# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 90

CHAPTER XC.
Wild Beasts as Warriors; K‘ung-ming‘s Sixth Victory; Burning of the Rattan Army; Seventh Capture of the King.
All the prisoners were released; and Yang Fêng and his sons were rewarded with ranks, and his men were given presents. They expressed their gratitude and returned to their own, while Mênghuo and his hastened home to Silver-pit Ravine.
Outside this ravine were three rivers, the Lu, the Kannan Shui, or Sweet South Water, and the Hsich'êng Shui, or West Water. These three streams united to form one river which was called the Sanchiang, or Three Rivers. Close to the ravine on the north was a wide and fruitful plain; on the west were salt wells. The Lu River flowed about two hundred li to the south-west, and due south was a valley called the Liangtu Ravine. There were hills in, as well as surrounding, the ravine, and in these they found silver; whence the name “Silver Pit.”
A palace had been built in the ravine, which the Man kings had made their stronghold, and there was an ancestral temple, which they called Chia-kuei, or Family Devil, where they solemnised sacrifices of bulls and horses at the four seasons. They called these sacrifices “Enquiring of the Demons.” Human sacrifices were offered also, men of Shu or men of their own people belonging to other villages. Sick persons swallowed no drugs, but prayed to a chief sorcerer, called Drug Demon. There was no legal code, the only punishment for every transgression being death.
When girls are grown and become women they bathe in a stream. Men and women are kept separate, and they marry whom they will, the parents having no control in that particular. They call this hsüeh-i (Learning the Trade). In good seasons the country produces grain, but if the harvest fails they make soup out of serpents and eat boiled elephant flesh. All over the country the head of the family of greatest local consideration is termed “Lord of the Ravine,” and the next in importance is called a “Notable.” A market is held in the city of Sanchiang, or Three Rivers, on the first day of every moon, and another on the fifteenth; goods are brought in and bartered.
​In his own ravine Mênghuo gathered his family and clan to the number of a thousand or more and addressed them: “I have been put to shame by the men of Shu many times, and I have sworn to take revenge for the insults. Has anyone any proposal to make?”
Thereupon a certain one replied, saying, “I can produce a man able to defeat Chuko Liang.”
The assembly turned to the speaker, who was a brother of. Mênghuo’s wife. He was the head of eight tribes of barbarians, and was named Tailai. He was a chief.
“Who is the man?” asked Mênghuo.
Chief Tailai replied, “He is Mulu, Prince and Lord of the Pana Ravine. He is a master of witchcraft who can call up the wind and invoke the rain. He rides upon an elephant and is attended by tigers, leopards, wolves, venomous snakes and scorpions. Beside, he has under his hand three legions of superhuman soldiers. He is very bold. O King, write him a letter and send him presents, which I will deliver. If he will consent to lend his aid, what fear have we of Shu?”
Mênghuo was pleased with the scheme and ordered the “State Uncle” to draft a letter. Then he ordered Tossŭ to defend Sanchiang and make the first line of defence.
K‘ung-ming led his men near Sanchiang. Taking a survey of the country, he noted that the city could be reached by a bank on one face, so he sent Wei Yen and Chao Yün to march along the road and attack. But when they reached the rampart they found it well defended by bows and crossbows.
The men of the city were adepts in the use of the bow, and they had one sort which discharged ten arrows at once. Furthermore, the arrows were poisoned, and a wound meant certain death. The two captains saw that they could not succeed, and so retired.
When K‘ung-ming heard of the poisoned arrows, he mounted his light chariot and went to see for himself. Having regarded the defences, he returned to his camp and ordered a retirement of ten li. This move delighted the Mans, who congratulated each other on their success in driving off the besiegers, who, as they concluded, had been frightened away. So they gave themselves up to rejoicing and kept no watch. Nor did they even send out scouts.
The army of Shu made a strong camp in their new halting place and closed the gates for defence. For five days they gave no sign. One evening, just at sunset, a slight breeze began to blow. Then K‘ung-ming issued an order that every man should provide himself with a coat by the first watch. If any one lacked he would be put to death. None of the captains knew what was in the wind, but the order was obeyed. Next, each man was ordered to fill his coat with earth. This order appeared equally strange, but it was carried out. When all ​were ready, the men were told to carry the earth to the foot of the city wall, and the first arrivals would be rewarded. So they ran with all speed with the dry earth and reached the wall. Then with the earth they were ordered to make a raised way, and the first man on the wall was promised a reward.
The whole of the ten legions of Shu, and their native allies, having thrown their burdens of earth near the wall, then quickly rushed up the incline, and with one great shout were on the wall. The archers on the wall were seized and dragged down; those who got clear ran away into the city. Tossŭ was slain in the mêlée that followed on this attack. The men of Shu moved through the city slaying all they met. Thus was the city captured and with it great booty of jewels, which were made over to the army as a reward for their prowess.
The few soldiers who escaped went away and told the king what had happened. He was much distressed. Before he had recovered they told him that the men of Shu had come over and were encamped at the mouth of his own ravine.
Just as he was in the very depths of distress, a laugh came from behind the screen, and a woman appeared, saying, “Though you are brave, how stupid you are! I am only a woman, but I want to go out and fight.”
The woman was his wife, Chujung. Her family had lived long among the Mans, but she was a descendant of the Chujung family. She was expert in the use of the flying sword and never missed her aim.
Mênghuo rose and bowed to her. The woman thereupon mounted a horse and forthwith marched out at the head of many captains, leading five legions of men of the ravines, and set out to drive off the men of Shu.
Just as the host got clear of the ravine it was stopped by a cohort led by Chang I. At once the Mans deployed, and the woman leader armed herself with five swords such as she used. In one hand she held an eighteen-foot signal staff, and she sat a curly-haired, reddish horse.
Chang I was secretly troubled at the sight before him, but he engaged the amazon. After a few passes the lady turned her steed and bolted. Chang I went after her, but a sword came flying through the air directly at him. He tried to fend off with one hand, but it wounded his arm, and he fell to the ground. The Mans gave a loud shout; some of them pounced on the unlucky leader and made him prisoner.
Then Ma Chung, hearing his comrade had been taken, rushed out to rescue, but only to be surrounded. He saw the amazon holding up her staff and made a dash forward, but just then his steed went down under him, and he was also a prisoner.
Both captains were taken into the ravine and led before the king. He gave a banquet in honour of his wife’s success, ​and during the feast the lady bade the lictors put the two prisoners to death. They hustled the two captains in and were just going to carry out their orders when Mênghuo checked them.
“No; five times has Chuko Liang set me at liberty. It would be unjust to put these to death. Confine them till we have taken their chief; then we may execute them.”
His wife was merry with wine and did not object. So their lives were spared.
The defeated soldiers returned to their camp. K‘ung-ming took steps to retrieve the mishap by sending for Ma Tai, Chao Yün and Wei Yen, to each of whom he gave special and private orders.
Next day the Man soldiers reported to the king that Chao Yün was offering a challenge. The amazon forthwith mounted and rode out to battle. She engaged Chao Yün, who soon fled. The lady was too prudent to risk pursuit, and rode home. Then Wei Yen repeated the challenge; he also fled as if defeated. But again the lady declined to pursue. Next day Chao Yün repeated his challenge and ran away as before. The amazon signalled no pursuit. But at this Wei Yen rode up and opened a volley of abuse and obloquy. This proved too much, and she gave the signal to go after him and led the way. Wei Yen increased his pace, and the amazon doubled hers, and she and her followers pressed into a narrow road along a valley. Suddenly behind her was heard a noise, and Wei Yen, turning his head, saw the lady tumble out of her saddle.
She had rushed into an ambush prepared by Ma Tai; her horse had been tripped up by ropes. She was captured, bound and carried off to the Shu camp. Some Some of her people endeavoured to rescue her, but they were driven off.
K‘ung-ming seated himself in his tent to see his prisoner, and the amazon was led up. He bade them remove her bonds, and she was conducted to another tent, where wine was laid before her. Then a message was sent to Mênghuo to say that she would be exchanged for the two captive leaders. The king agreed, and they were set free. As soon as they arrived, the lady was escorted by K‘ung-ming himself to the mouth of the ravine, where Menghuo welcomed her half gladly, half angrily.
Then they told Mênghuo of the coming of the Lord of the Pana Ravine, and he went out to meet him. He rode up on his white elephant, dressed in silks, and with many gold and pearl ornaments. He wore a double sword at his belt, and he was followed by the motley pack of fighting animals that he fed, gambolling and dancing about him.
Mênghuo made him a lowly obeisance and then poured out his tale of woes. Mulu promised to avenge his wrongs and was led off to a banquet which had been prepared.
​Next day the deliverer went out to battle, with his pack of wild creatures in his train. Chao Yün and his colleague quickly made their array of footmen and then took their station in front side by side and studied their opponents. The Man banners and weapons were all extraordinary. Most of the men wore no armour and none wore any clothing. Their faces were ugly. They carried four sharp pointed knives in their belts. Signals were not given by drum or trumpet, but by a gong.
King Mulu had two swords in his belt and carried a hand bell. He urged his white elephant forward and emerged from between his flags.
“We have spent all our life in the army, but we have never seen the like of that before,” said Chao Yün.
As they talked to one another they noticed that the opposing leader was mumbling something that might be a spell or a curse, and from time to time he rang his bell. Then suddenly the wind got up, stones began to roll and sand to fly, and there was a sound as of a heavy shower of rain. Next a horn rang out, and thereupon the tigers and the leopards, and the wolves and the serpents, and all the other wild beasts came down on the wind snapping and clawing. How could the men stand such a thing as that? So they retreated, and the Mans came after them fiercely, chasing their enemies as far as the city.
Chao and Wei mustered their defeated men and went to their leader to confess their failure. The chief, however, was neither angry nor dejected.
“The fault is not yours,” he said. “Long ago, when I was still in my forest hut, I knew the Mans possessed certain powers over beasts, and I provided against this adventure before we left Shu. You will find a score of small sealed carts in the baggage train. We will use half of them now.”
He bade his staff bring forward ten of the red box-carts. They all wondered what would happen. Then the carts were opened, and they turned out to be carved and coloured models of huge wild beasts, with coats of worsted, teeth and claws of steel; each could accommodate half a score of men. Choosing a sufficient number of seasoned warriors, he told off ten companies and bade each company stuff the mouths of the beasts full of inflammables.
Next day the army of Shu marched out to the attack and were arrayed at the entrance to the ravine. The Man soldiers went into the ravine and told their lord. Mulu, thinking himself perfectly invincible, did not hesitate, but marched out, taking Menghuo with him. K‘ung-ming, dressed in the simple robe of a Taoist, went out in his light chariot. In his hand he held a feather fan. Mênghuo, who recognised his enemy, pointed him out to Mulu.
​“That is Chuko Liang in that small chariot. If we can only capture him, our task is done.”
Then Mulu began to mutter his spells and to ring his bell. As before, the wind got up and blew with violence, and the wild beasts came on.
But at a wave of the simple feather fan, lo! the wind turned and blew the other way. Then from out of the host of Shu there burst the wonderful wild beasts. The real wild beasts of the Mans saw rushing down upon them huge creatures, whose mouths vomited flames and whose nostrils breathed out black smoke. They came along with jingling bells, snapping and clawing, and the real beasts turned tail and fled in among the men of their own side, trampling them down as they sped. K‘ung-ming gave the signal for a general onset, and his men rushed forward with beating drums and blaring trumpets. Mulu was killed. Mênghuo’s whole clan fled in panic and tore up among the hills out of the way. And thus the Silver Pit Ravine was taken.
Next day, as K‘ung-ming was telling off parties to search for and capture the king, it was announced that the brotherin-law of Mênghuo and Chief Tailai, having vainly tried to persuade the king to yield, had made prisoners of him and his wife and all his clan and were bringing them to K‘ung-ming.
Hearing this, Chang I and Ma Chung were called and received certain orders, upon which they hid themselves in the wings of the tent with a large body of sturdy warriors. This done, K‘ung-ming ordered the keepers to open the gates, and in came Chief Tailai with Mênghuo and his people in custody. As he bowed at the entrance of the hall, K‘ung-ming called out, “Let my strong captors appear!” At once out came the hidden men, and every two of them laid hands upon a prisoner and bound him.
“Did you think your paltry ruse would deceive me?” said K‘ung-ming. “Here you are a second time captured by your own people and brought before me that you might surrender. I will not hurt you, but I firmly believe this surrender is part of a plot to kill me.”
Then he called out to his men to search the prisoners. They did so, and on every man they found a sharp knife.
“Did you not say that if your family were taken prisoners you would yield? How now?” said K‘ung-ming.
“We have come of our own will and at the risk of our lives; the credit is not yours. Still I refuse to yield,” replied Mênghuo.
“This is the sixth time I have captured you, and yet you are obstinate; what do you expect?”
“If you take me a seventh time, then I will turn to you and never rebel again.”
“Well, your stronghold is now destroyed. What have I to fear?” said K‘ung-ming.
​He ordered the bonds to be loosed, saying, “If you are caught again and lie to me once more I shall certainly not be inclined to let you off.”
Mênghuo and his people put their hands over their heads and ran off like rats.
The defeated Mans who had fled were many, and most of them were wounded. They fell in with their king, who restored what order was possible and felt glad that he had still some men left. Then he and the Chief Tailai took counsel together.
“Whither can we go?” said Menghuo the hands of the enemy.”
“Our stronghold is in Tailai replied, “There is but one country that can overcome these men; that is the Wuko country. It lies seven hundred li to the south-east. The king of that state is named Wut‘uku. He is a giant. He does not eat grain, but lives on serpents and venomous beasts. He wears scaly armour, which is impenetrable to swords and arrows. His men wear rattan armour. This rattan grows in gullies, climbing over rocks and walls. The inhabitants cut the rattans and steep them in oil for half a year. Then they are dried in the sun. When dry they are steeped again, and so on many times. Then they are plaited into helmets and armour. Clad in this the men float across rivers, and it does not get wet. No weapon can penetrate it. The soldiers are called the Rattan Army. You may seek aid from this king, and with his help you can take Chuko Liang as easily as a sharp knife cleaves a bamboo.”
Mênghuo went to the Wuko country and saw the king. The people of this country do not live in houses, but dwell in caves. Mênghuo told the story of his woes and obtained a promise of help, for which he expressed great gratitude. Wut‘uku called up two decurions named T‘uan and Hsini and gave them three legions of the rattan-armoured soldiers and bade them march north-east.
They came to a river called the Peach-flower Water (T‘aohua Shui), on both banks of which grow many peach trees. Year after year the leaves of these trees fall into the river and render it poisonous to all but the natives. But to the natives it is a stimulant which doubles their vigour. They camped on the bank of this river to await the coming of the army of Shu.
Now K‘ungming was informed of the journey of Mênghuo and its results, and he knew when the rattan-clad army camped at the ford. He also knew that Mênghuo had callected all the men of his own that he could to help. He at once marched to the ford. Really, the Man soldiers did not seem human; they were so hideous. He questioned the natives, and they told him that the peach leaves were falling and the water of the river was undrinkable. So he retired five li and camped.
​Next day the Wuko men crossed the stream, and, with a rolling of drums, Wei Yen went out to meet them. The Wuko men approached bent double. The men of Shu shot at them, but neither arrows nor bolts penetrated their armour; they rolled off harmless. Nor could swords cut or spears enter. The enemy, thus protected and armed with swords and prongs, were too much for the men of Shu, who had to run away. However, they were not pursued. When, on the retreat, they came to Peach-flower Water ford they saw the Mans crossing. Some of them were tired, so they took off their rattan breastplates, sat upon them and floated to the other side.
When K‘ung-ming heard the report of his captain he summoned Lu K‘ai and called in some natives. Lu K‘ai said he had heard of the Wuku country as perfectly barbarous, the people having no notion of human relations as they were understood in the Central Land. He had heard of this rattan armour and the harmful Peach-flower Waters. He wound up by saying that these people were really untameable and advised retreat.
“No, no,” said K‘ung-ming merrily; “we have had too much difficulty in getting here to go back so easily. I shall have a counter-plan for these people to-morrow.”
Having provided for the defence of his camp and given strict orders to his captains not to go out to fight, K‘ung-ming went to reconnoitre. He rode in his light chariot with a few natives as guides. He came to the ford, and from a secluded spot in the mountains on the north bank he looked about him.
The whole country was mountainous and difficult, impassable for any carriage. So he got out and went afoot. Presently, from a hill he saw a long winding valley, like a huge serpent. The sides were very precipitous and bare. However, a road ran through the middle.
“What is the name of the valley?” asked K‘ung-ming.
“It is called 'Coiled Serpent Valley,'” said the guides. “At the other end you come into the high road to Sanchiang. The valley was formerly called 'T‘alangtien.'”
“The very thing,” cried K‘ung-ming. “Surely this is providence. I shall score a great success here.”
Having seen enough, he retraced his steps, found his chariot and returned to camp. Arrived at the camp, Ma Tai was called and put in charge of the preparations. He was to take the ten black painted carts and get a thousand long bamboo poles. What the carts contained and what was to be done with the contents K‘ung-ming told his captain in confidence. Then he was to keep the two ends of the valley. Half a month was allowed to carry out his task, which was to be performed with the most perfect secrecy under pain of severe punishment.
​Next Chao Yün was sent to a point on the Sanchiang road; Wei Yen to camp at the ford. If the Mans came over the river he was to abandon the camp and march toward a certain white flag he would see. Further, he was warned that in half a month he would have to acknowledge defeat some fifteen times and abandon seven camps. On no account was he to come to interview K‘ung-ming even after fourteen defeats.
Wei Yen went off, not a little hipped at the prospect, but prepared to obey. Next, Chang I was sent to make a stockade at a certain indicated point, and others were given other tasks.
Mênghuo had begun to have a real terror of K‘ung-ming, and he warned the king of the Wuko, saying, “This Chuko is exceedingly crafty. Ambush is one of his favourite ruses, so you should warn your soldiers that on no account should they enter a valley where the trees are thick.”
“Great King, you speak with reason,” said Wut‘uku. “I have always heard that the men of the Central State are full of wiles, and I will see that your advice is followed. I will go in front to fight, and you may remain in the rear to give orders.”
Presently the scouts told them of the arrival of the men of Shu on the bank of the Peach-flower Water. Wut‘uku sent his two captains to cross the river and engage them. The two sides met, but Wei Yen soon left the field. The Mans were afraid to pursue as they dreaded an ambush.
In the meantime, Wei laid out another camp. The Mans crossed the river in greater force. Wei came out to meet them, but again fled after a very short fight. This time the Mans pursued, but having lost their hold of the enemy and coming then to the late camp of the men of Shu, which seemed quite safe, they occupied it.
Next day the two captains asked their King Wut‘uku to come to the camp, and they reported what had happened. He decided to make a general advance to drive the men of Shu before him. They fled, even casting aside their breastplates and throwing away their arms, they were in such haste to flee. And they went toward a white flag that appeared in the distance. They found a camp already made, which they occupied.
Soon, however, King Wut‘uku came near, and as he pressed forward Wei Yen abandoned this camp and fled. When the Mans reached the camp they took up quarters therein.
Soon after they set out to renew the pursuit, but Wei Yen turned back and checked them. This was only a temporary check, for he fled after three encounters, going toward a white flag in the distance.
To avoid wearisome iteration it may be said that this sort of thing continued daily until the men of Shu had been defeated and driven out of the field fifteen times and had abandoned their camp on seven different occasions.
​The Mans were now warm in pursuit and pressed on with all their might, the King Wut‘uku being in the forefront of the pursuers. But then they came to a thick umbrageous wood; and he halted, for he saw flags moving about behind the sheltering trees.
“Just as you foretold,” said Wut‘uku to Mênghuo.
“Yes; Chuko Liang is going to be worsted this time. We have beaten off his men now daily for half a month and won fifteen successive victories. His men simply run when they hear the wind. The fact is he has exhausted all his craft and has tried every ruse. Now our task is nearly done.”
Wut‘uku was greatly cheered and began to feel contempt for his enemy.
The sixteenth day of the long fight found Wei Yen leading his oft-defeated men once more against the rattan-protected foe. King Wut‘uku on his white elephant was well in the forefront. He had on a cap with symbols of the sun and moon and streamers of wolf’s beard, a fringed garment studded with gems, which allowed the plates or scales of his cuirass to appear, and his eyes seemed to flash fire. He pointed the finger of scorn at Wei Yen and began to revile him.
Wei whipped up his steed and fled. The Mans pressed after him. Wei made for the Coiled Serpent Valley, for he saw a white flag calling him thither. Wut‘uku followed in hot haste, and as he saw only bare hills without a sign of vegetation, be felt quite confident that no ambush was laid.
So he followed into the valley. There he saw some score of black painted carts in the road. The soldiers said to each other that they must be the commissariat waggons of the enemy, abandoned in their hasty flight. This only urged the king to greater speed, and he went on toward the other mouth of the valley, for the men of Shu had disappeared. However, he saw baulks of timber being tumbled down across the track and great boulders rolled down the hill side into the road.
The pursuers cleared away the obstacles. When they had done so and advanced a little they saw certain wheeled vehicles in the road, some large, some small, laden with wood and straw, which was burning. The king was suddenly frightened and ordered a retreat. But he heard much shouting in the rear, and they told him that the wood-laden carts on being broken open had been found to contain gunpowder, and they were all on fire. However, seeing that the valley was barren and devoid of grass and wood, Wut‘uku was not in the least alarmed and merely bade his men search for a way round.
Then he saw torches being hurled down the mountain side. These torches rolled till they came to a certain spot, where they ignited the fuses leading to the powder. Then the ground suddenly heaved with the explosion of bombs beneath. The whole valley was soon full of flames, darting and playing in ​all directions, and wherever they met with rattan armour the rattan caught fire, and thus the whole army, huddled and crowded together, burned in the midst of the valley.
K‘ung-ming looked on from the heights above and saw the Mans burning. Many of the dead had been mangled and torn by the explosions of the mines. The air was full of suffocating vapour.
K‘ung-ming’s tears fell fast as he saw the slaughter, and he sighed, saying, “Though I am rendering great service to my country yet I have sacrificed many lives.”
Those who were with him were also deeply affected.
King Mênghuo was in his camp awaiting news of success when he saw a crowd of his men come along, and they bowed before him and told him that King Wuko was fighting a great battle and was about to surround Chuko Liang in the Valley of the Coiled Serpent. But he needed help. They said they themselves had had no alternative when they had yielded to Shu, but now they had returned to their allegiance and were come to help him.
So Mênghuo placed himself at the head of his clansmen and those who had just come to him, and lost no time in marching out. He bade them lead him to the spot. But when he reached the valley and saw the destruction, he knew he had been made a victim again. As he made to retire there appeared a body of his enemies on each side, and they began to attack. He was making what stand he could when a great shouting arose. The Mans were nearly all disguised men of Shu, and they quickly surrounded him and his clansmen to make them prisoners.
Mênghuo galloped clear and got into the hills. Presently he fell upon a small chariot, with a few men about it, and therein sat Kung-ming, simply dressed and holding a fan.
“What now, rebel Mênghuo?” cried he.
But Mênghuo had galloped away. He was soon stopped by Ma Tai and lay a helpless prisoner bound hand and foot. His wife, Chujung, and the other members of his family were also taken.
K‘ung-ming returned to camp and seated himself in the high place in his own tent. He was still sad at the thought of the sacrifice of life, and he said to his officers, “There was no help for it; I had to use that plan. But it has sadly injured my inner virtue and destroyed my self-satisfaction. Guessing that the enemy would suspect an ambush in every thicket, I sent persons to walk about in wooded places with flags. Really there was no ambush. I bade Wei lose battle after battle just to lead the enemy on and harden their hearts. When I saw the Valley of the Coiled Serpent, with its bare sides of smooth rock and the road in its depths, I recognised what could be done and sent Ma Tai to arrange the contents of the black ​carts, the mines, which I had prepared long ago for this purpose. In every bomb were nine others, and they were buried thirty paces apart. They were connected by fuses laid in hollow bamboos that they might explode in succession, and the force was enormous. Chao Yün prepared those carts laden with straw and rolled down the baulks of timber and boulders that blocked the mouth. Wei Yen led the king on and on till he had enticed him into the valley, when he took up a position to escape. Then the burning began. They say that what is good for water is not much good for fire, and the oil-soaked rattan, excellent as a protection against swords and arrows, was most inflammable, catching fire at sight. The Mans were so stubborn that the only way was to use fire, or we should never have scored a victory. But I much regret that the destruction of the men of Wuko has been so complete.”
The officers praised his ability and flattered his craftiness; that need not be said.
Then Mênghuo was summoned. He appeared and fell upon his knees. His limbs were freed from the bonds, and he was sent into a side tent for refreshment. But the officers told off to entertain him received certain secret orders.
The chief prisoners were Mênghuo, his wife, brother and the Chief Tailai. There were many of his clan as well. As they were eating and drinking a messenger apeared in the door of the tent and addressed the king, “The Minister is ashamed and does not wish to see you again, Sir. He has sent me to release you. You may enlist another army if you can and once more try a decisive battle. Now you may go.”
But instead of going Mênghuo began to weep.
“Seven times a captive and seven times released!” said the king. “Surely there was never anything like it in the whole world. I know I am a barbarian and beyond the pale, but I am not entirely devoid of a sense of propriety and rectitude. Does he think that I feel no shame?”
Thereupon he and all his fell upon their knees and crawled to the tent of the Commander-in-chief and begged pardon, saying, “O Minister, you are the majesty of Heaven. We men of the south will offer no more opposition.”
“Then you yield?” said K‘ung-ming.
“I and my sons and grandsons are deeply affected by your all-pervading and life-giving mercy. Now how can we not yield?”
K‘ung-ming asked Mênghuo to come up into the tent and be seated, and he prepared a banquet of felicitation. Also he confirmed him in his headship and restored all the places that had been captured. Everyone was overwhelmed with K‘ung-ming’s generosity, and they all went away rejoicing.
A poem has praised K‘ung-ming’s action:—
He rode in his chariot green, In his hand just a feather fan, Seven times he released a king As part of his conquering plan. Having chosen a beautiful spot Where the valleys debouch on the plain, Lest his kindness should e‘er be forgot, The vanquished erected a fane.
Chang Shih and Fei Wei ventured to remonstrate with K‘ung-ming on his policy. They said, “You, O Minister, have led the army this long journey into the wilds and have reduced the Man country, and have brought about the submission of the king; why not appoint officials to share in the administration and hold the land?”
K‘ung-ming replied, “There are three difficulties. To leave foreigners implies leaving a guard for them; there is the difficulty of feeding a guard. The Mans have lost many of their relatives. To leave foreigners without a guard will invite a calamity; this is the second difficulty. Among the Mans dethronements and murders are frequent, and there will be enmities and suspicions. Foreigners and they will be mutually distrustful; this is the third difficulty. If I do not leave men I shall not have to send supplies, which makes for peace and freedom from trouble.”
They had to agree that the policy was wise.
The kindness of the conqueror was rewarded by the gratitude of these southern people, and they even erected a shrine in his honour, where they sacrificed at the four seasons. They called him their “Gracious Father” and they sent gifts of jewels, cinnabar, lacquer, medicines, ploughing cattle and chargers for the use of the army. And they pledged themselves not to rebel.
When the feastings to the soldiers were finished, the army marched homeward to Shu. Wei Yen was in command of the advanced column. He marched to the Lu waters. But on his arrival the clouds gathered and a gale blew over the face of the waters. Because of the force of the gale the army could not advance. Wei Yen then returned and reported the matter to his chief. K‘ung-ming called in Mênghuo to ask what this might mean.
The Mans beyond the border have yielded now at last, The water demons raging mad won‘t let our men go past.
The next chapter will contain Mênghuo’s explanation.