# San Kuo/Volume 2/Chapter 84

CHAPTER LXXXIV.
Lu Hsün Burns His Enemy’s Camps; K‘ung-ming Plans the Eight Arrays.
The last chapter closed with the report that the First Ruler had shifted camp in search of coolth, and the news was very welcome to Lu Hsün. He went forthwith to assure himself of the truth of the report and observe the new position. A level plain lay at his feet, whereon he saw something short of a legion, the greater part of whom appeared invalids. On the banner of their leader he read the name Wu Pan.
“We despise these men,” said Chou T‘ai. “Let me and General Han go out and smite them. I will give the formal guarantee of victory.”
The Commander-in-chief made no reply, but remained gazing out before him. Presently he said, “It seems to me that an air of slaughter is rising over there from that valley; surely there is an ambush there. These poor troops in the foreground are nothing but a bait. No, Gentlemen; do not leave your positions.”
Those who heard this took it only as another proof of the imbecility of their pedant commander. Next day Wu Pan’s men approached closer and challenged to battle, swaggering about and brandishing their weapons and shouting volleys of abuse without end. They manifested contempt by throwing off their armour and clothing and moving to and fro with the utmost carelessness, bare bodies and naked forms, blatantly unready to fight. Some even sat or lay asleep.
Hsü Shêng and his colleague came to the commander’s tent to complain of these insults and ask permission to go out and punish the enemy, but Lu Hsün only smiled.
“You see everything from the point of view of brute courage. You seem not to know the principles of war laid down by Sun and Wu. This display is only meant to entice us into fight. You will see the pretence yourselves in about three days.”
“In three days the change of camp will be complete, and the enemy will be too strongly posted for our success,” said they.
“I am just letting them move their camp.”
These two left the tent also sniggering. But on the third day the officers were assembled at a certain look-out point whence they saw that Wu’s men were leaving.”
“There is still a deadly look over the valley,” said Lu Hsün. “Liu Pei will soon appear.”
​He was right. Very soon they saw a whole army all well accoutred pass across the field escorting the First Ruler. And the sight took away all their courage.
“That is why I would not listen to those of you who wanted to fight,” said Lu. “Now that the ambush has been withdrawn we can settle them in about ten days.”
“The proper time to attack was when they began to transfer their camp. Now they are fully established with encampments stretching hundreds of li. Having spent seven or eight months in strengthening where they might be attacked, will it not be difficult to destroy them?”
“I see you do not understand how to carry on war. This man Pei is a bad man, but capable and crafty. When he first started on this expedition his methods were of the best, and he kept to them for a long time, so we gave him no chance against us. When his men are worn out and his thoughts cease to be clear that will be our day to attack.”
At last they agreed with their chief.
The general discoursed on war, According to the book; Right craftily the bait for whales Was put upon the hook. When kingdoms three were carven out, Though famous men were many, Commander Lu of Chiangnan At least stands high as any.
The truth is, the plan whereby the Shu army was to be crushed was all ready, and at this stage he wrote to the Prince Wu full details, even naming a day for the victory.
“We have found another remarkably able man,” said the prince, “and I have no further anxiety. They all said he was a useless pedant, and only I knew better. Reading this letter shows him nothing at all of a pedant.”
Then the Prince of Wu mustered the remainder of his soldiers to hold in reserve.
Meanwhile the First Ruler had sent orders to hasten the marines down the river and take up stations along the banks deep in the territory of Wu. However, Huang Ch'üan spoke against this, saying, “It is easy enough for the ships to go down, but how about returning? Let me make the first advance, and Your Majesty may follow. That will make it more than probable that nothing will go wrong.”
“Those Wu dogs are afraid,” objected the ruler. “and I want to make a dash at them. Where is the difficulty?”
It was only after many others had spoken against the proposal that the First Ruler gave up the notion of going into the forefront of the attack. Then dividing the army into two portions, he placed Huang Ch'üan in command on the north bank, to keep a watch on Wei, while he commanded on the ​southern bank. They made encampments and stations along the bank.
The spies of Wei duly reported these doings to Ts‘ao P‘ei, who laughed aloud when he heard the details of the long line of camps and the encampments among the trees and all this.
“Liu Pei is going to be defeated,” said he.
“How do you know?” asked his courtiers.
“Because Liu Yüan-tê does not know how to wage war. How can he beat off an enemy along a front of seven hundred li? The maxims of war forbid to camp in open plains, among marshes, amid preciptous heights and obstacles. He will be defeated at the hand of Lu Hsün, and we shall hear of it in about ten days.”
His officers felt more than doubtful and entreated their master to prepare an army. But the lord of Wei replied, “If successful, Lu Hsün will lead all his force westward into Hsich‘uan, and his country will be defenceless. I shall pretend to send an army to help. I shall send them in three divisions, and I shall overcome Wu easily.”
They all bowed acquiescence and approval. Then orders went out appointing Ts‘ao Jên to lead an army out by Juhsü, Ts‘ao Hsiu to take a second out by Tungk‘ou and Ts‘ao Chên to command a third to go through Nanchün, and the three armies were to combine on a given date for a sudden attack on Wu.
The story of that attack will not be told here; it is necessary to say how Ma Liang fared. Reaching Ch'êngtu, he lost no time in seeing the Prime Minister and presenting the plan of the armies as they were in the field.
“Now the forces are on both sides of the river extending along a front of seven hundred li, with forty stations, each beside a mountain stream or in a pleasantly shaded forest. At our lord’s command I prepared this map, and he sent me to ask your opinion.”
“Who advised such an arrangement? He ought to be put to death, whoever it was,” cried K‘ung-ming sorrowfully, tapping the table at his side.
“It is entirely our lord’s own work; no other had any hand in it,” said Ma.
“The life and energy of the Hans are done indeed,” said K‘ung-ming. “He has committed those very faults which the rules of the 'Art of War' lay down as to be particularly avoided. The camps are made where free movement is impossible, and nothing can save him if the enemy use fire. Beside, what defence is possible along a seven hundred li front? Disaster is at hand, and Lu Hsün sees it all, which explains his obstinate refusal to come out into the open. Go back as quickly as you can and tell our lord that this will not do, that it must be changed at once.”
​“But if I am too late! If Wu has already attacked and won what then.”
“The enemy will not dare to follow up their victory by a march on Chêngtu from fear of Wei. So this city is secure. Our lord will be compelled to shelter in Paitich'êng. I have already placed a legion of men in hiding at Fishbelly Creek (Yüfupu).
“Have you? I have been up and down that creek three or four times without seeing a man. I do not see the reason of telling lies to me,” said Ma.
“You will see; do not ask so many questions.”
With the precious instructions which he had persuaded the great strategist to draw up, Ma Liang hastened back to the imperial camp while K‘ung-ming went to the capital to prepare a relief expedition.
The men of Shu had become slack and idle and no longer maintained adequate defence, wherefore Lu Hsün perceived that his moment had arrived, and called his captains to his tent to receive orders.
“There has been no fighting since I received our lord’s command. I have spent the time in acquiring a knowledge of the enemy. As a preliminary operation I want to capture a camp on the south bank. Who volunteers?”
Out stepped Han and Chou and Ling, all three at once, each crying that he wanted to be sent. But they were sent back; the Commander-in-chief did not want any of them. Then he called up the junior captain, Shunyü Tan, and said, “You will take the fourth camp on the south side; you may have half a legion. The commander of the post is Fu T‘ung. I shall support you.”
When Shunyü had gone, he summoned Hsü Shêng and Ting Fêng and said, “Each of you will take three companies and bivouac five li from the camp, so that if your colleague is repulsed and pursued you can rescue him.”
Shunyü Tan marched between the lights and reached the camp he was to capture just after the third watch. His drums rolled, and he attacked at once. The defenders came out led by Fu Tung, who, spear ready to thrust, rode straight toward the leader of the attack and forced him back. Suddenly there arose the roll of other drums, and a cohort under Chao Yung barred the way. Shunyü turned off along another road, escaping with loss of many men.
But he was not yet safe. Some distance farther he ran against the barbarian leader Shamoko. However, Shunyü avoided him also and went on his way, pursued now by three parties. Soon he reached the spot five li from the camp, and here the two leaders of Shu, who had been placed ready to afford succour, came out and stopped the pursuit. When the enemy had retired, Shunyü. Tan was escorted back to camp. ​He was wounded, and with the arrow still undrawn he appeared before Lu Hsün and apologised for his failure.
“It was no fault of yours,” said the Commander-in-chief. “I wanted to test the force of our enemy. My plan of attack is quite ready.”
“The enemy is very strong and will not be easily overcome,” said Hsü and Ting. “We have now suffered great loss to no purpose.”
“This plan of mine would not hoodwink Chuko Liang, but happily he is not here. His absence will allow me to score a great success.”
Then he summoned his captains to receive orders. He sent Chu Jan to lead the marine force. He was to advance next day, after noon, when the south-east wind would serve. His ships were laden with reeds and straw, which were to be used as ordered. Han Tang was directed to attack the north bank, Chou T‘ai the south. Each soldier, in addition to his weapons, was to carry a bundle of straw or reeds, with sulphur and nitre hidden therein, and each had a piece of tinder. They were to advance, and, when they reached the Shu camps, they were to start a conflagration. But they were to burn only alternate camps, twenty in all, leaving the others untouched. They were to advance and only stop if they captured Liu Pei. And so they set out.
The First Ruler was in his own camp, pondering over a plan to destroy the armies of Wu, when suddenly the staff that bore the great standard in front of his own tent fell over and lay on the ground. There was no wind to account for this, so he turned to Ch'êng Ch‘i and asked what it might portend.
“It means only one thing, that the men of Wu will raid the camp to-night,” said Ch'êng.
“They will not dare after the slaughter of yesterday.
“But suppose that was only a reconnaisance; what then?”
Just then a report came in that some men of Wu could be seen, very far off, going along the hills eastward.
“They are soldiers meant to put us off the scent,” said the First Ruler. “Tell the captains not to move, but let Kuan Hsing and Chang Pao, with a small mounted force, go out to reconnoitre.”
It was dusk when these two returned, and they then reported fire among the camps on the north bank. The king hastily bade Kuan Hsing go to the north camps and Chang Pao to the south to find out what was really happening. And they started.
About the middle of the first watch the wind got up and blew strong from the east. Then fire arose from the camp on the left of the ruler’s own. He was starting to extinguish this flame when another fire began in the camp on his right. With the aid of the strong breeze both fires became fierce, and ​soon the trees caught. A confused roar showed the gathering strength of the fire. The soldiers of the burning camps were rushing into the First Ruler’s own camp to escape the fire, and in their confusion they trampled on each other, so that many died.
Behind them came the men of Wu bent on slaughter. Ignorant of how many they might be, the First Ruler mounted and dashed for Fêng Hsi’s camp, but that also was in flames, which seemed to rise to the very sky. By this time flames were rising from both sides of the river, so that everything was as visible as by day.
Fêng Hsi leaped to his horse and fled, followed by a few of his mounted men. This small force ran against the men of Wu under Hsü Shêng. Thereupon the First Ruler turned and galloped west. Hsü Shêng then left Fêng Hsi and went in pursuit. Presently the king saw a party of soldiers in the way and became greatly alarmed.
This was Ting Fêng’s army, and the First Ruler was between two foes. In his terror he saw no possibility of safety, no road was open. Just at this moment another cohort broke through to his side and rescued him. The leader was Chang Pao, and he led the Imperial Guards, who fled, taking the First Ruler with them. As they marched along they fell in with another force; the leader was Fu Tung, and he joined up with them. The Wu army was still following when the fugitives reached Saddle Hill (Ma-an Hill). The two leaders, Chang and Fu, were urging their lord to go to the top of this out of immediate danger. Soon some of Lu Hsün’s men arrived and began to surround the hill. Chang and Fu held the road up the hill and kept the enemy from ascending. From the summit could be seen flames all around, and the First Ruler knew the corpses of his men lay about in heaps or floated in the streams.
Soon the men of Wu set themselves to firing the hill. The First Ruler’s remaining escort fled for their lives like rats, and their lord was in despair. Suddenly he saw a captain followed by a few horsemen cutting his way through and coming up the hill. As he drew nearer the king recognised Kuan Hsing. Kuan quickly leapt down, prostrated himself and said, “Your Majesty, the fire is gaining all round, and this place is not safe. I request you to try to reach Paitich'êng, and as many as possible will gather there.”
“Who will dare stay behind to keep off the enemy?” said the First Ruler.
Fu Tung volunteered for this task. It was dusk when they started. Kuan Hsing led the way. They got their lord safely down the hill and away. As soon as the men of Wu noticed the flight they pressed forward, each anxious to gain kudos by the capture of the king’s person. Great armies, blotting ​out the sky and hiding the earth, went westward in pursuit. The First Ruler ordered the men to make fires of their clothing and other things in the road so as to hinder pursuit.
Chu Jan marched up from the river to try to intercept the flight, and the noise of his drums was terrifying. The king thought there was no possibility of escape from this force, and cried “This is the end!”
His two nephews dashed to the front to cut a road through, but returned wounded and bleeding. And the noise of the pursuers came constantly nearer as they found their way along the valleys. About the first glimpse of dawn the case seemed quite desperate. But just at the worst they saw Chu Jan’s men suddenly begin to break up and scatter, tumbling into streams and rolling down precipices. Soon the reason was evident; a fearsome captain was among them leading a cohort.
Once again the king was rescued from pressing danger, and this time the rescuer was the faithful Chao Yün. He had been in Chiangchou, and news of the straits of his lord had reached him there. He had set out forthwith. Then he had seen the glow of the burnings and had marched toward it. And thus he had arrived just at the moment to save his master when danger was most imminent.
As soon as Lu Hsün heard that Chao Yün had appeared, he ordered his men to stop pursuit and retire. Chao Yün happening upon Chu Jan, engaged him forthwith and in the first encounter slew him with a spear thrust. And so the men of Wu were dispersed and retired, and the First Ruler got safely to Paitich'êng.
But on the way thither his thoughts went back to his companions in misfortune, and he enquired after them anxiously.
“The pursuers are close upon us and we cannot wait for anything,” said Chao Yün. “I wish Your Majesty to get into the city as quickly as possible, and while you are reposing yourself we may try to rescue some of the leaders.”
When the First Ruler reached Paitich'êng he was in sore straits, only having about a hundred men left.
A poet wrote concerning this victory of Lu Hsün:—
He grips the spear, he kindles fire, the camps are swept away. Liu Pei to Paiti City flees, lonely and sad to-day. But Lu Hsün’s meteoric fame now shoots through Shu and Wei, For bookish men the Prince of Wu has naught but good to say.
But Fu Tung, who commanded the rear-guard, was surrounded by the enemy. Ting Fêng shouted to him, “You had better surrender. Many of the men of Shu have fallen, more have surrendered and your lord is a prisoner. You have no hope against us with your scanty force.”
But Fu replied, “Shall I, a servant of Han, give in to the curs of Wu?”
​Undaunted, he rode at his opponents and fought many bouts. But his strength and valour availed naught; struggle as he would, he could not make his way out. And so he died among his enemies.
A poem celebrates his valiancy.
Wu, at Iling, strove with Shu, Flames, not swords, used crafty Lu. Worthy of a place among Han’s bold captains is Fu Tung.
The Libationer Ch'êng Ch‘i, having got clear of the battle, rode swiftly to the river bank and called to the marines to join in the battle. They landed, but were soon scattered. One of Ch'êng Ch‘i's lieutenants shouted to him to beware, for the men of Wu were upon him, but he shouted back, “Since I first followed my lord I have never yet turned my back upon the foe.”
The enemy surrounded him, and, as he could do no more, he took his sword and slew himself.
Noble among the warriors of Shu was Ch‘êng Ch‘i. He kept his sword for the service of his prince. When danger pressed near he wavered not, Wherefore his fame remains forever bright.
Now Wu Pan and Chang Nan had been besieging Iling. Then came Fêng Hsi and told of the need of their lord, and they led off their army to rescue him. Whereupon Sun Huan was set free as Lu Hsün had foretold would happen.
As soon as Sun Huan was free he set off in pursuit of Fêng and Chang. These two marched until they met an army of Wu face to face, and so were between two forces. A battle was fought, and both these captains perished therein.
Fêng Hsi was loyal without peer. Chang Nan was righteous, few have equalled him. In battle on the sandy shore they died, And the histories record their deeds.
Wu Pan broke through. He was pursued, but he luckily fell in with Chao Yün and got safely to Paitich'êng.
The barbarian King Shamoko was flying from the battlefield when he met Chou T‘ai, who slew him after a short fight.
The Shu captains T‘u Lo and Liu Ning surrendered to Wu, as did many soldiers. Of the stores and weapons in the camps of Shu nothing was saved.
When the story of the disaster to Shu reached the south, and with it the report that the First Ruler had been killed in battle, the Lady Sun gave way to wild grief. She rode down to the river bank and, gazing westward, wept and lamented. Then she threw herself into the stream and was drowned. Posterity erected a temple on the shore called “The Shrine of the Bold Beauty,” and one who described it wrote a poem:—
The king, defeated, fled, And rumour said he‘d died; His consort in remorse Committed suicide. A carven stone now showeth where And why this heroine died.
There could be no question that this exploit brought tremendous glory to Lu Hsün. Anxious to push his advantage as far as possible, he led his exultant army westward. But as he drew near to K‘uei Pass he suddenly pulled up his horse, remarking that he saw an aura of death about the mountain side in front.
“We may not yet advance farther; I suspect an ambush.”
So they retreated ten li and camped in a wide open space. And the army was arrayed ready against any sudden attack. Meanwhile, scouts were sent out. They returned reporting no soldiers. Lu Hsün doubted and went up to the summit of a hill whence he could see over the country. The aura was still visible to him, and so he despatched other men to spy. But he received the same report; not a man, not a horse.
Still, as the sun got lower and lower in the west he saw the same appearance accentuated, and he began to feel grave doubts. He sent a confidant to look once more. This man came back saying he had not met a single man, but he had noticed on the river bank nearly a hundred heaps of boulders.
The commander, still doubting, called in several of the natives and questioned them about the stones: Who put them there? Why did they look so ghastly?
“We do not know. This place is called Fishbelly Creek. When Chuko Liang was going west into Szŭch‘uan he came along here with a lot of soldiers and heaped up the boulders like that above the Sandy Rapid. We have seen vapours rising from the boulders; they seemed to come from inside them.”
Lu Hsün decided to go and look at these boulders himself. So he rode off, with a small escort. Looking down at the stones from a declivity they were evidently arranged with a design related to the eight points of the compass. There were doors and door-sills and lintels. ”
“This looks likely to drive a man out of his senses,” he said; “I wonder whether it is any good.”
They rode down with intent to examine the mysterious arrangement more closely and went in among the stones. Presently one of the escort called attention to the increasing darkness and said they ought to be returning to camp returning to camp. But as Lu Hsün glanced round to look for an exit a sudden squall came on and the dust whirled up, obscuring both sky and earth. And in the swirl the stones reared themselves up like steep mountains, pointed like swords, and the dust and sand shaped ​themselves into waves and hillocks one behind the other. The roar of the boiling river was as the drums before a battle.
“This is some trick of Chuko’s,” said Lu in a scared voice; “and I have been caught.”
He would go out, but he had quite lost his way and could find no exit. As he stopped to consider what he should do, an old man suddenly appeared, who said, “Does the General wish to go out?”
“I greatly desire that you would pilot me out, O Elder,” replied he.
Leaning on his staff, the old man led the way and with quiet dignity conducted Lu Hsün outside. He had no difficulty in finding his way and paused not a single instant. When they were once again on the slope Lu asked his aged guide who he was.
“I am Chuko K‘ung-ming’s father-in-law; my family name is Huang. My son-in-law placed these boulders here as you see them, and he said they represented “The Eight Arrays. They are like eight doors, and according to the scheme are named:—
The Gate of Rest, The Gate of Life, The Gate of Injury, The Gate of Obstruction, The Gate of Prospect, The Gate of Death, The Gate of Surprise and The Gate of Openings.
They are capable of infinite mutations and would be equal to ten legions of soldiers. As he was leaving he told me that if any leader of Wu became mazed in them I was not to conduct him outside. From a precipice near by I saw you, General, enter in at the Gate of Death, and as I guessed you were ignorant of the scheme I knew you would be entangled. But I am of a good disposition and could not bear that you should be entrapped without possibility of escape, so I came to guide you to the Gate of Life.”
“Have you studied this matter, Sir?” asked Lu.
“The variations are inexhaustible, and I could not learn them all.”
Lu Hsün dismounted, bowed low before the old man and then rode away.
The famous poet Tu Fu wrote some verses which run something like this:—
Founder of a Kingdom; no small praise Is his; Inventor of the Eight Arrays And for that famous. On the river’s brim, Firm set, the boulders stand as placed by him. No current rolls them down. Time’s waters too Drown not regret he did not conquer Wu.
​Lu Hsün took his way to his camp in deep thought.
“This K‘ung-ming is well named 'Sleeping Dragon,'” said he, “I am not his equal.”
Then, to the amazement of all, he gave orders to retire. The officers ventured to remonstrate, seeing that they had been so successful.
“General, you have utterly broken the enemy, and Liu Pei is shut up in one small city; it seems the time to smite, and yet you retire because you have come across a mysterious arrangement of stones.”
“I am not afraid of the stones, and it is not on their account that I retire. But I fear Ts‘ao P‘ei of Wei. He is no less resourceful than his father, and when he hears I am marching into Shu, he will certainly attack us. How could I return then?”
The homeward march began. On the second day the scouts brought word that three armies of Wei had debouched at three different points and were moving toward the borders of Wu.
“Just as I thought,” said Lu Hsün. “But I am ready for them.”
“And now the west is mine,” the victor thought, But danger from the north discretion taught.
The story of the retreat will be told in the next chapter.