Chapter 41

In the end, they couldn't stop Bai Lang. He took a dozen men with him on horseback and rode out. This time, Bai Lang wore two layers of armor, a chain-mail shirt underneath and mountain-pattern armor over it. A packhorse carried spare cotton-padded armor and chain mail. Led by men who had once served as household retainers and night scouts, they followed the Qing soldiers' tracks. "Don't charge, either. Just follow behind me and cut off heads." Bai Lang's swaggering words only stoked their fervor.

Who wouldn't want to charge into battle behind a peerless warrior? Especially when that warrior hardly needed anyone to guard his flanks or rear. The only person who might compare was Hegemon King Xiang Yu from the tales—after all, Xiang Yu had scattered the Han army with just twenty-eight riders and suffered no losses himself. Bai Lang rode a specially chosen large horse, while his twin iron maces were on another mount—otherwise, the horse couldn't bear the weight. The farther they traveled, the harder it would be. Over a hundred catties was about the same as an ordinary soldier without armor.

Ming had no cold-blooded European draft horses. A horse carrying two people would never manage a long journey. Bai Lang was tall and broad, and his own weight, along with his armor, must have come to two hundred and forty or fifty catties. His warhorse was already impressive for carrying him at all. It was a fine horse, too; the General had said it was a northwestern breed, a head taller than the Mongolian horses commonly used in the army. But Bai Lang had seen those massive European draft horses before, and this one was nothing special by comparison.

The fewer people there were, the faster they could march. Even though Bai Lang had set out two days after the Qing soldiers, he caught up with them in a single day. But what he encountered were Qing scouts, sent far ahead to guard the rear of the main force. Bai Lang spotted three riders in the distance. As soon as they saw him and his men, they turned their horses and fled. They didn't charge in to fight, as Qing scouts had done whenever they saw Ming scouts before.

"Do they recognize me?" Bai Lang chuckled. A man as big as he was would certainly stand out. Whether or not they knew it was Bai Lang, reporting back first was the right choice. If it wasn't him, at least they hadn't lost any Ming scouts. If it was Bai Lang and they failed to report back, they'd be beheaded under military law even if they made it back alive. The Qing soldiers had no desire to let Bai Lang raid their camp. If he broke in, there weren't many who could stop him.

Sure enough, by the time Bai Lang and his men spotted the Qing encampment, the enemy was already on full alert. "Well, well, grappling hooks, nets, longbows, and heavy arrows. You've certainly come prepared. But how are you going to plunder now? I'll keep you busy!" Bai Lang rode his horse around a hundred paces away, abandoning the idea of storming the camp for the moment. His harassment gave the Qing soldiers a real headache. They couldn't even gather firewood, fetch water, or prepare food in the camp, let alone break camp and march out to fight.

If they sent out a troop, Bai Lang would kill them in the time it took to drink a cup of tea. If they sent a thousand men to surround him, it would be a huge undertaking—and they might not even catch him. If he escaped, they'd never track him down. That was the use of a peerless warrior: stationed outside an enemy camp, he was like an iron chain stretched across a river, leaving the enemy stuck, unable to advance or retreat. They could no longer sweep through Shandong and seize slaves. For one thing, Bai Lang had started charging into their ranks from the very beginning of the siege, making it impossible to take the captives away.

In truth, now that their morale and organization were still intact, they ought to retreat from Shandong and return later with a peerless warrior to settle the score. But few warriors could swing a pair of iron maces weighing dozens of catties with such ease. Even among the Eight Banners, it would be hard to find someone like him. Surely Aobai, the bravest warrior of the Eight Banners and bearer of the title Baturu, wasn't this formidable. He wielded a heavy iron sword weighing only twenty-odd catties and fought in the front ranks wearing three layers of armor.

But perhaps that wasn't entirely true. Abahai had seen the imperial guards beside Hong Taiji. One of them was a martial arts expert who wielded an eighty-one-catties bronze club with a single handle. But though the man excelled at fighting, he was no good at military affairs—and he was Han, so he would never become a Baturu of the Eight Banners. Still, it looked as though several Janggins and Fende Bosiku would have to lead the White Banner soldiers and the Ge Bu Xian Chao Ha to see if they could capture or drive off this Han warrior.

The Han warrior had apparently earned his rank by taking Jurchen heads. At the very least, the mountain-pattern armor on his body, unmistakably that of an officer, was gleaming and clearly fine quality. Now he had nothing in his hands, while his twin iron maces were on another horse. The Ming cavalry following him had clearly grown timid when they saw the Qing camp, leaving their warrior exposed at the very front.

Bai Lang sized up the camp before him. "Hm? Are they coming out to fight me?" Sitting on his horse, he leaned forward slightly and looked ahead. "Bring me my maces," he said. A horn sounded, and the Qing camp gates swung open as a troop of soldiers poured out. "Well, those must be elite White Banner soldiers." Bai Lang saw infantry clad in three layers of armor and carrying large shields and heavy bows, along with heavily armored cavalry whose riders and horses were both protected by armor. They all carried grappling hooks and lassos as well.

Could these men really stop his attack? But before charging in, Bai Lang had to consider the fact that they were well prepared. If he charged now, he might only kill a few before getting trapped. He wasn't at all confident he could escape if surrounded. To be honest, he'd never been caught in the midst of an encircling army before. Still, his lightness skills ought to get him out.

For now, he would keep his distance. If he couldn't hone his martial arts by killing, he could at least do something for his country and people. Bai Lang considered himself a citizen of the Republic, but the Great Ming was more respectable than the Tartars, and it was the legitimate dynasty. He pulled farther away as the enemy prepared to test their strength against him. "You lot, go on ahead. I might not be able to look after you later." Bai Lang's inner force surged, and the Purple Gold Mace gave off a low hum.

The Golden Bell Shield slowly took shape, though it remained invisible to the naked eye; his skill hadn't reached that level yet. Bai Lang couldn't protect the horse beneath him, either. He urged it forward at a steady pace, preparing for battle. But the first to face him weren't the cavalry. They were heavily armored infantry, who drew their bows and aimed at Bai Lang's horse. Bai Lang dismounted and knocked the arrows aside with the Purple Gold Mace. "Take my horse away first. Don't worry, I have a way to handle this. Go on ahead."

Bai Lang looked at the ranks before him and smiled. "That dark opening up ahead must be the bandits' lair. Just let me get up there, and I'll kill every last one of them. Heh heh heh." He struck his twin maces together with a sharp clang, then strode toward the enemy.