Su Quanzhong was, after all, descended from a military family. He might have been a little simple-minded, but his martial prowess and ability to command troops were both considerable.
The contingent of Great Wall Guards was divided into three parts: the vanguard, the main force, and the rear guard.
Unlike an ordinary commander, Su Quanzhong personally led the vanguard at the very front, leaving his deputy, Zhao Bing, in command of the main force.
The prisoners of war and slaves who had volunteered to follow them also broke with convention. Rather than staying in the safest position with the rear guard, they flocked to join the vanguard.
Zhao Bing was helpless. Weather that defied reason, a commander who defied reason, prisoners and slaves who defied reason-how were they supposed to fight like this?
The blizzard raged; banners tore.
Zhao Bing asked Su Quanzhong to withdraw, but Su Quanzhong pressed on without pause, saying only, "Head north."
The snow grew heavier still. Just as Zhao Bing had predicted, the army lost its way.
Zhao Bing was nearly frantic enough to cry. Once again, he asked Su Quanzhong to withdraw. Retracing their steps might still offer a way out; otherwise, the entire army would be buried alongside them.
Su Quanzhong still answered woodenly, "Head north."
There was not the slightest hesitation.
Zhao Bing actually burst into tears. "General, we are all soldiers of Great Shang! If we die on the battlefield, we die a worthy death. But if we freeze to death in this snow, we won't be able to close our eyes even in the Nine Hells!"
For once, Su Quanzhong offered a few more words. "Snow's too deep. Can't get down to the Nine Hells."
Zhao Bing stopped crying. If he kept going until his face was covered in lumps