Chapter Fifty-Two: Bo Cai Seeks Help

“Hahaha, I’ve come from afar this time and didn’t bring anything exceptional, but I do have two small tokens for you generals, just to show my appreciation,” Liu Yao said casually, then called out to the guards waiting outside, “Someone, bring my gifts here.”

“This is too much, we cannot accept,” the two men hurriedly declined.

“Hahaha, you are both heroes of the Han Dynasty, what’s a small gift between us?” Liu Yao laughed heartily. Seeing that the two were still hesitant, he feigned annoyance and said, “Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“We wouldn’t dare,” Huangfu Song replied helplessly.

Just then, one of Liu Yao’s personal guards entered, carrying the gifts. From the moment the guard stepped in, both Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun’s gazes were fixed on his hands, which held a pair of scale armors from Liu Yao’s army. Liu Yao had certainly noticed the look in their eyes. To him, these two suits of scale armor were nothing much—merely a gesture of goodwill to the two generals.

Both sets of armor gleamed silver under the candlelight, dazzling to behold. Though not personally crafted by Ou Feng, they were still leagues superior to the scale armors worn by the assault troops. Forged from fifty-fold refined steel and plated with silver, these armors were not only formidable in defense but also striking in appearance.

As for the secrets of these armors, without Ou Feng’s personal guidance or the technology of steel-making, there was no way anyone could replicate them. Besides, both Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun had shown themselves to be friendly to Liu Yao, so he had no fear of betrayal; on the contrary, they were well worth winning over.

“Do these please you both?” Liu Yao asked with a smile.

The two men looked incredulous but accepted the gifts nonetheless. The reason was simple—they were utterly enamored with the scale armor.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the two said, bowing with clasped fists, then carefully placed the armors at their sides, handling them as if they were treasures.

“Haha, think nothing of it. These are not considered precious in my army,” Liu Yao said nonchalantly.

Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun exchanged glances and forced a wry smile. Inwardly, they marveled at the crown prince’s capabilities—to have such powerful armor in mass production, no wonder the Wuwan seemed like child’s play to him. Little did they know that Liu Yao’s victory over the Wuwan was due to strategy rather than equipment.

“Your Highness, may I ask who these gentlemen are? Their martial skills are superb. Would you introduce them, so I may befriend such heroes?” Zhu Jun inquired.

“Haha, why not?” Liu Yao replied, then began with Shi A. “This is Shi A, a disciple of the imperial tutor Wang Yue, and now my personal guard commander. This is Zhang Fei, styled Yide...” Liu Yao proceeded to introduce each martial officer in turn.

At last, he gestured to Tian Feng. “This is Tian Feng, styled Yuanhao, my advisor for this campaign. My victory over the Wuwan owes much to his strategies.”

“You flatter me, my lord. The credit belongs to everyone,” Tian Feng replied modestly.

“Oh!” Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun exclaimed in unison. As military men, they had always looked down on scholars, believing them incapable of securing peace or victory. At first, they had paid Tian Feng no heed.

But now, learning that the defeat of the Wuwan was owed to this scholar’s wisdom, they instantly changed their attitude, respectfully clasping their fists and saying, “Master Yuanhao, please instruct us on how to thoroughly defeat the Yellow Turban rebels now entrenched in Yingchuan.”

Tian Feng glanced at Liu Yao, and seeing him nod assent, said, “Generals, there is no need for such formality. I will share all I know, withholding nothing.”

“Please, enlighten us,” Huangfu Song urged.

Stroking his beard, Tian Feng pondered for a moment and said, “I’ve only just arrived, so I’m not fully apprised of the Yellow Turbans’ current situation. For now, I suggest we take the opportunity to rest. The Yellow Turbans have just suffered a major defeat and won’t be able to mount another attack soon. Your men have also taken heavy casualties. Let us discuss detailed strategies in the coming days—what say you?”

Huangfu Song was a bit disappointed, not expecting Tian Feng’s advice to be merely to rest for the time being. But then he realized that the adviser was newly arrived and unfamiliar with the situation. Besides, his own troops were indeed exhausted; a period of recuperation would do no harm. “Then we will heed your advice, Master Yuanhao,” Huangfu Song said respectfully.

Thanks to Liu Yao’s moderation, the banquet did not devolve into drunken revelry, but remained a light affair. Afterwards, all retired to their quarters to restore their energy for the battles ahead.

Meanwhile, in the Yellow Turban camp, Bo Cai was seated in the command tent, having his left arm—wounded earlier by Huang Zhong’s arrow—bandaged by a personal guard. “Agh, be gentle! Useless fool,” he snapped. But the guard was no doctor, lacking any real skill. Most of the Yellow Turbans were peasants and other laymen. When the guard touched his wound, Bo Cai gritted his teeth in pain and kicked the unfortunate man away.

“Commander!” A junior officer entered.

Bo Cai immediately asked, “What’s the tally? How many men have we lost?”

The officer hesitated, struggling to reply.

“Out with it, or I’ll have your head!” Bo Cai roared.

“Commander, our losses this time were thirty thousand dead, with over three thousand severely wounded, and the lightly wounded are too many to count. Most critically, all the siege ladders we built in the past days have been destroyed by the government troops,” the officer reported, teeth clenched.

“Damn you, Liu Yao! I, Bo Cai, am your sworn enemy!” Bo Cai leapt up in fury, bellowing.

But the sudden movement pulled at his wound, making him gasp in pain. He sat down heavily, face contorted, lost in thought.

Seeing Bo Cai fall silent, the officer anxiously asked, “Commander, what do we do now? Many of our men are becoming fearful. If this continues, there’ll be a mutiny before the government forces even attack, and we’ll tear ourselves apart.”

Bo Cai considered for a while, then turned to the guard he had kicked and said, “You, go find someone who can write. I need to send a letter to Commander Peng Tuo, asking him for reinforcements.”

The terrified guard ran out at once, no doubt to fetch someone.

The officer hesitated, then said, “Commander, will Peng Tuo really come? After all, everyone’s just looking after their own territory these days.”

“Hmph, don’t worry. If my side falls, Peng Tuo will be next. We’re all grasshoppers on the same rope—he has no choice but to help,” Bo Cai replied coldly.

Soon, the guard returned with a scholarly-looking Yellow Turban, who entered nervously.

Bo Cai eyed him and asked, “You can write?”

The man trembled and replied, “Commander, I went to school for a few years, so I can write a bit.”

“Good. Now, write as I dictate,” Bo Cai ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. Bo Cai dictated, the man wrote, and soon a letter requesting aid was composed.

Bo Cai handed the letter to the officer. “Ride as fast as you can to Runan and deliver this to Peng Tuo. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander! I will fulfill the mission,” the officer said, taking the letter and dashing out of the tent.

Bo Cai snorted, glanced at his freshly bandaged arm, and with a vicious look muttered, “Liu Yao, I’ll make you wish you were dead.”