Chapter Two: A Lone Loyal Officer Fights to the Death in Perilous Times — A Filial and Chivalrous Son Makes Friends and Destroys the Enemy

With the realm in danger, armour fills the sky to every horizon,

and the roads are thick with the homeless and their cries of grief.

When the pillar of the world is snapped, who props up heaven?

Blood has stained the ocean; the common people are all undone.

No general's order is seen to calm the barbarian threat;

only a filial son's banner is raised to wipe out shame.

Looking up and down at this, one's heart fills with admiration —

true fealty and steadfast bearing put the bewhiskered to shame.

It is only in the twisting roots of a great tree that the sharpness of a fine blade is revealed; it is only in times of national danger and upheaval that true loyalty and filial piety are made known. When the affairs of state collapse, it is invariably because too many men push responsibility away, while too few are willing to bear it; too many are greedy and grasping, while too few are loyal and righteous. Those who occupy high positions delegate the affairs of their locality to their subordinates. The subordinates in turn say: my rank is low and my office small — the matter is not within my remit — and so they find many ways to evade and comply perfunctorily. Of the ancient saying "I dare not leave the enemy as an inheritance to my lord and father" — who among them has ever known it?

The civil officials say: "My duty is to the registers and tax accounts, and nothing more. What have I to do with the affairs of war?" The military commanders say: "A fighting man gives his life in the field, while a scholar wields his pen afterward in judgment. Merit and fault are weighed unequally, and the truth of the matter is never scrutinised. This merely makes heroes lose heart. It is the court that has failed men — why should I sacrifice myself for it?" Of the old saying "When civil officials do not love money and military officials do not fear death, the realm is at peace" — who among them has ever heeded it?

Moreover, when men march side by side in the field and obey the same orders from above, some charge forward bravely while others shrink back in cowardice. What appears to be a strategy of mutual support is in reality no more than watchful waiting. If one man wins a victory, the others say: "It was I who pinned down a certain camp, and so he was able to press the enemy's pass — it was I who divided the enemy's forces, and so he was able to strike into the gap and gain a complete victory." But should misfortune fall and the troops be overpowered and routed, destroying the army and costing men their lives, then they say: "That man failed to measure the enemy, plunged deep with an isolated force, and so brought ruin and disgrace upon the country. I alone knew when to fall back and was thus preserved." Thus they shift the entire blame for defeat onto the dead man, while concealing their own guilt of having refused to come to his aid. Then there are the civil officials who protect their own skins and wives and children, who spy out a man's faults and report them upward to excuse their own failures — their inability to command the troops, their ignorance of strategy. With civil and military men like these, how can banditry and rebellion be pacified? How can the people enjoy peace?

For true peace to come, it requires that all men, regardless of rank, hold in their hearts a will to die if necessary. That those who have suffered harm should carry within them the resolve to avenge their wrongs and wipe out their shame — only then will bandits be easily swept away. And so it has always been, in ages past, that a man laden with gold and wearing a broad sash of office has been unable to give his life for the state; while in a moment of crisis, it is some humble official who stands firm and does not bend. Grand banners and great drums have been unable to produce a surprise attack that destroys the enemy; while it is a filial son who kills the foe and captures the enemy commander. This stands as a rebuke to shame the evasive and cowardly officials of that age.

According to the historical records: the founding Taizu Emperor of the Ming dynasty, having crushed the false Han and eliminated the false Wu, and taken the Central Plains to the north, had his finest soldiers and strongest generals constantly in the field. But in the newly-pacified prefectures and counties, there were only token garrison troops and a few civil officials who, it must be said, served little purpose. This was an inevitable consequence of founding a new dynasty — there was simply no way to attend to everything at once. For this reason, in place after place, bandits still remained. In Jiangxi, among the mountains of Taoyuan and their various ranges, each valley held its own stronghold. The bandits were entrenched there, sometimes watching for opportunities to raid prefectural towns, sometimes plundering distant villages. In Luoyuan County there were two bandit leaders — one called Chen Boxiang, one called Wang Shan — the most savage and ruthless of all. Their lieutenants included Zhang Po Si and a gang of hardened outlaws who ranged freely without restraint.

At that time there was a man serving as Coastal Inspector of Lianjiang County named Liu Jun — a man of spirited bearing and considerable talent, the kind of man who wanted to do something of real service for the state. He had a son named Liu Lian, a young man of courage and intelligence who was skilled with the bow and on horseback, and who loved to make friends with men of gallant character. He accompanied his father in the post. He drew in close to himself every man in the district who showed any talent or judgement, and recruited into his personal circle every soldier among the bowmen who showed physical strength and ready wits — for he too wished to do something of real service to the state.

But at that time, the institutions of the new dynasty were not yet settled. Civil officials, not surprisingly, made private gain their first concern — levying additional surcharges on taxes, exacting fines in the resolution of disputes, accumulating money by any means available. They cared little about the decay of city walls and the dispersal of popular loyalties. Military officials, basking in the importance given to martial affairs in this era, went to the other extreme of unrestrained arrogance. They neglected to train and drill their troops and did not trouble themselves about the quality of their weapons.

Greed has bored through their lungs and bowels;

weakness and timidity have eaten to the marrow of their bones.

They heap fire beneath the very bundle of kindling on which they sleep,

chirping contentedly like swallows nesting in a burning hall.

Inspector Liu looked at this state of affairs with a heart full of disagreement. He was especially diligent in attending to any loopholes in the defences. He tightened the community watch system so that criminals and troublemakers found no tolerance. He banned gambling and idleness, saying that poverty drove men to banditry. He forbade brothels, calling them homes-away-from-home for bandits. Within his own ranks, he ruthlessly weeded out the old and the weak, saying they were useless for training and would only cause trouble, falsely accuse honest men of being bandits, shelter real bandits, and share in the spoils. Any who were found to have done so were investigated and punished severely. Thus the garrison town was cleared of its criminal element. Though his force was small, every man in it was bold and capable. Superiors and colleagues alike laughed at him and said this official must be hoping for a promotion. They did not understand:

Officials may differ in rank and station,

but in rendering loyalty, they share the same duty.

Even the gate-keeper and the nightwatchman

may render their contribution to the realm.

Among his subordinates there was an archer named Yao Hu, who had been having a long-running affair with the wife of a local carpenter, going to her by night and returning by morning — the carpenter being in the way of this arrangement.

One day a neighbour's home was burgled. A ladder was left behind at the scene — one that the carpenter had made to sell to a customer. When the authorities came to investigate, they searched the carpenter's home and found beneath his bed several bronze and tin items that matched the inventory of stolen goods. When brought before the court, his wife at first denied everything, but later declared that all the items had been stolen by her husband and hidden by him. The carpenter, however, maintained strenuously that on the night in question he had been working at someone's house to raise the main beam, and his co-workers could vouch for this beyond doubt. Inspector Liu sensed that something was amiss in the case, and noticed also that whenever the woman was about to give an answer, she would glance sideways at the archer. Whenever the archer hissed "Won't you confess?" the woman would firmly accuse the husband.

The Inspector ordered them both to wait outside while he summoned the neighbours to enquire into the carpenter's general character. But when the woman and her husband were taken outside, he called Yao Hu before him: "My yamen, small as it is, still has its proper order. How dare you play your games before my very eyes, intimidating the woman!" He administered a thorough dressing-down and ordered ten strokes with the board, firmly intending to arrest Yao Hu. He then brought the woman back inside and said: "What a fine business you and the archer have been conducting — scheming to trap your husband! He has already confessed. Now speak plainly!" The woman was so startled — it was as though some god's ear had been pressed to the wall, watching from below — that for a long moment no words came. The Inspector called for the finger-press. The carpenter then scrambled forward desperately: "Your Honour, I am willing to confess — I committed the theft, I hid the goods, my wife had nothing to do with it." The Inspector said: "Foolish slave — you protect her, but she has no pity for you." The woman, seeing that the Inspector knew the truth and genuinely believing the archer had confessed, had no choice but to reveal that the ladder had been carried away by the archer and that the bronze and tin items had been brought by the archer and hidden together with her. "How did you come to be on such intimate terms with the archer?" the Inspector asked. "He is my cousin," she replied. "There is certainly more to it than that," said the Inspector. And as he threatened the finger-press again, the woman had no choice but to confess the whole of their long-standing affair, and how the archer, finding the carpenter an obstacle, had plotted to be rid of him. Only then did the carpenter kowtow in relief: "Righteous magistrate in Heaven above! If not for Your Honour, this wretch's life would nearly have been destroyed — and I still thought him a decent man. Just now, as I was preparing to deal with the yamen, I gave him eight hundred copper coins!"

Who could have guessed they shared a bed,

their weapons drawn as if for bloody battle?

Had not the bright mirror of Qin revealed all things,

how could such a demon's form have come to light?

The Inspector summoned Yao Hu and confronted him: "The woman has confessed. You seduced another man's wife, plotted against him, committed theft, and falsely accused an innocent man of theft — what do you say to this?" Yao Hu fell silent, unable to speak. Though the guilt of Yao Hu and the woman was grave, by the law the archer was only liable to penal servitude for receiving stolen goods, and the woman to flogging for adultery. The carpenter was discharged and sent home. The entire garrison town called the Inspector a god.

On another occasion, the prefecture sent an order for him to assist in the capture of some robbers. The suspects turned out to be a dyer and a silversmith, and a search of their premises turned up various ornaments and articles of clothing. The Inspector noted that the ornaments were not of any unusual workmanship and the clothing included no duplicate colours, and that when the items were given to the suspects' family members to wear, they all fit perfectly. He argued strenuously that these men were not thieves and refused to send them up for trial. His superiors were quite displeased — but before long, the real thieves were caught, and everyone acknowledged his perspicacity.

That a perceptive man can arrive at such clarity is one thing; that a man of such low office can hold his ground with such firmness is rare indeed. Truly:

Not only a clear heart, bright as the moon —

but a spine of steel, firm as a mountain.

At this same period, as it happened, enemies were set against him on all sides. Then one day an order arrived from the provincial administration declaring that Wang Shan and his associates were running rampant, and directing Inspector Liu Jun to coordinate with Garrison Commander Zhou Zhang and Deputy Commander Xu Yu to proceed and suppress them. Liu Jun said to himself: "What use are these military men? If we win, they will claim the credit; if we lose, they will be the first to bolt, and will only ruin everything. But since my superiors have sent them, I must go along with them — at least they will make an impressive show." He assembled a hundred archers and a hundred local militia and set out to join them. The two commanders had already arrived with their forces. The Inspector took one look and could barely suppress a laugh:

Half those who have tied on their swords are stripling Zhong Yongs;

most of those shouldering halberds are elders who eat well but fight poorly.

Burdened in armour, their gait is clumsy and bent;

hunched over, they seem like bows with their strings removed.

Looking at the weapons they had brought was even more remarkable:

The spear-tips are already blunted — no edge remains;

the sword-blades show not a glimmer of steel.

Two or three staves of willow wood,

bored through with worm-holes, about to crumble to nothing.

The two commanders demanded that the Inspector acknowledge their superiority and perform the rites of a subordinate. "Civil and military officials are not under each other's command," said the Inspector. They greeted each other as peers and discussed the plan of advance. Commander Zhou said: "I have heard that the bandits are numerous and the mountains are steep. Chen and Wang are both shrewd and resourceful. If we engage them in battle and suffer even a single setback, it will be hard to recover our spirit afterward. Better to encamp at the foot of the mountain and cut off their access to firewood and water, and starve them out gradually. They have no grain inside and no reinforcements outside — they must either surrender or die. This is the approach of certainty." Commander Xu said: "These mountains are vast, and our troops are few — how can we possibly block them in? Better to make a show of force at the mountain pass, take a few heads in the confusion, and report back to the superiors. Otherwise, the longer we drag this out, the more displeased the superiors will become." Inspector Liu said: "Military strategy teaches: with many troops, mount a formal campaign — advance in good order, first offer terms of surrender, then attack those who refuse. With few troops, make a swift strike — attack where they least expect it, strike directly at the bandit lair. Now we have barely a thousand men. We cannot talk of surrounding or starving them, or leaving them to destroy themselves of their own accord. Nor should we launch an assault merely to grab a few heads and massacre innocent civilians in the confusion. The best plan is this: first send envoys to offer terms of surrender and lull their vigilance; then advance rapidly and strike before they can prepare. Capture or kill the two ringleaders, and their threat to the region will be ended forever." Commander Zhou favoured only the strategy of patient encirclement. Commander Xu favoured no more than a show of force, after which he hoped the enemy would not dare come out. In sum:

With mediocre talent and a coward's heart, they fear to fight;

with weak resolve and trembling legs, they love to delay.

They debate like men building a house in the middle of the road —

the wrangling never stops.

Inspector Liu said: "Encirclement and a show of force will lead nowhere. I have learned that of the two leaders, Chen Boxiang is the most ferocious and holds the main camp. I propose now to lure Wang Shan into talks of surrender while simultaneously sending a light rapid force deep into the mountains to take Chen Boxiang by surprise. Once that bandit is captured, the rest will lose their courage." Commander Zhou said: "Battle is always the most dangerous strategy." Commander Xu said: "Since Inspector Liu wishes to try, let us all make an attempt." The plan of advance was agreed upon.

Scouts reported that Chen Boxiang's main camp lay to the north of the mountains, with Wang Shan's stronghold to the south, and smaller forts guarding the eastern and western passes. Inspector Liu said: "Chen Boxiang's lair is to the north, with Wang Shan's position as his southern shield and the east and west as his flanks — he cannot be greatly on guard there. The eastern pass has steep and difficult mountain paths — he surely reckons our troops cannot advance through it. Better to take the eastern fort by night first, then press straight through to the north. Once the main camp is broken, the rest will scatter of themselves." Inspector Liu led his own contingent as the vanguard, with Xu Yu's men behind him, both heading east toward the mountains; Zhou Zhang would press toward the south to pin down Wang Shan, while men were sent to the western side to plant banners and fire cannon, creating a diversion. The civil official argued clearly and vigorously for battle; the two commanders could only agree reluctantly — calculating that in victory they would share the credit, and in defeat they could hold their own ground without exposing themselves to danger.

Let them scramble ahead at the forefront —

they prefer to crouch safely at the rear.

At the fifth watch they set out. The Inspector and his son led their contingent, climbing through vines and over treacherous slopes, heading straight for the bandit camp. Just as expected, the bandits, trusting in the natural defences, had not posted proper guards. Father and son charged in at the head of the attack, cutting down bandits without number. Inspector Liu then ordered the camp burned: "First, so that those outside will know we have taken the fort; second, so that the bandits in every other camp will know the eastern fort has fallen and their courage will be shaken."

Then they led their troops straight toward the main camp.

Their armour is stained with the mist of the cold stream;

their spear-tips lift the clouds above the sheer ridgeline.

They swear to drive these tiger-soldiers before them

and in a single battle cut down this isolated pack.

All the way they fired cannon and guns to fill the air with sound. Inspector Liu remained at the front. But unexpectedly, the main camp, having heard the uproar from the eastern fort, knew that government troops had launched a surprise assault and sent troops out in haste to intercept them — which brought them directly into the Inspector's path. Both sides clashed and drove into each other in close combat. Though the Inspector's troops were few, they were all seasoned and bold, and the fighting was about even. He awaited the arrival of Commander Xu's relief troops. But to his further misfortune, Commander Xu, upon seeing the gold, silk, women, and children abandoned in the eastern fort, had ordered his troops to carry the plunder back to camp before pressing forward. On the south face, Commander Zhou did nothing but gaze at the mountain strongholds and shout with banners and battle cries. The southern fort, recognising that Zhou posed no threat, split its force — half to hold the gate, half to go to the relief of the main camp. Combining with the western fort, these were two fresh forces, and added to the routed men from the eastern fort, they all converged and closed in from every side. It was plain to see: Inspector Liu was already encircled at the heart of it all, with no way out.

The songs of Chu rise from every corner of the field;

at Gaixia, the encirclement is complete.

With strength exhausted, even the Black Steed cannot flee —

the hero's vital spirit is nearly spent.

By this time, four or five out of every ten of his men had been killed in battle, yet the Inspector still called out for them to press on and fight. The bandits, wary of his men's determination to die fighting, kept their distance and drove the troops with arrows and stones. While the Inspector was still fighting, an arrow came flying suddenly from an angle and struck him full in the left cheek. He fell from his horse. Liu Lian rushed to help him up, but by then the bandits had already surged forward and seized them both. The bandits swarmed like bees and gathered like ants, and took the Inspector, his son, and several wounded soldiers back into the stronghold.

The two bandit chiefs were seated above. Chen Boxiang spoke: "What kind of official are you, to dare attack my stronghold?" The Inspector replied: "I came under orders to suppress the bandits. I only regret I had no allies of common purpose to fight alongside me, and thus fell into your hands. My only wish is a quick death." Chen Boxiang said: "Whether it comes quickly or slowly is no longer for you to say. What great office do you hold, and what great power, that you dare pull the tiger's whiskers?" The Inspector replied: "A treasonous and bandit-like subject — every man has the right to strike him down, regardless of rank! It is a pity only that my rear troops did not arrive. Had they come, you men would have been ground to dust by now." Wang Shan said: "I'm afraid it is rather you who are about to be ground to dust! Take them under guard." The Inspector cursed back: "You pack of treasonous rebel slaves — you may kill me, but I will not suffer humiliation. Kill me at once!" Through a thousand curses and ten thousand threats, the bandit chieftain Zhang Po Si grew so infuriated that he said: "We have been fighting here, seizing towns and looting the countryside, and we have not lost a single man. This man came here and killed over a hundred of our brothers — we cannot let him live." Liu Lian, seeing how matters stood, said: "My father is an officer of the imperial court — do not kill him and bring guilt upon yourselves. I am willing to die in his place." He clasped hold of his father and would not let go. The Inspector said: "There is no chance of my returning alive. You must go and report to the superiors and urge them to advance the troops quickly and wipe out these bandits." Zhang Po Si said: "Keeping this fellow alive is useless. I'll cut you down first, and then let's see how the superiors come to wipe us out!" Without waiting for Chen Boxiang's word, he brought his blade down and killed Inspector Liu with a single stroke.

Clouds of grief rise across the wild field;

his fresh blood stains the fragrant grasses.

Through the whispering pines the wind rises —

still one seems to hear the sound of his curses against the bandits.

Liu Lian collapsed in grief, senseless. He too hurled curses at the bandits and begged to die alongside his father. Zhang Po Si would have cut him down as well, but several of the bandits said: "Having already killed a loyal officer, you must not also kill a filial son." Liu Lian and a few captured soldiers gave the Inspector a rough burial in the mountains. Liu Lian wanted to remain there and keep vigil over the grave. But a local militia commander named Wu Jian, and an archer named Chen Li, spoke to him: "Young Master, the world outside does not yet know that your father died a hero's death. If you remain here, you cannot avenge him quickly. It is better to follow your father's advice, go before the superiors, and ask for troops to take revenge. We will remain here as your eyes and ears from within, to repay your father's and your own kindness." The three men then put their heads together and whispered for a while.

Their loyalty runs deep, their hearts undivided;

their enmity burns fierce, their will unsatisfied.

They sleep on thorns, awaiting the day of reckoning —

they will seek out the dragon's lair and slay the monster.

The plan was settled that very day. The following morning Liu Lian went before Wang Shan and Chen Boxiang and said: "My father is dead. I wished to die with him, but I refuse to live on here as a ghost. Let me go." Wang Shan said to Chen Boxiang: "This man is no use to us here. If he leaves, he cannot harm us — let him go." So they no longer kept him under restraint. Liu Lian had already made his arrangements with the two men in secret. He went to his father's grave and wept bitterly, saying: "Father, if your spirit has power, may it allow your son to avenge this wrong and bring your coffin home to our native soil."

Without the means to offer even a cup of wine,

I can only pour tears by the thousand.

But a filial son's heart does not dim in the darkness —

through hardship and danger, I swear I shall see this through.

Liu Lian came down from the mountains. By then, the two commanders had already filed their report: Inspector Liu Jun, in his reckless desire for glory, had disobeyed orders and plunged deep into the bandit stronghold; his fate was unknown. Their own garrison forces were too thinly stretched, and they requested permission to withdraw and plan a fresh campaign. The provincial administration believed them and authorised their withdrawal.

Liu Lian first went to the prefectural magistrate. The Magistrate said: "Your father advanced rashly and came to grief. If, as you say, he refused to surrender and died for his principles, that already absolves him. But the matter of vengeance is a private affair — how could I dare raise troops on your behalf?" The next day Liu Lian went again to plead. The Magistrate said: "War and battle are fearfully dangerous. I absolutely dare not provoke trouble. I will give you a few taels for funeral expenses and transport — now go home." Liu Lian replied: "I ask only for vengeance. How dare I use my father's death for personal gain?"

The debt of a parent's boundless love is heavy as a mountain;

a thousand taels of gold is flung away without a thought.

Who could bear to shelter beneath the same covering

as those who gaze down with open eyes from beneath the earth?

He went again; the Magistrate would not hear him. After much pleading, he managed to get the two commanders to contribute a little toward funeral offerings and burial expenses — completely mistaking the purpose of a filial son's cause. Liu Lian had no choice but to appeal to the provincial administration. The provincial authority replied: "Liu Jun damaged the prestige of our forces and harmed the state. We were already about to censure him through official channels. For now we will set the matter aside." This burst of flame met with a bucketful of cold water. Liu Lian argued: "My father had already taken the eastern fort. If the rear troops had advanced, the main camp could have been destroyed. It was only for lack of support that he died a hero's death." The provincial authority said: "That is only your side of the story." Liu Lian again begged for troops to be sent. The provincial authority replied: "Deploying troops is no trivial matter. How can we sacrifice the lives of hundreds and thousands of men to satisfy one man's private cause?" He wept and begged without cease, and received nothing but a directive that the matter be "referred to the prefecture for enquiry and deliberation." One enquiry, one reply, several days more of delay — and the whole matter was quietly buried.

They devour the people like wolves;

before any affair they pull into their shells like turtles.

With such men managing affairs, what can be done?

They are unworthy of the weeping one makes before the court of Qin.

Liu Lian said to himself: "Looking at this situation, am I simply to let my father's death go unavenged?" He had no choice but to return to Lianjiang and pour out his grievances to the gallant friends his father had known in life. Because his father had known men truly and well, they all responded with a surge of righteousness: "These blind officials and decrepit soldiers are clearly never going to accomplish anything. If we act together with them, we'll only be held back. But if we act alone, we are determined to avenge this wrong for you, Young Master, and tear these bandit slaves limb from limb!"

Their spirit darkens the sun and moon like Wu's ancient rage;

their filial devotion moves Heaven and Earth.

We will sweep clean the whale and shark's lair

and wipe out the anguish of gods and ghosts alike.

The filial son prostrated himself on the ground and gave thanks to each man. They began to gather secretly, each in his place, waiting for the appointed day to rise.

Meanwhile, Chen Boxiang and Wang Shan, having killed Inspector Liu, regarded the government troops as children at play, reckoned they would not dare look them in the eye again, and gave themselves over freely to looting and plunder. Chen Li and Wu Jian had each submitted to their respective chiefs. Chen Li attached himself to Chen Boxiang; Wu Jian to Wang Shan. Each performed small services and became a trusted aide. They then suggested to their chiefs: "The nearby villages are poor. It would be better, now that the government troops have withdrawn, to split up and plunder distant merchant caravans on the roads and waterways. The goods we bring back we can sell at fair prices to the nearby villagers, so that the local people all become our informants and we learn whatever is happening in the outside world." Both men found this scheme sensible, and began regularly sending trusted bandit lieutenants to lead men on distant raids; at the same time they welcomed the local population to trade at their mountain market. Liu Lian first had relatives of the Wu and Chen families disguise themselves as merchants and enter the mountains to pass secret messages to Wu Jian and Chen Li.

The merchants are all crack troops;

white-clad soldiers lie hidden in the boats.

How those fox-and-rat rascals will laugh —

little knowing there is no way out of the net.

It was now the autumn harvest season, the tenth month. The two bandits' most trusted and most capable fighters had gone out in different directions on raids, leaving the interior of the stronghold emptied out. Chen Boxiang had just acquired a beautiful woman and was in the midst of his pleasures. Zhang Po Si was the special focus of Liu Lian's plan: several strong and capable men, carrying large quantities of goods, had gone to him as his clients, asking him to manage the exchange of goods and learning the layout of his household. The remaining helpers of Liu Lian, meanwhile, each carried in their bamboo baskets gunpowder, sulphur, and sharp blades, and stationed themselves on all sides of the mountain stronghold. When the appointed day arrived, Liu Lian and his comrades were all dressed and armed, each with a short blade at the hip. They came again by the eastern route, and Liu Lian himself charged straight to Zhang Po Si's home; the others went separately to attack Chen Boxiang's and Wang Shan's main strongholds. At approximately the second watch of the night, a great shout went up — and every hillside answered in unison. Haystacks, bamboo houses, and thatched roofs all burst into flame at the same moment.

Thick smoke darkened the caves of the moon;

dense fire became the glow of dawn clouds.

In an instant the ground where warriors had prowled

was turned to nothing but rubble and ash.

Zhang Po Si, hearing the shouts, leapt up and called his men to join him in going to defend the main stronghold. He had barely opened the great gate when Liu Lian bellowed: "Where do you think you're going, you villainous bandit!" He drove his blade into him, and Zhang Po Si fell to the ground. The others rushed in to help. Liu Lian called out: "We need some alive!" and the men surged into Zhang Po Si's house. Unknown to them, the merchant-guests who had settled in there beforehand had already killed Zhang Po Si's wife and children. Such is:

The way of Heaven in its return:

the violent man brings catastrophe upon himself.

He will leave behind a stench for a thousand years —

his body shattered, who is left to mourn him?

In Chen Boxiang's stronghold, the bandit chief was sound asleep in the arms of his beautiful woman when Chen Li came and had him bound before he had even woken. Wang Shan hurriedly threw on his clothes and rushed toward the front of the stronghold — only to find several men with blades storming in through the gate. He turned to the back of the stronghold and saw Wu Jian standing in the firelight. He called out desperately: "Save me, save me!" Wu Jian said: "I have come to save you" — and stepping close, grabbed him by the head with one hand and hurled him to the ground. The men who came after bound him fast. Wu Jian and Chen Li called out loudly: "Many of those inside the stronghold are good people who were taken by force — do not kill indiscriminately!" Even so, by the time dawn came, roughly a third had been killed. At daylight, Master Liu ordered Chen Boxiang and Wang Shan, the two bandit chiefs, to be taken by the gallant friends, Chen Li, and Wu Jian, to receive their reward from the authorities. Gold, silk, women, children, and weapons were inventoried and delivered to the officials. All the strongholds were burned to the ground, so that no trace remained for future brigands to reassemble. Only Zhang Po Si was kept: Liu Lian brought him to the place where his father was buried, split open his belly, tore out his heart, and offered them as a sacrifice at the grave.

He has purged in full the rage of his living days

and given peace to the soul beneath the earth.

Even the whipping of Pingwang's corpse by Wu Zixu

is praised and sung without end across a thousand years.

Liu Lian then had a large coffin made, placed his father's remains inside, and put on the coarsest mourning garments himself; all his friends wore light mourning as well. They brought the coffin out of the mountains and Liu Lian gave his heartfelt thanks to each man, grateful that they had united in compassion to help him take his revenge. The men wished him to go with them to present themselves before the provincial administration. He replied: "My duty here is done. What need is there to see those people?" And he went straight home.

It was left to his comrades to write a memorial detailing his father's heroic death and Liu Lian's subsequent scheme to capture the bandits, and submit it to the prefecture. The prefectural magistrate, who had not dared provoke a quarrel before the fact, now dared to claim the credit after it. He submitted a document to the provincial administration with a clause reading: "Also benefited from the assistance of locally trained militia, coordinated by this prefecture" — claiming some of it for himself. The provincial administration's memorial to the throne added a line to the effect that "this province had maintained strict supervision, so that the bandits, confined to their mountain lairs, had not dared to rampage further" — followed by: "This was entirely due to the awe of His Majesty's celestial might and the initiatives of his ministers, and the merits of the relevant prefecture and county in training and instruction cannot be overlooked." Such was the conventional formula.

The fighting men shed their blood in battle;

in the accounting of merit, it is all the great officials' doing.

Heroes can barely save their own lives;

the timid and the incompetent easily win golden caps.

At that time, the founding Taizu Emperor of the Ming dynasty was of the strictest severity in rewards and punishments. An imperial edict was issued: Liu Jun was posthumously appointed to the rank of Associate Prefect; a shrine was established in his locale and official sacrifices performed. Liu Lian was appointed to the post of County Magistrate. The remaining county deputies, assistant officials, and patrol inspectors received commissions and rewards according to their station. The provincial authority and the prefecture, having failed to suppress the bandits and merely capitalised on the work of others, were denied any merit, and were further admonished by imperial instruction. Zhou Zhang and Xu Yu, having retreated from battle and abandoned Liu Jun to his fate, were investigated in full, found guilty of their conduct in the field, and executed according to law. Chen Boxiang and Wang Shan, for having plotted rebellion and killed an imperial official, were tried and put to death in consultation with the relevant authorities. As this demonstrates:

Those who have wronged the state receive no light pardon;

loyalty and integrity shall find their vindication in the end.

The sun and stars shine upon the law's bright warning —

let each man strive in his own way to fulfil his duty.

Looking at this episode: for a minister, willingness to give one's life — even if one cannot preserve one's person — will ultimately cast a bright light upon the pages of history. For a son, willingness to give one's life will ultimately enable him to avenge his wrong and wipe out his shame — and what corner of the realm cannot be set right? It is all because men cling to their bodies and their lives that they cannot in the end preserve their bodies and their lives; they cling to their households and families, and in the end cannot preserve their households and families.

If only those in official positions had, in their ordinary conduct, built a reputation that commanded genuine respect, so that in a moment of crisis they would not spare themselves — then of course they could have defeated the bandits and held the city. If commoners had been generous with their wealth, bound together with one another, and united in a single purpose — they too would ultimately have killed the bandits and preserved their property. But as it was, the officials in the declining years of the dynasty would add a private surcharge whenever the court added one; if the court levied five tenths, they levied ten. They multiplied the regular taxes, added administrative fees, and with beatings drove the people's hearts to deep resentment. Moreover, the great households piled on their own illegal levies, profiting through loans and interest only to enrich themselves — and so where else could the destitute poor go but further into poverty? And when the bandits came, these same officials saw the chance to profit from the chaos. Even before the bandits arrived, disorder had already broken out among themselves.

If every man had shown the bravery and loyalty of Inspector Liu, and if the military commanders had also cooperated in good faith; if every person had been like Liu Lian — spending his family's fortune to avenge his father, gathering allies to destroy the enemy — then how difficult could it have been to wipe out the bandits? The trouble is simply that though there are examples before us, men are unwilling to follow them.