Volume One, Beneath Mount Zhongnan Chapter Seventeen: Yang Guang Is About to Meet His End

Master and disciple were engaged in conversation when suddenly Zhou Jian hurried in from outside, accompanied by Wang Lao Liu and several others. As soon as Zhou, the second brother, entered and sat down, his face grave, he said to Li Xuanba, “Sanlang, today we went into Chang’an to sell our game, but found the city in turmoil. Rumors are everywhere that a few months ago, Li Mi raised his banner in rebellion at Wagang Mountain, publicly denouncing Emperor Yang of Sui with ten grave accusations. Now all the regional warlords look to him as their leader. He’s won several battles, even killing the great general Zhang Xutuo. The Wagang army is now mighty and arrogant, reportedly besieging the Eastern Capital. Luoyang is said to be on the verge of falling, and Emperor Yang has issued dozens of edicts, ordering the garrison of Chang’an to rush east to his aid!”

Wang Liu quickly chimed in, “That’s right. The people of Chang’an are terrified; rumors fill the air. Some say Luoyang has already fallen and Emperor Yang is dead. Others claim he plans to flee south to Jiangdu and divide the empire with Li Mi. There’s even talk that Li Mi’s siege of Luoyang is a feint, that he’s waiting for the emperor to move his troops east before launching a surprise attack on Chang’an itself. The stories grow more vivid by the day!”

Hearing this, Li Xuanba understood that the Guanzhong and Longxi aristocrats were preparing to abandon the Sui and support his father, Li Yuan. Chang’an was their stronghold—if they truly meant to support the emperor, how could they allow such rumors to spread unchecked? No doubt these very rumors were being fanned by their own hands. But such secrets could not be shared with Zhou Jian and the others. Li Xuanba simply nodded and replied, “I hadn’t realized the situation had worsened so quickly. Still, we live quietly in this remote village. Even if the world changes hands, what difference does it make to us?”

Zhou Jian shook his head. “Sanlang, you’re mistaken. Today we hoped to sell our furs and buy some rice, flour, and oil, but found the price of grain soaring in Chang’an. Many stores have closed, refusing to sell at all.”

He paused, then continued, “A rise in prices doesn’t trouble us much—we grow our own crops here in the mountains—but what worries me is if chaos breaks out and rebel armies come and go in turn. The real danger is the bands of routed troops scattered across the land.”

Zhou Jian had served as a junior officer and knew well the devastation that fleeing soldiers could inflict on the common people. Bandits might be content with a quick raid, but defeated troops, armed and organized, moved in groups of dozens or hundreds. They dared not attack towns with walls, but villages like theirs were prime targets, leaving nothing behind but ruin. Though their mountain village lay at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain, it was barely a hundred miles from Chang’an—close enough to be at risk.

“Yes, Sanlang,” Wang Liu added anxiously. “We have families here, mostly old folks, women, and children. If a few stragglers come, we can handle it, but if dozens or a hundred descend on us, our score of men won’t be enough. If we die defending the village, so be it, but if bandits break in, what will become of the women and children?”

“Lao Liu is right,” Zhou Jian agreed. He turned to Li Xuanba and said, “Sanlang, you’ve always been resourceful and learned. That’s why we’ve come to you for advice!”

Since settling in the village, Li Xuanba had taught the children and gained great respect. He was known for his martial prowess and wisdom, and though he didn’t wield decisive power, villagers always sought his counsel in matters large and small. Zhou Jian, once a minor officer, had spent his life following orders; his only independent decision had been deserting the army. He felt helpless in moments requiring initiative.

The others were simple soldiers, barely literate, used to following rather than leading. After discussing among themselves, they agreed only Li Xuanba could devise a plan.

Li Mingyu, listening nearby, understood the real situation. He knew that Li Yuan’s rebellion was imminent. Li Yuan, shrewd and patient, had built up his strength with the support of the Guanzhong nobility. Once he rose, he would quickly seize Chang’an and stabilize the region with their help.

Mingyu spoke up, “Second Uncle, Sixth Uncle, you’re worrying too much. Our village is well hidden—if trouble comes, we can retreat into Zhongnan Mountain. Will routed soldiers really hunt us through hundreds of miles of wilderness? Let them search in vain!” Confident in his knowledge of history, he dismissed their fears with a light tone.

But Li Xuanba, uncertain of how fate would unfold, found Mingyu’s nonchalance inappropriate. “Don’t speak carelessly!” he scolded. “Your uncles have every reason to be cautious. This concerns the lives of everyone in the village—no amount of prudence is too much.”

Zhang, the eldest, added, “You’re too young to understand, Mingyu. Back in Liaodong, we saw many villages destroyed by marauding soldiers—not just plundered, but wiped out, with women and children meeting unspeakable fates…” He trailed off, shaken by old memories and the fear that the same tragedy might befall their home.

After a moment’s thought, Li Xuanba said, “Second Brother Zhou, here’s what I propose: First, we should post sentries at the valley entrance and other key approaches, ready to signal with smoke at the first sign of danger. Second, we need to find a safe haven in the mountains, somewhere to retreat if attacked. Third, we must organize the able men, drill them in arms, and keep patrols day and night. If trouble comes, we’ll have the means to defend ourselves and cover the women and children’s escape if necessary.”

Zhou Jian slapped his thigh in approval. “Sanlang, you’re brilliant! Only a scholar could think so clearly—unlike us old soldiers, lost without orders. We’ll do just as you say!”

He turned to Wang Liu. “Lao Liu, you’re in charge of finding a refuge in the mountains. Take a couple of men with you. Zhang, you’ll lead a team to set up sentries at the village entrance and along every path. The rest will join me in daily drills and patrols.”

As if recalling something, Zhou Jian saluted Li Xuanba. “Sanlang, we all know your martial skill far exceeds ours. You know we’re just rough soldiers—clumsy and set in our ways. I have a favor to ask: would you be willing to instruct us in martial arts when you have time?”

Li Xuanba returned the salute. “I am one of the village, and will do my best. Each morning I’ll teach the children, and in the afternoons I’ll join you for training. I can’t claim to be a master, but I’ll share what I know.”

Mingyu, hearing his master’s response, began to worry about his own lessons, and was about to speak when Li Xuanba continued, “Second Brother Zhou, it’s not just the young men who need training. We must begin teaching the children martial arts as well. Both learning and training should start early; this way, whether they pursue civil or martial paths, they’ll have the means to protect themselves in troubled times.”

Zhou Jian and the others were delighted. “We’ve wanted this for a long time, but you already work so hard teaching them to read—we couldn’t ask more of you. If you’ll take them as students, it’s a great blessing!”

Li Xuanba shook his head. “I can teach them, but I will only take Mingyu as my personal disciple. The others may be named as students, but not taught directly by me.”

The men were not disappointed. In this age, a personal disciple was like a son—expected not only to inherit the master’s skills but to care for him in old age. To be even a nominal student was a great fortune.

They had all once taken up arms out of necessity, only to see their hard-earned pay stolen by corrupt officers, and had deserted rather than die in vain in distant Liaodong. Forced to flee for their families’ sake, they had not chosen this life out of weariness, but because there was no alternative. Now, seeing their children not only learning to read but also to wield a blade, they could envision a brighter future—scholarly and martial, capable of forging their own destinies. They bowed in gratitude. “We’re deeply indebted to you, Sanlang!”

Li Xuanba replied, “The children are still young—let’s focus on building a solid foundation. Each afternoon, I’ll join you for drills, and Mingyu will instruct the children. I will check on their progress every few days.”

Zhou Jian and the others hesitated. Mingyu was still only a child himself; could he truly lead martial training for the youngsters? Sensing their doubt, Li Xuanba reassured them. “Don’t judge by age—my disciple has already learned much from me. His swordsmanship is well-honed.” He winked at Mingyu.

Understanding his master’s intent—to help him build a following for the challenges ahead—Mingyu straightened his back. “Don’t underestimate me, Second Uncle. Under my master’s guidance, my blade can already cleave through thick wood. Rest assured, I’ll teach everything I’ve learned to the other boys!”

Reassured by the confidence of both master and disciple, Zhou Jian and his companions nodded. “Very well, we’ll leave it to you, Sanlang. Thank you for all your care!”