Chapter Forty-Nine: Pengtu’s Worries

For Peng Tuo, these three days had been nothing short of a nightmare. What began as a simple task to block the reinforcements from Chenliu had spiraled into disaster when an unknown detachment of Han troops launched a surprise attack, setting his camp ablaze and costing him over half his hundred-thousand-strong force.

After receiving reinforcements from Bo Cai, another bandit leader, Peng Tuo had hoped to redeem himself. Yet, just when victory seemed within reach, the tide suddenly turned against him once more. The memory of that mysterious presence in the night, spewing fire and thunderous noise, and the sight of his Yellow Turban soldiers falling and wailing in droves, still sent chills through his heart.

“Could there truly be gods and spirits in this world?” The thought alone made his limbs tremble uncontrollably.

Gripped by fear, he nearly gave the order to retreat to Changshe at once. But after a moment, he calmed himself and shook his head violently.

“No, I can’t go back like this. The Great Teacher entrusted me with stopping the Chenliu garrison, yet I have achieved nothing but defeat and heavy losses. If I return now, I’ll surely be put to death!”

With that resolve, he strode out of his tent and issued orders to his subordinates.

“Pass my command: everyone is to be on strict alert! No one may approach the granaries under any circumstance. To prevent Han spies from infiltrating, anyone returning from outside who cannot answer the password is to be executed on the spot!”

“Yes, Commander!”

At his command, the Yellow Turban camp sprang into action, a tense atmosphere settling over the men so that none dared speak above a whisper. Everyone knew their commander had twice suffered defeat at the hands of the Han. The first disaster could be blamed on a surprise attack, but the second had come even as they took the initiative—yet still ended in a rout, with fewer than ten thousand survivors straggling back.

Though Peng Tuo had strictly forbidden any discussion of the previous battle, he could not silence every man, and so word of that bloody, desperate fight before dawn spread from the lips of those who had escaped.

Rumors began to swirl through the Yellow Turban camp. Some claimed the Han army wielded sorcery; others whispered that their generals were incarnations of gods of fire and thunder, able to summon celestial flames and lightning with a wave of the hand. Panic, vague and unspoken, began to creep through the ranks.

To halt the spread of fear, Peng Tuo had several dozen men executed for “disturbing the army’s morale.” Yet this had little effect; by afternoon, desertions began to take place.

Helpless, he divided the provost guard into two teams: one to interrogate any Yellow Turbans returning from outside, and the other to patrol the perimeter, both to guard against Han raids and to prevent further escapes.

After issuing his orders, Peng Tuo ate a little, then lay down and closed his eyes. Exhausted in both body and spirit, he fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

He did not know that, while he slept, the atmosphere in the camp began to change with the return of the last groups of scattered Yellow Turbans. Now, instead of whispering about Han sorcery or planning their escape, the men began to murmur secretively, their faces alight with excitement. Listeners were at first shocked, then skeptical—yet soon, they too became animated.

Had Peng Tuo seen this strange scene, he would have been deeply alarmed. But he was slumbering soundly, utterly unaware. Perhaps it was exhaustion; he slept heavily, not waking until nightfall.

When he finally awoke, he was startled to find a young man in his command tent—a stranger of striking appearance, clad in a blue robe with a sword at his waist, regarding him with a faint, enigmatic smile.

“So Commander Peng Tuo is finally awake. Did you sleep well?”

“Hm?” Peng Tuo frowned at the unfamiliar face, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Who are you? Why are you in my tent?”

The young man smiled again, lightly tapping his chest with his hand. “Ah, forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Xu Kang, styled Yide, a native of Changshe in Yingchuan. I’ve already crossed paths with you twice before, Commander Peng.”

It was none other than Xu Kang who now stood in Peng Tuo’s tent. But Peng Tuo did not recognize him, and his frown deepened.

“We’ve crossed paths twice? I don’t recall meeting you. Are you one of the other commanders’ men? Did the Great Teacher send you?”

Xu Kang could not help but burst into laughter at Peng Tuo’s suspicion, waving a hand dismissively as he chuckled. “No, no, Commander Peng, you’re mistaken. Among all the Yellow Turban commanders, you’re the only one I know. As for Zhang Jue... heh, sorry, but he’s hardly qualified to command me!”

“Impudent!” At this open disrespect toward Zhang Jue, Peng Tuo flew into a rage, snatching his sword from beside the bed and leveling it at Xu Kang. “Speak! Who are you, and why—ah!”

He got no further, for a sudden, brutal kick landed squarely in his lower abdomen, crushing his most vital parts like rotten eggs.

It was a pain so excruciating that it drove him to despair. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground with a thud, howling in agony as though begging for death.

“Ah... ahhh... ahhhhhhh...”

Xu Kang watched Peng Tuo writhe and scream, his expression turning to one of contempt. He snorted disdainfully. “So, one taste of despair and you’re reduced to this? Such poor endurance—you're not even on par with that fool He Jin. Remember this: never raise a sword to me again, or I’ll make you suffer even more!”

“Ah... monster…”

“Incorigible... pain of despair... pain of despair... pain of despair...”

“Aaaarghhhhhh...”

...

The Han officers waiting outside the tent could not help but shudder at the blood-curdling screams coming from within.

“What could the lord be doing to make Peng Tuo scream like that?”

“I think it must be castration. When I accompanied the Grand General to the palace, I heard the eunuchs scream the same way when they were being cut. But even then, it was over in a single stroke—surely the lord isn’t using a hammer?”

“Gods, could his methods really be that terrifying?”

As the discussion grew more heated, the officers found their own groins growing cold with dread, their eyes fixed on the command tent in horror.

Finally, Xu Kang could bear it no longer. He flung open the tent flap and unleashed a torrent of invective upon the assembled officers.

“Castrate your damned selves! Have you taken charge of the Yellow Turban grain stores yet? Have you selected the able-bodied among them? Have you collected their weapons and supplies? If you haven’t done a thing and just stand here gossiping, I’ll have every last one of you castrated by dawn—now get out!”

In the face of his outburst, the officers scattered in panic.