A great man once said, the power of the masses is boundless.
The people of Jinchuan loathed the bandits who came each year to seize the harvest grain. When they learned that Mr Jin had sent troops to bottle up every bandit lair, every farmer clapped and cheered.
Day after day, households carried their precious saved rice to Tiger Head Peak, Twin Camel Ridge, and Black Water Gulch just to visit Zhang Liang and his men.
The Twin Camel bandits thought they had slipped away unseen. In truth, mountain hunters spotted them at once and raced the news to Zheng Fang.
An affair this weighty could not be decided alone. Zheng Fang confirmed the report, then sent a rider galloping to Jin Feng.
Jin Feng had fretted over these very bandits. Each nest held hundreds of cut-throats. A direct assault would bleed his veterans and women soldiers white, so he kept them penned and waited.
Bandits lived on plunder. Their granaries bulged. A siege could drag on for one year, two years, maybe more.
The longer the cordon lasted, the wearier his old soldiers would grow, the looser their watch.
One drowsy moment and the bandits might burst free, slaughtering the blockaders.
Zheng Fang’s courier arrived. Jin Feng instantly dispatched scouts to Tiger Head Peak. Sure enough, that gang too had sneaked out by goat tracks.
The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Jin Feng chose to play dumb. He ordered Zheng Fang to keep the Twin Camel blockade tight, eyes shut, while hidden riders shadowed every bandit step.
Xihewan now teemed with strangers. To stop leaks, only Jin Feng, Zheng Fang, and two others knew the plan. Even Qing Muluan was kept dark.
The extra hands were quietly recalled from Guangyuan, ostensibly escorting caravans afar.
After seizing Lords Zhu and Peng, Jin Feng sent them under guard to the lairs to urge surrender, all part of the smokescreen.
Every thread of the scheme aimed at one prize: wipe out the bandits at the smallest cost.
First requirement: perfect ambush ground.
Jin Feng picked Longsnake Gulch, a stone’s throw from Xihewan.
Longsnake Gulch was exactly what its name promised: a narrow, twisting ravine shaped like a serpent.
Let the bandits enter, roll boulders from both ends with a few catapults, and they were turtles in a jar.
The gulch was cramped. Catapults on the flanking slopes could rain stones across its whole width.
Ambush heaven.
Site chosen, catapults planted, all that remained was to lure the wolves inside.
Jin Feng knew the bandits burned to sack Xihewan yet feared its defences. To ease their minds, he formed surplus escorts into roving bandit-hunting bands and scattered them far afield.
He was still puzzling how to empty the village of able-bodied men when the ambush on his own column solved the riddle.
By sheer luck, every fighting man rode out to rescue him.
Jin Feng seized the gift. Fast riders carried fresh orders: let the hunter bands double patrols everywhere except the approaches to Longsnake Gulch.
The bandits, terrified of startling the prey, chose the one quiet path.
Success hovered within reach. The first bandits were minutes from the gulch mouth when red smoke plumes rose on the opposite ridge.
A neon sign screaming, “We see you, no need to hide!”
Panic rippled through the brigands.
“Mr Feng, have we been spotted?”
Cautious Xu the chief scurried to the strategist. “Do we still attack?”
“We’re this close,” Lu the chief barked before Feng could answer. “A few more li and Xihewan is ours. No men left in the village! Spotted or not, a handful of women can’t stop us.”
“Lu is right,” Feng said. “Jin Feng took every seasoned fighter to the Jialing River. Even if a runner leaves now, by the time Jin Feng hears and marches back, two days will pass at the quickest.”
“Two days is enough to turn Xihewan inside out and vanish,” Xu muttered, then squared his shoulders. “Let’s do it.”
“Xihewan’s catapults and heavy crossbows are murderous when we bunch up,” Feng cautioned. “From here on, we split. Spread wide, shrink the target.”
“No wall of catapults rings the whole village,” he added. “Dispersion keeps us safe.”
“Sound thinking,” Lu grinned. “Since Xu is so worried, my Twin Camel boys will take Longsnake Gulch. Xu, find your own trail.”
By prior pact, whichever band reached Xihewan first kept what it grabbed.
Longsnake Gulch was the shortest route.
Xu was born suspicious. Had Feng or Lu urged him down the gulch, he would have smelt a trap and refused.
But Lu volunteering first? Xu’s greed flared: Twin Camel might loot the choicest prizes.
He shook his head. “Tiger Head has been leading. The gulch is ours by rights.”
“Moments ago you were shaking,” Lu sneered.
“That’s prudence!” Xu snapped, then turned to Feng. “Pulling my men back now just to let Twin Camel overtake wastes time Xihewan will use to prepare.”
“Xu speaks sense,” Feng said, clapping Lu’s shoulder. “Old Lu, no more squabbles. A fork lies ahead; take it. You’ll lose only minutes.”
“Humph. I’ll grant Mr Feng this favour,” Lu growled. “But mark me: when we round up the textile mill girls, I choose the tender mounts first. No stealing.”
“Take every filly,” Xu waved airily, already jogging forward, Tiger Head bandits streaming after him into Longsnake Gulch.
Neither he nor his men noticed Feng and Lu exchange a silent glance behind his back.
Lu looked reckless yet hid a cunning edge. He too sensed danger in the gulch, so he baited Xu with mockery to make him charge ahead as the probe.
Feng read Lu’s play and dealt the perfect assist.
Together they fed Xu and every Tiger Head bandit straight into the serpent’s jaws.
