5. Kill

“Brothers! Do you think this place is good?”
“It’s good!” came the scattered replies.
“Are you all willing to stay here with me?”
“We are!” the crowd answered in unison.
“Are you willing to follow my command?”
“We are!” The voices grew more unified.
“Good! Since you’re willing to follow me, then I’ll lead you to carve out a place for ourselves! There is strength in numbers—if we stick together, we’ll have enough to eat and we’ll survive!”
“Eat our fill! Survive!” “Eat our fill! Survive!”
Wang Bo pressed his hands down, signaling for quiet, and continued, “The emperor is muddleheaded these days, corrupt officials run rampant, the powerful oppress us, and the common folk are suffering more and more, barely clinging to life. So what do we do? To survive, we must band together, unite our efforts, take to the hills, raise our banners, and rebel! We’ll wipe out those greedy officials and powerful lords who treat the people like grass, and restore peace and prosperity to the people of Han!”
“Well said! Well said!”
“So... I’ve decided to carry on the legacy of Master Zhang and join the Yellow Turbans! But we must never oppress the people. We kill only government troops and those who wrong us! Anyone who breaks this command shall be executed without mercy!”
“Oppress the people, executed without mercy!” echoed the crowd.
“Why not raise a new banner? Why join the Yellow Turbans?” someone challenged from the crowd.
“Because fighting under the Yellow Turban banner will attract more people like us to join, making our force stronger and allowing us to strike down more corrupt officials!” Wang Bo paused, then continued, “The Yellow Turban brothers are mostly poor peasants—most are good men! It’s only poor organization and a few bad apples that have led us astray. We will never shelter those who harm the people—should any appear, we’ll kill them on sight, two if there are two!”
“Yes! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
“Alright! Now everyone, follow Xu Zhongkang’s orders and get to work!”
The crowd dispersed, and Wang Bo sat back down, lost in thought.
The geography north of Yanmen was favorable, but wasn’t this now the playground of the Xiongnu and Xianbei? Trying to snatch a piece of the pie from those savages! Wang Bo recalled scenes from later TV dramas—men in furs, mounted on tall horses, swinging their gleaming sabers as they galloped in circles, shrieking wildly—and his heart sank.
He had to find a way to deal with the Xiongnu cavalry. If that half-wit Gongsun Zan could frighten them just by riding a white horse, surely he, Wang Bo, with decades more life experience and knowledge from a future era, could take down a few horse herders? Otherwise, he might as well slit his own throat and meet Three-Cornered Eyes in the afterlife!
Yes! With all these ideas from another life in his head, he couldn’t just blurt them out and scare everyone. Otherwise, they’d see him as a monster and he’d end up in deep trouble! Better to remain mysterious, let others marvel, and keep them guessing.
Wang Bo, ever cautious, told Xu Chu and the others only his real name: Wang Bo, style name Qingyi. As for his origins, he vaguely said he’d grown up in the nearby mountains, raised by a Taoist priest, and had only just come down the mountain, knowing little of the world and about eighteen or nineteen years old.
But since arriving in this new life, Wang Bo soon discovered that he was much stronger than he’d been before—perhaps due to being reborn midway. A few years younger, he felt as he had in his school days after playing ball or running: a bit tired, but a brief rest was enough to recover. He hadn’t grown taller; his looks, well... who knew?
Wang Bo was musing over all this when suddenly a voice sounded beside him: “Brother Wang, what are you thinking? You didn’t even notice me calling you.” He looked up to see Yang Feng and Ping Han.
“Ah... I was just looking for you, General Yang...”
“Oh? May I ask what Brother Wang needs from me?”
“Come, sit down and let’s talk.” Wang Bo pulled Yang Feng down beside him. “In your opinion, General Yang, speak honestly: do you think the Yellow Turbans can succeed? How should we, among a million brothers, find our footing in these troubled times?”

—

“Hm... well... Our Yellow Turban followers number in the millions across the land, with loyal and righteous men beyond counting! Though the ‘Great Benevolent Teacher’ and ‘General of Humanity’ have perished, the ‘General of Earth’ still raises the banner in Julu County! Tens of thousands of brothers defend the Yellow Turbans. Once the leaders from Qingzhou and Runan arrive, the three armies will unite and can wipe out the elite government troops under Butcher Huangfu. Then the Han court will be powerless to resist, and we can march south to the capital, link up with Zhang Mancheng’s southern army, and strike at Luoyang—the great cause will be won!”
“Haha! Wrong! General Yang, do you know where the Qingzhou leader is now?” Seeing Yang Feng shake his head, Wang Bo continued, “Nanyang and Runan are closest to the heart of the Han court—would they tolerate a tiger at their bedside? The court’s armies will focus on rooting out the Yellow Turbans in those two regions! If you were Emperor Ling, what would you do?”
Yang Feng, startled and uncertain, shook his head. “Would that not mean... would that not mean...”
“Exactly! The government’s elite troops are all massed in Ji Province. It follows that the Yellow Turban armies in those two regions have been scattered, perhaps even wiped out! Otherwise, why would the Han court dare invest so many troops in besieging the Yellow Turbans in Ji Province? The Qingzhou leader is likely lost to us!”
“That is only your guess, Wang Leader! Just your own opinion—not to be trusted!” Yang Feng hesitated, then shouted angrily.
“Hmph! The Han may be rotten, but a centipede does not die easily! Even in ruin they have reserves! There are Yellow Turban leaders in Youzhou and tens of thousands of brothers in Yanzhou—have you seen them coordinating with the Ji Province brothers?”
“True, but even so...”
“Think it over, Brother Yang!” Wang Bo patted his shoulder, glanced at the frowning Ping Han, and turned away.
He entered a cave, settling into meditation.
Recalling his knowledge of the history around Yanmen at the end of Han, and his memories of TV dramas about the Three Kingdoms, all Wang Bo could really remember was that Bing Province was only associated with Zhang Yang, and even then he was in the south—he couldn’t recall which commandery he governed. The famous Inspector Ding Yuan and General Lü Bu would later head to Luoyang.
Could it be that after Emperor Ling’s death, the region north of Yanmen and even Bing Province would be a power vacuum? That would be wonderful! As long as he could fend off the northern tribes, he’d be safe. At worst, he could divert disaster eastward and let Gongsun Zan’s white horses handle it! Wang Bo couldn’t help but chuckle evilly.
But then he frowned again: to go to Yanmen, he’d need an army! Could he just shout “Kill the barbarians!” and men would flock to him? Would strategists and generals fall at his feet? Hardly! Clearly, he’d have to find a way to recruit some capable strategists and warriors. Otherwise, heading north would just mean getting trampled by horse hooves!
His mouth began to water as he thought about it—Zhao Yun, Tian Feng, Shen Pei, Qu Yi... If not them, even the likes of Feng Ji, Guo Tu, Xu You, Yan Liang, Wen Chou would do! But dammit, they’re all from Ji Province! Where were the Bing Province locals? Oh! Zhang Liao, Gao Shun, the ‘Eight Braves’ under Lü Bu—they’d be treasures if used well, but there were too few of them.
He’d have to act quickly or Lü Bu would snatch them up and there’d be no arguing about it. But what to do right now? He couldn’t just go to Yanmen alone, not in this chaos. If he tried trekking through the wilds, he’d probably end up as a wolf’s dinner before even reaching the mountains...
Suddenly, inspiration struck: “The Yellow Turbans! The Yellow Turbans! Hahaha...” Wang Bo lay there in delight, wriggling in a belly dance.
As long as he gathered the scattered Yellow Turban soldiers and found a way to bring a few minor leaders under his control, he could protect himself. Following the line of the Taihang Mountains north would bring him to Yanmen Pass.
Once again, his mouth watered: Zhou Cang, Liao Hua, Guan Hai, Bo Cai, Yu Du, Pei Yuanshao, Zhang Yan... Right! Zhang Yan was the Black Mountain Army, right in these hills. He’d have to find him. As for Bu Yi and Zhang Mancheng, they were probably already dead! No matter, this would do...
Wang Bo amused himself like this until nearly noon. If Xu Chu hadn’t called him to eat, who knew how long he would have carried on?
While eating roast meat and drinking wild vegetable soup, he noticed Niu Feihu, who was always hanging around, was missing. Then he realized the Niu brothers hadn’t returned—had they run off? Or run into bandits or soldiers?
He called Xu Chu over: “Zhongkang, go to the edge of the woods soon and see if the Niu brothers have returned. But don’t leave the forest! Wait until it’s dark to fetch water.”
“Yes, big brother! I’ll see to it!”
After the meal, Yang Feng and Ping Han, still looking grim, came to Wang Bo: “Brother Wang, I’ve thought long and hard about what you said. Do you have any further insights for us?”
Wang Bo replied with a question: “Do you know why, when the ‘Great Benevolent Teacher’ gave the order, a million followers rose up with such force, yet now we are in such dire straits?”
“I’ve often wondered—was it because the government troops were too fierce? Or perhaps our weapons and armor were poor? But the government forces numbered only tens of thousands, while we had over a million brothers—how could it be...?”
“Sit down, and I’ll tell you!” Wang Bo led Yang Feng into the cave.
“In my view, the Yellow Turbans failed for four main reasons. First, poor organization and hasty uprising—our weapons and armor were scarce, and supplies even more so. The initial momentum was great, but soon we ran out of resources and couldn’t keep fighting. That’s the first reason.
Second, although the Han court was rotten, it still had a firm foundation! Even the likes of Gongsun Zan and Dong Zhuo could defend against barbarians with a few thousand men, to say nothing of famous generals like Lu Zhi and old Huangfu! The Han army’s elite still existed, only lacking discipline. The Yellow Turbans could have some short-term success, but over time, they could never withstand well-armed, well-trained, battle-hardened troops. That’s why a few hundred government soldiers could rout thousands of Yellow Turbans!”

—

Wang Bo paused, letting Yang Feng digest his words, then continued:
“Third, a critical lack of talent. Though the ‘Great Benevolent Teacher’ had many brave men at his side, there were few who could command independently or strategize to fill gaps. Most of our officers came from poverty, never trained in warfare or tactics—how could they stand against seasoned Han generals? What of the ‘Heavenly’ and ‘Earthly’ Generals? I’ve heard Liao Hua and Bo Cai had real talent—why were they left as minor leaders?”
“Liao Hua was indeed a man of strategy—the ‘Great Benevolent Teacher’ often consulted him on difficult matters...”
“Men of talent, trapped like caged birds! Hmph... Fourth, the choice of where to rise was a grave mistake! Gathering all the leaders at Ye City was utterly wrong! Even if all the armies managed to arrive—though I doubt it—they’d still be doomed! Why? Ye City and Ji Province are battlegrounds on all sides, surrounded by powerful lords and close to the capital. The Han court would throw everything into a counterattack. If the uprising faltered at all, we’d be attacked from every direction and never have a chance to regroup.”
“This... I...” Yang Feng’s dark face slowly turned pale with alarm.
“Alas!” Wang Bo heaved a long sigh, his voice heavy with sorrow. “The ‘Great Benevolent Teacher’ had a heart full of compassion, wishing to save the world and overthrow tyranny. But he lacked vision, overall command, and careful planning. His years were cut short, his judgment flawed, and he favored kin over talent. Admirable, yet pitiable, and lamentable!”
After a long silence, Yang Feng seemed to age all at once and said gloomily, “Let me think some more, Brother Wang. Do as you please.” With that, he leaned on Ping Han and left.
This time, Wang Bo only had time to swing the long saber that had accompanied him for two days a couple of times before Yang Feng returned, suddenly revived.
With a slight bow and clasped fists, he said, “Listening to your words, Brother Wang, was like a cleansing draught—suddenly everything is clear! I always fancied myself a worthy aide, but now I see I was a frog at the bottom of a well. Your wisdom is profound! Please, don’t withhold your guidance: where do you see a way forward for the Yellow Turban cause?”
Wang Bo pondered for a while, then spoke with an ethereal tone: “The empire’s fate ebbs and flows, ever merging after division and dividing after unity—such is the will of the people! The Yellow Turban cause is not yet without hope. If we can secure ‘timing,’ ‘terrain,’ and ‘human harmony,’ great things can be accomplished! Right now, the timing is passable, human harmony is less than half, and terrain is lacking. Our followers should hide and bide their time, easing the court’s suspicions. When terrain and harmony are ready, we strike—and we may yet sweep the land!”
“Hmm... I’ll think on it!” Yang Feng turned and left.
The Niu brothers returned after nightfall, much to Wang Bo’s relief.
Niu Da came forward and bowed. “Leader... Master! Niu Da is back!”
“How is the village? Was the journey smooth?”
“The village is in ruins—most were killed, only a dozen or so escaped with their lives! I couldn’t bear to leave them, so I took the liberty of bringing them here. I hope Master will forgive me!”
“What is there to forgive? We’re hiding here to survive! In the future, we’ll rescue more who are homeless and desperate. Settle them in carefully.”
“Thank you, Master!”
Niu Da had brought a dozen villagers, mostly the old, weak, women, and children, along with a few bags of grain, cooking pots, animal skins, and other odds and ends found in the village ruins. Among them, however, was an old hunter skilled in bow-making, which delighted Wang Bo. He immediately went to consult him and asked if he could take a few men to make bows the next day. The old hunter gladly agreed. All the others, grateful for being taken in, were ready to follow Wang Bo’s orders.
After dinner, Wang Bo sorted through his thoughts and summoned the others again. Yang Feng and Ping Han did not come; they’d only shown their faces at supper before disappearing.
Once everyone was seated, Wang Bo spoke slowly, “Since we’ve settled here and joined the Yellow Turbans, I believe more brothers will join us in the future! If we want to survive in this world, we must plan ahead. So I’ll assign roles for the days ahead—I hope you’ll all do your best, carry out your duties, and make no mistakes!”
Everyone answered in unison, “We await your orders, Master (Leader)!”
“Niu Da! You take Niu Er, Niu Meng, Niu Hong, and Niu Dazhuang, pick thirty men to hunt, and try to prepare enough meat before the snows seal the mountains. Also, study the terrain nearby and find a defensible place for us to settle—the sooner, the better. This spot is too close to the foot of the mountain and not very safe.”
“Chen Rong! You’ll be in charge of registering people and supplies, distributing food, and acting as both scribe and steward. Also, pick two people to learn to identify herbs, and collect useful plants with Niu Da in case of need.”
“Xu Chu, hear my command! Choose twenty men to take charge of camp security. Except for bows and arrows, you have first pick of the weapons. I’ll teach you how to set watch and stand guard.”
“Zhou Xiu, Wang Qi, Niu Feihu! You three pick five skilled riders and guard the forest edge. Watch carefully—if you see anyone in trouble, so long as they’re not a threat, whether refugees or Yellow Turban brothers, take them in and we’ll decide what to do with them. Don’t leave the woods before dusk to avoid drawing bandits or troops. After dusk, you can search for survivors and supplies in the nearby villages, but be careful—don’t go far!”