At the second watch of the night, Wu Tong and the Four Elders of the Beggar Sect, clad in black and masked, slipped quietly into the darkness. Near the enemy camp they lit small braziers of charcoal. Each man carried bundles of straw. When a sentry appeared, a shadow darted—Wu Tong struck him down soundlessly.
"Half a cup of tea's time—set the fire together!" Wu Tong whispered.The elders nodded, each carrying his brazier to a different spot. Before setting the fires, they scattered strings of firecrackers.
Moments later, explosions thundered, flames soared skyward. Wu Tong and the Beggar Sect elders shouted at once:"The Tang army attacks!""The Tang army attacks!""The Tang army attacks!"
In the darkness, the Yan troops panicked, fumbling into armor and grasping weapons. Amid the chaos, Wu Tong and the elders vanished back to the city.
The next night, at the fourth watch, they returned in the same black garb. This time they brought bows; their arrows wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. At the appointed hour, from different directions, each loosed five flaming shafts into the enemy camp. Fire burst up, fanned by the wind, smoke billowed, and the sky glowed crimson. The Tang drums suddenly thundered from the walls, war cries echoing, yet no troops sallied forth. The Yan soldiers, unready and half-armed, floundered in confusion. Again, Wu Tong and the elders slipped back through the night.
On the third night, just as the enemy prepared to sleep, the war drums rolled once more from the walls. Shouts shook the heavens. Linghu Chao ordered his men to form ranks against a Tang sortie. But the city gates remained firmly shut. Only drums without soldiers—appearance and reality blurred, truth masked by falsehood.
Three days and four nights the rebels were harried without rest. Exhausted, soldiers collapsed where they stood, unable to keep their eyes open.
On the fourth day, the fourth of the Tenth Month, as dawn broke, a cannon thundered from the city. Suddenly Lei Wanchun led a charge of Tang soldiers out the gates. The enemy, startled awake from sleep, stumbled in terror—horses without saddles, men without armor, fleeing in disarray. Lei Wanchun pressed the attack, cutting down more than fifty rebel officers and five thousand men. The Yan army's lines collapsed, routed in full flight.
Thus the Beggar Sect volunteers completed their mission from the Alliance Leader. After resting a few days in Yongqiu, they prepared to depart. Wu Tong stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said:"Together with the Volunteer Army we shared in this great cause. Now that our task is done, we must take our leave. May the General guard his health—until we meet again."
General Zhang Xun, reluctant to part, replied in a resonant voice:"Wu Tong, you too bear office of the Tang and the weight of the realm. As you journey west, tread with care. Without the Beggar Sect's aid, we could not have broken the rebels nor saved Yongqiu. All my soldiers hold you in gratitude."
Wu Tong, full of vigor, mounted his steed and called out:"Generals, brave comrades, until we meet again!"He waved in farewell. The Beggar Sect disciples saluted in return, then galloped off.
Riding out of Yongqiu, the four companions urged their horses westward. The long wind swept their robes, their spirits high. Soon they parted ways with the Beggar Sect army, each to follow his own path in the jianghu.
A verse tells it:
In troubled times men arise,How can they betray their lives?Chasing dreams that touch the skies,Eternal glory never dies.
The four rode along mountain paths. Autumn cloaked the hillsides in fiery red; maples blazed like poetry and painting. Amid drifting scarlet leaves, the riders seemed to tread a crimson carpet. Above, branches burned with color, a living tapestry of flame. Ahead stood a Daoist temple, just as the poet wrote:
"Far up the cold mountain, a stone path slants;Where white clouds dwell, some homes appear."
Zhao Rou said softly:"Brother Tong, this scene is like a painting. Why not stay here tonight, to savor it?"
Li Qian smiled:"At dusk the red leaves glow like fire, clouds roll like a sea, sunset weaves with mist. The beauty will be unmatched."
Liu Yun, gazing afar, sighed:"With such a gift of nature, if we pass by without resting, would we not waste its spirit?"
Wu Tong laughed gently:"My ladies, your every word is right. How could I refuse?"
So they lodged at the temple, wandering through the maples. Sunset bled across the sky, gold and crimson flooding the woods. Walking a path carpeted with leaves, beneath thousands of intertwined trees, they moved as though in a fairyland. Youthful, radiant, carefree—they savored the moment, far from the world's strife.
A poem says:
Beneath the forest's glow we roam,Crimson maples bid us home.A scarlet carpet guides our feet,In beauty's hall our hearts shall meet.
At dawn they took leave, first marveling at seas of clouds over the peaks. Soon they came to a village, where shouts resounded. A band of mountain brigands faced off against fifty or sixty stout villagers. The four dismounted, watching in silence.
The leaders stepped forth. One youth, tall and broad, wielded a great saber, his bearing fierce. His name was Feng Yun. He growled:"Flying Tiger, do not bully too far! This is no ground for your plunder—begone!"
Beside him another youth, compact and sturdy, named Feng Shan, added angrily:"Feng Village is no place for bandits to come and go as they please!"
These brigands had harassed the place many times, but never broken through. Now their chiefs led the whole force, bent on taking the village at last.