After flattening Zuo Liangyu, Ba Da Wang did not even bother to clean the blood from his boots before ordering the army to continue marching eastward, because in his mind speed meant survival, and survival meant not being swallowed alive by the tightening net of Gao Family Village.
Before long, scouts galloped back in a cloud of dust.
"Report! A force is blocking the road ahead at Yangliu Bay Town. Their numbers are similar to Zuo Liangyu's army. The banners indicate they belong to Governor Shi Kefa of Anlu."
At the name Shi Kefa, Ba Da Wang laughed, and it was not nervous laughter but the sound of an old gambler recognizing a familiar opponent across the table.
"Shi Kefa again."
Over the years he had crossed blades with Shi Kefa more times than he could count. When he looted Fengyang and pushed south, when he backed the Huangmei water bandits, when he fought around the Taihu region, when he roamed Hubei like a wolf testing fences, Shi Kefa had always been somewhere nearby, sometimes retreating, sometimes counterattacking, always stubborn.
Ba Da Wang knew Shi Kefa's habits.
"Shi Kefa has those strange musket troops," he said calmly. "But not many."
"Big Brother, they also have those palm thunder bombs that explode when thrown."
"Lie flat when you see one."
"They might use those blooming cannons again."
"Lie flat for those too."
He did not say this lightly. Experience had taught him that panic killed more men than gunfire. If soldiers scattered wildly, they died. If they flattened themselves to the earth like stubborn weeds, they survived.
Then his tone shifted.
"Do not charge recklessly. Spread out. Advance slowly. Keep low. No tight formations. Move forward bit by bit and look for cover."
Beside him, strategist Pan Duguo stepped forward, his scholar's robe now permanently dusted with battlefield dirt, and added in a measured voice that carried across the officers' ranks.
"Shi Kefa likes trenches. His men hide inside them and fire from safety. Their trenches reduce the effectiveness of our artillery and arrows. We will do the same."
He paused, eyes glinting.
"We dig while we advance. Slowly. Patiently. This is not a battle to finish in one day. Even ten days is acceptable. Use trenches to crawl close enough that their range advantage disappears."
There it was. Not brute force. Not wild charges. Mud and patience.
"Shi Kefa has few troops," Pan Duguo concluded. "If we do not rush foolishly, we will grind him down."
Orders spread. Axes began to swing.
---
Yangliu Bay Town braced itself.
Shi Kefa had already constructed layered defenses outside the town walls. Just like at Baimao Town, earthen ramparts half the height of a man dotted the open ground, trenches crisscrossed the fields like scars, and fallback positions were prepared behind the first line.
Yet this time the pressure weighed heavier on him.
He knew Ba Da Wang well, and Ba Da Wang knew him.
Years ago near Taihu, when Ming forces clashed with the rebels, Shi Kefa had rushed to reinforce allied troops only to find Ba Da Wang's ambush waiting in concealed trenches, muskets and bows firing from behind earthworks that looked suspiciously like Gao Family Village's own methods. That delay had cost dozens of Ming generals their lives.
The memory still burned.
Standing atop the wall, Shi Kefa narrowed his eyes toward the western horizon as the rebel vanguard appeared like ants at the edge of vision, probing, observing, then halting rather than charging blindly.
They spread to the hills on both sides, testing for a path around Yangliu Bay.
But Yangliu Bay was no open plain. It sat in a critical pass through the Dabie Mountains. The slopes on either side were steep, and Shi Kefa had stationed troops on elevated ground. Any attempt to flank would invite a deadly pincer.
Then came the order from the rebel lines.
"Cut trees!"
Under Shi Kefa's watchful gaze, the rebels calmly felled timber and constructed shield carts reinforced with thick planks. Behind the lines, Pan Duguo directed craftsmen who somehow managed to assemble crude giant crossbows and catapults from freshly cut wood. Not elegant, but functional.
Soon, ten cannons rolled forward under the supervision of Zhai Tang's men.
Cavalry massed at the flanks, poised for sweeping maneuvers.
None of this frightened Shi Kefa.
Gao Family Village did not fear outdated artillery. Cavalry charging into trench zones only fed bodies into kill corridors. Smoothbore cannons and wooden siege engines were crude tools compared to disciplined musket fire.
What he feared was simpler.
He feared they would dig.
And of course, they did.
A mass of rebels carrying hoes and spades advanced behind shield carts, pushing forward cautiously until they reached the very edge of musket range, just shy of it, as if measuring with invisible string.
Then the first hoe struck the earth.
Dirt flew.
"Lord Shi! They are copying us. They are digging trenches!"
"Shall we open fire with artillery now?"
Shi Kefa shook his head slowly.
"No."
His officers stared at him.
"Our artillery is limited. Ammunition is limited. If we waste shells on laborers now, what will we fire when the real assault begins?"
"So we just watch them dig?"
"Yes."
He kept his eyes fixed on the distant figures hacking into the soil.
"Our mission is not annihilation. It is delay. Dao Xuan Tianzun once lectured that trenches transform warfare. They stretch a battle into days, even weeks."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"We can afford to delay. In fact, delay is our strategy. The rebels cannot afford it."
Understanding dawned.
If Ba Da Wang stalled here too long, the tightening encirclement would close. Reinforcements from the north would arrive. Supplies would dwindle. Morale would erode.
"Begin digging additional trenches behind our current lines," Shi Kefa ordered. "Connect them. Layer them. If they push us back from one line, we fall to the next. Prepare as if this battle will last half a year."
His officers laughed nervously.
"Half a year?"
"Yes."
Soon, across the battlefield, two armies faced each other not with charges and cannon blasts, but with shovels.
One hoe struck earth.
One shovel answered.
Mud flew in twin arcs beneath the same indifferent sky.
Now and then, a soldier paused, wiped sweat from his brow, glanced across the widening maze of dirt, and blew an exaggerated kiss toward the enemy trench.
"Muah."
War had become construction.
And somewhere far to the north, the main forces of Gao Family Village were already marching.