CHAPTER NINETY

Driving off Giant Beasts, Zhuge Liang Scores a Sixth Victory

Rattan Armor Burned, Meng Huo Is Captured for the Seventh Time

At the close of the previous chapter Zhuge Liang released all the prisoners, including Meng Huo. Yang Feng and his sons were rewarded with ranks and his men were given presents. They expressed their gratitude and left. Meng Huo and his men also hastened homeward to Silver Pit Valley.

Outside the valley were three streams, the Lu, the Gannan, and the Xicheng, which converged to form one big river at the city of Sanjiang, or Three Rivers. Close to the valley on the north was a wide and fruitful plain; on the west were salt wells; some two hundred li to the southwest flowed the Lu and the Gannan; and due south was another valley, called Liangtu. There were hills in and around the valley, and among these hills they found silver. Hence, the name Silver Pit.

A palace had been built in the valley, which the Mans kings had made their stronghold. There was also an ancestral temple, which they named Family Spirits, where they held ceremonies to offer sacrifices of oxen and horses during the four seasons. These ceremonies were known as “Inquiring after the Spirits.” Human sacrifices were offered too, often men of Shu or people from other places. When their own people fell sick, they did not take any medicine but prayed to a sorcerer called the “Medicine Spirit.” There was no legal code—instant execution was the punishment for every offense.

When girls matured to womanhood they bathed in a stream. Young men and women mixed and mingled among themselves; they married whomever they would, free from the interference of their parents. They called this “learning the trade.” If the climate was good they grew grain, but if the crop failed they made soup out of serpents and boiled the meat of elephants as their staple food. In every district of their land, the head of the most powerful household was named “Chieftain,” and the next in importance was called “Senior.” Markets were held on the first and the fifteenth days of every month in the city of Sanjiang, where goods were brought in and bartered.

Meng Huo gathered together a thousand or more members of his clan, to whom he addressed: “I have been put to shame by the men of Shu many times, and I have sworn to take revenge for the insults. Have you any proposals to make?”

At this one of them replied, “I would like to recommend a man able to defeat Zhuge Liang.”

The assembly turned to the speaker, who was Chieftain Dailai, a brother of Meng Huo’s wife.

“Who is this man?” asked Meng Huo, much pleased.

His brother-in-law replied, “He is Mulu, Chieftain of Bana Valley. A master of magic, he can call up the wind and invoke the rain. He rides upon an elephant and is usually attended by tigers, leopards, wolves, venomous snakes, and scorpions. Besides, he has under his command 30,000 brave and superhuman soldiers. You can write a letter and prepare some presents, and I will deliver them to him. If he consents to assist us, what fear will we have of the men of Shu?”

Meng Huo was pleased with the idea and presently sent his brother-inlaw away for the mission. Then he asked Duo Si to defend the city of Three Rivers and make that the first line of defense.

Meanwhile, Zhuge Liang had also arrived near the city. Noting from a distance that the city faced water on all sides save one, he sent Wei Yan and Zhao Yun to attack it by land. But when they reached the rampart they found it well defended by bows and crossbows.

As it happened, the natives were adepts in the use of the bow, and their special kind of bow could discharge at once ten arrows, each with a poisoned head so that a wound meant sure death. The two officers saw that they could not succeed, and so retreated.

When Zhuge Liang heard of the poisoned arrows, he mounted his light chariot and went to see for himself. After he returned to his camp he ordered a retreat of several li. This move delighted the Mans, who congratulated each other on their success in driving off the enemy, who, they concluded, had fled because of fright. So they slept soundly at night, without even posting scouts to keep watch.

The army of Shu maintained a strong defense in their new stockade behind closed gates. For five days Zhuge Liang gave no orders. On the fifth day, toward dusk, a breeze began to rustle. Then Zhuge Liang issued an order that every man should get ready a coat by the first watch. Anyone failing to do so would be put to death. None of the officers knew what was in the wind, but the order was obeyed. Next came the order that each man was to fill his coat with earth. This order appeared equally strange, but it was carried out. When all were ready, Zhuge Liang told them to carry the earth to the foot of the city wall, and the first arrivals would be rewarded. So with their bundles of dry earth they ran as fast as they could to the wall, where they were ordered to stack the earth to construct a terraced path upward. The first man to reach the wall would receive the highest honor.

At this command all the soldiers of the huge army of Shu and the newly-surrendered natives threw their burdens of earth down by the wall. In no time a mound rose in front of the city and, at a signal, the soldiers rushed up the incline, and were soon upon the wall. The Mans archers hastened to shoot but most were instantly seized and dragged down; those who got clear fled from the city. Duo Si was slain in the battle that followed. The defeated men were chased by their opponents in several directions. Thus the city was captured and with it a great booty of treasures, which were given to the army as rewards.

The few soldiers who escaped went to tell Meng Huo what had happened. He was much distressed. And before he had recovered from this shock, news came that the men of Shu had crossed the river and were encamped right in front of his valley.

Just as he was in the very depths of distress, laughter was heard from behind a screen, and a woman appeared, saying, “You’re a man, yet you’re afraid—I’m only a woman but I’ll go out and fight for you.”

The woman was his wife, Lady Zhurong. Descended from an ancient imperial house of Zhurong, she was born and bred in the region. She was an expert in hurling daggers and never missed her target.

Meng Huo rose to thank her. She mounted a horse and rode out of the palace, leading hundreds of able officers and a vigorous troop of 50,000 natives to drive off the enemy.

Just as this large force went out of the valley it was stopped by a cohort led by Zhang Ni. At once the Mans spread out on two sides. Lady Zhurong, armed with five daggers in her belt, held an eighteen-foot (five-and-a-half meter) long spear, and rode a curly-haired horse of the Red Hare breed.

At the sight of her Zhang Ni marveled secretly in his heart but he quickly engaged the amazon. After a few passes the lady turned her steed and bolted. Zhang Ni went after her, but a dagger came flying through the air at him. As he tried to fend it off with one hand it deflected and wounded his arm, and he fell to the ground. The Mans, shouting loudly, pounced on the fallen officer and captured him.

Hearing that his comrade had been taken, Ma Zhong rushed out to rescue him, but Zhang Ni was already bound fast. Angrily he made a dash at the woman warrior, but just then his steed went down under him, tripped by a rope, and he was also a prisoner.

Both officers were taken before Meng Huo, who gave a banquet in honor of his wife’s success, and during the feast the lady ordered the two prisoners to be put to death. Meng Huo checked her. “Wait,” he said. “Five times has Zhuge Liang set me free and it will be unjust to put these two to death. Confine them till we have captured their chief—then we can execute them all.”

His wife agreed and they resumed drinking and feasting.

The defeated soldiers returned and told Zhuge Liang the bad news, who immediately took steps to retrieve the setback by sending for Ma Dai, Zhao Yun, and Wei Yan, to each of whom he gave special orders.

The next day the Mans soldiers reported to their king that Zhao Yun was offering a challenge. The lady mounted and rode out to battle. She engaged Zhao Yun, but after a few bouts he fled. The lady was too prudent to risk pursuit and led her men back. Then Wei Yan came up to challenge and he also fled as if defeated. But again the lady declined to pursue. The next day, Zhao Yun repeated his challenge and ran away as before. Still she refused to give chase. But as she was withdrawing, Wei Yan rode up and directed his men to hurl abuse at her. This proved too much, and she indignantly went after him, her spear ready to strike. Wei Yan galloped down a path between the hills. Suddenly a loud noise was heard, and Wei Yan, turning his head, saw the lady tumble from her saddle.

It turned out that she had rushed into an ambush prepared by Ma Dai, and her horse had been tripped by ropes. She was captured, bound, and carried off to the Shu camp. Her people tried to rescue her, but they were driven off by Zhao Yun.

Zhuge Liang was seated in his tent, when the lady was led up. He at once ordered his men to remove her bonds, and she was conducted to another tent, where wine was served to relieve her of the shock. Then a message was sent to Meng Huo, suggesting an exchange of captives. The king agreed, and the two officers were set free. The lady was escorted back as far as the valley entrance, where Meng Huo received her with mixed feelings of joy and annoyance.

Presently the arrival of Chieftain Mulu of Bana Valley was announced. Meng Huo went out to welcome him and what he saw impressed him immensely. The chieftain, dressed in a silk robe laced with gold pieces and pearls, rode a white elephant and wore two huge swords at his sides. He was followed by a crowd of henchmen who were handlers of a motley pack of fighting animals, including tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves.

Meng Huo bowed to him repeatedly as he poured out his tale of woes. Mulu promised to avenge his wrongs. Delighted, Meng Huo prepared a rich banquet to entertain his guests.

The next day Mulu led his men out to battle, with his pack of wild creatures in his train. Zhao Yun and Wei Yan quickly deployed. Then taking their positions in front, side-by-side, they observed their opponents. Everything seemed bizarre. Their banners and weapons were all different. The men were ugly and most of them stood stark naked, wearing neither armor nor clothes. Each of them carried four sharp pointed knives. Signals were not given by drum or trumpet, but by a gong. As they watched, Mulu, who wore two big swords at his sides and carried a hand bell, urged his white elephant forward and emerged from between his flags.

“We’ve spent all our lives on the battlefield,” said Zhao Yun to his comrade, “but never have we seen anyone like this before.”

While they were wondering what to make of the sight before them they noticed that their opponent was mumbling some sort of curse and shaking his bell. Suddenly a strong blast swept up, sending stones and sand to whirl in the air like a heavy shower of rain. Next a horn rang out, and at once the tigers, leopards, jackals, wolves, serpents, and all kinds of wild beasts rushed down, baring their fangs and flexing their claws. How could the mortal men of Shu withstand such fearful things as those? So they fled in panic, and the Mans came after them fiercely, chasing them as far as the boundary of the city of Three Rivers.

The two generals mustered their defeated men and went to their leader to confess their failure. Zhuge Liang, however, was not angry but laughed.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “Long ago, when I was still home in my cottage, I knew the Mans possessed certain power over wild beasts, and I had prepared against this before our expedition. You will find a score of sealed wagons in the baggage train. We will use half of them now and save the other half for later use.”

He told his men to bring forward the ten red wagons, leaving the ten black ones behind. They all wondered what would happen. Then the wagons were opened, and they turned out to contain carved wild beasts in bright colors, with coats of colorful wool, fangs, and claws of steel. Each such animal could carry ten soldiers. After choosing a thousand seasoned warriors, Zhuge Liang told them to take one hundred of these artificial beasts and stuff their mouths with inflammables.

The next day the men of Shu advanced to the entrance of the valley. The Mans soldiers went into the palace to tell their lord. Mulu, thinking himself invincible, marched out without hesitation, taking Meng Huo with him. Zhuge Liang, dressed in his usual Taoist robe and headdress and carrying his feather fan, went out in his light chariot.

Meng Huo, pointing him out to Mulu, said, “That’s Zhuge Liang in that chariot. If we can capture him, victory is ours.”

Then Mulu resorted again to muttering his curse and ringing his bell, and instantly the wind began to howl with violence, and the wild beasts came on as before.

But at a wave of Zhuge Liang’s feather fan, lo! the wind changed direction and blew instead toward the Mans. In the same breath from the Shu formation there burst forth the carved wild beasts. The real wild beasts of the Mans dared not proceed as they saw rushing down upon them huge creatures whose mouths spurted flames, whose nostrils breathed out black smoke, and who came along, jingling bells and clawing. Frightened, the real beasts turned tail to escape to the valley, trampling numerous Mans down as they sped along.

Zhuge Liang gave the signal for a general offensive and his men rushed forward amidst beating drums and blaring trumpets. Mulu was killed. Meng Huo’s clan abandoned the palace and escaped to the hills. And so the Silver Pit Valley was taken.

The next day, as Zhuge Liang was deploying troops to capture the king, it was announced that Chieftain Dailai, who had tried in vain to persuade the king to yield, had taken into custody Meng Huo and his wife, as well as hundreds of his clan members, to present to the prime minister.

Hearing this, Zhuge Liang summoned two officers and gave them a special order, upon which they hid themselves in the two wings of the tent with a large body of sturdy guards. After that, Zhuge Liang ordered the gates to be opened, and in came the chieftain, followed by executioners bringing Meng Huo and his people. As he bowed at the entrance, Zhuge Liang called out, “Seize them all!” Out jumped the hidden men, every two of them laying hands upon one member of the Mans. All were seized and bound.

“Did you think that paltry trick of yours would deceive me?” said Zhuge Liang. “You were twice captured by your own people and I did not harm you, so you thought I would believe you this time. You came to pretend submission in an attempt to kill me.”

Then he told his men to search the prisoners. And truly enough, on every captive was found a sharp knife.

“You promised last time that if you were captured in your home you would yield,” said Zhuge Liang. “And now?”

“We have come to court death ourselves. The credit is not yours. I am still not convinced of your ability and I refuse to yield,” replied Meng Huo.

“This is the sixth time I have captured you, and yet you are as obstinate as ever. When will you yield, then?”

“If you seize me yet another time, then I will submit to you and never rebel again.”

“Well, your stronghold is now destroyed. What have I to fear?”

So Zhuge Liang ordered their bonds to be loosened again. “If you are caught a seventh time and if you still refuse to yield, I will certainly not let you off.”

With their hands covering their heads, Meng Huo and his people scuffled off like rats.

The defeated Mans soldiers who had fled during the previous battle were about a thousand, most of them wounded. These fell in with their king, who received them, feeling a little relieved that he had still some men left. Then he sought advice from his brother-in-law.

“Our stronghold is in the hands of the enemy,” said Meng Huo. “Where can we go now?”

His brother-in-law replied, “The only country that can overcome these men is the Wuge country. It lies seven hundred li to the southeast. The chieftain, named Wutugu, is so tall that he is simply a giant. He does not eat grain, but lives on serpents and venomous beasts. He wears a scaly armor, which is impenetrable to swords or arrows. His men all wear rattan armor. This rattan grows in gullies and ravines, climbing over their rocky walls. The people there cut the rattan stems and steep them in oil for six months. Then they are dried in the sun. When dry, they are soaked again and so on for about a dozen times. Finally, they are plaited into armor. Clad in this the men will not drown when crossing a river, nor get wet in water, nor will their bodies be penetrated by knives or arrows. That is why the soldiers are called the Rattan Army. You can go and seek aid from this chieftain, and if he consents you can seize Zhuge Liang as easily as a sharp knife cleaves a bamboo.”

Meng Huo, greatly pleased, went to Wuge to see the chieftain. He noticed that the people there did not live in houses, but dwelt in caves. Meng Huo entered the chieftain’s cave and recounted all that had happened to him. The chieftain promised to mobilize his men to avenge him, for which Meng Huo bowed in gratitude. Then the chieftain summoned two of his officers and ordered them to lead 30,000 of the rattan-armored soldiers to march toward the northeast.

This troop came to a stream called the Peach Blossom River. Along the banks grew many peach trees. Year after year the leaves of these trees drifted into the river and rendered it poisonous to all but the natives, whose vigor only doubled after drinking its water. They camped at a shallow area in the river to await the coming of the army of Shu.

Now Zhuge Liang was informed of all this. He at once marched his army to the riverside, where he saw on the opposite bank the ratten-armored soldiers, who seemed less than human. They looked so hideous. He questioned the natives, and was told that the peach leaves were falling just then and the river water was undrinkable. So he retired five li to encamp, leaving Wei Yan to hold the old camp.

The next day the chieftain of Wuge led his men to cross the stream amid the rolling of drums. Wei Yan went out to meet them. The Mans of Wuge country approached in large numbers, and the place was teeming with them. The men of Shu shot at them but neither arrows nor bolts could penetrate their armor—they just deflected on to the ground. Nor could swords cut or spears pierce. Thus protected, the Mans with their sharp knives and prongs were too much for the men of Shu, who had to retreat. However, they did not pursue but went away. At this Wei Yan and his men turned back and chased as far as the Peach Blossom River, where they watched in disbelief their enemy crossing—some forded with their armor on and others, feeling tired, simply took off their rattan armor, sat upon it, and floated across.

Wei Yan hastened to the main camp to report all this to Zhuge Liang, who summoned Lu Kai and called in some natives to inquire.

Lu Kai said, “I have often heard that among the Mans there is this Wuge country, which is a land of barbarians, the people having no notion of human relations as they are understood in our state. They are protected by their rattan armor and hence difficult to overcome. Besides, there is this evil Peach Blossom River, which revives the vigor of the natives but kills outsiders after drinking its water. A place like this is not worth conquering. Even if we win a complete victory, it is of no use. I think we would do better to return home.”

Zhuge Liang said, smiling, “Well, we have had too much difficulty in getting here to go back so easily. I will draw up plans to subdue these people tomorrow.”

Then he told Zhao Yun to help Wei Yan hold the camp and not to go out to fight.

On the following day, Zhuge Liang went out in his light chariot to reconnoiter with a few natives as guides. He came to some secluded hills near the north bank of the river, where he surveyed the terrain. Where the paths were too rugged for any carriage to pass, he would alight and went afoot. Presently he came to a hill from which he saw a long winding valley, like a huge serpent, fringed on all sides by bare and precipitous cliffs. In the middle ran a wide road.

“What is the name of this valley?” asked Zhuge Liang.

“It is called Coiled Serpent Valley,” said the guides. “At the other end is the high road to the city of the Three Rivers. In front of the valley is a place called Talangdian.”

“Splendid,” cried Zhuge Liang in joy. “It is Heaven’s wish that I should succeed here!”

Having found what he was looking for, he retraced his steps, ascended his chariot, and returned to camp. There he first called in Ma Dai and put him in charge of the preparations. He told him to take the ten black wagons and get a thousand long bamboo poles ready for use. He told his officers in confidence what the wagons contained and what was to be done with the contents. “Then take your own troops to hold the two ends of the valley,” added Zhuge Liang. “I will give you half a month to carry out all this. Remember to maintain strictest secrecy. Any leakage will be punished by military law.”

Next, Zhao Yun was ordered to get to the other end of the valley, with instructions as to how to hold the road that led to the city of Three Rivers. Then Wei Yan was sent to camp at the ford of the Peach Blossom River. If the Mans crossed over the river to challenge he was to abandon the camp and flee toward a certain white flag that he would see ahead of him. “In half a month you are to lose fifteen times and abandon seven camps,” concluded his chief. “On no account are you to come back earlier and see me, not even after you have lost fourteen battles.”

Wei Yan accepted the order, though not a little upset at the prospect, and went away sulkily. When he’d left, Zhang Yi was summoned and was sent to make a stockade at a certain point; lastly Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong were told to lead the thousand or so surrendered Mans to perform a secret task. All of them went away to implement Zhuge Liang’s plan.

In his camp Meng Huo said to the chieftain of Wuge, “Although this Zhuge Liang is exceedingly crafty, ambush is his favorite ruse. So in later battles you should warn your soldiers not to enter a valley where the trees are thick.”

“You’re right,” said the chieftain. “I know now that the men of the central state are full of wiles, and I will see that your advice is followed. I will go in front to fight while you remain in the rear to instruct me.”

Presently scouts told them of the encampment of the men of Shu on the north bank of the Peach Blossom River. The chieftain sent his two officers with the rattan-armored men to cross the river and engage them. The two sides met, but Wei Yan soon left the field. The Mans did not pursue, as they dreaded an ambush.

Then Wei Yan established another camp and the Mans crossed the river again to fight. Wei Yan came out to meet them, but once more he fled after a very short encounter. This time the Mans pursued a dozen li, and, finding nothing suspicious all around, they occupied the deserted Shu camp.

The next day the two officers asked their chieftain to come to the camp and reported to him the success of their battles. He decided to make a general advance to chase the enemy. Wei Yan and his men hurriedly escaped, even casting aside their armor and throwing away their spears. In their flight they spotted a white flag ahead and, hastening toward it, they found a camp already made, and they occupied it.

Soon, however, the pursuers came near, and as they pressed forward Wei Yan abandoned this camp and flew again. When the Mans reached the new camp they took up quarters there.

The next day the Mans resumed the pursuit. This time Wei Yan turned back to fight but after only three encounters he went off again toward another white flag in the distance. There, another camp awaited him and he settled into it with his men.

To avoid wearisome repetition, it may be said that this chase-and-flee continued daily until the men of Shu had been defeated fifteen times and had abandoned seven camps. The Mans now pressed on triumphantly with all their might, with the chieftain in the forefront. Whenever he came to a thicket he would order his men to halt. Then scouts would be sent to look from a distance and, true to his expectations, flags would be discovered fluttering amid sheltering trees.

“Just as you predicted,” said the chieftain to Meng Huo.

The king laughed heartily. “Now I have seen through Zhuge Liang’s ruses! He is going to be worsted this time. You have won fifteen successive victories and seized seven camps these days. On hearing your approach his men simply ran off. Apparently, he has exhausted all his tricks. With your next offensive the victory is secured.”

The chieftain, greatly flattered, forgot all about taking precautions against his enemy.

The sixteenth day found Wei Yan and his often-defeated men confronting his rattan-protected foes. The chieftain, riding his white elephant, was ahead of his men. He wore a cap with designs of the sun and moon and streamers of wolf’s beard, a garment tasseled with gold pieces and pearls, which allowed his armor of scales to appear under his armpits; his eyes seemed to flash fire. Pointing scornfully at Wei Yan, he began to revile him.

Once again, Wei Yan whipped up his steed and fled. Behind him came the Mans, pressing on in hot pursuit. Wei Yan led his men into the Coiled Serpent Valley and then pushed past it toward another white flag ahead. The chieftain followed in haste, and as he saw only bare hills without any sign of vegetation all around, he felt quite sure that no ambush could be laid there.

So he advanced into the valley. There he saw some black wagons in the road. His soldiers reported that these must be their enemy’s supply wagons, abandoned in their hasty flight. This pleased the chieftain even more and he urged his men to pursue at a faster speed. However, as they came near the other end of the valley, Wei Yan and his men had disappeared, but big logs and large boulders were rolling down the hillside, closing the exit of the valley. The chieftain ordered his men to clear away the obstacles. Before they had done so, they suddenly saw in front of them some big and small carts, laden with firewood, all burning. The chieftain hastened to order retreat. But at that instant shouting arose behind, and soon he was told that the entrance of the valley had also been blocked by dry wood. The black wagons turned out to contain nothing but gunpowder, and they were all on fire. However, seeing that the valley was devoid of grass and wood, the chieftain was still not too alarmed, but ordered his men to search for a way out.

Then he saw torches being hurled down the mountain sides. When these torches touched the ground, they ignited the fuses leading to the hidden mines beneath the sandy earth. Then the whole valley suddenly heaved with loud explosions and was lit by dancing flames, which darted in all directions. Wherever the flames came into contact with rattan armor the rattan caught fire, and thus the chieftain and his whole army died huddled together in the Coiled Serpent Valley.

From a hilltop Zhuge Liang glanced down and saw the Mans struggling desperately in the fire. Most of them had their heads or faces mangled by the explosions of the mines. The whole valley stank with the corpses.

Zhuge Liang’s tears fell as he sighed, saying, “Though I have rendered a good service to my country, yet my life is bound to be shortened for this.”

His words brought deep sighs from the officers and men with him.

Meanwhile, Meng Huo was in his camp, anxiously waiting for news of the battle, when there came a crowd of about a thousand of his former soldiers, who knelt before him and said cheerfully, “The Wuge chieftain has fought a great battle with the men of Shu and has surrounded Zhuge Liang in the Valley of the Coiled Serpent. But the chieftain needs reinforcements and we have come to seek your help. All of us were formerly your own people but were forced to yield to Shu. When we learned of your return, however, we hastened to come back to your service.”

Meng Huo was beside himself with joy at the good news. Placing himself at the head of his clansmen, he lost no time in setting out, with the harbingers of the happy news in the lead. But when he reached the valley he was greeted by the raging fire and the smell of death. He knew he had been tricked again. As he hastened to retreat there appeared two bodies of enemy troops at his sides, and they attacked at once. He tried to make whatever stand he could but a great shouting arose among his own men, who revealed themselves as men of Shu in disguise, and they quickly captured all his clansmen and followers.

Only Meng Huo broke through and escaped into the hills. As he galloped along he suddenly saw, emerging from a valley, a group of horsemen accompanying a small carriage, and therein sat Zhuge Liang, dressed in his Taoist robe and holding a feather fan.

“Meng Huo, you rebel!” cried Zhuge Liang. “What about this time?”

Meng Huo immediately turned to run away, but out dashed an officer from his side to block his path. It was Ma Dai. Meng Huo, caught unawares, fell a prey to his captor. His wife, Lady Zhurong, and the other members of his family were also taken.

Back in camp, Zhuge Liang assembled his officers in the main tent. He was still sad at the thought of the great killing and he said, “This plan that I used was against my best feeling. For this sin I will have to pay dearly.”

Then he went on to explain the plan he had employed to overcome the Mans. “I guessed that the enemy would suspect an ambush in every thicket, so I had flags set up in the woods to arouse their suspicion, but actually I posted no troops there. I told Wei Yan to lose battle after battle in order to lead them on and harden their hearts for pursuit. When I saw the Valley of the Coiled Serpent, with its sandy soil, treeless walls of sheer rock, and the wide road in the middle, I recognized what could be done. I sent Ma Dai to place there the black wagons, in which I had put fire bombs called ‘mines’, designed long ago for this purpose. In every bomb was hidden nine more bombs, and they were buried thirty paces apart in the valley. They were connected by fuses concealed in hollowed bamboo poles to set off successive explosions, and their destructive power was enormous. Once ignited, they would wreck hills and smash rocks. I also told Zhao Yun to prepare carts laden with firewood to be put at both ends of the valley and to prepare big logs and boulders. While all this was being arranged, Wei Yan led the chieftain on and on till he had enticed him into the valley. After Wei Yan had safely left the valley, its entrance and exit were sealed and the burning began. I decided to employ fire because I know what is proof against water cannot stand fire. And the oil-soaked rattan armor, excellent as a protection against swords and arrows, was highly inflammable material, catching fire easily. The Mans were so stubborn that the only way was to use fire, or we should never have scored a victory. But it is my great sin to wipe out the entire race of Wuge country.”

After hearing his explanation, the officers bowed to him and praised his wonderful ability, which was unfathomable even to gods and spirits.

Then Meng Huo was summoned. He fell upon his knees at the entrance of the tent. Zhuge Liang ordered him to be freed from his bonds and taken to another tent for some refreshments. However, Zhuge Liang gave secret orders to the officer in charge of food and drinks.

While Meng Huo and his family and clan members were treated with wine in another tent, a man suddenly came in and addressed the captive king: “The prime minister is too embarrassed to see you again, sir. He has sent me to release you. You may return and assemble another army and once more attempt a decisive victory. Now you may leave.”

But instead of going Meng Huo began to weep.

“Seven times a captive and seven times released!” said the king of the Mans. “Never has such a thing happened before in the whole world. Though I am ignorant of the imperial grace, I am not entirely devoid of a sense of propriety and rectitude. Does he think I can be so shameless?”

Then the king and his people crawled to Zhuge Liang’s tent, where he bared the upper part of his body and begged pardon, saying, “Oh, most powerful minister, we men of the south will never rebel again.”

“Then you will yield?” asked Zhuge Liang.

“I and my descendants will forever be indebted to you for preserving our lives. How can we not yield?”

At this long-awaited pledge Zhuge Liang asked Meng Huo to come up into the tent, where a banquet was soon given to celebrate the occasion. Then he confirmed Meng Huo’s perpetual leadership in the region and returned to him all the territories that had been seized by the men of Shu. The Mans were all overwhelmed by Zhuge Liang’s generosity, and they went away leaping with joy.

A poem was written by a later poet to praise Zhuge Liang:

He rode in his Taoist garb,
In his hand a feather fan.
Seven times he freed the Mans king
As part of his conquering plan.
To this day his prestige reigned
O’er streams and valleys of the south.
Lest his kindness should e’er be forgot,
The vanquished erected a fane.

This generous treatment of the Mans was hardly comprehensible to his subordinates and a senior official named Fei Yi ventured to remonstrate with Zhuge Liang on his policy.

“You, sir, have personally led the army to make this long journey into the wilds and have conquered the Mans’ country. Now that the Mans king has submitted, why not appoint Shu officials to share in the administration and hold the land together with him?”

Zhuge Liang replied, “There are three difficulties. First, to leave our men here entails leaving an army with them; and there is also the difficulty of feeding the soldiers. Secondly, the Mans families are broken and their fathers and brothers have died in the war. To leave our officials here without soldiers invites trouble sooner or later; this is the second difficulty. Thirdly, the Mans have a history of deposing or murdering their rulers. They are suspicious even of each other, let alone of outsiders, and our men will never be trusted; this is the third difficulty. Now I leave no men behind, so I need not send any supplies here. Peace will be maintained between our two sides.”

His words convinced Fei Yi and the others of the wisdom of the policy.

The kindness of the conqueror was rewarded by the gratitude of the conquered, who even erected a shrine in his honor, where they offered sacrifices at the four seasons. They called Zhuge Liang their “Gracious Father” and they sent gifts of pearls, cinnabar, lacquer, medicine, cattle, and battle chargers for the use of the army. And they pledged themselves never to rebel.

After the feasts were over, the army marched homeward to Shu. Wei Yan led the way. As he reached the Lu River, dark clouds suddenly gathered in the sky and a violent wind began to howl, sending sand and stones whirling in the air. The army was forced to turn back. Wei Yan reported the matter to Zhuge Liang, who called in Meng Huo to ask him what this might mean.

The Mans of the south have yielded now at last,
Ghosts in the water won’t let our men go past.

Meng Huo’s explanation will be related in the next chapter.