Chapter 59: Against One's Will

"No signs of battle anywhere. Jiexiu... could they have opened the gates and surrendered without a fight?"

Lu Bu, who knew all too well that Su Yao's hands would itch for a scrap if they didn't get into a tussle right away, was already beginning to analyze the tactical situation on the battlefield...

Unfortunately for him, Lu Bu had guessed wrong.

It wasn't that Jiexiu had offered no resistance; it was simply that Xu Huang had moved too fast.

"Bah! Traitors and rebels! This official will die before submitting to your kind—just kill me!"

In the plaza beneath the drum tower, Magistrate Fang and dozens of Han soldiers and bailiffs were bound together.

Regret tore at Magistrate Fang's heart.

Little had he expected that just days after surviving the ravages of the Xiongnu, the Yellow Turban bandits would strike at his doorstep.

Ah, but he had only himself to blame.

In recent days, occupied with settling the refugees who had been rescued, he had grown lax and dropped his guard at the gates, thus presenting that axe-wielding bandit chieftain with the opportunity he needed.

Who could have foreseen that the Yellow Turban ruffians would disguise themselves as homeward-bound refugees, only to launch a sudden, violent assault while the gate guards were inspecting them?

That principal villain wielding the great axe had been like a rakshasa, fighting off a multitude single-handedly, holding the gateway all by himself as he whipped up a storm of blood and gore within the city gate tunnel.

With a mere dozen men, he had seized control of the city gates for a good half-hour, opening them up for the main force of the Yellow Turbans that followed...

"Why must the Magistrate be so stubborn? Initially, Xu was also forced by circumstances to join the rebels, but looking back now, no matter where one finds oneself, as long as one can do substantive good for the common people and keep a clear conscience, that is enough."

"A clear conscience? Is this how you do substantive good for the common people?"

Hearing the magistrate's words, Xu Huang's face flushed. He averted his gaze.

Beyond the crowd of onlookers gathered in the square, numerous fighters wearing yellow scarves could be seen darting excitedly through the streets.

They went from door to door, searching the shops, taverns, and residences along the street.

With loud shouts, they broke down doors, kicked the heads of households to the ground, and vetted their backgrounds.

Anyone who failed to recognize the times, refused to revere the Yellow Heaven, or withheld their tribute would find the soldiers gladly taking matters into their own hands, dispensing divine will with sword and blade while conveniently stuffing their own money pouches to the brim.

"Brother Xu, why waste breath on this stubborn dog of an official? Since he doesn't know what's good for him, this younger brother will simply lop his head off."

With a flash of cold light, Zhao Mazi, who served as one of Xu Huang's personal guards, lunged directly toward the magistrate's neck.

"Stop! No indiscriminate killing!"

With a crisp clanging sound, Xu Huang's battle-axe intercepted the broadsword, blocking the fatal strike.

Frustrated, Zhao Mazi let out a cold snort, withdrew his weapon, and muttered with sullen discontent:

"The fortune of Han is spent; the Yellow House shall rise in its stead!

Since Brother Xu has now turned away from the darkness and embraced the light, how can you remain double-minded? Could it be that you still harbor a yearning for his official robes?"

Xu Huang remained silent.

Friendly though this soldier's words sounded on the surface, Xu Huang was well aware that Zhao Mazi was a watcher planted by Yang Feng. After all, imagining that he could win the complete trust of the Baibo Army in less than a month was sheer wishful thinking.

Yang Feng operated in much the same way. Though he treated Xu Huang with the utmost surface respect—promptly conferring upon him the rank of vanguard commander—he had actually surrounded him with spies on all sides. This Zhao Mazi was Yang Feng's true confidant; nominally a personal guard, he was in reality a military supervisor. If Zhao Mazi did not nod in agreement, none of Xu Huang's crucial decisions could be carried out at all.

"Brother, your contributions this time are immense. You said we should let our brothers hold their tempers for now, and we accepted that.

Since this dog of an official remains unrepentant and insists on going to his grave to be buried with the Han court, we might as well grant him his wish."

Facing these fierce-eyed Yellow Turban fighters, Xu Huang had no choice but to compromise.

He closed his eyes, a sense of helpless resignation washing over him. Whether serving as an official in the Han court or acting as a general among the Yellow Turbans, one's hands were always tied.

Did you really think that being a commanding officer meant you could do whatever you pleased?

Xu Huang was no longer so naive.

Whether constrained by superiors or pressured by the will of subordinates, every single factor dictated and tugged at his actions.

Take the present situation, for instance: why had these fanatical Yellow Turban soldiers traveled such a long distance to attack Jiexiu?

Burning the classics, destroying the Confucian temple, and following the guidance of the Yellow Heaven were secondary. What they truly craved were the accumulated reserves of the prefectural treasury over the past century, and the coin purses of those who refused to believe in the Yellow Heaven.

Xu Huang had risked his life to seize the gates and take the city to a significant extent precisely to minimize casualties among his men, thereby keeping their bloodthirsty rampages in check.

After all, once casualties in a siege grew too heavy, public anger would boil over, and even the commanding general could not defy the will of the soldiers.

Even so, he was powerless to control their plundering behavior.

Xu Huang was still, after all, nothing more than an outsider lodging here temporarily.

Seeing that Xu Huang said no more, Zhao Mazi waved his hand. Several executioners armed with sabers and axes rushed forward, pinned the shoulders of the captured Han soldiers, and proceeded to behead them one by one amidst their shrieks.

With each execution, the crowd of onlookers erupted into gasps.

Among them, some clapped and cheered. These were mostly idlers and ruffians who had hastened to pledge allegiance the moment the Yellow Turbans entered the city, having long resented the way the Han soldiers lorded over them and interfered with their affairs.

There were also those who looked on with grief and regret. These were mostly refugees who had recently received kindnesses from the Han soldiers, having just been rescued from the Xiongnu and cared for all along the road.

Yet the faces of the majority bore only blank numbness. To them, whatever contending faction happened to be strutting across the stage mattered not at all.

Their ultimate luxury was simply hoping the chaos would end quickly so they could safely scrape through another year.

"You dog of a magistrate! Since my Brother Xu has taken a fancy to you, we will give you one final chance.

Just honestly confess your wrongs, and join us in setting a fire inside the Confucian temple. Perhaps, seeing your piety, we might permit you to leave alive."

"Bah!

Confucius spoke of attaining benevolence, Mencius spoke of choosing righteousness! The imperial court commanded Fang to guard this territory; if Fang has failed in his duty, then let death be death!"

With that, Magistrate Fang stiffened his neck, presenting himself for the executioner's blade.

Xu Huang knew well that this was a pedantic scholar. He might not have possessed great talent, but his stubborn pride was absolute. He advised Zhao Mazi to stop humiliating the man and simply send him on his way.

Zhao Mazi curled his lip in dissatisfaction.

His greatest pleasure was watching those formerly lofty and privileged dignitaries grovel at his feet, weeping and begging for mercy.

Using power to force others into submission was such an exquisite feeling.

As long as he stood beneath the banner of the Yellow Heaven, he could freely indulge in things he had never dared to dream of before.

Yet this magistrate refused to cooperate, making the beheading entirely unsatisfying.

Zhao Mazi reached out, grabbed the magistrate's hair, jerked him backward, and slammed him forcefully downward.

The stubborn old man struck his head against the ground, splitting his scalp and letting blood flow freely.

"Magistrate!"

This time, the cries of alarm rose from many more among the populace.

The old man was pedantic, but he was a rare upright official, and many townspeople remembered his benevolent grace toward the county.

"Zhao Erlang!"

Simultaneously, Xu Huang seized Zhao Mazi's hand.

"Each serves their own master; since you are killing him, why must you torment an old man so?"

"Brother is truly benevolent indeed. Very well, this younger brother will grant him a swift end."

As Zhao Mazi pressed his short sword against the magistrate's neck, feeling the icy breath of death, an image flashed through Magistrate Fang's mind—the figure of a youth upon a white horse.

Word had it that crazed young man had single-handedly slaughtered thousands of Hu tribesmen...

Ordinarily, he would never have believed such wildly exaggerated tales passed down by his subordinates, but now, he inexplicably wished with all his heart that it were true:

"You... you will all pay the price for this..."

At this, Zhao Mazi let out a derisive snort.

"Obstinate old fool! The Azure Heaven is dead, the Yellow Heaven shall rise! None can match the might of our warriors!"

Just at that moment, the drums on the city watchtower suddenly thundered furiously, and a mounted messenger galloped forth, shouting at the top of his lungs:

"General! Terrible news!

Someone—someone has broken through the gates!"