27. The Marshal personally requested to incorporate them into his command.

Seeing the large vessel charging directly toward them without any regard for the smaller boats in its path, Zhang Xun grew anxious. Their own transport ships were unreliable, flat-bottomed vessels with a draft of less than half a meter; it would take very little for that massive ship to ram and sink them. Moreover, these boats were laden with the lifeblood and wealth of the Changzhou people; if this cargo were lost, the local authorities in Changzhou would be held liable for the entire debt.

They could not let that ship draw any closer. Zhang Xun ordered Chu Jiu to shout a warning, demanding that the large vessel steer elsewhere. He warned that this was a fleet of official and military ships, and if they continued to approach, they would be met with arrows. This was a valid threat; under the law, if the archers and garrison troops guarding transport ships encountered water bandits or robbers, they were authorized to attack, with no questions asked if any were killed.

However, upon hearing that Zhang Xun’s group consisted of government troops, the people on that ship seemed even more emboldened; they surged forward, utterly reckless. If they did not fear the government troops, then they were no longer mere rioters.

"Fire! Fire! Damn it, fire at them!" At Zhang Xun’s command, the strings of the archers on both sides snapped in a rhythmic chorus. In such a situation, everyone’s primary instinct was self-preservation, or at best, the protection of their fellow townsmen; there was no capacity left to care for anything else.

Wen Tianxiang, standing beside Zhang Xun, whispered a reminder: since the people on that ship remained undeterred even after learning they were government vessels, they might well be another detachment of government troops themselves. He suggested they shoot only to force them back, rather than causing any further incident.

That made sense. After two or three volleys of arrows, sounds of people falling into the water could be heard from the large vessel. Only then did they seem truly frightened, rowing to change course. They did not go far, however, but anchored a short distance from Zhang Xun’s fleet to watch the unfolding chaos. Because of their ship's height, they were not afraid of the marauding small boats, and they even sent a small dinghy over to negotiate with Zhang Xun’s side.

It was ironic how base human nature could be; they had ignored polite warnings, but after a round of arrows, they suddenly became cooperative and willing to send a boat for proper communication. The envoy identified himself as a scout officer from the Imperial Guard and asked the "government troops" where they were from, where they were going, their official registration, and their unit name.

The Imperial Guard? Those were palace troops; they should have been in Hangzhou or on the front lines at Yingzhou and Xiangyang. Why had they appeared in Runzhou? In an instant, both Zhang Xun and Wen Tianxiang realized the truth: the army at Xiangyang had been defeated!

Upon learning that Zhang Xun’s group of several hundred men consisted only of local garrison troops, remnants, and archers from Changzhou, the envoy was visibly delighted and turned to leave. Zhang Xun tried to detain him to ask what had happened on the Xiangyang front, but the man slipped away.

"I fear something terrible has happened..." Zhang Xun had anticipated this, yet standing in the midst of it, he felt a profound sense of sorrow. With this defeat, the Song Dynasty would no longer be able to organize an effective mobile field army to relieve Xiangyang. The last of their major forces capable of engaging the Yuan army in open battle had been utterly squandered. The few stragglers left were fighting in isolation and would surely be crushed by the Yuan forces sooner or later.

"We heard reports of victory just recently, how could they have been defeated so quickly?" Wen Tianxiang could not fathom it. He had spent the last ten days in Changzhou, where he had heard that Li Tingzhi’s reinforcements had broken through the encirclement to aid Xiangyang. How, in the blink of an eye, had the entire army collapsed?

"Hmph," Zhang Xun did not wish to answer. It was clear that the war at Xiangyang was unfolding exactly as it had in history.

"Er'lang, what do you think?" Wen Tianxiang, not well-versed in military affairs, sought Zhang Xun’s counsel.

"Tomorrow, all will be explained," Zhang Xun replied, patting Wen Tianxiang on the shoulder.

Xijin Ferry was in total disarray. Many boats were casting off their moorings to flee into the Yangtze, while others were being abandoned as people scrambled toward the shore. From upriver, more vessels of various sizes kept rushing in, and upon seeing the fires raging at Xijin Ferry, they crowded toward the banks. Some wanted to escape, others wanted to dock; there was no rest to be had that night.

After arranging the night watch, Zhang Xun stood in the center of the fleet, leaning on his sword. Chu Jiu and Zhang Xi stood on either side holding torches, their light illuminating Zhang Xun clearly. Seeing him there, the men of the fleet felt a measure of relief.

They endured the night, and when the sun rose, the once-prosperous Xijin Ferry was a scene of utter devastation. Many homes and boat-dwelling families along the shore had been burned and looted. The riverbank was littered with charred hulls, and with no one left to extinguish them, the fires continued to smolder.

The large ship opposite them now understood the nature of Zhang Xun’s fleet—it was clearly a grain transport convoy heading from Changzhou to Yingzhou. They sent word to Zhang Xun with two demands: first, that Zhang Xun’s entire contingent be absorbed into the Imperial Guard and follow their movements immediately; second, that the grain and linen on their ships be requisitioned for the Imperial Guard's stores.

It was laughable. Who did they think they were, daring to conscript a top-ranking Imperial Scholar and the official of a Grand Tutor’s household? Seeing Zhang Xun and Wen Tianxiang’s expressionless faces, the scout officer finally dropped the name of his master: Fan Wenhu, Vice Commander of the Palace Command.

Ah, the man looked smug, yet Zhang Xun and Wen Tianxiang remained unmoved, merely nodding slightly to show they had heard.

"Do you know who we are? Do you realize that Marshal Fan is the trusted confidant of Chancellor Jia Sidao? He oversees the Palace Command and is one of the highest-ranking generals in the realm!"

"We are aware," they replied. "However, this man here is Wen Tianxiang, the top-ranking scholar of the fourth year of the Baoyou reign. As for me, my father is the Assistant Secretary of the Bureau of Military Affairs, my grandfather was the Minister of Rites, my great-grandfather held the rank of Chancellor, and my great-great-grandfather was a Prime Minister and posthumous Grand Tutor. I, myself, am of lesser standing—merely a minor official."

Realizing he had been blind to the true stature of the men before him, the envoy was quick to adapt; he offered a deep bow and turned to leave.

But how could they let him go? Chu Jiu sprang forward and intercepted him. "Please, sit. Tell us properly exactly what happened on the Xiangyang front."

Seeing the formidable archers surrounding them, the envoy sat down with a sheepish grin. Having seen a bit of the world, he began his account.

According to his story, the generals Zhang Gui and Fan Wenhu had agreed to launch a pincer attack to break the Yuan encirclement of Xiangyang, as stated in Li Tingzhi’s report of victory. Fan Wenhu had readily agreed, claiming that since Lü Wenhuan was his uncle-in-law, he would fight to the death to break the siege. However, it turned out that Zhang Gui was a coward. They had agreed to coordinate their efforts—Zhang Gui was to attack Longweizhou from the direction of Xiangyang, and Fan Wenhu was to attack from Yingzhou, with the lighting of signal fires to mark the start.

Yet, when Fan Wenhu led his troops in a fierce assault on Longweizhou, he found that Zhang Gui had already fled, nowhere to be found. The Yuan commander, Ashu, had deployed his naval forces on both flanks, launching a devastating assault along the Han River. The government troops, lacking support, suffered a crushing defeat and retreated in total chaos.

An army of over a hundred thousand, including Li Tingzhi and Fan Wenhu, had been routed from Yingzhou. Fan Wenhu had fought his way out of the encirclement and arrived at Xijin Ferry in Runzhou.

There it was—the account of Fan Wenhu. Whether one believed it or not was a different matter entirely.