The bandit army retreated in disorder, like a tide that had surged forward with confidence only to be smashed against hidden reefs.
Zhao Guangyuan pursued them fiercely for several li, his cavalry pressing hard while infantry followed with grim determination. Yet once the rebels reached the tangled foothills and slipped into the folds of the southern mountains, the advantage evaporated. Forest paths twisted unpredictably, and ambush could lurk behind any ridge.
Reluctantly, Zhao Guangyuan ordered the gong sounded.
The pursuit ended.
Upon returning to Hanzhong City, he did not rest, nor did he remove his armor. Instead he headed straight for the North Gate. During the fighting he had been stationed at the South Gate, relying only on the echoing thunder of muskets to tell him that something extraordinary was unfolding. He had witnessed the rebels collapse and flee southward, presenting him with the opportunity he had seized, but he had not seen with his own eyes what force had broken them so thoroughly.
Now he intended to see.
When he arrived at the North Gate, he found the Prefect already there, along with several local gentry whose curiosity had overcome their fear. All of them were staring beyond the wall.
Outside, the Gao Family Village militia were conducting the aftermath of battle with astonishing order.
Dead bandits were being gathered respectfully into a single area for burial. Wounded enemies were treated with swift applications of medicine before being laid aside under guard. Those who had surrendered without injury knelt with hands on their heads, trembling but unharmed.
The field did not resemble the chaotic aftermath of war. It resembled a carefully managed construction site.
The gentry exchanged uneasy glances. Normally, after battle, soldiers would scatter across the ground like crows, stripping armor, pocketing coins, arguing over spoils. Here, not a single militiaman stooped to loot.
Zhao Guangyuan felt something twist in his chest. Envy, perhaps. If only his own troops possessed such discipline.
He approached Wang Er and offered a formal salute. "These are your soldiers."
"Yes," Wang Er replied simply.
"Remarkable," Zhao Guangyuan said. "May I ask which general you serve under."
"We are a militia."
Zhao Guangyuan blinked. "You call this a militia."
"What else should we be called," Wang Er said evenly. "Bandits."
The general flushed. "That is not my meaning. It is only that your discipline is beyond anything I have seen."
"Then do not compare," Wang Er answered. "Imperial troops often behave no differently from bandits when discipline fails. It is no wonder you find this strange."
Zhao Guangyuan's jaw tightened. "My men are not like that."
"I have no interest in arguing reputations," Wang Er replied. "There is a more pressing matter."
Zhao Guangyuan followed his gaze toward the southern mountains. "The bandits."
"They have crossed into Shaanxi," Wang Er said. "Every one of them must be cleared out. Shaanxi has achieved relative peace through effort and blood. We cannot allow that peace to be devoured."
Zhao Guangyuan sighed and looked at the endless ridges. "You speak boldly. But those mountains are vast. How do you intend to root them out."
Wang Er gave him a sideways glance. "We will handle it. You need only avoid obstructing us."
Zhao Guangyuan bristled. "You presume much."
Wang Er turned away from him as though the matter were settled and addressed San Shier instead. "It seems I cannot proceed to reinforce Wuchang."
San Shier nodded slowly. "Shaanxi stands at the gateway. If Hanzhong falls into chaos, the Guanzhong Plain will feel the tremors. We must establish a defensive line here and block the bandits from advancing further. This is what one might call repelling trouble before it ripens."
"I will remain," Wang Er said. "You continue into Sichuan."
San Shier stroked his beard thoughtfully. "My logistics team will accompany me. We will not be undefended."
They exchanged a formal salute and parted.
San Shier soon boarded a vessel on the Han River, the logistics soldiers loading supplies with the same measured efficiency as before. The boat pushed off, gliding downstream toward Sichuan.
Wang Er remained behind.
He summoned a trusted subordinate. "Take the next train back to the village. Report everything to the Saintess and Steward Tan. Inform them that Hanzhong requires reinforcement."
The subordinate saluted and departed.
Only then did Wang Er turn to the Prefect. "My militia will likely need to station near Hanzhong for some time. We require no provisions from you. We will build our own encampment near the train station. All we ask is that you refrain from interfering."
The Prefect and Zhao Guangyuan exchanged long looks.
Allowing a mysterious militia, well armed and impeccably organized, to remain outside the city walls indefinitely was no small matter. If conflict arose, neither the Prefect's yamen runners nor Zhao Guangyuan's garrison would stand a chance.
The Prefect opened his mouth to offer a polite refusal.
At that very moment, Prince Rui burst forward with surprising enthusiasm.
"Excellent. Truly excellent. If you remain, my train will finally be safe. I have worried day and night that bandits might dismantle it for scrap. If you garrison at the station, I shall be eternally grateful."
The Prefect stared at him in disbelief.
Zhao Guangyuan's expression became one of complete resignation.
Prince Rui continued eagerly, "Please guard the train station at night. The great train must not be touched."
"I already intended to station there," Wang Er replied. "It is convenient for transport. Reinforcements will arrive by rail."
Prince Rui beamed. "Wonderful. I entrust the station to you. And please ensure that nothing else is stolen."
Wang Er frowned. "There is nothing else of value there. Even the ticket booth is a straw hut."
"That hut cost silver," Prince Rui protested indignantly. "At least two taels."
Silence fell upon the gathering.
For a moment even Wang Er seemed uncertain how to respond to such unwavering devotion to accounting.
Behind him, a younger militiaman who had received some schooling cleared his throat and remarked with deliberate innocence, "If the heir of the Prince of Qin, the major shareholder of the West Han Railway, were to see the Hanzhong station reduced to this state, he might have words to say."
Prince Rui waved a dismissive hand. "He cannot leave Xi'an. He will never see it."
Far away, in Wan Shou Zhai, Zhu Cunji suddenly sneezed and rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "I suspect someone is speaking ill of me."
Beside him, Zhu Yujian remained focused on trade matters. "Pay attention. The Tujia people here weave brocade similar to that in Kaixian. It can be transported along the railway and sold as a commodity."
Zhu Cunji waved vaguely toward the scenery. "Handle such matters yourself. I am here to appreciate the view. Those stone pillars are quite impressive."
Back in Hanzhong, Wang Er watched as smoke from the earlier battle thinned in the afternoon light. The mountains to the south stood silent, concealing enemies who would surely return.
Plans had shifted.
The route to Wuchang would wait.
For now, Shaanxi would become the line that must not break.