The Three Kingdoms, Volume 3: Welcome the Tiger: An Epic Chinese Tale of Loyalty and War in a Dynamic New Translation

by Luo Guanzhong

  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.

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nbsp; 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 avo
id 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.