Chapter Seventy-One: Night Patrol

These past few days, Doku Li has been weighed down with worry. The threat from the Tang was real and immediate, but the Tibetans were like a mountain pressing down upon them.

Over thirty years ago, Greater Bolü was brought under the rule of Tibet, and the king fled to the nearby Lesser Bolü, a hundred miles away. Since then, the Tibetans had treated this place as their own territory, governing the locals as they would their heartland. Taxes and conscription were imposed as in the interior, plunging the already impoverished people into deeper hardship.

Five years ago, the Tang army seized Lesser Bolü and began to confront the Tibetans directly. The rule here grew even harsher, sparing not even the small villages near the mountains. Doku Li and his people had considered fleeing, but the Tibetans had dismantled even the vine bridges. Their only choices were to cross the icy plains or to head deeper into the wilderness—neither of which could outrun Tibetan cavalry.

What to do? The Tang had taken control of their village. To protect his loved ones from harm without alerting the Tibetans, Doku Li needed a solution that would serve both ends. Yet he couldn’t confide in his subordinates; their reactions were unpredictable. Only a few trustworthy relatives shared his concerns, but even among them, opinions were divided.

Some suggested informing the Tibetans, hoping for a reward, but that would surely lead to a military crackdown and the destruction of the entire village. Others advocated joining the Tang, reasoning that their power was growing and perhaps early allegiance could bring opportunities—but the immediate threat from Tibet meant the outcome would be equally disastrous.

To do nothing? Whenever Doku Li thought of that young Tang man—who had slain famed Tibetan warriors and fought through hundreds of foes with just two men—he doubted the Tang would simply let them go.

There was no way out: neither left nor right, not even a middle path. Doku Li suffered daily, unable to return to his village, clinging to a faint hope that each day survived was a small reprieve—until his daughter came again.

Zhuma, however, had none of her father’s anxieties. The Tang had seemed fierce at first, but after their meeting at the grassy hill, they released everyone in the village, letting them go about their business unhindered. Even shepherds were allowed to roam freely. Food was plentiful, and the thick, square Tang coins given out were more than fair, especially compared to the harsh Tibetan tax collectors.

Because the Tang had not harmed her family, Zhuma hoped nothing would go wrong. As for who would ultimately rule this land, such concerns were far from the mind of a nine-year-old girl.

“Bring them a message—tell them I understand.”

After hearing his daughter’s account, Doku Li showed little emotion. The Tang were surely waiting for his reply. He couldn't stay overnight as usual, so he made up an excuse to send her back. Fortunately, the road was familiar and not particularly dangerous. He was confident the Tang were watching, which would also ensure his daughter’s safety.

After sending Zhuma out of the camp, Doku Li called together those who knew the situation. Using the pretext of a patrol, they formed a single line and slowly walked along the riverbank toward the vine bridge.

Today, Xi Dongzan was not on horseback but walking. Behind him were his own guards and several Tibetan officers from the local garrison. He walked in the middle of the group, paying no attention to the guide ahead, his gaze fixed on the opposite bank of the Boyi River.

It was strange—the entire other side was a river valley opening onto a rare expanse of flat land, yet there was no sign of life. What were the Tang planning? What were they doing? Xi Dongzan was desperate to know. Unfortunately, when the bridge planks were removed, so was their source of information. Sending someone across on the vines would likely be a one-way trip; if the Tang captured them, their own secrets would be exposed—a risk not worth taking.

Could it be that the Tang hadn’t arrived? Xi Dongzan doubted it. He had ordered the removal of the planks precisely because he learned of the Tang’s advance. Likewise, the Tang couldn’t be unaware of the bridge’s change. What would they do? Simply retreat? That would be ideal, but Xi Dongzan found it hard to believe. If the Tang had overcome the three-thousand-step height difference at Tanku Ridge years ago, would a river barely a hundred paces wide really stop them?

If not, what would they do? Xi Dongzan pondered this all the way to the edge of the vine bridge, but the guide was still eagerly explaining.

“…Honorable Dongben, our men guard the bridgehead day and night. If anything stirs across the river, it cannot escape our notice.”

At night! Xi Dongzan was suddenly alert. The weakest link in the defense was always at night. No matter how well arranged, darkness made people less vigilant, and if the Tang had any designs, they would seize such an opportunity.

“The night patrol—do you only have half the men?”

“Um…” The guide hesitated, glancing furtively at Xi Dongzan’s expression, seeing he was not angry.

“Yes, the other half rest in camp to maintain their strength.”

Xi Dongzan wasn’t nitpicking. This was tradition. Staring at the lifeless opposite bank, he mused for a moment.

“Starting tomorrow, let them rest during the day. Patrols at night as usual. The patrol must be composed of sharp-eyed, alert soldiers. I hear you’ve recruited many hunters from the nearby forests—is that true?”

The guide bowed respectfully, his tone obsequious. “Nothing escapes you, Dongben. My camp has many hunters from the mountain villages.”

He stood and looked around, quickly spotting a group approaching.

“Doku Li, Doku Li.”

Doku Li had keen eyesight and saw them from afar. He had intended to turn back, but hearing his name, he grew tense.

He saw among the group the young Tibetan whose gaze was equally sharp.

There was no escape now. Doku Li hurried over and bowed.

“I did not expect the officer to call me. Is there anything I can do?”

The guide introduced him to Xi Dongzan: “He is a local hunter, has excellent eyesight, and is skilled with a bow. The hunters recruited are all in his team.”

Xi Dongzan did not doubt this Bolü man, whose eyes flickered nervously—if he dared to meet his gaze directly, that would be suspicious.

“Do not be afraid. I called you to look across the river and see if there is anything unusual.”

The gentle tone eased Doku Li’s nerves. He followed the direction indicated, scrutinizing the opposite bank he had watched many times before, but now with extra care.

“There are footprints of men and horses, deep marks near the riverbank, likely left by the Tang recently.”

Xi Dongzan was astonished. At the same distance, his own eyes could not discern changes across the river, but this unremarkable local had pinpointed them at once—a pleasant surprise.

“How many of your people have eyesight as good as yours?”

“To be honest, all the hunters in our village have such eyes. In other villages, there are probably thirty or forty more.”

“Excellent. Assign his people to every night patrol squad. Where needed, add more from his team. If they do well, your village will be exempt from taxes this year, and there will be other rewards.”

Xi Dongzan made his decision without hesitation. Doku Li was still stunned, but the Tibetan officer quickly gave him a kick—recognition from Dongben meant limitless prospects.

“Thank you, sir.”

After Doku Li withdrew, Xi Dongzan inspected the bridgehead arrangements again. According to his instructions, the vines and supports near the bridgehead had all been doused with fire oil, with several jars nearby as backup. If the Tang attempted a forced crossing, this would be their last line of defense.

Everything was proceeding according to plan, and his subordinates were diligent. It seemed there was nothing to fear, yet he still felt uneasy.

Just as his mind was unsettled, a cavalryman approached from afar. Even at a distance, Xi Dongzan could sense his urgency. More troubling, the rider was clearly a personal guard of Shangjiezan. Could something have happened at Hepulao Fortress?