Chapter Twenty-Seven: Another Successful Strike

Yang Xi’s orders were swiftly relayed to the east gate. Most of the soldiers who received the command withdrew to the shaded areas beneath the city walls to rest and escape the blazing sun, leaving only a handful to patrol and keep watch atop the ramparts, rotating in shifts. This time, Yang Xi’s order left a deep impression on the men, and soon the same measures were enforced on the other gates as well. The majority of troops were assigned to cool off and rest, while only a small contingent remained on guard.

Yang Xi himself continued to stand atop the gate tower, maintaining his composure and posture; however, he too moved to a shaded spot. Though this body was strong and agile, it was far from matching the physical prowess he had possessed as a reconnaissance soldier in later times. Back then, even under such a scorching sun, he could have stood for an entire day without trouble, but this body was certainly not up to the task. If he were to stand exposed to the sun for too long and fall ill, it would be a tragedy. Not only would it ruin the effect he hoped to set as an example, inviting laughter from the soldiers, but it would also cause great trouble and shatter the little prestige he had just begun to build. Of course, it was only after repeated pleas from Yang Zheng and Yang Dong at his side that he finally agreed to move.

Seeing Yang Xi heed their advice and stand in the shade, Yang Zheng whispered, “Fourth Young Master, it seems the rebels truly suspect we’ve set ambushes along the way and dare not advance further! You are truly remarkable, stopping the rebels with only a few hundred men hidden in ambush!”

“That’s unlikely,” Yang Xi replied resolutely, shaking his head without even turning. “The rebels will not halt their advance for good—unless they suffer an even greater blow and discover that we have hidden even more troops in ambush. Only then might they stop.”

“General Li, the rebels are moving forward again, though their pace has slowed somewhat!”

At a new ambush point, after laying in wait with the supporting troops, Li Fude soon received this report from a scout. Still basking in the thrill of their initial victory, Li Fude’s heart sank at the news. He had hoped that the first encounter would make the rebels cautious, prompting them to investigate thoroughly before pressing on, which would at least delay them by half a day. Unexpectedly, scarcely more than an hour had passed before the rebels resumed their march. This caught him off guard and dampened much of his earlier elation.

He realized that perhaps the rebels had already seen through Yang Xi’s plan, and it would now be much harder to launch another successful ambush.

Nevertheless, he was somewhat relieved, for he had long since ordered his lieutenant to make other preparations, and this particular ambush point was one the rebels would never expect. There was still a chance of success!

This was a relatively broad gorge, the narrowest part about fifty paces wide. The slopes on either side were not especially steep, but thickly forested—an ideal spot for two or three thousand troops to lie in wait. Having joined forces with the reinforcements, Li Fude had chosen over a thousand men to conceal themselves here.

The only drawback was that the terrain was ill-suited for cavalry charges. With so many trees, it was near impossible to ride horses down the slopes in a charge. Still, they decided to overlook this disadvantage, hoping that a barrage of arrows and other attacks would be enough to frighten the rebels into halting their advance.

Before the fighting began, Li Fude had been plagued by anxiety over his own fate and future. Yet the earlier victory had stirred such passion and confidence within him that those worries seemed to melt away. Now, all he could think of was how to inflict the greatest possible blow on the rebels and seize a larger victory. He even resolved that, should his entire force be lost in the process, so be it.

Even if his command were to suffer heavy casualties, as long as the rebels endured grave losses and were hindered in their advance, he would not be blamed—instead, he would be rewarded!

With this in mind, Li Fude cast aside all hesitation, focusing solely on how to make the ambush as devastating as possible.

Most of the Tang soldiers under his command were concealed on the shaded side of the gorge, with only a few men lying in wait on the sunlit slope. In this way, they avoided the sun’s direct heat, sparing the men some hardship, and also reduced the risk of their positions being discovered by the rebels.

Not long after Li Fude and the other officers had set up their ambush positions, a scout arrived with news: the rebel vanguard was approaching the mouth of the gorge and would soon enter the ambush zone. Upon hearing this, Li Fude calmly ordered his men to let the rebel vanguard pass through, and only strike once the main rebel force had entered the valley.

Li Fude’s orders were quietly passed along. The soldiers, still riding high from their earlier success, were filled with a sense of elation; not one showed any sign of fear. All had their bows ready, arrows nocked, and sights trained on the rebel cavalry drawing ever closer through the gorge, waiting for the signal to unleash a deadly volley.

Soon, the rebel vanguard passed right beneath their noses, but Li Fude did not give the order to attack. Some men grew restless, their faces betraying their anxiety; had it not been for their comrades restraining them, their arrows would have flown already.

The vanguard rode three abreast, numbering over three hundred horsemen. Behind them, the main force advanced five abreast, trailing the vanguard by several dozen paces.

From this formation, it was clear to all that the three hundred in front were meant as bait—mere cannon fodder. Some felt relieved that they had not attacked the vanguard, for at most they could have wiped out those three hundred, but would have alerted the main force and risked a counterattack. Li Fude, too, was secretly thankful—not because he had seen through the rebel plan, but rather because his appetite for victory had simply grown larger.

The rest of the rebel cavalry thundered forward. After another four or five hundred had passed, Li Fude, unable to restrain himself any longer, roared out the order to attack. At once, a hail of arrows rained down on the rebel ranks.

With the sound of men shouting and horses screaming, and countless cries of pain, many rebels toppled from their saddles—some dead, others gravely wounded. The horses, startled and out of control, bolted in every direction. Some wounded men who survived the arrows were trampled to death in the ensuing chaos.

Still the arrows fell from the heights, more and more rebels tumbling from their mounts. After several volleys, the rebels were thrown into confusion and panic. Yet the rear ranks rushed forward, while those who had already passed through the gorge wheeled their horses about, preparing to launch a counterattack under their commanders’ orders.

At that moment, bundles of dry grass were rolled down from both sides of the mountains. Fifty or sixty bundles tumbled down in quick succession, completely blocking the road. Then dozens of fire arrows shot from above, igniting the grass in a flash.

An inferno blazed at once. The wind in the gorge was strong, and the flames quickly sealed off the entire road. Waves of scorching heat made even the Tang soldiers on the mountainsides feel as though they were burning.

The rebels caught in the blaze screamed in even greater agony. Many were set alight, running for their lives in a frenzy.

Those rebels who had already passed through the gorge and tried to turn back were thrown into complete disarray, unable to cope with the disaster before them.

At that moment, from the direction of Tong Pass in the distance, a cloud of dust arose—countless hooves pounded the earth, as though a mighty army was charging to the rescue. The Tang troops on the mountain crests revealed themselves, loosing arrows and shouting as they readied their own charge.