Chapter Thirty-Eight: Divergent Thoughts

On the official road from Chang’an to Tongguan, Chen Xuanli, who was in charge of directing the follow-up rescue troops, was riding side by side with his deputy, Fan Zhicheng, heading eastward.

Before and behind them, soldiers hurried briskly along the road, while officers at every level shouted incessantly, urging their men to move faster. Any who lagged or failed to run were threatened with beatings.

Watching the swiftly moving columns, Chen Xuanli could not help but feel a surge of emotion. It seemed that the Great Tang had never mobilized so quickly before—within less than a day and a night, an army of sixty thousand had been raised and assembled.

This mobilization order from the court was the most urgent ever. The emperor himself had repeatedly issued strict commands for the rescue force to be formed at once, threatening death to any who dared delay.

With such a severe imperial edict, no one dared shirk their duty or intentionally slow the process. Prime Minister Yang Guozhong, in particular, personally attended to many matters, overseeing the dispatch of horses and arms, not to mention drawing troops from all quarters. Many men were conscripted almost by force, like press-ganged laborers. Even the imperial guards from the palace—the Left and Right Feathered Forest Army, the Left and Right Dragon Martial Guard—were heavily drawn upon. Otherwise, how could a sixty-thousand-strong rescue force have been raised in a single day and night? Not to mention that the vanguard had already set out at dawn, likely now tens of miles from Chang’an.

It was only under the emperor’s direct orders and the relentless pressure of such heavyweights as Prime Minister Yang Guozhong, Wei Jiansu, and Wei Fangjin, governor of Jingzhao, that every department in Chang’an functioned at the highest efficiency.

Originally, Chen Xuanli thought that assembling fifty thousand troops within two days was already an impressive feat, but unexpectedly, within a day and a night, the army was essentially formed and ready to march.

Yang Guozhong’s trusted follower Dou Hua had already led three thousand men galloping toward Tongguan, striving to arrive with all speed.

Another confidant, Zhang Jian, led a further five thousand troops who had also departed Chang’an ahead of the main force, heading for Tongguan.

These eight thousand could no longer march by alternating two steeds, as there simply weren’t enough horses to swap, but their fighting power was formidable. Over five thousand of them were well-trained soldiers of the Right Dragon Martial Guard, men of a quality far above the ordinary. If not for Yang Guozhong’s persistent entreaties, the emperor would never have agreed to send such elite troops as reinforcements to Tongguan.

Of course, among the men under Chen Xuanli’s command were several other elite units, including part of the Left Dragon Martial Guard, the Left and Right Feathered Forest Army, and troops from other guard units. Fewer than thirty thousand were hastily conscripted, not even half the whole force, so their combat effectiveness should be considerable.

Chang’an’s garrison was said to number one hundred fifty thousand, but only about sixty thousand were truly battle-hardened soldiers; the rest were temporary levies. That the emperor was willing to send half his best troops to Tongguan showed how seriously he took its defense—though again, this was thanks to Yang Guozhong’s repeated requests.

Yang Guozhong was desperate to muster all of Chang’an’s strength for Tongguan’s relief. His son, Yang Xi, had only taken three thousand men ahead; if the following forces failed to give timely aid, his son’s contingent, along with the remnants under Geshu Han, might all perish under the rebel blade—how could he not be anxious? Anyone would be, if their own son were in such danger.

Chen Xuanli, however, was not in a hurry. He was in no rush to reach Tongguan. In his estimation, the best time to arrive would be when the city’s defenders and the besieging rebels had both been worn down, with Tongguan on the verge of falling. At that moment, his arrival could turn the tide, entirely exhausting the power of Yang Xi and Geshu Han, and make Tongguan his own domain. If he held Tongguan and repelled the rebels, the bulk of the credit would be his alone—neither Yang Xi nor Geshu Han could compare. If he entered the city while its defenders were still largely intact, his importance would hardly be recognized, nor could he deal a blow to Yang Guozhong.

Ideally, he thought, Yang Xi would be killed inside Tongguan, either by Geshu Han or his generals, or else die in the fighting when the rebels stormed the city. That would deal a mighty blow to Yang Guozhong.

Fan Zhicheng, his deputy and confidant, did not fully grasp Chen Xuanli’s thinking, but he too hated Yang Guozhong and held no affection for Yang Xi. He would be delighted to see Yang Guozhong’s youngest son disgraced or even killed at Tongguan, thus harming Yang Guozhong’s standing. He deeply resented Yang Guozhong’s use of imperial authority to pressure them into a forced march, and after leaving Chang’an, he frequently complained to Chen Xuanli, criticizing Yang Guozhong and regarding his incessant demands for speed as yet another form of oppression.

“General, it’s already midday, the heat is fierce. We’ve left Chang’an a dozen miles behind, and a number of our troops are collapsing under this scorching sun. Perhaps we should let the men rest awhile, and resume the march when the weather cools this afternoon. We’re traveling by night anyway—a short delay won’t matter.”

“No, we must not rest!” Chen Xuanli, fully aware of the emperor’s current mood, shook his head. “If we halted so soon after leaving Chang’an, and the emperor heard of it, he would have our heads for the banner! Order the troops to slow the pace a little and conserve their strength. We’ll speed up again when the weather cools.”

“Yes, General!” said a captain at his side, who ran off to relay the new orders.

“General, how did Yang Xi dare volunteer to lead three thousand men to Tongguan? Is this some ruse, a father and son playing out a plot for sympathy?” After the captain had galloped away, Fan Zhicheng could not help but ask, “I cannot understand it—Yang Xi, with only three thousand men, heading to Tongguan. Does he not fear that Marshal Geshu and his generals might kill him? And would Yang Guozhong really risk his son?”

Chen Xuanli looked back at Fan Zhicheng, sighed, and replied, “I cannot fathom what play those two are performing. Nor can I imagine how Yang Xi will get along with the other generals when he arrives at Tongguan. But the fact is, Yang Xi has not only reached Tongguan, but has also gained the support of Geshu Han and the other commanders. Even Geshu Han is following his orders!”

“Is that really so?” Fan Zhicheng’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

It seemed impossible—a mere seventeen-year-old, son of Yang Guozhong, holding such sway over Geshu Han and the others?

“That is what the reports from Tongguan say. Yang Xi has not only brought Geshu Han and the other commanders under his command, but has personally directed Li Fude to ambush outside the pass, striking the rebels repeatedly and forcing them to halt their assault and retreat fifteen miles!” As Chen Xuanli spoke, a wry smile touched his lips. No matter how he pondered it, he could not understand how Yang Xi had achieved all this.

“Then, General, does that mean Yang Xi has established his authority at Tongguan?” Fan Zhicheng pressed.

“It would seem so.”

“Then what are we to do?” Fan Zhicheng said bitterly. “Yang Guozhong is already insufferably arrogant in court, disregarding everyone else. We thought the defeat at Tongguan might provide a pretext to impeach him and see him punished by His Majesty. But now, his son has gone to Tongguan and cowed the generals. If he succeeds in holding the city and repelling the rebels, his reputation will soar, perhaps even eclipsing the veteran Geshu Han! If so, that old villain Yang Guozhong will become even more powerful in court and the army, and we’ll never be rid of him! General, we cannot let this happen!”

“So you suggest we should not rescue Tongguan?” Chen Xuanli reined in his horse and fixed Fan Zhicheng with a glare.