Chapter Forty-Four: The True Battlefield

Standing atop the walls of Sui Tong Pass, Yang Xi barely blinked as he gazed fixedly toward the direction of Han Tong Pass, where the battle raged. The elevation of Sui Tong Pass towered above that of Han Tong Pass, and from the gate tower, all but the southeastern foot of Han Tong Pass was laid bare to the eye; from here, Yang Xi could observe the rebel assaults and the Tang army’s counterattacks with near-perfect clarity.

If Li Fude’s earlier ambushes had given Yang Xi his first real taste of cold weapon warfare, then the rebels’ relentless and reckless siege now revealed to him the unvarnished brutality of combat in this era. In later times, amid the age of gunpowder, Yang Xi had never truly witnessed large-scale battles; his own experiences were limited to small special operations, with casualties measured in single or, at most, double digits. He had understood the horror of war through documentaries and films, and through the few men he had slain with his own hands in the field—but none of that compared to the stark reality before him now.

Ranks of soldiers, shields raised, rushed desperately forward through a hail of arrows loosed from the ramparts. Countless men fell, wounded or slain. The injured writhed in agony where they lay, yet no one moved to aid them. The corpses of the dead slowly accumulated at the base of the wall; within half an hour, hundreds were heaped there, and in the good light, Yang Xi could make out, faintly, the ghastly details of the slain. This was nothing like watching Li Fude’s ambushes from afar that morning—then, obscured by distance, the details of combat and the scale of casualties had been unclear. Now, every detail was revealed, and the impact was profound. Despite his rigorous special forces training—so grueling it bordered on hell—and having killed and watched comrades and foes die before his eyes, the cold-blooded slaughter unfolding in such a matter-of-fact manner before Han Tong Pass left Yang Xi inwardly shaken. Yet outwardly, his face betrayed not the slightest ripple; he stood calmly atop the tower, watching the battle unfold.

Those standing beside him, however, could not claim such composure.

Li Chenguang and Gao Shi were absent, having gone to command at the walls themselves. No one could say if Han Tong Pass could be held, or for how long; should its defenders break and the rebels seize the city, the next battle would erupt right here at Sui Tong Pass. As commanders, it was their duty to take charge upon the ramparts.

At Yang Xi’s side were only his household guards—Yang Dong, Yang Zheng, and a few others, responsible for his safety.

Yang Dong, having seen more of the world and survived battlefield carnage before, had acquired a certain tolerance for bloodshed. But the younger ones—Yang Zheng and several others of Yang Xi’s age, whose usual exploits extended only to bullying townsfolk—had never witnessed such savage brutality. Some quaked so violently their knees threatened to give way, their faces drained of all color.

The household guards were all astonished by Yang Xi’s extraordinary composure.

Yang Xi, for his part, found nothing remarkable in their reactions; his attention was fixed wholly on the intensifying struggle for Han Tong Pass. He observed closely the methods of attack and defense used by both sides, carefully analyzing each tactic, whether employed by the rebels or their own troops.

As Yang Xi watched, the battle for Han Tong Pass raged on without pause. The rebels, undeterred by the heavy casualties of their initial assault, pressed forward in unending waves. Fortunately, the relatively uneven ground outside the east and south gates of Han Tong Pass limited how many rebels could attack at once—each assault was several hundred strong, but there was simply no room for more in the cramped, undulating terrain.

This limitation meant the defenders atop the walls could still hold their own, which eased Yang Xi’s heart. Yet after witnessing several waves of rebel attacks break bloodily upon the stones, only for new waves to follow, he realized the rebels’ intention: a war of attrition, a near-endless rotation of fresh troops to exhaust the defenders, sapping their strength until, at last, they could mount a decisive assault.

No matter how strong a man, his strength has limits. Repeat the same action enough, and exhaustion is inevitable. The Tang soldiers atop the walls, drawing their bows again and again, must be nearing the point where their arms would fail them. And when that moment came—when their bows could no longer be drawn—the rebels would seize the chance to storm the walls.

If fatigue set in among the defenders, the rebels would only increase their numbers, their attacks coming thicker and faster.

Realizing this, Yang Xi could only inwardly lament. He knew the rebel assaults would continue, possibly until nightfall made fighting impossible, or until the bodies piled so thickly at the base of the wall that further charges were futile.

But with more than an hour till dusk, and the corpses still not impeding the attackers, the slaughter showed no sign of abating.

Now, Yang Xi could only hope the defenders atop the wall would conserve their strength and hold out as long as possible. He immediately sent orders to Pang Zhong and Li Fude, instructing them to rotate their limited reserve of several hundred mobile troops, allowing the soldiers brief respite to recover their strength.

His other command was simple: hold until nightfall. Once darkness fell, they would set up a decoy formation to deter the rebels from launching a night assault and seize the opportunity to withdraw the defenders back to Sui Tong Pass.

The plan had always been that the dilapidated Han Tong Pass was not to be held at all costs. Its purpose was merely to slow the rebels’ advance, buying half a day or a day at most. The true battleground was Sui Tong Pass, where Yang Xi now stood.

Currently, only about ten thousand soldiers garrisoned Sui Tong Pass, many of whom were wounded, exhausted, or mentally spent—hardly an elite force. Over a thousand more had already been dispatched two hours before to defend the twelve linked fortresses, leaving the defenders here stretched thin; no more reinforcements could be spared for Han Tong Pass, nor could Yang Xi bear to see the two thousand defenders atop its walls wasted in vain.

Han Tong Pass was far less secure than Sui Tong Pass. Any competent general would choose to make their final stand here—just as Ge Shuhan had, abandoning Han Tong Pass when he saw his forces were insufficient.

Yang Xi now understood that Sui Tong Pass was far harder to breach. He was determined to ensure the safe withdrawal of the two thousand soldiers still holding the walls of Han Tong Pass, to reinforce the garrison here.

Arranging such a retreat would require great skill; if the rebels gave chase, it would be nearly impossible to bring them safely back inside the city…