Chapter Fifty-Four: Good News One After Another

Night had already fallen, yet the direction of Han Tongguan blazed with a fierce, enduring light. Wild flames continued to rage, setting the surrounding bushes and trees alight, and as Yang Xi gazed upon the spectacle, an involuntary smile touched his lips.

He had not expected the final assault of the rebels that day to be repulsed in such a fashion. In his mind, he had pictured a bitter, violent struggle, and had even considered once more dispatching a general with a detachment to support the defense, to push back the rebel attack and then devise a plan for retreat—of course, only if it truly seemed that Pan and Li’s divisions could not hold. He had no desire to see the two thousand men under Li Fude and Pan Zhong lost in vain; he wished to bring them back, to bolster the defenses of Sui Tongguan. Their safe return would not only strengthen their lines, but would also greatly raise the soldiers' morale. Should Han Tongguan fall, those two thousand men would never escape unscathed; the casualties would be catastrophic, and such a blow would shatter the fighting spirit of those watching from atop Sui Tongguan. To watch comrades die without lending aid would chill the hearts of many.

Yet Yang Xi would only send reinforcements if there was truly no other choice, striving with Pan and Li’s troops to drive back the rebels and then find a way to withdraw. If they could endure, he would hold fast to the established plan, unwilling to risk the unforeseen.

Now the rebels had fallen back, and all his worries were dispelled. Yang Xi could finally release the tension that had gripped him.

He trusted Pan Zhong and Li Fude would not disappoint in what remained to be done: they would disguise the city’s defenses, withdraw quietly under the rebels’ noses, and leave behind a ruined city riddled with traps—a place the rebels could not hold, one that would drive them to madness.

The victory at Han Tongguan owed much not only to the soldiers’ efforts, but also to fortune’s favor.

Yang Xi believed Heaven watched over him.

He was not a great commander—he had never led large armies into battle, and many of his decisions were made by relying on what felt right to him. Often, he took things for granted, as with the allocation of those two thousand men at Han Tongguan; such arrangements were not always optimal. He simply hoped to make as few wrong decisions as possible, and that any mistakes would not jeopardize the whole—never to lose everything with a single misstep. With each engagement, his experience grew, and his choices became more sound.

Yang Xi immediately ordered the soldiers at the eastern gate, whom he personally commanded, to prepare to welcome back Pan Zhong and Li Fude’s victorious troops. He also instructed the officers atop the city walls that, aside from those on night patrol, all others should rest in orderly shifts, replenish food and water, and regain their strength in readiness for the harsher battle to come on the morrow. As for himself, he did not feel weary, sustained as he was by an inner conviction.

In truth, he had not slept for two days and a night. By all biological reckoning, he should have been utterly exhausted, desperately in need of rest. Yet the magnitude of the battle filled him with excitement, and so long as his tasks were unfinished and there was no definitive word of the reinforcements, he had no desire to sleep. Still, rest was necessary, and in this he had some experience; he could compel himself to sleep in a very short time and recover his strength quickly.

This was a skill forged in the crucible of brutal special forces training in the world he once knew.

As Yang Xi methodically directed his men in preparing to receive Pan Zhong and Li Fude’s return, a soldier arrived with an urgent dispatch.

It was sent by Dou Hua, commander of the follow-up reinforcements. In the missive, Dou Hua reported that his forces would march through the night at maximum speed to reach Tongguan as soon as possible. Due to circumstances beyond his control, however, he could not arrive very quickly—at best, he would reach Tongguan by tomorrow afternoon or evening.

Trailing behind him, Zhang Jian’s five thousand men might reach Tongguan by midnight at the earliest.

This news weighed on Yang Xi’s heart. The speed of the reinforcements was about what he had anticipated, but the message brought no relief. If Dou Hua’s three thousand could have arrived that night, and Zhang Jian’s five thousand by the latter half, Yang Xi would not have considered abandoning Han Tongguan. Instead, he would have sent men to reinforce it and held the line at all costs.

Still, the knowledge that reinforcements would arrive by tomorrow evening or night gave him some peace. As long as he and his ten thousand battered troops could hold out for one more day, the danger would lessen. With Tongguan’s formidable defenses and the unity of his men, Yang Xi believed they could withstand a day’s assault. Yet he could not help but worry about when Chen Xuanli’s force would arrive; those fifty thousand were the key to rescuing Tongguan and decisively turning the tide.

At midnight, Li Fude and Pan Zhong’s divisions withdrew quietly back into Sui Tongguan, causing hardly a stir. The inferno before Han Tongguan had nearly burned out, leaving only smoke curling from the hills. On the city walls, many “soldiers” still stood guard, ready to repel any surprise attack under cover of darkness, while inside, many installations had been rigged for sabotage.

Yang Xi personally welcomed Pan Zhong and Li Fude’s men into the city, redeploying them and ordering immediate rest.

Just as he finished these arrangements and prepared to send his officers off to seize what rest they could, another urgent dispatch arrived from Chang’an.

Hearing it was from Chang’an, Yang Xi’s heart, so recently taut, relaxed. When he opened it, he nearly leaped for joy: it was an imperial edict appointing him Deputy Marshal of Tongguan’s forces.

“I have become Deputy Marshal of all the armies,” Yang Xi exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement.

To be a general, a marshal—once, those had been distant dreams. Yet because of his extraordinary journey, they had become reality within a few days.

To become a general was the cherished dream of nearly every soldier, and Yang Xi was no exception; he had always yearned for the rank. Back in his former life, before he left the army, he had only been a major and a company commander—still many steps from general, let alone the legendary rank of marshal. Even if he had not transferred out for special reasons, there might have been a theoretical chance to make general, but marshal had long since ceased to exist as a rank in the modern army, consigned to history. Little did he imagine that in coming to the Great Tang, he would become a general commanding over ten thousand, with famous officers under his banner, and now, a marshal. So much honor and glory had been heaped upon him that, no matter how steady his heart, he could not help but rejoice.

From this moment on, he was Marshal Yang, and others would address him with that title. The very thought made him stand taller.

Yang Xi immediately announced the edict before all his officers. Whether they were pleased or not, they could only obey the court’s decree and address him as “Marshal Yang.” Having safely brought Pan Zhong and Li Fude’s two thousand men into the city and received the imperial appointment, Yang Xi’s heart swelled with excitement and a renewed sense of victory.

Yet rest could not be neglected. Without sleep and the restoration of his strength, he would not be able to command tomorrow’s battle.

Before retiring, Yang Xi made a final round of the city walls with several trusted officers, instructing the sentries to remain vigilant against a nighttime assault and consulting with Ge Shuhan and the others about the coming day’s plans. Only then, accompanied by his personal guard, did he retire to the official residence that had been prepared for him, at last taking his well-earned rest.