Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Death of Li Qian

“Marshal, the rebel forces are attacking the north gate as well!”
A soldier rushed up to Yang Xi on the city gate tower, reporting loudly.
Thanks to the height and vantage point of the gate tower, Yang Xi had been constantly observing the situation at each gate. Even without the soldier’s report, he could see the battles at the three main gates, though the details were unclear, especially in the treacherous terrain of the north gate. Upon hearing the report, he immediately inquired about the specifics of the fighting at the north gate.
Once he understood the situation there, Yang Xi’s brows furrowed tightly.
He noticed that the assault at the east gate continued, but the number of rebels joining the attack did not noticeably increase, nor did many soldiers rush toward the north gate. Instead, large numbers of rebel soldiers were heading for the south gate. He quickly realized what was happening.
The rebels intended to focus their entire force on the south gate, even at the cost of their soldiers’ lives to fill the moat. At this thought, Yang Xi’s mind conjured the scene of the moat, once packed with bodies of Tang soldiers, and the aftermath of the blaze—a sight so horrific it made him shudder.
Yang Xi was confident in his judgment. He immediately sent orders to the commander at the north gate: hold position, neither reinforce nor withdraw troops. Repel any rebel attack, but expect no large-scale assaults—the rebels could muster two or three hundred men at most for each attempt, not enough to make an impact. With more than a thousand defenders atop the gate, they were more than sufficient. At the same time, he sent word to Geshu Han, Wang Sili, and Tian Liangqiu at the south gate, urging them to stay vigilant and prevent the defenders from faltering under the rebels’ sustained attacks.
Should the situation change, he would personally lead his household guards and a contingent of soldiers to reinforce the south gate, determined not to let the rebels take the ramparts.
Yang Xi’s message was swiftly delivered by runners to Geshu Han, Wang Sili, and Tian Liangqiu.
The east gate lay between the south and north gates. From its tower, one could roughly observe the battles at both adjacent gates, but at the south gate, the view of the north gate was blocked, and the east gate’s situation was obscured by the cliffs. The commanders at the south gate—Geshu Han, Wang Sili, and Tian Liangqiu—were not familiar with the situation at the east and north gates, only learning of it through reports.
Yang Xi’s warning surprised Geshu Han and Wang Sili.
“Order the officers: stand ready. Shoot any rebel daring to charge, keep them from even the slightest chance of climbing the walls!” Geshu Han issued his orders with calm resolve. As he instructed the officers to prepare for a larger assault, he also ordered soldiers to ready straw and oil, planning to burn the rebel corpses in the moat once they had piled up enough.
Wang Sili was highly experienced in warfare. Though he suffered a crushing defeat leading the vanguard at the Battle of Lingbao, it did not affect Geshu Han’s trust in him. Indeed, command of the south gate’s ramparts was largely under his control.

He acted decisively and forcefully, whereas Tian Liangqiu, the army’s Sima, was comparatively timid and unable to restrain Wang Sili when deputizing for Geshu Han. Today’s battle command at the south gate followed Wang Sili’s lead.
After receiving Yang Xi’s report, Wang Sili immediately grasped the rebels’ intent and ordered the bed crossbows to increase their rate of fire, aiming to strike more rebels on the eastern side of the moat, while intensifying the archers’ volleys to inflict greater casualties and break their morale.
With Wang Sili’s orders, the arrows raining from the ramparts grew even denser.
Under this relentless barrage, the rebels who desperately tried to climb to the western edge of the moat fell like so many stalks of wheat, cut down wave after wave, their bodies bristling with arrows.
Driven by their officers’ threats, the rebel soldiers charged without regard for their lives, only to become targets for the defenders atop the walls, while the harm they managed to inflict was negligible.
The heavy rebel casualties exhilarated Wang Sili, who from time to time let out wild cries to boost the soldiers’ spirits.
His eyesight was exceptional, his archery superb, and his strength considerable. While directing the soldiers, he himself was never idle, often stringing his bow to shoot at the attacking rebels. He did not aim at ordinary soldiers, but sought out those dressed as captains, lieutenants, or mid-level officers among the rebels.
His pride was such that, as a commanding general, he would not strike down nameless underlings unless absolutely necessary.
A rebel officer clad in thick, bright armor caught Wang Sili’s eye, and he immediately drew his bow to target him. In this sweltering weather, few would wear such heavy, gleaming armor, which would become scalding hot, and the suffocating weight unbearable. Only a high-ranking rebel commander would risk it, and his presence at the front was likely to coordinate the frenzied assault or to enforce discipline.
Estimating the distance, Wang Sili judged the officer to be about a hundred seventy paces from the ramparts, beyond the range of most bows. Clearly, the rebel officer had chosen a spot that was relatively safe—out of reach of the defenders’ arrows, yet close enough to direct the attack. Moreover, the position was in the blind spot of the bed crossbows.
But Wang Sili was intrigued.
He wielded a three-stone bow, the heaviest among all those used by the commanders at Tongguan, with a maximum range of two hundred paces, roughly three hundred meters. He intended to use its great power to kill the rebel officer.
With a creaking sound, Wang Sili drew his bow to its fullest, aimed at the officer standing atop a heap of corpses in the moat, his war blade waving as he commanded his men to storm the gate. After a deep breath, Wang Sili shouted, and with a sharp whistle the heavy arrow sped toward the rebel officer in bright armor.

－－－－－－－－－－
Li Qian led the vanguard in a fierce assault against the south gate of Tongguan, but the outcome was almost too dreadful to look upon: of the earliest wave of over a thousand attackers, more than half were killed or wounded.
Cui Qianyou, arriving with his unit at the eastern edge of the moat, did not reproach Li Qian for the losses. Instead, he handed him another four thousand men, ordering him to take the city at any cost.
Li Qian had no choice but to risk everything. Donning a suit of bright armor, he moved to the foot of the moat, standing atop the pile of corpses to command the attack.
Several bodyguards held shields to protect him from any stray arrows.
But at that distance, except for bed crossbows, most arrows could not reach so far, and it was in the blind spot of the bed crossbows. The bows on the ramparts of the twelve-linked city were unlikely to strike him either, so Li Qian felt little concern about being hit.
No one expected a heavy arrow to whistle toward his position at tremendous speed. Only as it neared did he and his guards notice it, but it was already too late—the arrow struck him squarely in the face, piercing through.
Li Qian managed only a muffled groan before collapsing, dead in an instant.
The death of the commanding officer threw the rebels’ attack into chaos. Some, seized by terror, turned and fled; many, in their panic, tumbled from the scaling ladders propped against the moat walls. The assault faltered, prompting cheers from the Tang soldiers atop the ramparts.
Cui Qianyou, furious, immediately appointed another mid-level officer to take Li Qian’s place and continue the siege.
Few noticed that above Tongguan, the sky had changed, thick clouds gathering and the sun, at some undetermined moment, hidden behind their billows.