Chapter Seventy: Fierce Battle in the Rain

Amidst flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, torrents of rain poured down, transforming the world into a vast, white curtain of water. At this moment, the wind had died down. There was no longer a breeze to deflect the arrows, but the downpour interfered with archery far more than before. The bowstrings, soaked through, were now much harder to draw. Even if one managed to pull the string and release an arrow, the pounding rain would sap much of its force and alter its course, severely undermining its effectiveness.

The deluge also blurred vision, making it impossible to discern the shapes of men or the terrain. The master archers, once able to single out and strike down rebel officers, could no longer pick out their targets.

Cui Qianyou, leading the assault, realized that fate had granted him an opportunity. Elated, he was eager to throw all his forces into the fray. At his command, several colonels led their men forward, wave after wave charging into the forbidden trench. Using the piled corpses to gain height, they helped each other or used scaling ladders to mount the western edge of the trench, then set up new ladders to assault the walls.

The Tang soldiers’ arrows fell off sharply in number, emboldening many of the rebel troops to abandon their shields and begin climbing the walls through the storm. As more ladders were raised, even under intense arrow fire, the defenders atop the walls resorted to rolling stones and wooden beams to repel them.

A massive beam, hurled down from the ramparts by several Tang soldiers, crashed onto a ladder that had just been set up. The force struck several climbing soldiers; with a scream, they tumbled down. One was killed instantly, while two others were flung into the trench below, landing atop the mound of corpses.

Fortunately for them, the bodies below cushioned the fall, sparing them from death, though they were gravely wounded and could no longer fight.

A stone, weighing over a hundred catties, was also dropped from the wall, snapping a ladder in two and then smashing into a climbing rebel’s head. His skull burst open, brains and blood washing away in the rain, his life ended in an instant. Two soldiers behind him, caught in the collapse, were injured and fell, unable to rise. Their misfortune was compounded when another beam crashed down, killing them on the spot.

Even arrows loosed through the rain still carried deadly force, wounding or killing those who climbed too near. At first, there weren’t many ladders, and those that did go up were swiftly pushed down by the defenders, toppling both ladders and the desperate climbers into the trench behind.

Constantly, soldiers struck by arrows, stones, or beams tumbled from the ladders, falling with them into the forbidden ditch. The dead instantly became part of the growing mound, providing footing for the next wave of attackers. Those wounded, if unable to rise or flee, shared the same fate.

“Pass my order—prepare more stones and beams!” Wang Sili, already drenched to the bone, shouted to his guards.

“Yes, General!” The order was swiftly relayed.

Within Tongguan, there were ample stores of arrows, stones, and beams, but Wang Sili knew that as long as the rain continued, stones and beams would be the main weapons of defense. Bulky as they were, not many could be kept on the ramparts and they would soon run out; he could only order that more be gathered nearby to ensure the supply did not fail.

The wind was gone, but the heavy rain fell so thick that one could not see even a dozen paces ahead. From the ramparts, only vague shapes could be glimpsed below. It was impossible to gauge the number of attackers, to see how the rebels advanced, coordinated, crossed the trench, or climbed the walls. Wang Sili, commanding the defense, could not adapt his tactics to the enemy’s formations.

Suddenly, a ladder was thrust up before Wang Sili’s very eyes, and to his astonishment, a rebel soldier was already at its top. As the ladder came close, the man leapt directly onto the ramparts. Wang Sili reacted with lightning speed, swinging his saber before the other defenders could respond, cleaving down at the rebel’s head.

This was one of the rebels’ suicide warriors, who had climbed the ladder in advance, taking advantage of the obscuring rain to conceal his approach. He hoped to catch the defenders off guard and buy time for his comrades. Unfortunately for him, he landed right in front of Wang Sili. With a mighty swing, Wang Sili’s blade struck his neck; the rebel’s scream was cut short as his head flew from his shoulders, both plummeting over the wall.

Blood sprayed, mingling with the rain, spattering Wang Sili and the soldiers near him.

“Watch for rebels leaping onto the wall!” Wang Sili roared again, warning his men of such desperate tactics.

Even with his warning, some were caught off guard, wounded or killed by the leaping rebels. But the number who managed such feats was small, and even if they struck down a few, they were quickly overwhelmed by the defenders and their bodies hurled from the wall.

Yet the number of ladders increased. As defenders tried to push them away with beams, more stones and logs were dropped from above, crushing the climbing rebels below.

At this moment, the soldiers stationed atop the twelve linked towers proved invaluable. Their arrows struck rebels climbing in the trench, and they relayed information about the enemy’s movements back into the city. It was from the reports of these men that generals like Geshu Han, Wang Sili, and Pang Zhong made their tactical adjustments.

A ladder was erected right under Pang Zhong’s nose. A rebel at its top, seizing the moment, lunged at him. Pang Zhong shouted, but instead of drawing his sword, he kicked fiercely at the oncoming rebel. The man, struck squarely, screamed and flew backward, not even landing on the wall but plummeting to the ground below. Pang Zhong could not see where the unfortunate man landed, but, given the force of the kick and the ten-zhang drop into the trench, death or serious injury was certain.

But as more ladders rose, more and more rebel soldiers emerged from the mist and rain, coming into view of the defenders.

Pang Zhong, Li Fude, and Wang Sili all understood that the rebels’ assault was intensifying. More ladders would follow, more men would reach the ramparts, and the pressure on the defenders would only mount.

Suddenly, the rain slackened, the sky brightened, and a gust of wind swept away the fog. Visibility returned, revealing dense ranks of rebel soldiers swarming over the western edge of the trench, surging toward the walls.

One section of the western trench, filled almost entirely with corpses, had been built up by the floodwaters and the drifting dead, forming an ever-higher mound. Now, the rebels did not even need ladders—they could scale the western edge with their bare hands.

The sight was terrifying.