Chapter Seventy-One: The Situation Turns Critical

In the forbidden trench, several sections had already become “thoroughfares”—bridges made entirely from piled corpses. The rebels spread burlap sacks or bamboo and wooden planks over these “bridges of the dead,” allowing their soldiers to charge directly across without much effort, easily reaching the western edge of the trench. A large number of rebels were carrying scaling ladders over these bridges, quickly rushing toward the western bank.

After the torrential rain had fallen for a while, water began to flow through the trench. Where the channel narrowed, corpses were washed downstream, piling up wherever the current slowed or where trees and rocks jutted out. The heap of bodies in such spots grew ever higher, and as the water swelled, it formed impromptu dams, blocking the stream and creating a series of makeshift lakes. Water that rose above these heaps spilled over the lower edges, carrying more bodies downstream, where they lodged and added to the widening bridges of the dead. The slain continued to pile up, further raising and broadening these gruesome crossings. More and more rebels now surged over them, and as the number of fallen increased, so did the size of the bridges.

From atop the city wall, one could see the trench transformed into a river segmented by numerous corpse-dams, each stretch resembling a reservoir. Because the piles were both wide and densely packed, and the water in the trench was still gradually increasing, the current was not strong enough to wash them away. In some places, the heaps had reached nearly the same height as the eastern bank. The western edge of the trench rose a meter or two above the east, so the blocked water could not drain quickly, causing it to swell until it overflowed the eastern bank, spreading slowly onto the gentle slopes where the rebel troops massed. The overflow was not swift enough to trouble the rebels much; it merely slowed their assault on the western edge.

The ever-growing “bridges of the dead” turned many sections of the trench into thoroughfares. More and more rebel soldiers crossed these walls of corpses with little effort, gathering at the foot of the city wall and setting up scaling ladders to begin their ascent.

Whenever the ladders were raised, Tang soldiers atop the wall would push them down. Arrows and great stones rained more thickly, weapons cascading down upon the rebels. Countless rebel soldiers, having crossed the trench and reached the base of Tong Pass’s walls, were killed by the fusillade from above. Yet more than half survived, some escaping without even a scratch. New ladders were hoisted up, those that had been toppled were reset, and the assault on the wall continued.

Watching the increasing number of ladders and the countless rebels scrambling nimbly up them, Pang Zhong was beside himself with urgency, shouting orders for his men to fight desperately.

“Kill! Slay every last rebel! Let none set foot upon the battlements!” he roared, cutting down a rebel who had just poked his head above the parapet. Spotting more rebels emerging elsewhere, he shouted again for his men to be fearless in battle.

Inspired by Pang Zhong’s example, the Tang soldiers who had set aside their bows took up their blades and fought with courage. Working in concert with the archers, they soon cut down all the rebels attempting to scale the wall in their sector.

But on the eastern side of the south gate, under Tian Liangqiu’s command, a crisis was brewing. More rebels appeared at this section, some leaping straight onto the wall and engaging the defenders in chaotic combat. Tian Liangqiu’s men were all remnants who had escaped from Lingbao, having not participated in the ambush of the previous day or the bloody defense of Han Tong Pass. When things went well, their morale held firm—they had just now organized a disciplined and effective volley of arrows that inflicted heavy losses on the rebels.

Yet the shadow of Lingbao’s recent disaster still lingered. As more rebels clambered onto the parapet, the dread that had been suppressed within these battered soldiers began to rise again. Some hesitated, gripped by fear, and dared not advance to meet the enemy. A few, overcome by terror, dropped their weapons and fled toward the city’s interior.

Fear spreads swiftly. Seeing their comrades run, and more rebels swarming up from below, others faltered as well. One after another, weapons clattered to the ground.

A shrill, desperate scream rang out from the stairway leading down from the wall.

The first to flee was struck down by Tian Liangqiu himself, who was directing the battle from the side of the wall.

Holding the blood-soaked head of the coward high, Tian Liangqiu bellowed at the defenders, “Any who shrink from battle or flee the field—death without mercy!”

The public execution of the deserter stunned those wavering in fear. Glancing at the soldiers standing beside Tian Liangqiu, ready to enforce discipline, the would-be deserters halted in their tracks. A few who had dropped their weapons quietly picked them up again and, at their officer’s command, rejoined the fight.

Much the same happened among Wang Sili’s men. A few cowards, seeing the swelling tide of rebels below, lost their nerve and tried to run. Despite their officers’ shouts and attempts to stop them, several dropped their weapons and fled, only to be cut down. With these executions, the wavering hearts among the defenders steadied, at least for the moment.

From the gatehouse above the southern gate, Geshu Han, overseeing the entire battle in that sector, saw all this and was filled with anxiety.

He still had a reserve of five hundred elite troops at hand, but he knew the moment to commit them had not yet come.

Geshu Han looked up at the sky in frustration, willing the thunderstorm to break.

If the wind and rain would only cease, the archers of the Twelve Fortresses could once again unleash their full power, and the situation would improve.

Yet the rain showed no sign of letting up. After a brief lull, it returned with greater force than before, the dispersing mist drifting even wider. Soon, nothing could be seen in the trench, but the rebels’ assault only grew fiercer.

“Report the situation at the southern gate to Marshal Yang and inquire about the state of the eastern gate!” Geshu Han gave the order, sighing inwardly.

——

When Yang Xi received Geshu Han’s report, he was greatly alarmed and immediately made a new decision.

The eastern gate, with its narrow approach hemmed in by cliffs, was less affected by the wind and rain. The killing power of the arrows there had not diminished much, and the rebels, blocked by heaps of corpses and wounded, had little chance to press their attack. Yang Xi was not worried about a crisis there, but he had not expected the situation at the southern gate to deteriorate so rapidly.

He knew he must reinforce the southern gate at once. Summoning Li Chengguang and Gao Shi to his side, he said, “General Li, General Gao, I leave the defense of the eastern gate to you. The southern gate is in dire peril. I will lead part of the troops myself to reinforce it.”

Clapping them both on the shoulder, Yang Xi sighed, “The natural barrier of the forbidden trench is lost. The southern gate is in great danger of falling to the rebels. I have no choice but to lead my household guard and the reserve in person to its defense!”

“Yes, Marshal! As long as we are here, not a single rebel will set foot upon the wall!” Li Chengguang and Gao Shi replied in unison.