Chapter Seventy-Three: Dire Situation

Pang Zhong would not tolerate any deserters among his men. Should anyone dare to flee for their life, the blade in his hand would show no mercy. His unit held a slightly higher morale than the others, having regained some confidence at Hantong Pass. When it came to killing the enemy, they were fiercer than any other division.

Beneath the city walls, the ladders continued to be erected. Driven by commanders who cared nothing for casualties, the rebel soldiers pressed onward, climbing the ladders in relentless waves, hoping through this desperate act to break the Tang defenses.

A rebel soldier, halfway up a ladder, was struck on the head by a heavy stone hurled from above. With a scream, he let go, clutching his bloodied head, and fell, knocking several comrades below off with him. All tumbled into the moat, dead or wounded.

“Kill!” cried a captain under Pang Zhong, swinging his blade with fury and cleaving into a rebel soldier who was scrambling up the wall. With a shrill scream, the rebel’s neck was half-severed, blood spraying from the wound, splattering over several nearby soldiers before rain washed it away onto the ramparts.

The rebel, whose neck was nearly split, let go of the ladder and dropped his saber, his body tumbling down to strike a rock, separating head from corpse. The terrified, wide-eyed head was trampled by his comrades in their rush, unnoticed by all.

The moat had become a dammed lake, its walls formed by heaps of corpses. Blood from the fallen mingled with rainwater, streaming into the moat, but the swift water from higher ground soon diluted the bloody flow. It spilled eastward, coursing through the mountains or over the dam of bodies, continuing its descent.

Early in the battle, the moat was filled with countless rebel dead, mingled with incomplete remains of Tang soldiers. At that time, blood ran like a river, and the stench of gore and decay was overwhelming, sickening all who approached. Yet the downpour washed away nearly all traces, leaving only the clean scent of rain.

Still, the Tang soldiers atop the wall would rather endure that foul odor than the relentless rain, which showed no sign of stopping.

With the rain unceasing, there was nothing for it but to fight desperately.

Pang Zhong commanded decisively and fought bravely, as did the other generals. Li Fude, who returned to the ramparts buoyed by successive victories, was even more so. His soldiers, spared the bitter defeat at Lingbao, showed no fear. Where Pang Zhong and Li Fude defended, rebels could scarcely reach the ramparts—those who managed to climb the ladders were killed midway or pushed into the moat along with their ladders.

Elsewhere, however, such as at the sectors commanded by Wang Silai and Tian Liangqiu, the situation was less optimistic. Soldiers still haunted by past defeats grew fearful as more rebels scaled the ladders. Even though Wang Silai and Tian Liangqiu executed several fleeing, weaponless soldiers to set an example, morale wavered as the rebels gained ground.

A rebel, reaching the top of the ladder, leaped onto the wall, bellowing battle cries and swinging his blade. His ferocity stunned the Tang soldiers momentarily, allowing him to cut down several in quick succession. At that moment, more rebels jumped onto the ramparts from another ladder.

Those leading the assault were bold and fearless. Before An Lushan’s rebellion, they had been among the Empire's most elite frontier troops, seasoned and courageous.

Several unlucky Tang soldiers were the first to fall beneath their blades, killed or gravely wounded. Nearby soldiers, terrified, dropped their weapons and fled. The rebels’ bravery opened the way for more comrades; soon, over a dozen rebels surged onto the ramparts, slaughtering the Tang defenders.

This was Wang Silai’s sector. On the other side, Wang Silai quickly noticed the anomaly and, with a shout, rushed over with his personal guard.

His chief guard, Wang Cunxu, was a giant—half a head taller than Yang Xi, nearly two meters in height, with astonishing strength. At Wang Silai’s command, he charged at the forefront, swinging his saber to knock the rebel captain’s blade aside and, with a swift reversal, decapitated him. The head flew out over the wall, landing among the rebels below, a geyser of blood soaking Wang Cunxu and those around him. Wang Cunxu was not done: he continued, decapitating another rebel and kicking the corpse off the wall.

His saber now ruined, Wang Cunxu hurled it at another rebel, picked up a broadsword discarded on the ground, and pressed on.

In his hands, the broadsword proved devastating; the rebels could not withstand its edge.

Within moments, Wang Cunxu slew several rebels and charged forward. His heroics stunned the rebel soldiers, who dared not face him. Some tried to flee, but there was nowhere to run atop the wall; panicking, they tumbled down, landing on comrades about to climb the ladders, all plunging into the moat below.

Wang Cunxu’s valor not only terrified the rebels but galvanized his own troops. The fearful soldiers rallied, shouting and charging. The rebels could not swarm the ramparts quickly via the ladders; those few who made it up were soon cut down by Wang Cunxu and the Tang soldiers, their bodies thrown from the walls.

Seeing this, Wang Silai breathed a sigh of relief and ordered his men to keep up the fierce resistance.

Tian Liangqiu’s sector was much the same. A number of rebels had surged onto the ramparts when the defenders faltered, but the danger was quelled only after several heroic officers fought back, killing the intruders.

The rain eased somewhat, the sky brightened, but the wind picked up. Mist swirled rapidly among the peaks of Mount Hua, soon dispersing near the city walls. With the mist gone, the situation around the moat was clear.

Upon seeing it, Wang Silai gasped.

The moat’s natural defense was all but gone. Several bridges of corpses now spanned it, turning the obstacle into a thoroughfare. More and more rebels crossed these bridges, gathering below the walls, preparing to storm the ramparts. The bridges were crowded with rebel soldiers; only the limited space below the walls prevented even more from assembling.

“Archers, aim for the rebels in the moat!” Wang Silai ordered angrily.

He knew that if things continued thus, the ramparts would eventually fall to the rebels.

The rebels’ corpses had formed a platform for the assault. Reinforcements could use it to intensify their attack on the ramparts, concentrating their forces. Dense volleys of arrows could inflict heavy casualties, so Wang Silai ordered his troops to focus their fire.

Yet, in the wind and rain, the archers’ effectiveness was poor.

The rebels’ massed assault weighed heavily on the defenders; some soldiers trembled.

Then a volley of arrows was launched from the rebels’ ranks in the moat, carried by the wind onto the ramparts, striking down more than a dozen soldiers. Seeing this, terrified of further arrow attacks, several dozen Tang soldiers dropped their weapons and fled.

Nearby troops were likewise affected, many standing in confusion, unsure what to do. A large section of the ramparts was left defenseless, and rebels climbed the ladders, rampaging amid the disarrayed Tang soldiers.

Fear was contagious; more soldiers retreated.

“Charge!” Wang Silai roared, leading his guard into the fray.

Just as Wang Silai and Tian Liangqiu rushed to the ramparts to stem the tide of rebels, a shout arose from the left—Yang Xi was arriving with reinforcements!

From the right came another battle cry: Geshu Han had deployed his last five hundred reserves!

[End]