A Sweeping Victory

Whenever the Xianbei cavalry, unable to restrain themselves, charged out, a few men would immediately turn their horses and ride back, then wait for the enemy to retreat before repeating the same maneuver. This infuriated the Xianbei to such an extent that they lost all interest in their nightly harassment of the eastern riverbank; they only sprang into action in a flurry of panic when the occasional fire arrow set a tent ablaze.

After yet another night of torment, the Chiller chieftain, even before noon the next day, ordered a renewed assault on Yunü Pass. Thus, the demoralized Xianbei soldiers were once again driven forward, mustering what little courage remained to attack the seemingly indomitable pass.

Having been deprived of proper rest for several consecutive days, the Xianbei troops, exhausted by the relentless assaults of the previous day, barely slept through the night, snatching only a couple hours’ uneasy rest in the morning. They were spent, their morale at its lowest ebb—especially upon seeing the conspicuous mound of skulls before the gate, which filled them with terror. Yet, under the harsh rebukes of their tribal chiefs, they had no choice but to continue their march toward death, though the reluctance on their faces grew ever more apparent.

The outcome of such a group attacking such a stronghold needed little imagination.

They fought doggedly until the hour of Shen, but Yunü Pass and the Xinghan Army atop it remained unshaken. Today, Wang Bo had specifically instructed everyone to prioritize their own safety. If absolutely necessary, they could allow some of the enemy to scale the battlements and leave them to be dealt with by their brothers-in-arms.

In this fashion, more Xianbei managed to reach the top of the wall than the day before, but regardless of how many made it or how fierce their valor, they were cut down with the relentless efficiency of the Wolf-Howl Guard, leaving not a trace behind. Some, upon finally reaching the top and witnessing the scene, were so terrified they scrambled back over the walls, flinging themselves down. Even with the human cushion below, they were unlikely to escape unscathed.

The Chiller chieftain, watching his warriors fall in even greater numbers than the previous day, furiously dragged forth the malingering Wutu Bone, ordering him back to the tribe to gather more warriors. Before he could finish, a mouthful of blood spurted forth, splattering Wutu Bone’s face and nearly causing the latter to lose control of his bladder.

It took much pinching and shaking from his attendants to revive him. Clutching his chest, which felt as if a great stone pressed upon it, the chieftain struggled to his feet and roared at the kneeling Wutu Bone, “Why are you still here? Go, or I’ll have your head!”

Wutu Bone hurriedly accepted the order and dashed from that place of calamity.

By the end of the day, the mound of skulls beneath Yunü Pass had doubled in size. The Xinghan Army’s casualties had also nearly doubled, despite the addition of numerous auxiliary troops to the fray. The archers’ battalion suffered the heaviest losses, with only thirty or forty percent still able to fight.

In the main tent of the Xinghan Army, a deathly silence prevailed. Wang Bo’s face was ashen, his breath ragged as he stared fixedly at Niu Da, who was reporting the casualties. After a long while, Wang Bo reached for his bamboo cup of water, his hand trembling so much he could not bring it to his lips; with a furious gesture, he smashed it to the ground, shouting, “Summon Yang Feng!”

Yang Feng hurried in, his face full of concern as he tried to comfort him, “My lord, do not let your heart be troubled. Since ancient times, have there ever been battles without loss? Moreover, the barbarians—”

“Enough!” Wang Bo interrupted harshly. “Answer me this: Do you dare fight tonight?”

Before Yang Feng could reply, Ping Han leaped forward, saluting with clenched fists. “My lord! The cavalry has not yet taken the field in this campaign. My brothers are stifled and restless. Let me lead them tonight! Please, my lord, give the order!”

“Out of my sight!” Wang Bo barked, not even glancing at Ping Han, and then roared at Yang Feng, “Will you fight or not?”

Yang Feng straightened, saluting solemnly. “How could I not? My lord need only give the command; I will not flinch from death!”

“We ask for your orders, my lord! We pledge our lives!” the others echoed in unison, their faces resolute.

“Excellent! Tonight, we break the enemy or die trying! All generals, hear my command!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Xu Chu, hear my words! You will lead the Wolf-Howl Guard, the Sword-and-Shield Battalion, the Archers, and the Spearmen. At midnight, take bamboo tubes and slip into the river, keeping your heads down. Proceed to the riverbank beside the enemy camp and await the signal. At the sound of the horn arrow from the pass, storm the enemy camp and strike the Xianbei central command. Do not fail!”

“Ping Han, Niu Feihu, take charge of the cavalry and reserves. At a quarter past midnight, when the enemy camp is in chaos, open the gates and charge straight in. Cut through their camp and back again, regardless of casualties!”

Catching his breath, Wang Bo added through gritted teeth, “You must fight only within the enemy camp—do not break out to the perimeter! Fight to the death! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir! To death and not one alive! Ten thousand victories for Xinghan!” they replied, their faces marked by tragic resolve but without a hint of hesitation.

“Yang Feng, Niu Da, take the Heavy Shield Battalion, the Hunting Squad, and the bulk of the reserve auxiliaries. When the cavalry charges the enemy camp, move to the west and north to shoot down the enemy, with plenty of fire arrows, targeting only the outskirts!”

“By dawn, I will personally lead all able-bodied men of Xinghan into battle. This fight concerns the very survival of our army. I ask you, brothers, to unite in heart and slay the barbarians! For this, Yuan Hao gives his deepest thanks!” With that, Wang Bo saluted deeply, fists clasped.

After the generals left to prepare, Wang Bo turned to Yang Feng, opening his mouth as if to speak, but no sound emerged.

They exchanged a long look. Wang Bo then patted Yang Feng on the back and said softly, “Brother, do not worry. We must be cautious tonight. I have already had water ropes hidden in the river, and the bamboo tubes are ready. Tell the brothers: as long as they hold the ropes and bite down on the tubes, they will reach the enemy camp safely. It takes less than half an hour. Set out at the hour of the Ox. Take care!”

“You too, little brother! Don’t take unnecessary risks, or the foundation of Xinghan will be lost!” said Yang Feng, his eyes reddening as he left without looking back.

Left alone, Wang Bo thought things through once more. He ordered the harassment squad to continue their nightly operations, and had Wang Qi transfer all guards, except those left at the artisan barracks, to join the main force hurrying from Yuhu Pass, along with logistics and able-bodied men, ready to fight at dawn.

Just then, Chen Dao called out from the tent entrance, “Let me take your place in battle, my lord!” and strode off without another word.

When all was ready, the Xianbei endured yet another half-night of torment. Thankfully, as dawn approached, the Xinghan Army finally let up, giving the enemy a chance for some real rest. Even the sentries could barely keep their eyes open.

The Chiller chieftain was restless that night, gripped by spells of inexplicable anxiety. He sent scouts out several times, but all reported nothing unusual. The usual nightly harassment came on schedule, so he finally relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

At the hour of the Tiger, as the signal arrow rose slowly from Yunü Pass, a new battle began. The Xianbei camp, dead silent before dawn, instantly erupted like a boiling cauldron.

Wang Bo stood atop the pass, motionless as a javelin, watching the enemy camp below erupt into flames and screams.

When the hour of the Rabbit arrived, Wang Bo took a deep breath, turned sharply, felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and lost consciousness.

When he awoke again, opening his eyes, he found himself surrounded by severed heads—some pale, some bearded, some still dripping blood...

Wang Bo’s eyes darted around in horror. Damn it! Had he traveled through time again? He struggled to sit up—only to be brought back to reality by the shouts ringing in his ears.

“My lord! My lord! You’re awake!” The voices pulled him back from what he was sure was the underworld.

Sitting up slowly, Wang Bo rubbed his chin and muttered, “Why did I faint here?” Everyone around him fell silent, like monks in meditation.

At last, Yang Feng spoke up, “Good news, my lord! The barbarians have retreated—we have won a great victory!”

Wang Bo grinned and asked, “How went the battle? What of our losses? Tell me everything!”

“When we struck at dawn, the enemy was completely unprepared! After Zhongkang broke into the main camp, he reached the enemy command tent in less than half an hour and took the chieftain’s head. The enemy fell into chaos, and we set fires everywhere. By the time Ping Han and the cavalry arrived, the enemy was already in rout.”

“After the Hunting Squad shot down and drove away those on the outskirts, the Xianbei scattered north through the valley. Few had horses, because after Zhongkang broke in, the panic-stricken Xianbei cared only for flight. Our archers blocked access to their stables, so few escaped with mounts!”

“I have already sent Chen Shuzhi, Ping Han, the Wolf-Howl Guard, the cavalry, and scouts in pursuit. My lord, you may rest easy.”

“Chen Shuzhi?” Wang Bo asked, puzzled.

“Yes! You haven’t seen his prowess, my lord—he’s truly a peerless general! His command of the guards and the young men is impeccable, with all the bearing of a great leader. Congratulations, my lord, you have gained yet another talented officer...”

To everyone’s surprise, Wang Bo leapt from his bed, cursing, “Chen Shuzhi! You brat! You snot-nosed little rascal!” The others burst into laughter.

“Curse you!” Wang Bo grumbled, his mouth dry from all the shouting. He drank some water and listened as Yang Feng continued his account.

Yang Feng smiled and went on, “Don’t worry, little brother. The enemy is routed, and by the hour of the Dragon, we had won a total victory!”

“Hahaha!” Wang Bo and the others laughed heartily, the tension finally breaking.

After a while, Wang Bo’s expression grew stern as he swept his gaze over the group. Yang Feng and the others fell silent, their laughter dying on their lips, some still frozen in mid-grin.

Wang Bo asked slowly, “What of our casualties? Did we suffer serious losses?”

Yang Feng replied with a somber tone, “Aside from minor losses among those with Zhongkang, the rest are negligible.” Then, his voice brightened. “But we slew nearly a thousand Xianbei dogs and, by the hour of the Dragon, had captured more than three thousand prisoners, seized over five thousand horses, and untold supplies, as well as many cattle and sheep!”

Wang Bo nodded, waving for everyone to rest.

At noon, Chen Dao, Ping Han, Zhang Baiqi, and others staggered back. Though exhausted, the cavalry’s excitement shone on their faces.

As soon as Ping Han spotted Wang Bo, his spirits soared. He didn’t bother to dismount, instead striking a pose with hands on hips, nostrils flared, mouth wide open, and body shaking with laughter. The cavalry behind imitated him, roaring with laughter to the sky, giving Wang Bo chills.

Even Chen Dao, usually stoic, flung off his bloodstained armor and saluted properly, reporting, “My lord, we have returned! Only about a thousand escaped!”

Wang Bo’s face darkened at the sight of him. His smile vanished, and he glared at the long lines of Xianbei prisoners with a snort, “I’ll deal with you later!”

He then ordered: all Xianbei leaders’ heads were to be added to the skull mound. All prisoners were to be used as labor, divided into three teams for heavy work at Yunü Pass, Yuhu Pass, and logistics. Wounded who could still work were also conscripted. Their commanders and minor chiefs were detained—and, after the prisoners were sent off, these too became skulls on the mound.

After the great battle, Wang Bo returned to Xinghan City and issued two orders:

First, to build a monument and shrine to the heroes of the Xinghan Army for all to honor and remember.

Second, all families of the fallen and disabled were to be cared for by the army for life, with women, children, the elderly, and infirm exempt from forced labor.

Three days later, a war council was held, attended by all leaders down to the squad level. The discussion was lively and thorough, and many shortcomings were identified:

First: Insufficient manpower. Most casualties were due to prolonged fighting and exhaustion, with the worst losses in the latter phases of battle.

Second: Poor equipment. The main defensive force, the archers, often lost arm strength in continuous combat and could not draw their bows. If they had possessed the standard crossbows of the Han elite, preloaded or with assistants, their combat endurance and effectiveness would have greatly increased.

Third: Too few cavalry. Against nomads, a lack of horses is a crippling weakness. Defense by fortification is one thing, but in open field, losses would be disastrous.

Wang Bo added one point: The Xinghan Army does not lack brave warriors, but it is sorely short of commanders who can see the big picture and act independently. Thus, he proposed each battalion select bright, literate, and experienced men for focused training as reserve officers, forming a “Junior Strategists Group” to discuss tactics and fill gaps in wartime.

After the meeting, Wang Bo did something unprecedented—he took out much Yanmen liquor from the brewery and distributed it to the troops as a reward, granting both soldiers and auxiliaries five days’ rotation of rest.

But the Xinghan Army had been sorely weakened. The main combat division lost 122 killed or crippled—one-tenth of its strength. Another two hundred or so among the reserves and support units were killed or wounded.

Compared to the enemy, these numbers may seem small, but for an elite force like the Xinghan Army, focused on quality over quantity, it was a grievous loss—especially as these men were future officer candidates.

The archers’ battalion, particularly, was hard-hit. They were mainly recruited from mountain hunters and took longer to train than other troops. Wang Bo, thinking archers were a ranged force, had prioritized other units for armor and equipment, which proved a costly mistake. More than half the archers became casualties. The Hunting Squad, mostly sheltered in hidden tunnels and not needing pinpoint accuracy, suffered less and could make up some of the losses.

Supply consumption was also heavy. Months’ worth of arrows were nearly depleted, many weapons were damaged, and medicinal liquor for treating wounds ran low, forcing them to use medicinal wine as a stopgap. As a result, Wang Bo ordered the logistics division to stockpile medicinal liquor as a strategic resource, suspending trade until reserves were sufficient.

There were many positive results as well. The victory was resounding. The tally showed the following: over four thousand Xianbei heads, all placed in the mound under the walls; nearly five thousand prisoners, all put to labor—fortifying walls, deepening trenches, felling timber, and quarrying stone—freeing up more soldiers for training and quickly increasing the number of combat troops in the Xinghan Army.