Chapter 1103: The Uyghurs Strike First

The sun was setting in the west, leaving only a few patches of fading clouds on the distant horizon, and the light that fell upon Shandan City seemed especially dim. The city sat quietly beside the Heluo River, its four gates tightly shut, with Uyghur soldiers patrolling the walls in strict vigilance—the atmosphere was heavy with tension.

The commanding general led his troops on patrol along the walls, though his gaze kept drifting toward the southeast. Although nothing more could be seen beyond the plains and rivers, the Great Wall and the vast desert, and the unbroken stretch of the Qilian Mountains, his eyes clearly carried worry and expectation. His mind was plainly not on the twilight scenery around the Uyghur khanate's court.

Two days had already passed since the Han army had arrived before Shandan City, and the city had maintained a high state of alert. Yet although the defenses were strict, the troops within were not numerous, and no Han banners could be seen outside the city walls—only faint traces of fierce fighting were visible.

Tattered banners, damaged armor, burned wagons, scattered corpses, and grass and trees stained deep by blood—all bore silent witness to the violent battle that had taken place on this land.

From Guo Rong on down, the generals of the Great Han had ultimately underestimated the Ganzhou Uyghurs—underestimated their resolve, underestimated their cunning. The consequences of such contempt were naturally severe, and Guo Jin's vanguard had suffered a great loss.

The matter traced back to the Uyghurs' agreement to allow passage through their territory. They had consented with a complex and hesitant state of mind, and so even after giving their reply—even after the court had approved the transit of five thousand troops—they still felt uneasy.

Within the Ganzhou Uyghurs, there had always been those close to the court and those hostile to it, and this time, the opposition faction had taken the leading role. As the Great Han advanced westward, such people grew ever more numerous. After all, the Han Empire's return to Hexi cast a shadow that grew with each passing day, and its ambitions toward the Hexi lands swelled day by day. In their view, the day would eventually come when they would be annexed or driven out.

The proposal to allow passage for this long-distance expedition had aroused their extreme alarm. And so, a group of them jointly petitioned the Uyghur Khagan, insisting that the Han army must not be allowed to cross their territory—otherwise, disaster would follow.

Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong was deeply conflicted at heart, fearing both offending the Great Han court and being annexed by the Great Han, becoming nothing more than a caged bird within the Eastern Capital.

Then came word that five thousand Han troops—infantry and cavalry alike—were fully equipped and marching west, and the sense of urgency within him grew even stronger. Regret began to fill his heart, and he felt that allowing the Han army passage had been a mistaken decision.

Under heavy pressure, some people are crushed, while others throw caution to the wind and rise to meet the challenge. Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong clearly belonged to the latter. After much deliberation, the voices of the Han-hating faction came to dominate his thoughts, and Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong finally made up his mind.

With the support of his civil and military officials and nobles, Jing Qiong decided to raise troops in rebellion against the Han. Rather than sit and wait for death—gradually crushed, pressured, and devoured by the court's overwhelming might—it was better to strike out in a desperate blow.

And Guo Jin's vanguard, the first to cross the border, became their target. The Uyghurs' reasoning was clear: whatever the Han army's intentions, since passage had already been granted, the Han army would never expect them to dare launch an active attack.

In the conception of Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong and his associates, if they could wipe out Guo Jin's elite Han force in one stroke, the situation in Hexi would be fundamentally turned around. The Han army had vast territory, a large population, and strong military power, but it also had many fronts to manage, and gathering troops for an expedition always took time.

The reason they had assembled so quickly this time was that they had drawn upon the garrison troops of various prefectures—five thousand Han soldiers was already a formidable force. And if the court were to lose them, the cost of conscripting, equipping, and training replacements would be considerable.

For the Ganzhou Uyghurs who had resolved to rebel, the benefits of destroying Guo Jin's army were obvious: first, it would boost their morale; second, it would break the rhythm of the Han army's westward advance; and third, it would buy them more time.

And the Han army had voluntarily delivered five thousand infantry and cavalry to their very doorstep—an isolated force, cut off from Liangzhou. As long as the arrangements were made properly, the chances of success were very high.

Therefore, while ordering the Uyghur troops along the route to let the Han army pass, Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong swiftly summoned troops from Ganzhou. Combined with the original khanate forces and previously conscripted tribal soldiers, he concentrated a full twenty-six thousand troops, waiting for the Han army's arrival.

The Han army's spies were ubiquitous in Gansu as well, and their subordinates were not lacking in guides and defectors. The Uyghurs' unusual movements had not been entirely without signs—although the Uyghur Khagan had acted with great secrecy and speed this time, some traces still leaked out.

These signs were thus relayed through spies to the advancing Guo Jin. The spies could not see through to the truth of the matter, and although Guo Jin was somewhat wary, he did not take it too seriously, merely treating it as the Uyghurs' precautionary measures.

His orders had been to advance to Shandan City and prepare the way for the main army, so he merely sent these reports by fast horse to the central command while leading his troops toward Shandan City at the prescribed speed and pace—though he did raise his level of vigilance.

Yet Guo Jin had been careful enough this time, and his march arrangements had followed regulations throughout, with no faults and no negligence.

But it was precisely one thing he had not anticipated that cost him dearly. When he led his troops to within about ten li of Shandan City, Guo Jin already felt a sense of foreboding—an inexplicable feeling, the instinct of a man who had campaigned for many years.

While sending men to Shandan City to announce the "passage" arrangements, he also ordered his troops to shift from marching formation to battle formation. Then, as they neared Shandan City, a battle broke out that was entirely beyond his expectations: Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong personally led fifteen thousand troops in a formation charge, while five thousand cavalry lay in ambush at Yanzhi Mountain and beyond the Great Wall respectively, and a light cavalry detachment was sent around the rear to cut off the Han army's retreat.

At this critical moment, Guo Jin had no time to think of anything else. Facing the Uyghurs' proactive attack, he had no other choice but to lead his men in resistance. First, he dispatched his deputy general Chen Wantong with the two thousand cavalry under his command to charge out and conduct mobile harassment on the periphery—if the cavalry were surrounded, their effectiveness would be greatly diminished. Meanwhile, he himself led his troops in forming a defensive formation to resist.

Guo Jin's experience in leading troops in battle was extremely rich, and his handling of the sudden crisis was sound. Although the Han army was outnumbered and caught by surprise, they displayed exceptional discipline, with soldiers forming battle formations under the command of officers at every level, defending tightly.

Besides their numerical disadvantage, they were also a weary force after a long march. The Uyghurs, by contrast, were fresh and rested, and several times their number. However, many past battles had shown that on open ground, as long as Han infantry successfully formed a square formation, they could hold out against several times their number—unless they ran out of food and men.

The Uyghurs had gathered their elite and deployed every means at their disposal this time, but their greatest blunder was failing to break the Han army in one charge. Instead, the Han troops managed to gradually form that tortoise-shell-like defensive wagon formation amid the resistance.

When those wagons were linked together, reinforced by Han soldiers presenting a posture of desperate resistance, Uyghur Khagan Jing Qiong was forced to face a practical question: this was clearly a hard bone not to be trifled with—should they gnaw at it or not?

In truth, there was no room for choice. His will was resolute: devour this Han force. And so, outside Shandan City, a bloody battle of attack and defense unfolded.

The Uyghur attacks surged forward like waves, but the Han formation stood like a rooted reef, unmoved against the onslaught. The Han army's advantages lay in their elite soldiers, solid formations, and sharp weapons—their crossbows and long spears inflicted heavy casualties on the Uyghur forces. The gap in combat effectiveness between the two sides was quite evident.

However, the Uyghurs relied on their numbers, and with many fervent Han-haters among them, they attacked with reckless abandon. From five-to-one exchanges down to four-to-one, then three-to-one—as the attrition continued, the Han army's numerical disadvantage was gradually magnified.

Of course, the price the Uyghurs paid in trying to grind down the Han army was also imaginable. The two sides fought from before noon until nightfall before ceasing battle. The Uyghurs intended to lay siege, but that night, with the cavalry under Chen Wantong providing support, Guo Jin led his remaining troops in a counterattack, successfully scattering one Uyghur unit and retreating along the path they had come.

The Uyghurs naturally refused to accept this, and Khagan Jing Qiong personally led the pursuit. Guo Jin led his men in fighting retreats, falling back toward Yanzhi Mountain. Eventually, thirty li out, they were surrounded once more—but this time, the Han army seized a hilltop and formed their defense on more favorable terrain.

The Han army was utterly exhausted, and the Uyghurs, having endured hard fighting, night combat, and pursuit, had also lost much of their fighting spirit. The two sides tacitly passed the rest of the night in peace.

On the second day, from dawn to dusk, it was the same attack and defense, the same slaughter—the Han army resisted to the bitter end, and the Uyghurs showed no sign of giving up...