Chapter 1104: Above and Below the Mountain

As the last glimmer of light faded on the horizon, the battlefield before Yanzhi Mountain fell silent once more. A simple camp had been built atop the ridge—not particularly sturdy, yet it had become a barrier the Uyghurs could not cross. The Han army holding the position had been pushed to their limits through days of marching, fighting, raiding, retreating, and bitter combat, yet like a taut and resilient string, they had not snapped.

Below the ridge, more than twenty thousand Uyghur cavalry and infantry remained, densely scattered across the surrounding area, still maintaining their assault formation as they began to rest in place.

But it was plain to see that the Uyghurs too had reached the point of exhaustion, and in terms of fighting will, they could not compare with the Han army at all. In truth, having left the flat ground and facing the prospect of an uphill assault, though the Uyghurs had superior numbers, each wave of their attacks grew weaker than the last—in the end, this was a hard bone they simply could not chew through.

On both the ridge and below it, cooking fires were lit to prepare the evening meal. The Uyghur army had set up over a thousand additional campfires, nearly illuminating the surrounding darkness. Beneath the night sky, the sight was dazzling and magnificent, as if they sought to intimidate the besieged Han army with the display.

Standing atop the ridge, Guo Jin held his sword at his side, his face exceptionally stern, his expression unable to hide his weariness, yet his gaze remained as sharp as a blade. Beneath that cold exterior, however, seemed to lurk a savage fury—he was truly enraged by the Uyghurs' actions. Though the saying went that one Han could match five barbarians, when it came to real fighting, when locked in bitter combat, the danger and peril of it could hardly be masked by a single stirring phrase of bravado. It was the price paid in blood that forged one's reputation.

In terms of responding to the crisis, Guo Jin had done everything within his power—whether it was emergency deployment, on-the-spot command, or personally leading the men in slaughter, he had given his all.

At this moment, the remaining Han officers and soldiers were also silently resting, easing their fatigue. The prolonged and brutal fighting had drained all other emotions from the troops; at most, they looked forward to the food being cooked so they could eat their fill, recover their strength, and then continue fighting for their lives against the Uyghurs.

"General!" A military clerk walked up to Guo Jin's side and, seeing his grave expression, could not help but say: "The Uyghurs' edge has dulled and their morale has flagged. Night has already fallen—they shouldn't dare attack now! You've been awake without rest since yesterday morning. Take this opportunity to get some sleep!"

His body's strain did tell him he needed rest, but Guo Jin did not nod in agreement. His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the encircling Uyghurs as he said with absolute finality: "If I had an elite force right now—no need for many, just two thousand men—I could surely shatter the enemy!"

Of course, for Guo Jin at this moment, that was merely talk to satisfy his own craving. The Han troops following him were already a weary army—sufficient for defense, but lacking the strength to press an attack. The Han cavalry roaming outside were likewise showing great fatigue from their tangled struggles with the Uyghur horsemen, their edge entirely lost.

"I can only hope Duke Ying's reinforcements arrive soon. By the timing, they should be here any moment. This is a golden opportunity to break the enemy—it would be a terrible shame to miss it!" Seeing Guo Jin muttering to himself, the officers and soldiers around him all felt a measure of reassurance.

Though surrounded on all sides, Guo Jin still projected an air of treating the enemy as if they were nothing. This was not arrogance—after suffering the Uyghurs' surprise attack, he had long since set aside any contempt. Rather, in this perilous situation, as the backbone of the entire army, Guo Jin needed to display this confidence, this bearing, to give his men faith.

After giving instructions to the officer in charge of the sentry posts, Guo Jin returned to the crude yet orderly camp, found a spot at random to sit down, and inquired about the army's situation: "How many men do we have left?"

"After a full count, including the lightly and heavily wounded, we have one thousand seven hundred and twenty-three men remaining. Half of them are wounded, and nearly two hundred are seriously injured." The army's Comfort Officer and Acting Registrar reported in a heavy tone.

At these words, a terrifying ferocity flared in Guo Jin's eyes as he said coldly: "The Uyghurs have savaged our army to this state and harmed so many of my brothers-in-arms—they will pay tenfold!"

Feeling the killing intent in Guo Jin's voice, even the Registrar could not help but shrink his neck. The General Guo before them was notorious for his cruelty and love of killing—not only did he discipline his soldiers with military law, but he showed no mercy to enemies either. Back in the days in Shu, he had massacred the rebellious Liao tribesmen wholesale.

"What about food and water?" Guo Jin asked again.

"We slaughtered the pack camels and horses that came with the army, and combined with the rations the soldiers carry, there's enough for the men to eat their fill. There's a stream behind the ridge where we can draw drinking water!" the Registrar replied.

"However!" He paused and glanced at Guo Jin, and seeing no reaction, continued his report: "We lost a great deal of supplies during the retreat, and with combat attrition, our arrows and weapons have been severely depleted. At present, the entire army has fewer than three thousand arrows for bows and crossbows, and many weapons are damaged. If we fight on much longer, the men may have to rely on their fists and feet to fight the Uyghurs to the death!"

"That moment will never come!" Guo Jin waved his hand with absolute certainty.

"There's also the matter of medicine. Too many soldiers are wounded—the army doctors being overwhelmed is the lesser concern; the main problem is that we've lost a great deal of medicinal supplies. Many of the seriously wounded can only hold on by sheer will right now. If they don't receive timely treatment, I fear they won't last much longer!"

Guo Jin finally could not help but let out a sigh, and instructed: "Tell the men to hold on just a while longer! The Uyghurs can't sustain this for much time!"

But after speaking, he rose once more to tour the troops, comforting their spirits and boosting morale. Guo Jin had always governed his army with strict discipline and was quick to kill, yet if he were merely a cruel and bloodthirsty commander, he would hardly have earned the recognition of his men. What he could do was, beyond military law, share hardships and joys with his brothers-in-arms.

After making his rounds and sitting back down, his weary body no longer wanted to move. Still, a piece of roasted horse meat presented by his personal guard—though not prepared with any refinement—was regarded as a delicacy by his hungry stomach.

After eating, beneath the scattered starlight, wrapped in his campaign cloak, with grass as his mat and mountain stone as his pillow, Guo Jin and the Han soldiers gradually sank into sleep. The moment he closed his eyes, fatigue surged over him like a tide. In the haze, he could only feel the scent of yanzhi grass lingering around his nose...

At the same time, down below the ridge, the Uyghur Khagan Jingqiong could not sleep. Compared to Guo Jin, who stood amid towering waves yet remained full of confidence and unyielding resolve, facing the stalemated battle, facing the Han army that could not be broken, facing the grievous casualties suffered under their counterattacks, the Uyghur Khagan Jingqiong, after staking everything, was left with nothing but terror.

The Han army's combat power and fighting will had exceeded the Uyghurs' imagination. They could not even swallow a single vanguard force, let alone anything else. In fact, from start to finish, only three thousand Han infantry had been under siege—so it was not a matter of one against five, but one against seven.

After continuous siege assaults that never broke through and instead suffered heavy losses, Uyghur morale had plummeted badly. Many men no longer wanted to charge up the slope, and even when forced, they refused. This was also why Jingqiong had no choice but to order a halt to the attack before sunset—driving his men any harder would likely cause a rout.

The great khan's tent was erected in the midst of the Uyghur camp. Inside, facing the several nobles who had consistently advocated for war, he was still raging: "It was you who wanted to raise troops, to rebel against the Han, to attack the Han army! Now the war has broken out, so many have died, the battle is at its most critical moment, the Han army is at the end of its rope—and yet you shrink back in fear of battle..."

Jingqiong looked like a standard Uyghur strongman, but his tongue was quick, and he sprayed his noble generals without pause. However, judging by his behavior, it seemed more like venting—behind the hysteria, terror was hard to conceal.

"Khagan, the warriors' losses are too great. They need to rest. You saw the results of last night's battle yourself—if we push them any further, I fear it will provoke a mutiny..." One of them said in a low voice.

"The Han army opposite has lost over half its men—we outnumber them ten to one!" Jingqiong roared.

"The Han army resists stubbornly, and our warriors are all exhausted. A night assault would only cause needless casualties. And that Han cavalry force keeps roaming outside, harassing us, preventing us from focusing..."

In Jingqiong's view, with the battle having reached this point, they should see it through to the end and swallow up the besieged Guo Jin in one stroke. Yet what filled him with anger and disappointment was that the nobles and generals who had previously clamored for war had now lost their nerve. Their hostility and fervor, after two days and one night of bloody combat, had dissipated. They had sobered up, and once sober, they began to cower, wanting to preserve their strength...

The facts had proven that the Han army was truly not to be trifled with.

The argument in the tent went on for a long time, but no matter what was said, getting them to launch another attack was impossible. Some even suggested withdrawing, and their reasoning was fairly prescient—after such prolonged fighting, Han reinforcements were bound to be on the way. If they did not retreat in time, they might find themselves in danger.

However, driven by his fury, the Uyghur Khagan Jingqiong simply took this as an excuse for their cowardice, refused to listen, and insisted on not withdrawing.

At this moment, Jingqiong was like a gambler going all-in at the table. Danger was no longer a consideration; his eyes were fixed solely on the besieged Han army, and until the cards were revealed, he absolutely refused to leave the table.