Chapter 1378: Storm in the Western Regions

Although the decision had been made to cross the drifting sands southward and launch a surprise attack on the remnants of the Liao army, the actual implementation showed no signs of haste—and of course, there was no way to hurry even if one wanted to. The sheer distance and the difficulty of communication were themselves the greatest problems.

Therefore, the two sides agreed on a relatively loose timetable, setting a one-month period during which they would advance from north and south simultaneously, converging to strike the remnants of the Liao forces entrenched in the Western Regions.

On the side of the expeditionary army, hope was felt and goals were clarified, and efficiency and enthusiasm rose to unprecedented heights. Under Yang Ye's command, preparations for the southward crossing proceeded in an orderly manner, advancing steadily step by step.

The most important matters were scouting the advance route and stockpiling sufficient military provisions. As for the route, after Wang Shenqi's explorations spanning a full month, during which he repeatedly hit dead ends and lost his way, he finally managed—with the help of local natives—to find a relatively safe passage.

As for military supplies and grain, there were even fewer concerns: they plundered the surrounding areas, scraped the earth bare for three feet, and did not hesitate to drain the pond to catch all the fish, all in order to obtain large quantities of materiel in a short time to sustain the march and the consumption of combat.

Though the former had met with setbacks, Yang Ye's resolve remained unshaken. Unwilling to settle for mere survival, he would rather gamble once more. He therefore displayed a determination and bearing that staked everything on one throw, and officers and men alike were moved and emulated him.

The soldiers of the expeditionary army also tidied their appearance, roused their spirits, and prepared once more for the journey. War blades were being sharpened, armor was being repaired, combat skills were being restored, and the will to fight, under Yang Ye's encouragement, soared ever higher.

Yang Ye did not waste many superfluous words to beguile his men. He merely announced that between them and going home stood only a narrow stretch of desert, two shabby and desolate towns, and several thousand weak enemies with nowhere to turn.

Nothing could move the hearts of the soldiers more than the word "home," nor inspire the spirits of these far-roaming men more!

On the seventeenth day of the second month of the ninth year of Kaibao of the Great Han, the spring breeze gradually warmed, and the crude banners still flew proudly. The soldiers of the expeditionary army marched out of camp in full array, drawn up in formation on the mudflats along the banks of the Yizhi River. Compared to that original mighty Han host—tall men on tall horses, well-supplied and well-fed—they were considerably inferior in equipment and appearance. But after a month of rearming and refitting, that air of sweeping arrogance and pride that looked down upon the world had once again manifested itself upon the men of the expeditionary army.

Yang Ye, together with Wang Yansheng and Wang Shenqi, sat tall and upright, facing the troops, conducting the final review before the sortie. Yang Ye was thoroughly satisfied with the bearing and spirit of the army, and at the same time could not help but feel moved—he seemed to see once more that great Han iron cavalry that had sworn its oath and marched north, following them without hesitation into Mobei.

Wang Yansheng's sickly countenance had not diminished, yet he still stubbornly rode alone on a single horse, unwilling to part from his men, unwilling to lie on a stretcher—stubborn to the point that it seemed he intended to walk the final stretch of his military journey. This man certainly had all sorts of faults, but this resilience and bold spirit of his that had never once weakened commanded great respect, and for the soldiers of the army in particular, it was a force of personality worthy of entrusting one's very life to.

Over all these years, one had heard of Wang Yansheng's unruliness, heard of his bullying of others through his power, heard of his wanton and reckless behavior—but never once had there been word of his losing the hearts of his soldiers or mismanaging his troops.

Yang Yanzhao was also in the army. Wang Yansheng had once suggested that he return together with Liu Fang and his brother, but Yang Ye had refused. Yet Yang Yanzhao bore no resentment whatsoever over this, standing firm like a loyal warrior. He had long since become a great general capable of independently commanding several thousand or even ten thousand troops, yet now he could only lead a mere five hundred soldiers.

Even so, he was the foremost battle commander beneath Yang Ye, Wang Yansheng, and Wang Shenqi—not through the shelter of his father's shadow, but carved out one man, one horse, one blade, one sword at a time, and even deliberately held back by Yang Ye.

Father and son merely exchanged a glance—Yang Yanzhao solemn and grave, Yang Ye as calm as an ancient well. Their gazes crossed and passed, and after sweeping the ranks once more, Yang Ye did not deliver any lengthy speech. He simply raised his arm and declared in a clear voice: "Going home!"

At these words, the entire army shouted "Going home!" in unison. Two thousand men managed to produce the momentum of twenty thousand, startling the fish in the river and the birds and beasts of the forest into a flurry of alarm.

At Yang Ye's command, the Han expeditionary cavalry spurred their horses and drove their camels, splashing across the water and fording the Yizhi River. Thereafter, guided by scouts and native guides, they headed toward the desert and gobi to the south, their objective pointing straight at North Court City, several hundred li away.

At the same time, with the Han army's major westward advance after the spring thaw, the Western Regions—already riven by renewed strife and tense with instability—now felt as though a basin of oil had been poured upon burning firewood.

Originally, the great army from He-Long, having come from afar, needed to rest, and Guo Jin had chosen to prepare for battle unhurriedly, calmly and steadily. But news from the expeditionary army forced him to change his plans—and once changed, it became an aggression like fire, impossible to contain.

In the matter of coordinating communications and the joint attack, Wang Yinwu performed with great diligence—and dared not do otherwise. Setting aside whether he could afford to offend Yang Ye and Wang Yansheng, with Second Prince Liu Fang personally overseeing the matter, he dared not delay or show negligence.

Liu Fang was manageable—mature and reasonable—but Prince Wei Liu Min, still a youth, was far harder to please. Even getting him to return to Hexi ahead of time with Wang Yinwu had required Liu Fang to exert the full weight of elder-brother authority.

As for the Liu Fang brothers, having been sent away by Yang Ye, they harbored frustration in their hearts, and their way of releasing it was to vigorously push the Han army in the Western Regions to march north and fight. Though they had no command authority whatsoever over the Western Regions army, with two imperial princes personally present in the camp, few commanders could truly escape their influence. And with the support of Hexi heavyweights like Lu Duoxun and Wang Yinwu, they had no choice but to give their full effort.

The invitation to joint operations conformed to military norms and was not reckless speculation or adventure. And to the north lay the Mobei expeditionary army—Yang Ye, Wang Yansheng. Even if for no other reason than these men, Guo Jin would not sit idly and delay.

The Liu Fang brothers and Wang Yinwu's party spent a full twenty days, detouring and winding more than fourteen hundred li, before finally returning to Guazhou territory. Then, without pausing to rest, they disseminated the news and military intelligence.

Thus, from the end of the first ten days of the second month onward, the entire Han army in the Western Regions was set in motion. Military and civilian officials across the vast northwest all answered the call and served with great dedication, cooperating fully with the great army's campaign.

This was roughly the pressure that had been applied starting from the Liu Fang brothers—though of course, the source could ultimately be traced back to Emperor Liu himself. And the reason Yang Ye had sent Liu Fang back to Hexi may well have been precisely to spur the efficiency of the Hexi and Western Regions military and civil administration.

Of course, had he kept those two brothers in the army and marched south together, the results would have been no worse—perhaps even better. But Yang Ye truly was unwilling, and dared not, let the two princes accompany them into danger again. He could bring his own son along, and even if father and son perished together for the country, that was nothing to fear.

From the moment he received the news, to formulating the battle plan, assembling and preparing, deploying generals and troops, and the frantic rush to the point of marching out—Guo Jin took only five days in total.

On the fifteenth day of the second month, Guo Jin left fifteen thousand troops with Han general Cui Han to watch the Kara-Khanid army in the direction of Yanqi, while he himself, together with Tuoba Sizhong, led over twenty-seven thousand Han infantry and cavalry plus Uyghur auxiliaries north from Gaochang, their spearhead pointing straight at Luntai. This was two days earlier than the agreed date for the advance. And the Western Regions, which had been frozen in stalemate and calm for nearly half a year, saw the flames of war reignite—and once ignited, they blazed fiercely, with three parties entangled.

Facing the Han army's attack, the Liao forces had naturally made preparations in advance, but with insufficient strength and limited conditions, even with preparations, they were caught off guard in their response.

In the past, the reason they had been able to hold on with a mere few thousand remnant troops, besides the containment provided by the Kara-Khanid army, was their reliance on the natural barrier of the Tianshan Mountains. On the road from Gaochang to Luntai stood White Water Fortress, which possessed an unmatched defensive advantage—even Yelu Xiezhen's western campaign back then had not dared to assault it head-on.

Guo Jin had also sent forces on several occasions attempting to take White Water Fortress, all ending in failure. This time he returned, unleashing all his strength from the very start, attacking with everything he had. Every siege weapon that could be used was brought out, and he did not spare the casualties among his auxiliary troops.

On the defenders' side, it was a situation of ebb and flow in reverse. With the current manpower and resources of Luntai and North Court City, supporting several thousand Liao troops was a stretch at best. Their thin rule had always remained in a state of instability, fighting as an isolated army with nothing to rely on. And when news of the disastrous defeat on the main battlefield arrived, it dealt a severe blow to the morale of the Liao remnants. A bitter, cruel winter further sapped their fighting strength and will.

Since ancient times, no fortress has ever been truly impregnable—White Water Fortress was no exception. After several months, the Liao army's situation had become dire and isolated, and when faced with the Han army's utterly unrestrained ferocity in attack, they could not hold.

Two days—a mere two days—and White Water Fortress fell. It did not even manage to hold out until reinforcements from Luntai could arrive. Han army commander Guo Jin stepped into White Water Fortress in a posture of victory, trampling beneath his feet the fortress that had blocked him for half a year.

The defending Liao troops suffered only three hundred-plus casualties; the rest surrendered wholesale. Indeed, a single full meal was enough to make them turn their coats, eagerly reporting the inner situation of the Liao forces in the Western Regions and guiding the Han army along the way.

With White Water Fortress taken, there were no more fortresses or strategic passes to defend on the road to the Luntai region—it could be said to be an open road. Guo Jin pressed the advance with his momentum, fighting an encounter battle. Liao's Prince of Anping, Yelu Dilie, who had personally led troops to the rescue, was once again defeated by the Han army, nearly captured alive, and ultimately fled back to Luntai City in disgrace.

On the nineteenth, White Water Fortress fell; on the twentieth, Yelu Dilie was routed; by the twenty-second, the Han army had already surrounded Luntai City in force. This was the first time since Guo Jin's western campaign that he had brought troops to this place, and it was also the first time in several hundred years that a banner belonging to the Han people flew over this ancient Luntai, steeped in profound history.

This time, the Liao army did not react in time, and the Kara-Khanid army did not react in time either!

The Liao army had nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide, and no strength to resist. As for the Kara-Khanids, they simply had not imagined that after a single winter, the Liao army that had so often made them suffer could prove so utterly fragile.