Chapter 144: The Battle at Yedu (Begging for First-Order Subscriptions)

On the north bank of the Bian River, along the water's edge, aside from city walls and fortifications, stood rows of towers of varying heights. Standing atop one of these four-story towers, gazing into the distance from the precarious height, watching the autumn wind rustle below and the surging waves rise, Liu Chengyou could not help but feel a trace of melancholy in his heart.

Kaifeng occupied the strategic heart of the realm, gathering the bustle of boats and carts, controlling the throat of the lands north of the Yellow River, and connecting the grain transport routes of the Huai and the lakes. The very foundation of its establishment as a city, the basis of its status as capital, lay in the Bian River. This golden waterway linking north and south, with the shifting of the political and economic center, had grown increasingly prominent in importance—it was nearly a matter of national destiny, the empire's lifeline.

Upon it, there ought to have been official grain convoys and private merchant vessels, bows and sterns linked in endless succession. Yet such a splendid scene, for the Bian River at this time, existed only in written records. Though with the gradual pacification of the Central Plains, boat traffic was increasing day by day, the effects of the previous wars and the destruction wrought by the Khitan were too severe—the lingering aftereffects remained—and with the products of the Huai, the sea, and Jiangnan almost entirely in "enemy territory," the Bian River's development potential remained enormous.

Even with grain transport in disuse due to the chaos of war, by now the volume of cargo flowing through the river was still considerable.

Liu Chengyou naturally had no leisure to lament the decline of river transport; reviving the grain convoys was a matter for later. For now, as long as it could still serve its purpose and support the Eastern Capital, that sufficed. At this moment, the most important matter was still the fighting at Yedu.

The campaign against Du, since its outbreak, had gripped the hearts of court and commoners alike at every moment. Walking a circuit through the city, he found that truly even the humblest common folk were anxious on the court's behalf—or perhaps on their own behalf. Since the fall of the previous dynasty and the Khitan invasion, the Eastern Capital had been in chaos for seven or eight months, and only in these past two months had things settled somewhat.

Though life under the rule of the new Han remained difficult, it was still better than having no order at all—at least there was some hope. If this new court were to fall as well, who knew how long the chaos would last. Thus, even though the current Han court's governance left much to be desired, and corruption had already begun to fester, no ordinary commoner wished to see it collapse. As Liu Chengyou saw it, this could only be explained by "the people's longing for stability."

The fighting at Yedu, just as Liu Chengyou had previously worried, had ultimately run into problems—and the problem lay precisely with his uncle, Murong Yanchao.

When Du Chongwei first raised his troops, with Chanzhou serving as the lock and key to the Eastern Capital, and pressing close to the south of Guangjin Prefecture, posing a threat at Yedu's very elbow, he took the initiative to launch an attack, seeking to take Desheng City (Desheng North City being present-day Puyang).

Though Du Chongwei's words were fierce, he likely had no ambition to cross south and march on Kaifeng after taking Chanzhou. His true aim was more likely, after taking Desheng Pass, to turn west and attack Liyang, blocking the Han army south of the Yellow River. Then he would wait for news from the north—he had already sent his son Du Hongsui north to request support. If by some chance the Khitan "daddy" could break through and come south, then he might still be saved...

On the Han army's side, the court's preliminary arrangements were no mere decoration. Though not all the various forces had assembled, and Commander-in-Chief Gao Xingzhou had not yet arrived, there was no fear whatsoever of Du Chongwei's machinations.

But then Murong Yanchao started making trouble. Arrogant in his bravery and proud of his talents, he was deeply resentful that the court had appointed Gao Xingzhou—that old relic with one foot in the grave—as commander. Hearing that the Yedu troops were coming south, he joyfully accepted battle. Ignoring the counsel of Defense Commissioner Guo Rong, he led the five thousand imperial army troops under his garrison out to fight, and the two sides clashed in the outskirts of Desheng City.

If he had simply lost outright, that would have been one thing. The key issue was that Du Chongwei's vanguard forces were useless—they were actually routed by Murong Yanchao's single strike. This made Murong Yanchao even more arrogant. The word "enough" apparently did not exist in his dictionary. He led his troops in pursuit, straying far from the city's defenses. Then he ran headlong into Du Chongwei's main force of over thirty thousand.

Both sides' soldiers were brave, but under the command of their two principal generals, the battle devolved into a clumsy brawl between amateurs. Murong Yanchao relied on the moral authority of the central court and the strength of the imperial army, but he could not withstand Du Chongwei's numerical superiority. After reckless fighting for over an hour, he was surrounded at Lujia Dian in Qingfeng County.

Seeing his forces isolated and imperiled, it was Defense Commissioner Guo Rong who, sparing no effort, led the mere thousand-odd troops remaining in Desheng City, braved death to break through the Yedu troops' blockade, and forcibly rescued Murong Yanchao.

Covering Murong Yanchao's defeated troops, they fought and retreated all the way back to Desheng City, barely managing to hold the defense.

Guo Rong had no choice. Most of the army had been taken by Murong Yanchao to meet the enemy. If Murong Yanchao were completely annihilated by Du Chongwei, then with only the thousand-odd troops remaining, he would surely be unable to hold out. If Desheng Ferry were lost, it would inevitably affect Liyang to the west. If both ferry crossings were lost, then the Han army's chances of crossing north would become very difficult.

Even if Du Chongwei could ultimately be eliminated, the price to be paid would inevitably multiply—and this was not merely a matter of Du Chongwei's rebellion alone.

With broad vision and a strong sense of the bigger picture, it was precisely because he could see the potential consequences that Guo Rong chose to take the risk, to stake everything on one throw. Of course, one cannot rule out that Guo Rong was gambling—the greater the risk, the greater the potential reward. In the end, Guo Rong's gamble succeeded. A situation of nine deaths and one life, yet Guo Rong managed to stumble upon the path to survival.

And Du Chongwei was truly incompetent. Having his formation disrupted by Guo Rong's thousand-odd troops and letting Murong Yanchao be rescued was bad enough—with that many soldiers, he needed only to detach a small flanking force to seize Desheng North City, and the Han army would surely have collapsed. Instead, he insisted on tangling with the Han army, step by step, until the Han troops retreated to their city defenses.

As for Murong Yanchao—having earlier pleaded with him to no avail, leading to defeat, Guo Rong was furious. Truly, only by personally working alongside this man could one understand just how difficult he was to deal with. Du Chongwei assaulted the pass fiercely but could not take it, and was forced to withdraw. After he retreated, Murong Yanchao resumed command and shifted the blame onto Guo Rong for "inadequate rescue efforts." At this, Guo Rong angrily sent a memorial to the Eastern Capital, impeaching Murong Yanzhao.

The first engagement of the campaign against Du ended in the Han army's defeat and retreat, with over two thousand casualties on both sides combined. Of course, Du Chongwei did not come out ahead either—between the rout of his vanguard and the fierce fighting that followed, he lost nearly three thousand men, more than the Han army. However, whether judged by the spectacle or the outcome, the Yedu troops had won.

In truth, the Yedu troops' morale was not high. Their will to fight was weak—they had little desire to rebel, having been coerced into it by Du Chongwei. But after the battle at Lujia Dian, the Han army's morale was hardly any better.

An inauspicious start to a campaign was never a good omen.

When the report of defeat reached the Eastern Capital, the entire court was in an uproar, caught somewhat off guard. Liu Chengyou was also utterly speechless, cursing Murong Yanchao inwardly for being unable to accomplish anything but more than capable of ruining everything. It was precisely because of Desheng Pass's importance, to prevent Du Chongwei from moving south, that the court had stationed heavy troops here.

With five thousand imperial army troops in hand, one needed only to hold steady and defend, waiting for the court's other forces to assemble and strike in coordination, and they could have steadily pushed all the way to Yedu. But this Murong Yanchao insisted on playing clever. Had Guo Rong not turned the tide, the prospects for suppressing the rebellion would hardly have been optimistic.

However, for Guo Rong personally, this suddenly earned him a great deal of fame. To mitigate the impact of the defeat, the court employed some creative historiography regarding the battle at Lujia Dian, doing its best to avoid mentioning the defeat while heavily publicizing Guo Rong's turnaround of the battle, his fierce striking of the rebels, and his destruction of the rebels' scheme to seize Desheng Pass.

To reward the meritorious and to soothe the soldiers' spirits, Liu Zhiyuan issued an edict appointing him Chief Commander of the Deqing Army, concurrently Defense Commissioner of Chanzhou, and Formation Commander of the Yedu Field Headquarters.

As for the handling of Murong Yanchao, Liu Zhiyuan hesitated. Following the court ministers' opinion, he ought to have been held accountable for his crimes—at the very least, recalled to the Eastern Capital. In the end, Liu Zhiyuan let it go lightly, avoiding the question of his guilt, saying they would observe his future conduct, keeping him with the army in his original post as Gao Xingzhou's deputy.

Murong Yanchao's defeat completely disrupted the court's anticipated rhythm for suppressing the rebellion. The loss of troops and horses was nothing; the key issue was morale. In cold-weapon warfare, the importance of morale sometimes outweighed even training and equipment. The commander-in-chief had not even arrived yet, and morale had already been drained by Murong Yanchao.

Upon hearing of the defeat, under the court's urging, the originally unhurried Gao Xingzhou had no choice but to hasten his journey to the front. The old general, sparing no effort, raced a hundred li, rendezvoused with the following imperial army troops, crossed the Yellow River northward, and upon reaching Desheng City, without even bothering to shake off the dust of travel, labored tirelessly to clean up Murong Yanchao's mess.

Simply restoring discipline and morale among the troops took several extra days. Gao Xingzhou's ability to command troops was naturally beyond doubt, and his prestige was highly reliable. Many among the Han imperial army on this campaign were former "Jin army" soldiers, and Gao Xingzhou had once served as commander of the Later Jin's imperial army. Quite a few officers had served under his command. With that bond of old comradeship, now fighting under the banner of the "Great Han," Gao Xingzhou's orders met with little resistance.

After all preparations were complete, Gao Xingzhou led over fifty thousand cavalry and infantry north from Desheng City. Du Chongwei, apparently having gained confidence from the previous battle, actually came out to meet them—at the same old place, the two armies clashed at Lujia Dian. Du Chongwei assumed that the Han army, affected by their previous defeat, would surely have low morale. But he gravely underestimated Gao Xingzhou's ability to command troops. The result went without saying—losses of men and officers, and a retreat in defeat.

Advanced in years, Gao Xingzhou's use of troops was seasoned and crafty, but also increasingly lacking in aggressive edge, emphasizing steadiness. Seeing the Yedu troops rout too quickly, he only ordered the various forces to pursue cautiously, seeking stability. But Murong Yanchao disagreed. Having lost face earlier, he was eager to seize the opportunity to prove himself, and strongly urged a rapid advance—which Gao Xingzhou refused. Murong Yanchao angrily berated him and was suppressed in turn.

Who did Gao Xingzhou think he was to be swayed by this "child" Murong Yanchao? Bearing the pressure, he advanced steadily, adjusting the entire army's movements at all times, pursuing all the way to the walls of Yedu.

Murong Yanchao suggested a swift assault while the advantage was at hand, but Gao Xingzhou refused. In his view, Yedu's city walls were formidable, and Du Chongwei still had strength in reserve—a forced assault was inadvisable. He therefore ordered camp to be pitched, stationing the troops before the city. Murong Yanchao, single-mindedly seeking to wash away his earlier shame, was impatient for battle, but was held in check by Gao Xingzhou.

The two argued endlessly, and in the end Gao Xingzhou suppressed him with military authority. He was determined to first erode the enemy's morale before launching the killing blow. But Murong Yanchao simply could not wait—he even insulted Gao Xingzhou to his face for cowardice and fear of battle. In his view, Gao Xingzhou had won merely through superior numbers; had he himself possessed sufficient troops earlier, he would have captured Du Chongwei at his horse's feet long ago.

Though the Han army suppressing the rebellion had achieved victory under Gao Xingzhou's command, the discord between the principal and deputy commanders cast a shadow over the campaign and directly affected the subsequent course of battle.

Murong Yanchao was like a stick stirring the cesspit. Encamped before the city, every time a decision was made, he would inevitably oppose Gao Xingzhou, greatly undermining the army's morale. Toward this man, Gao Xingzhou truly felt the impulse to kill him to uphold military discipline, but he had to consider his status and was utterly helpless.

In the meantime, Gao Xingzhou launched a probing attack, but while the Yedu troops might struggle in open field battles, defending a city was not much of a strain—the attack failed. Then Murong Yanchao began mocking Gao Xingzhou.

Amid the turmoil, the army suppressing the rebellion besieged the rebels in Yedu, locked in a stalemate, all the way to the present day.