Chapter 830

Order: The Guangwu and Xingwu Brigades shall immediately muster and take the mountain path north of Tu River, carrying siege equipment; arrive at Changli within two days, rest, then assault the city immediately. The Weiwu Brigade advances twenty li; additionally, mobilize the Yingwu Militia. A small hill one hundred li northeast bears my name—Matou (Mama Tou Mountain). Send scouts to guide them; today they shall march one hundred li and arrive by nightfall, rest overnight. Dispatch scouts to reconnoiter: when our two armies engage, strike the enemy's rear.

If the Guangwu and Xingwu Brigades swiftly capture Changli, secure the city and assign the Xingwu Brigade to block southern escape routes. If the assault proves difficult, encircle but do not attack—merely block fleeing troops. Await my arrival for further orders.

General Wang Da held the strategy in his grasp; with a single thought, he devised a plan of besieging Wei to rescue Zhao and launching a surprise flanking attack.

The combined forces of both sides totaled fifty thousand—such a scale of battle was a major confrontation wherever it occurred.

Wang Yan deployed four brigades totaling twenty-five thousand troops, more than the enemy's twenty thousand. Yet in reality, the scouts' estimates were approximate; the actual troop numbers were nearly equal.

The combat effectiveness of the two armies might slightly favor the Wuhuan, as hunter-gatherer nomads were inherently fiercer, constantly swallowing each other and fighting for sport. Yet General Wang's troops excelled in small-unit combat—he had personally trained them in coordinated formation tactics, fostering teamwork; thus, the two sides were roughly matched.

As for strategy and tactics, the enemy's plans were unknown, but his own deployment was sufficient. The enemy's intent was clear: to test him, probe his strength, drain his troops and resources. It was foreseeable that these twenty thousand were merely a hastily assembled vanguard.

Thus his counterstrategy was simple: strike the enemy's homeland and capture these twenty thousand troops. Perhaps the enemy had strategists who anticipated his surprise attack on Changli, his division for ambush, or even other forces approaching from east and west to strike Tu River or slaughter civilians south of Tu River, rendering him a rootless floating weed.

But plans require execution; battlefield conditions shift instantly. They did not yet know who General Wang Da was. Even if told he was a peerless warlord with unmatched command ability, they would not believe it until they faced him firsthand…

Liao Hua bowed and turned to leave, then turned back, grinning: "General, I am seventeen."

"Can you handle this?"

"I can!"

"After issuing orders, lead two thousand militiamen east to Fangxian. Scouts report: if you encounter enemy troops, retreat. If none are found, seize all land west of the Daliao River. Remember: preserve men, lose land, and both are preserved. Do not sacrifice soldiers for glory—adapt as needed."

"Your servant understands." Liao Hua grinned wide, saluting with exaggerated formality—Wang Yan kicked him out.

A true man must wield a three-foot sword and achieve unparalleled merit, be enfeoffed on horseback. In an age where literati still wielded swords and spears, how restless must warriors have been? Liao Hua had received General Wang's martial arts instruction, followed him closely, studied military strategy, tactics, and governance, and longed for achievement.

Watching scouts scatter and clash with Wuhuan scouts across the hundred-li stretch between Tu River and Changli, watching the main army march out and defenses secured, General Wang led five hundred personal guards, galloping swiftly to the front-line Weiwu Brigade camp.

Changli and Tu River were one hundred li apart; to the west, mountains stretched in continuous chains of small hills several hundred meters high; to the east, low hills rose—thus forming a narrow river valley plain.

The Weiwu Brigade camped forty li from Tu River; the enemy stood sixty li away—reachable in one day. By dusk, the enemy had camped ten li distant; the two armies faced each other across the dark: twenty thousand Wuhuan against General Wang's six thousand Weiwu troops.

Wang Yan had to come himself—his subordinates lacked capable generals; for such large-scale battles, they could not even form proper lines or understand combat. With General Wang leading personally, it became far easier. These officers were accustomed to fighting under his banner, trusting him utterly, nearly worshipping him. Fighting alongside the General made their bodies feel strong.

In truth, Wang Yan's command style required little strategy—he simply broke through the enemy with straightforward force. In battle, the goal might be attrition or siege; he feared no attrition, having been raised in Mobile Corps Commander warfare, moving through enemy territory as if it were empty. If the goal was to seize land or cities, he merely sent men to hold firm while he led troops out to kill.

This was his method as a general: rooted in his own battlefield lethality. If he were a Regional Commander, sitting in the tent calculating, then he would have to strategize.

Just as now: leading six thousand Weiwu troops against twenty thousand, with nearly equal combat effectiveness—he won. Even if slightly weaker, he still won. Even if vastly outmatched, he still won.

At dusk, a courier entered the tent: "Report, General: Guangwu and Xingwu Brigades encountered resistance in the mountains—five thousand enemy troops, not an ambush, but acting on the same intent as you: to seize Tu River. We outnumbered them, clashed chaotically, and crushed them in one battle."

Wang Yan nodded with a smile—it was no deep stratagem; anyone with sense and knowledge of terrain would know what to do.

After brief thought, he ordered: "Order the two brigades to continue advancing and assault the city."

After the courier departed, Wang Yan addressed the dozen company commanders and commandants in the tent: "Return to your units, muster your men. In half an hour, divide into three columns and launch a night raid on the enemy camp. Zhang Wu, lead two thousand five hundred against the left flank. Li Huai, lead two thousand five hundred against the right flank. All officers obey their commands. Do not forget the coordinated strike techniques I taught you—soldiers must unite, units must support each other. Never fight alone."

"The Chief of Staff, distribute yellow turbans to all troops—tie them around the neck to distinguish friend from foe. I lead two thousand cavalry in a frontal assault. Your burdens are heavy—do not disappoint me."

All responded "Yes," then dispersed to prepare.

Night raids are not simply launched. The two armies were ten li apart; our entire force moving would require half an hour to advance slowly—an hour's time. Even if fully armed, marching five kilometers in thirty minutes was barely possible, but arriving exhausted, panting, they'd have no strength left to fight—so they must advance slowly.

Thus, the enemy would know, and be ready, resting and waiting.

Moreover, this was a flat river valley; the enemy camp might well have dug ditches and set traps to guard against surprise attacks.

Of course, all this had been confirmed. The Wuhuan scouts could not match Wang Da's scouts; they knew almost nothing of our side. Wang Yan knew everything about them. His scouts were elite, as fierce as his personal guards—specifically trained and cultivated by him for information warfare.

At all times, information was paramount. Strong scouts meant faster, richer intelligence—and thus control of initiative.

For example, now: they dismissed his five thousand troops as insignificant. Twenty thousand against six thousand—more than four-to-one advantage. They had marched from Zhuo Commandery without notable victories—why take him seriously? Their inaction now was merely because General Wang commanded sixty thousand troops, and they did not know where the rest were.

So, they were finished…

After mustering, Zhang Wu and Li Huai—two of the original three hundred brothers who had followed Wang Yan since the beginning, once nothing, now loyal and now Captain and Deputy Captain of the Weiwu Brigade—led their forces, splitting left and right, marching along the mountain foothills under cover of night.

Wang Yan led five hundred personal guards and fifteen hundred Weiwu cavalry—two thousand horsemen total. Hooves wrapped in cloth to muffle sound, the two thousand spread out, trotting eight li before gathering silently, waiting.

When scouts from both flanks arrived with word, the General roared: "Brothers, ride with me and trample the enemy camp—kill!"

He spurred his horse, spear raised, charging forward. Behind him, two thousand men remained silent, drawing swords, following tightly.

Two thousand cavalry galloped wildly, hooves thundering, shaking the earth. The enemy night sentries frantically rang bells and beat drums; the Wuhuan camp erupted into chaos.

Two li was enough for horses to reach full charge—barely two or three minutes. That time was insufficient for the enemy to form ranks, but enough for them to spill from tents.

Wang Yan charged into the camp, spear flashing; enemies ahead were either crushed skulls or pierced through. Behind him, men performed the standard night raid: hurling torches everywhere, setting fire to the camp.

Simultaneously, infantry on both flanks, turbans tied, charged in, slashing at Wuhuan troops thrown into disarray by cavalry.

As in TV dramas, armies clashing in one-on-one duels was impossible.

Wang Yan led cavalry from south to north, cutting straight through the enemy camp. The flanking infantry surged forward relentlessly—kill any enemy encountered, if unable to kill, defend briefly and keep pushing inward, plunging into crowds. Those not yet slain would be finished by troops behind.

Thus, the role of the vanguard was critical. In battle, the more afraid one was of dying, the faster one died. Frontline soldiers who hesitated were trampled to death by their own side before the enemy even struck.

The enemy numbered over twenty thousand; we had only six thousand—how could we stand and duel? Victory relied entirely on coordination, on coordinated strikes, charging from head to tail in one relentless surge.

In truth, General Wang and his men's ferocity had already shattered the Wuhuan army's spirit. When Wang Yan's cavalry cut through from front to back, and flanking infantry surged in, the Wuhuan simply broke and fled.

"General, the enemy is routed—should we pursue and kill?"

Wang Yan glanced at the company commander: "What do you think?"

"I believe we should pursue but not kill—drive them to Changli's gates and see if they open the gates. If they open, we storm the city. If not, we kill later. Slaughtering routed troops is easy."

"If you were defending the city, what would you do?"

"... I'd never open them!"

"Since you know that, why waste my time?" Wang Yan slapped him on the back of the head, then ordered: "Ride fast to block enemy retreat routes. Send scouts to inform Yingwu Brigade at Ma Mountain: the main force approaches, join to block. When Yingwu arrives, proceed to Fangxian to assist Liao Hua in securing land west of the Daliao River. Main force arrives in three days—strictly obey orders. Whoever kills civilians, rapes women, or skins people to stuff straw—will be flayed alive."

All responded "Yes." Two thousand troops spurred their horses and rode off; General Wang kept only a dozen riders beside him.

This battle was won by surprise. The enemy underestimated us; though some strategy was used, death was inevitable. Poor intelligence, unknown commander—how could they not lose?

Of course, General Wang's personal prowess was vital—he cut through the enemy camp with two thousand cavalry, already breaking the Wuhuan army's will. Hearing shouts from both flanks, they had no idea how many troops were coming—perhaps even thought reinforcements had arrived. They knew Wang the Bandit commanded sixty thousand troops—so their morale collapsed instantly.

A great battle ended so easily.

In the darkness, Wuhuan routed troops fled desperately. The clever ran sideways. The foolish ran blindly north. Others simply dropped weapons and knelt, surrendering.

Personal guards held torches on either side; Wang Yan rode slowly through the night, ears filled with screams and curses. The yellow glow of torches lit his face—smiling, yet stained with blood on his armor, colder and more merciless than ever.

Twenty li ahead, they encountered the Yingwu Guard, whom they had assumed would be caught by surprise; they had detoured a hundred li, originally resting at camp, but suddenly received orders and rushed back in haste. Had the Wuhuan routees still had the will to fight desperately, there might have been a chance.

By midnight, casualties were finally tallied: over four hundred dead, one thousand five hundred wounded, light and heavy. The cavalry losses had already been counted during their charge through the enemy camp—twenty or so dead, the rest with varying degrees of injury, yet all still combat-capable. Twenty or so horses were lost along with the men. But it was no major issue: this battle yielded over two thousand warhorses. Besides, they had never lacked horses—they had looted many along the way.

At this time, horses were equivalent to modern automobiles—and not ordinary ones, but top-tier B-class models from the start, with no affordable options. These were standard equipment for wealthy clans and affluent households, almost all fine steeds.

Besides the two thousand-plus warhorses, the spoils of this battle included six thousand captured Wuhuan soldiers, countless supplies, grain, carts, armor, and weapons. Capturing Changli City would likely secure the Yingwu Guard's official status. Over ten thousand escaped; direct deaths and irrecoverable severe injuries numbered five thousand, whom the General's troops mercifully put to rest.

This confirmed Lv Yunfei's words: there were simply too many deserters to capture…

Under the escort of Yingwu Guard conscripts, the prisoners worked through the night digging pits to clear the battlefield and cremate the dead Wuhuan soldiers. As for their own fallen, comrades carried them back—those with families were sent home; those without were buried in the cemetery zone the General had designated at the western foot of the West Hill outside Tuhe City.

Afterwards, these Wuhuan prisoners would be dispersed into the conscript forces and assimilated by the original soldiers.

In truth, their loyalty was not an issue—Wang Yan did not seek loyalty; he sought only their fear of rebellion. Besides, the General's army had no shortage of fanatical followers.

Moreover, Wang Yan treated these Wuhuan soldiers as human beings. If they brought their families over or settled under his command, within half a year they would die for him, Wang the Great General. There was no notion then that good people deserved to be held at gunpoint—because being treated as human was rare, and they would cherish it doubly.

From the prisoners' mouths, Wang Yan learned a piece of news: the commanding general of this raid was Qiu Li Ju, the Wuhuan Chanyu. Not the Chanyu of all Wuhuan, merely of this region.

He was a notable figure. Had the General not come here, in two years Qiu Li Ju would join forces with Zhang Chun, the Governor of Zhongshan, to rally the Wuhuan and ravage the four provinces of Qing, Xu, You, and Ji—truly burning, killing, and looting.

Gongsun Zan rose in rank by defeating Zhang Chun and Qiu Li Ju. Of course, Gongsun Zan had ability, seniority, and connections—he would have risen regardless. Moreover, Zhang Chun's rebellion stemmed from the fact that Gongsun Zan had planned to lead three thousand troops to suppress the revolt; Zhang Chun wanted the command too, lost the contest, and thus harbored resentment.

Under normal circumstances, after suppressing the rebellion, Gongsun Zan would have been promoted to Commandant of Cavalry—he would have risen anyway.

Qiu Li Ju had some ability, having at least unified the Wuhuan. Later, when Cao Cao campaigned against the Wuhuan, the Wuhuan Chanyu was Qiu Li Ju's son, Tadun, who was slain by Zhang Liao on horseback.

Now, because Wang the Great General had marched north and won this battle, he had severely squeezed the Wuhuan's living space—and with one brilliant victory, he had forced the Wuhuan to unite against him, creating trouble.

Wang Yan smiled. Whoever dares to invade—kill them all.

Having understood the losses and gains, Wang Yan immediately rode to the gates of Changli City.

At this time, the Guangwu and Xingwu Guards had arrived. Wang Yan had given them two days to cover the distance—they completed it in one, utterly exhausted, and camped five li outside the city.

Two days had been normal; fighting the main Wuhuan force, it would normally take two or three days with no decisive result—typically one battle, then a day's rest. No one expected the enemy to collapse so easily—just one night raid, one battle, and they broke. A bunch of trash.

The Guangwu and Xingwu Guards had chased five thousand Wuhuan soldiers out—some to kill for merit and reward, others to flee for survival—so they all ran like hell. As a result, the siege engines were still in the mountains; they would arrive tonight with a forced march, tomorrow at the latest.

He was not afraid the enemy inside might suddenly sally forth while rested—if they had the nerve, it would be the two guards fleeing now, not the city gates tightly shut and defenders holding firm.

Watching the few lanterns on the distant walls, observing the soldiers patrolling the ramparts, Wang Yan's thoughts shifted. "Bring me my bow."

His personal guards immediately brought him a strong bow and quiver. Wang Yan took them and said to the officers: "Select five hundred men still with strength left. Bring ropes. I will test the defenses, seek an opening to scale the wall, and open the gates from within. You will immediately rally your troops, advance three li, and ensure every soldier is alert. If this succeeds, tonight's fatigue will be worth it—the matter will be settled. When you see two torches shaken on the wall, enter silently."

Tonight, dark clouds obscured the moon and stars; those on the wall could not see movements below.

Wang Yan immediately led his men on foot to a bowshot's distance, ordered the troops to wait, then advanced alone a hundred paces with rope and bow. In the darkness, he drew his bow and shot the Wuhuan soldier beside the torch.

A sudden commotion erupted on the wall; soon, a swarm of archers loosed arrows wildly into the darkness below.

Wang Yan stood motionless, catching two arrows bare-handed—everything proceeded smoothly.

When the shooting ceased, Wang Yan fired again—another soldier beside a torch fell. He made his intent obvious—yet they still refused to extinguish the torches.

As expected, another volley of arrows rained down.

Back and forth like this, several more died—until finally, the torches on the wall were all extinguished.

Wang Yan put away his bow and quietly approached the wall. He climbed directly using the gaps in the rammed-earth rampart—it was not high, only a little over ten meters. Not all cities had towering walls. Especially in the cold, barren lands of Liaoxi, which had once been frontier territory, resources were never poured into building high walls. Building materials were far inferior to those of central plains cities.

Thus, without further ado, Wang Yan used his superior individual prowess to scale the wall effortlessly. Without a word, he drew his Hanfeng Treasure Blade from his space and silently killed every soldier hiding on the rampart. They were still chatting—cursing their officers, cursing Wang the Bandit—until fewer and fewer remained.

Having killed the men on the wall, Wang Yan lit a torch and signaled to the five hundred waiting troops to climb up…

Thus, Changli fell…