Chapter 469: A Hundred-Li Journey Is Only Half Done at Ninety

In the eyes of Jing Han and Yang Guang, Wan Xiu had always been a steady commander — you could see it in the unhurried, deliberate pace with which he took Shanggui, a sharp contrast to Wu Han's ferocious, headlong charges on the western front.

As for the flanking strike through the narrow Wei River trail against Longyou's flank? They both considered that Diwu Lun's unconventional stratagem; Wan Xiu had merely carried out his orders and had yet to achieve full success.

That was precisely why the two commanders from Long and Shu dared to protract the stalemate with Wan Xiu, each waiting to see whose provisions would run out first, gambling that Wan Junyou would not risk a single decisive battle.

But on the morning after the white snow fell from the sky, the Wei army suddenly sortied in full force, closing right up against the fortress walls — it caught the two men completely off guard.

This reckless, death-defying style of attack — could it be that the commander on the other side has been replaced?

Yet after the shock came excitement.

Mount Qi Fortress sat astride a narrow valley floor; no large-scale troop movement could bypass it. As long as it stood, it was the anchor of the Long-Shu allied army's confidence, but for the Wei army, it was a constant threat in their rear that they could never afford to ignore.

Yet at the same time Wan Xiu committed his main force, a detached cavalry contingent also struck west along the southern bank of the Western Han River. In such a cramped patch of ground, dividing the force could hardly be hidden from the enemy. Wan Xiu probably intended to send troops around to their rear, so the Long-Shu allied army dispatched riders from the elite families to shadow them — enough to stop them from crossing the river to attack.

But Wan Xiu would not let it rest, sending wave after wave of several hundred or over a thousand men westward at intervals. This piecemeal reinforcement tactic made the Long-Shu allied army extremely uncomfortable, and Jing Han saw through Wan Xiu's intent.

"The art of war says: 'I concentrate while the enemy divides.' By using feints to deceive the enemy, one can concentrate one's own forces while scattering the enemy's. I unite into one, the enemy splits into ten — thus I attack one with ten; then I am many and the enemy few."

Jing Han declared with certainty, "The troops Wan Xiu sends from the southern bank of the Western Han River toward our rear may look numerous, but in truth they are not. He merely wants to trick us into dividing our forces in defense, so that his frontal troops face fewer and fewer of ours."

After all, Wan Xiu currently held the numerical advantage. If both sides kept subtracting from their strength, and the Wei army still held something in reserve, the Long-Shu forces would inevitably be the first to run out.

Although they saw through Wan Xiu's plan, whenever more troops moved west, they still had to match them — because in war, feint and real are interwoven; what looks like a ploy to lure the enemy into dividing his forces might just turn out to be the real thing.

The best move at this point would be to turn the passive into the active, to summon courage and strike the Wei army hard — but hadn't the Long-Shu forces deliberately set up a formation where camp and fortress formed mutual horns precisely to avoid the disadvantage of open-field battle?

The weather, however, gave them no time to hesitate. After heavy snowfall blanketed the narrow valley, not only were the roads buried deep and the conifer forests dyed white, but the next morning a dense fog suddenly rose!

Beyond a few dozen paces around Mount Qi Fortress, everything was white mist — nothing could be seen.

And it was at precisely this moment that the Wei army launched its assault! Wan Xiu's order was: push the battle line forward to the west of Mount Qi Fortress, until no enemy remained to the east.

This accursed weather turned the Long-Shu allied army's carefully arranged mutual-horn formation into isolated, separate fights. Jing Han, his heart pounding with terror, listened to the din outside and ordered men to shoot blindly toward the fortress's north side, where the Wei army might advance — but the arrows showering down could not halt their steps. All one could hear was the roar of thousands of troops locked in slaughter, while the defenders on Mount Qi Fortress could only shoot blindly, with no way to tell whether the arrows struck enemy or friend.

The one thing they could discern was that the battle line was shifting westward — which meant the Long-Shu allied army was being driven back step by step.

On one side were soldiers fighting with fierce resolve, spurred by rewards of gold ingots; on the other, a demoralized host that had suffered defeat after defeat, men dragged far from their warm homes to suffer here, listening every day to the empty apocryphal prophecies and pep talks of that wretched Emperor Gongsun. The difference in morale needed no explanation.

Jing Han was a master at training assassins and quite adept at giving strategic advice, but when it came to personally directing operations, he fell somewhat short. In the heat of battle, he finally came to his senses: "Wan Xiu has committed all his elite troops — his command post east of the fortress must be empty. If we can strike it in one blow under cover of this fog, this battle is surely won."

It was the same old decapitation-strike approach. But the death squads Jing Han sent out, even with the cover of snow and fog, secretly descended the walls and, carrying previously captured five-colored banners, tried to move against the flow — only to be stopped by the complex passwords Diwu Lun had set. Who knew which two colors made up today's password combination!

The surprise attack failed, and instead cost the lives of several hundred brave men for nothing. And at some unknown moment, the wind suddenly rose and the fog dispersed. Looking down from Mount Qi Fortress, blood drenched the snowy white river valley like a hundred flowers blooming — a kind of harrowing beauty.

The Wei troops, divided into twenty or thirty units, were hunting down the routed Long-Shu allied forces. Yang Guang was fleeing westward in panic, probably heading for Lintao in the Qiang territory to link up with Wei Ao.

Many defeated soldiers were rushing toward Mount Qi Fortress, but Jing Han dared not let them in, not knowing whether Wan Xiu was paying him back in his own coin.

Jing Han's face was pale. He turned to look eastward. The central army stood immovable; Wan Xiu's command banner fluttered. Behind the watchtower and the banner, the sun had risen high. This bitter battle had felt endless, but in truth it had lasted only a few short hours.

…

"Had I known this, I should have stayed outside and left Yang Guang inside the fortress from the start."

The siege of Mount Qi Fortress continued. Jing Han gazed with worry at the Wei army's encampment, which surrounded three sides and left one open. They had no large siege engines and only launched assaults once every day or two.

Because Mount Qi Fortress had been hurriedly pressed into service before it was even finished, the barracks here were mainly cave dwellings dug into the second tier of the earthen mound, crammed with shivering Shu soldiers. There was still plenty of grain, but fuel was nearly exhausted. The Wei troops, by contrast, could calmly send men to fell trees, and the cooking smoke rising daily from outside the fortress was a sight to envy.

Jing Han had sent many messengers to Wudu pleading for reinforcements, but heavy snow had sealed the Mount Qi road, making it impossible for a large army to move. When Gongsun Shu learned that Mount Qi Fortress was besieged, all he could do was send a courier with a verbal edict, saying: "Hold firm, and there will be a way!"

These letters never even reached Jing Han's hands — they were all intercepted by Wan Xiu.

The colonels all burst out laughing, but Wan Xiu did not. Instead, he said with a solemn face, "What are you laughing at? Gongsun Shu is not wrong. If Mount Qi Fortress holds out just three more days, we will have to withdraw."

The weather had cut off the enemy's supply lines — and Wan Xiu's as well. The cost of transporting grain from Shanggui was enormous. The men inside the fortress envied them for having firewood to burn, little knowing that they were already cooking without rice.

So they could not afford to drag this out any longer. Tomorrow, or the day after — it would be the general assault!

…

The weather, as it happened, favored the Wei army. The snow lasted for several days. Shu had cold winters too, but it was a damp, silently penetrating cold, nothing like the sudden, biting freeze after a heavy snowfall here. The Shu soldiers, frozen through the night, found their bowstrings stiff and hard. Even after managing to soften them a little, their fingers still trembled when they hooked the string — in extreme cases, some even had their entire thumb snap off when drawing the bow.

wωw◆ tt kan◆ c○

This was the Shu army's first campaign outside Shu; they could not possibly have prepared for every contingency. But a certain emperor who had endured the bitter cold of the frontier in New Qin was different — he had large quantities of hemp gloves made for the crossbowmen, dried and kept ready before battle, so that now they could draw and shoot upward without hindrance.

But in the fiendishly difficult terrain of southern Long, overly cumbersome siege weapons could not be transported here; most were crude, improvised devices. Battering rams and other weapons aimed at gates were useless against Mount Qi Fortress, which was a single integrated mass with terraces but no gates. This battle could still only be won by brute-force frontal assault.

The Wei army's bows and crossbows could suppress the enemy crossbowmen on the fortress's first tier, but could not reach the second. Though the accuracy and efficiency of the Shu crossbows had greatly diminished, they still kept loosing volley after volley of arrows, falling onto the soldiers' great shields and piercing their leather armor.

Soldiers are not an inexhaustible resource. After the first day's fierce assault, the Wei army made several first ascents of the wall, but were driven back down each time by the Shu troops. Jing Han might be useless on the attack, but his defense was quite capable.

By the next day, every colonel had suffered heavy casualties. When it came time to decide who would lead the next assault, they began shoving and pushing, none of them wanting their own core troops to take the losses.

So they looked at one another, and in the end, the one who stood up was their general.

Wan Xiu, dragging his injuries and illness, came to the front line to inspire the troops and said to the assembled men:

"A journey of a hundred li is only half complete at ninety. The closer you get to the end, the harder it becomes."

"We entered Long under His Majesty's command and have fought bitterly for more than half a year, from high summer to winter snow. Countless men have fallen. We have now walked ninety-nine steps — only this final step remains!"

Mount Qi Fortress was of vital importance. If they could not take it, then come spring next year, they would be forced back to ninety steps, eighty steps — even fifty steps!

"Now we are weary, and the enemy is weary too. This is the moment to test our endurance. Gentlemen, who is willing to lead the troops in one more assault?"

For a long moment, no one responded. In the end, Wan Xiu could only say, "If none of you, gentlemen, can take this step, then let me take it — with my own personal guard battalion!"

With that, Wan Xiu moved to don his armor, take up a great shield, and brave the arrows and stones to lead the assault himself. But his back injury had not healed, and the look of agony on his face was plain for all to see!

With anyone else, they might have thought it was just talk, but the colonels knew that Wan Xiu kept his word — he might very well actually do it!

Having long received Wan Xiu's care and protection, they now felt deeply ashamed. They all prostrated themselves and begged his forgiveness, and in the end, Colonel Yuan Chu sought and obtained the duty of leading the first assault.

Yuan Chu was the son of Yuan She, the great sword of Maoling — the underworld boss to whom Wan Xiu had once pledged his service and who had gravely offended the Seventh Biao. Had Wan Xiu not been shielding him, the vengeance-minded Brother Biao would have done him in long ago. Yuan Chu knew his own situation well. He had taken part in the raids on Longyou and the battle for Shanggui, but had never achieved any great merit.

Though the snowy weather had brought the Wei army victory, it had also made Wan Xiu's back ache worse and worse; even rising to his feet was difficult, and staying still in a kneeling posture was the best he could manage. Yet Wan Xiu did not sit comfortably in camp. Instead, he rode a war chariot to the front line in person — he had to let the soldiers see him.

But Wan Xiu could not even beat the war drums. He could only sit surrounded by his guards, listening to the faint, indistinct sounds of slaughter in the distance and the battle reports streaming back ceaselessly from the front.

"Colonel Yuan has sent troops in an upward assault! Striking the northwest corner of Mount Qi Fortress."

"The Shu army is putting up a desperate resistance. The first attack has been repelled."

Though it was a bitterly cold day, sweat stood on Wan Xiu's forehead. He drew his sword and thrust it into the chariot rail to steady himself. He was already forcing himself to hold on, and the Wei army was also struggling grimly. If they could not take the fortress today, they would have no choice but to retreat!

"Colonel Yuan has personally taken the lead — sword and shield in hand, he's on the scaling ladder!"

"The Colonel was first onto the wall — he cut down the enemy and seized their banner!"

These were the tidings Wan Xiu heard just before his vision went black and he collapsed.

……

Wan Xiu could not tell if it was phantom hearing or real; all he could make out was a surge of jubilation around him. Mingled with the cheers was the panic of his attending colonels, who had just discovered he had fainted.

Yet even unconscious, General Wan still braced his sword hilt beneath his chin to keep his body upright, so that apart from a few close guards, no one knew how dire his condition was.

When Wan Xiu came to, he learned only that Qi Mountain Fort had fallen, that Jing Han had broken out with over a thousand men and fled, and that roving cavalry were in pursuit — Wan Xiu had deliberately surrounded the fort on three sides and left one open, giving the Shu army a retreat route, which made taking the fort easier than sealing it tight.

"Help me up onto the wall."

Wan Xiu's heart was soaring; he forgot even his wounds and illness and struggled to rise. The colonels all urged him against it — some said the scattered remnants in the cave dwellings had not yet been mopped up, others said the wind was too strong up top and the General should rest quietly.

"I said I would go up onto the wall and warm myself by the fire."

Wan Xiu was carried all the way up onto Qi Mountain Fort. Wei soldiers lined the road; hands still slick with blood, hastily scrubbed with snow, every one of them wanted to lend a hand, even just a touch. And now, at last, Wan Xiu no longer had to force himself — he lay on the carrying litter, smiling, and reached out to touch them.

Thus, tier by tier, they bore Wan Xiu up to the summit of Qi Mountain Fort.

The Chengjia white flag had already been torn down and was stuffed into the beacon tower, smoldering slowly. Wan Xiu stretched out his hand, and it truly seemed he could feel an uncommon warmth.

The Wei army's five-colored banners, set against the white snow, looked especially vivid.

The weather, overcast for days, had finally cleared. The sky was a blaze of red cloud wisps; the sun was setting in the west. Wan Xiu, too, gazed far into the west.

Diwu Lun had been compiling a new military treatise, dividing warfare into three tiers: "combat," "campaign," and "war." There were only two wars: unification and repelling the invaders. What composed them were regional campaigns, one after another — from Guanzhong to Hedong, to Hongnong, to Hebei — and the regime had steadily grown stronger with each.

"The Longyou campaign — I shall finish it."

This was a matter of deep satisfaction for Wan Xiu. Assigned to garrison You Fufeng, he had already missed too much.

Yet Wan Xiu also had a premonition: this would be his last battle.

Thanks to the imperial physician Diwu Lun had assigned to stay by his side, never leaving him for a moment, he would not die. But the empire was like a carriage: when the old horse grows weary and injured, a new horse will naturally be harnessed in its place to keep racing forward.

The time had come for Wan Xiu to step down from the heavy war chariot that could easily wound a horse and go to the rear to pull a lighter cart. There was reluctance and unwillingness, but before he laid down his burden, standing on this mountaintop, he could already see the not-so-distant future.

"The Longyou campaign ends at Qi Mountain."

"And the campaign to destroy Shu, three years, five years from now, will also begin from here — from Qi Mountain!"

……

PS: Chapter two coming in the middle of the night.