Chapter 331: The Enemy Advances, We Withdraw; The Enemy Tires, We Harass

North of Chang'an, the Wei River curved around the city. There were three places where one could cross the Wei: the Middle Wei Bridge, the East Wei Bridge, and the West Wei Bridge.

Calling them three bridges would not be quite accurate. To be precise, they should be called three waterborne fortresses of immense military value on the Wei River north of Chang'an.

Of these, the Middle Wei Bridge was the most important. Over eight hundred meters long and a dozen or so meters wide, it had corner towers built upon it, bristling with arrow slits, and beneath the bridge specially constructed channels through which reinforcements and supplies could be moved up from within Chang'an.

The West Wei Bridge was somewhat shorter, less than three hundred meters, but it was the latest built and had the most complete defensive works.

Tens of thousands of rebels drove before them commoners press-ganged from Wugong, Qianzhou, and other places, hurling them in endless waves against the corner tower at the head of the West Wei Bridge. Some Jingnan Army archers also formed ranks at the bridgehead to cover the commoners' assault.

He Chuan, who styled himself Army Commissioner, wore a grim expression. After marching south from Qianzhou, taking the surrounding counties of Wugong, Xingping, and the rest had gone smoothly enough.

The area around Chang'an was still fairly prosperous at this time, and the rebels had easily gathered tens of thousands of shi of grain and fodder and seized several thousand commoners.

But once they reached the West Wei Bridge, they met with tremendous resistance. He Chuan personally oversaw the army and pressed the assault for more than ten days, yet he could never take the West Wei Bridge.

By today, the captured commoners had suffered nearly thirty percent losses, and it was clear they could no longer be used. If the fighting went on, the rebels themselves would have to go in.

But when He Chuan looked at that solid corner tower, and at the dense arrow slits covering it, he immediately felt a chill of dread.

If it truly came to spending lives to fill the gap, the rebels under his command would fare little better than the captured commoners.

"How many more days until the battering rams and the assault wagons are finished?" He Chuan asked his personal guards impatiently.

The battering rams could be used to smash open the corner tower's gate, and the assault wagons could at least provide some cover. With those two, they could reduce casualties and improve the odds of reaching the base of the corner tower.

"Still five more days! Those dog-spawned Jinchang Army men—they burned all the surrounding mountain forests!" the guard answered in a low voice, glaring at the Jinchang Army men across the West Wei Bridge with considerable hatred.

He Chuan felt some hatred too, though his was hatred of his subordinates' greed. If not for those wretches coveting the prosperity around Qianzhou and caring only about plundering the surrounding countryside, then according to his plan, after taking Qianzhou they would have charged straight for the West Wei Bridge. Never mind seizing the West Wei Bridge—they would already be inside Chang'an.

"Pass on my order. Tell Ma Quezi I'm giving him only three days. If he can't finish them, he and his craftsmen can go fill the West Wei Bridge's moat themselves!"

He Chuan was roaring in fury when Defense Commissioner Wu came over from a distance and shook his head at He Chuan.

"We can only fight. The Jinchang Army's young lord and Chief Supervisor over there has stopped letting my messengers into the city. It seems they mean to hold to the death and won't cooperate with us."

Even while He Chuan was storming the West Wei Bridge, he had still harbored hopes of entering Chang'an easily.

But the Jinchang Army, which had originally turned a blind eye to their plundering of Qianzhou, Wugong, and Xingping, hardened its attitude once the rebels drew near the West Wei Bridge.

Before, they had still been willing to let the rebels' envoys enter and talk things over. Now they would not even discuss it.

"Those dog-spawned dare to deceive me! Tell the brave lads outside: once we enter Chang'an, the blades stay unsheathed for three days. When the battering rams and assault wagons are ready, I'll personally lead them in the charge!"

When He Chuan got Defense Commissioner Wu's news, he flew into a rage. Defense Commissioner Wu sighed inwardly. He Chuan's whole manner was a major reason the Jinchang Army refused to cooperate with them.

Because Chang'an was the Jinchang Army's golden-egg-laying hen. They guarded Chang'an and took their cut every single day.

And He Chuan, to boost morale, was bound to use Chang'an's wealth and goods to entice his men into fighting to the death.

Could the Jinchang Army stand by and watch their golden-egg-laying hen be killed for its meat? Of course not! So the conflict between the two sides was fundamentally irreconcilable.

Murong Xinzhang led two hundred Murong clan riders over a small earthen ridge and spotted, in the distance, a small convoy transporting grain and fodder.

Just seeing the weeping women trudging along and the ashen-faced able-bodied men told him this was a rebel band returning from plunder.

Half of the riders behind Murong Xinzhang were men he had brought from Guazhou; the rest were Tuyuhun riders from the three eastern Shanzhou tribes. Every one of them was a superb horseman and a fine archer.

Those hundred riders from the three eastern tribes in particular had not been strong fighters before, because they had few iron weapons. Now that they had joined the Guiyi Army and been equipped with iron armor and iron arrowheads, their fighting strength had immediately risen a level.

The rebels opposite clearly saw them too. After a few tense shouts, the rebels ringed the assorted one-wheeled and two-wheeled carts carrying the grain and formed a half-moon formation.

The captured women and able-bodied men also saw Murong Xinzhang and his men. These poor wretches let out terrified howls and scattered in all directions.

Several rebels bellowed in rage, drew swords and blades, and moved to cut down the fleeing able-bodied men.

Murong Xinzhang gave a long whistle and led his cavalry leaping down from the ridge. He and several sharpshooters loosed arrows that seemed to carry friend-or-foe recognition.

The rebels cutting down the able-bodied men and women fell at once. A few others in armor howled in pain and ran back toward the wagon formation.

Seeing Murong Xinzhang and his men charging, the spearmen in the wagon formation thrust their spears out through the gaps between the wagons, making the formation look like a hedgehog bristling with spikes, to block the cavalry charge.

Inside the wagon formation, rebel archers with decent skill picked up their foot bows and loosed a few arrows with twang after twang.

One arrow actually struck Murong Xinzhang in the shoulder, but against his cotton armor lined with steel plates it had little killing power. The arrow hung crookedly from his shoulder for a moment, then was shaken loose and fell as his warhorse rose and dipped.

But seeing that there were decent archers in the wagon formation, Murong Xinzhang shouted an order, shielded the fleeing able-bodied men and women, and then simply halted outside bow range, showing no intention of attacking.

Young but rich in battlefield experience, this fine eldest son chuckled, then waved at the squad leader of the Zhang—or Bo—clan from the three eastern Shanzhou tribes behind him.

"Zhang Xibao, take thirty men and stay here. Dismount and switch to foot bows. When those bandit soldiers push their carts along, shoot at them. If they come out to fight, you leave. If a large enemy force comes, keep them tangled up, and send a fast rider west to find us!"

With that, Murong Xinzhang took out salt-fried beans and fed his warhorse, then wiped the horse's sweat. After resting for about a minute or two, he led his horse westward, off to find the next band of bandit soldiers plundering nearby.

The bandit captain in the wagon formation saw Murong Xinzhang leave twenty or thirty men behind and then depart with the main force, and he groaned inwardly.

He understood he had run into an experienced and troublesome enemy. If Murong Xinzhang and his men had all charged in at once, the bandit captain would not have been very afraid.

He had only seventy or eighty men, but under the cover of the wagon formation, cavalry charging on horseback were the best targets, and they could never break his wagon formation.

But the enemy would not fight him. They left only a small force of cavalry to watch them, and that was the trouble. The enemy had two horses per man—eight legs—and could go wherever they pleased. But if his men left the wagon formation, they would be in danger.

What was more, the enemy had driven off the able-bodied men he had captured. With only a few dozen men, if they did not move this grain and fodder, they would face military law when they returned.

Holding fast and waiting for relief would not work either, because the enemy had all the time in the world to wear them down, and with no way to send word out, no relief would come anyway.

Left with no choice, the captain struck the small gong in his hand. Twenty-odd decent archers followed him as he climbed out of the wagon formation, foot bows in hand, and advanced on Zhang Xibao and his men.

Zhang Xibao sneered and mounted up with his men. He was not about to trade arrows with these bandit soldiers. If only ten had come out, he might have been interested, but twenty-some—forget it.

The captain could only sigh. The enemy was cavalry; they could leave whenever they pleased, and there was nothing he could do. At least he had driven them off. Though the able-bodied men were gone and they would have to push the carts themselves, there was no help for it.

But the convoy had barely trudged twenty-some paces when that cavalry appeared in front of them again.

Several arrows flew over. The bandit soldiers pushing the first cart yelped and shrank behind it.

One unlucky bandit soldier was hit in the neck and lay writhing on the ground, clutching his neck as blood poured out.

"Fuck your mother!" The captain roared and ran forward with the archers behind him. But before they got into range, Zhang Xibao's cavalry went clattering off into the distance again.

This time they circled behind the wagon formation and loosed a volley at the soldiers on the last cart, shooting down another man.

The furious captain immediately ordered the archers split into two squads, one covering the front and one covering the rear.

Then Zhang Xibao and his men dismounted. It was not that they lacked foot bows, nor that they lacked armor.

The cavalrymen took convenient cotton armor from their other horses and put it on. Even with just one layer of armor, their protection immediately rose a level.

In barely the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the rebel Captain's eyes were nearly spitting blood. Of the squad of archers he had been covering, six or seven had been shot down by the enemy. By the time he arrived with a dozen-odd men, those cavalry had already run off again, circling around to harass the front.

Misery! Misery! The Captain's mouth went numb. Being led by the nose by these cavalry, if things went on like this, once the losses grew great enough to break his soldiers' morale, they would all be dead for certain.

Seeing that only a few hundred paces remained before they could leave this flat ground and reach a valley, the Captain wailed inwardly even as a thread of hope rose in his heart. The valley was narrow and ill-suited for cavalry to wheel about; once they reached it, they would be safe.

Yet over just these few hundred paces, the Captain, unwilling to abandon the grain and fodder, was attacked from all sides by Zhang Xibao. A distance of a few hundred paces took nearly a quarter of an hour to cover, and he lost five or six more men.

But just as he let out a breath of relief and was about to enter the valley, a gong sounded. Murong Xinzhang had returned with his main force, and hanging from the side of his horse was a long string of blood-dripping ears. It seemed another small caravan had met with disaster.

The rebel Captain let out a despairing shriek. He could only order his soldiers to once more form the carts and wagons, large and small, into a wagon fort near the mouth of the valley.

But by now, the rebel soldiers, who had been deep in pursuit for the better part of an hour — now donning armor, now stripping it off, and on top of that pushing carts — were utterly exhausted, and the forming of the wagon fort was just a little too slow.

As a result, Murong Xinzhang, with all his men dismounted and wearing heavy armor, charged in through that gap at the head of over a hundred men.

After two quarters of an hour of slaughter, the rebels inside the wagon fort were all finished off. The Captain lay on the ground, eyes glaring, refusing to close in death — Murong Xinzhang had caved in the back of his skull with an iron mace.

"Bring those laborers over and have them haul the carts to the flat ground over there. Once they're done hauling, they can carry off as much as they can shoulder!"

Murong Xinzhang gave the order in a loud voice. As for burning the grain they could not take with them, he would never do such a thing. Without this grain and fodder, how would the rebels be willing to split off small detachments to transport it?

Battles like this one were breaking out all around the Western Wei Bridge. By the time He Chuan received the casualty report, he could not help drawing a sharp breath. An extremely ominous feeling coiled around his heart.

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