The tension in Liuzhou was palpable, on the brink of eruption.
At that time, neither the Liang nor the Mang factions realized that this would become a decisive battle of profound significance, rivaling the historic siege of Xileibi that had ended the chaos of the Spring and Autumn period.
Huang Songpu, the commander of the Northern Mang forces, surged forward with unstoppable momentum after a major victory, pressing toward the central stronghold of Liuzhou—Qingcang City. Meanwhile, the Northern Mang emperor, determined to deliver a crushing blow, emptied the military garrisons of Gusai Province, dispatching 40,000 elite border troops from the Southern Court to reinforce Huang Songpu’s main force. The two main supply routes, connecting over thirty military outposts and fortresses, were packed with soldiers and horses racing southward without pause.
The two armies assembled on the vast plains to the left of Old Woman Mountain, a mere seventy li from the low-walled Qingcang City. Kou Jianghuai, the general of Liuzhou, had recently handed the Northern Mang a major victory on the northern battlefield, greatly boosting the morale of the Northern and Southern Courts of the Mang. Yet, neither the Liang Protectorate nor the Jubei City garrison demoted Kou Jianghuai for this. Thus, he remained the commanding general for this battle, leading 10,000 elite Liuzhou cavalry, 20,000 Longxiang troops—superior in quality to the Liuzhou cavalry—and over 16,000 monk-soldiers under Xie Xi’chui from Mount Lantuo. Aware that the outcome of this battle would determine the fate of Liuzhou, Qingcang City also dispatched its last reserves—3,000 cavalry directly under the governor’s command. These four disparate forces, totaling nearly 50,000 troops, were staking everything on Kou Jianghuai’s leadership.
Though Huang Songpu’s numerical advantage had dwindled compared to the initial forces, the morale of the steppe cavalry remained high, largely due to Kou Jianghuai’s earlier tactical blunder. The monk-soldiers from Mount Lantuo, sent to reinforce Liuzhou, had become dangerously isolated from the border cavalry, resulting in the Longxiang Army’s first major casualties since its formation. This emboldened the Northern Mang forces. After three interception battles, Huang Songpu’s elite cavalry had been reduced to 12,000, with the Qingcao scouts nearly wiped out—losses exceeding half. This proved that the battle for Liuzhou’s passes was a grueling one, and these remaining elite cavalry would be the linchpin of the next engagement.
Wanyan Yinjiang, scion of the prestigious Longguan Jia clan, had suffered a humiliating defeat in the second battle. His mistake allowed Kou Jianghuai’s forces to break through the encirclement with ease. His elder brother, Wanyan Jinliang—the foremost noble of the Southern Court—sent a scathing letter, warning that if Wanyan Yinjiang failed to restore the family’s honor in Liuzhou, the clan would disown him. Before the third battle, Wanyan Yinjiang gathered all his officers, down to the centurions, and made them swear a blood oath: every squad of ten must achieve at least one kill in battle, or the squad leader and centurion would be executed on the spot. Any chiliarch who failed would be demoted to centurion. In the ensuing battle, Wanyan’s cavalry fought with reckless bravery. Post-battle reports confirmed that every squad had achieved its goal, with Wanyan’s forces outperforming even Huang Songpu’s main army and far surpassing the contributions of other noble clans. When Huang Songpu personally wrote the victory report to the two courts of the steppe, the Wanyan cavalry became the talk of the Southern Court. The empress dowager, overjoyed, bestowed upon the Wanyan clan eighteen Xianbei belts—symbolizing eighteen new Kheshig guard positions—and securing their status as the foremost noble family of the Southern Court.
However, the cost was steep. Wanyan’s private army was reduced to 14,000 men. With Wanyan Jinliang needed on the second front outside Liangzhou’s passes, the clan had no reserves left to send to Old Woman Mountain. Meanwhile, the garrisons of Gusai and Longyao Provinces, untouched by the southern offensive, had learned the art of profiteering from the Hongjia refugees. Gusai, less critical than Longyao, where the Northern Mang central army was stationed, took advantage of the urgent need for reinforcements, demanding exorbitant prices. Every garrison and outpost set its own terms. Though none could refuse the emperor’s decree to march south, backroom deals flourished. The Wanyan clan, fearing another failure due to insufficient troops, secretly offered bribes to the commanders of Ligu and Maolong—the two largest garrisons after Wazhu and Junziguan—hoping to secure their support in the upcoming battle. But both commanders refused, having already been bought by other noble clans with far more generous offers. One such clan, for instance, “purchased” Maolong’s 5,000 border cavalry by promising a marriage alliance and delivering 400,000 taels of silver upfront.
Logically, the weaker, more numerous forces of the noble clans should have suffered the heaviest losses in three consecutive battles. Yet, astonishingly, of the 40,000-strong ragtag cavalry that had marched south, 34,000 still stood with Huang Songpu at Old Woman Mountain. The 40,000 fresh Southern Court cavalry racing south had also been “reserved” by these clans through hefty bribes. Of these, 20,000 were Huang Songpu’s old troops, loyal to him, while the rest had been divided among the noble clans. The former Southern Court king, now powerless to stop this, could only watch helplessly, as did the empress dowager, who turned a blind eye for the sake of her ambitions in the Central Plains.
Despite his reinforcements, Huang Songpu did not rush headlong into battle. Had he done so, the main engagement would have unfolded beneath Qingcang City’s walls, not at the isolated Old Woman Mountain.
To the right of Old Woman Mountain stretched dozens of li of wind-swept, sandy, and rugged terrain, ill-suited for cavalry. In the first Liang-Mang war, Liu Gui’s cavalry had swept south through the plains to the mountain’s left flank. At the time, Liuzhou’s border forces had been weak, holed up in their cities, with few refugees enlisted. The Longxiang Army, standing alone, lacked the strength for a major field battle far from Qingcang. But now, with Kou Jianghuai in full command and the Liang Protectorate’s full support, he had fought three fierce interception battles and boldly chosen the open plains of Old Woman Mountain as the final battleground. Victory here would deny the Northern Mang even a glimpse of Qingcang’s walls; defeat would hand the city—and likely all of Liuzhou—to the enemy.
Old Woman Mountain was neither tall nor steep, more like a large, gently sloping mound. Its northern and southern faces were gentle enough for small cavalry units to ride up.
Even the most incompetent general would recognize the advantage of holding the high ground. Kou Jianghuai, one of the famed “Twin Jewels of Chu,” and Huang Songpu, a veteran who had risen to Southern Court king through merit, both understood this. Thus, the fight for Old Woman Mountain began even before the main armies clashed. Huang Songpu, without selfish motives, sent his last 400 Qingcao scouts—dismounted, armed with shields and blades—to scale the mountain. These scouts, renowned alongside Dong Zhuo’s Crow Scouts and Liu Gui’s Black Fox Scouts, were formidable in close combat.
Predictably, Liuzhou countered with 600 White Horse Rangers, similarly armed, charging up the mountain almost simultaneously.
Both sides arrived at Old Woman Mountain at nearly the same time, as if by fate.
Huang Songpu knew 400 scouts wouldn’t suffice. Behind them came 600 death squad volunteers drawn from various units. With the Qingcao scouts doomed, Wanyan Yinjiang and other noble commanders didn’t hesitate. Huang Songpu, unlike Dong Zhuo in the first war, had never schemed to weaken his allies, always leading from the front and shielding them in his reports to the emperor. Under these circumstances, even the scheming Wanyan Yinjiang felt obliged to contribute—sending 300 of his own clansmen.
As expected, the close-quarters combat was brutal and swift. The 400 Qingcao scouts were wiped out, leaving the White Horse Rangers in control of the summit. The 600 Southern Court death squad charged in, but Liuzhou seemed content to let the rangers hold the high ground without sacrificing them all. This made sense—Old Woman Mountain’s possession, while important, wasn’t decisive in a cavalry battle of this scale. Unlike infantry clashes, where terrain mattered more, here the battle’s momentum would shift rapidly, and the mountain’s off-center position meant its tactical value was limited. Both sides understood this; the bloody fight for the summit was largely about morale.
Liuzhou’s reinforcements—nearly 1,000 monk-soldiers from Mount Lantuo—soon arrived. The White Horse Rangers, who had fought from Liangzhou’s borders to Liuzhou’s frontlines, suffered heavy losses too, with nearly 300 dead on the summit.
At the southern base of Old Woman Mountain, far from the main battle, General Kou Jianghuai stood conspicuously present. He had handed command of the 10,000 Liuzhou cavalry to Qifu Longguan, while the 20,000 Longxiang troops faced the Northern Mang main force under Xu Longxiang and Li Mofan. Kou Jianghuai had outlined the battle plan but left the details to his subordinates. The 3,000 cavalry under the Liuzhou governor’s direct command were absent, positioned behind Qifu Longguan’s forces as the central army, flanked by the more formidable Longxiang cavalry.
Huang Songpu, unlike Kou Jianghuai, remained with his main force at the northern base. When he spotted the monk-soldiers on the summit, the old general exhaled in relief. In the third battle, Xie Xi’chui’s monks had been more hindrance than help, allowing Huang Songpu an unexpected victory that shocked the steppe. Yet, deep down, Huang Songpu feared these monks—recruited by Liang after their stand at Miyun Pass—more than his optimistic peers did. Unlike them, he believed Kou Jianghuai and Xie Xi’chui were setting a trap, one that could strangle tens of thousands of steppe warriors.
Wanyan Yinjiang, clad in heavy armor and wielding an iron spear, rode up and asked, “Marshal, when do we charge?”
Huang Songpu glanced at Old Woman Mountain and replied calmly, “Wait a little longer.”
Wanyan Yinjiang, privy to the plan, was puzzled. Besides the 400 scouts and 600 death squad, Huang Songpu had held back 1,500 elite border troops for the mountain—a significant commitment. Yet even Wanyan, no tactical genius, knew this might not be enough. Given the Liang border army’s stubborn pride, at least 1,000 more would be needed to secure the summit. But Huang Songpu seemed less intent on taking the mountain than on probing the enemy. After three battles, Wanyan had learned humility and trusted the old marshal’s judgment. If Huang Songpu said wait, he would wait.
As more monk-soldiers appeared on the summit, the 1,500 Southern Court troops charged to their deaths. By the end, 200 crimson-robed monks still stood atop Old Woman Mountain, with Liuzhou forces reinforcing them steadily, as if declaring the mountain theirs.
Wanyan Yinjiang reined in beside Huang Songpu, frowning. With their last reserves spent, the mountain now belonged to Liuzhou.
Huang Songpu hesitated, then asked, “General Wanyan, how many monk-soldiers do you think Liuzhou committed to Old Woman Mountain?”
Wanyan replied instinctively, “At least a thousand dead.”
Huang Songpu smiled faintly, ignoring the non-answer. He glanced at the clear sky and murmured, “Regardless, it’s time to begin.”
On the southern slope of Old Woman Mountain, three young men walked their horses slowly: General Kou Jianghuai, Li Hanlin—the last White Horse Rangers captain—and Chen Xiliang, Liuzhou’s deputy governor who had brought 3,000 reinforcements.
Apart from the monks on the summit and the resting rangers below, the mountain was empty.
Li Hanlin left to help carry the dead down the mountain. Nearby stood a tall, unarmed man in plain border army attire, whom everyone ignored.
Near the summit, Chen Xiliang asked softly, “General Kou, how did you know Huang Songpu would commit fewer than 3,000 to the mountain?”
Kou Jianghuai smiled. “After three battles, I understand him. He’s cautious and calculating. He knew the mountain wouldn’t decide the battle. If not for the uncertainty about the monks, he wouldn’t have sent those last 1,500 to die. Now that he sees my determination to hold the summit, he can relax. I made sure no Northern Mang scout would live to report what they saw on the southern slope—hence the ‘invisible’ grandmaster helping Li Hanlin. All to keep Huang Songpu guessing.”
Reaching the summit, Chen Xiliang gazed north and said bitterly, “Even if he learns only 1,500 monks are here, he’d never guess where the main force is. I still can’t believe it myself.”
Kou Jianghuai said coldly, “Life and death are fated. Xie Xi’chui chose his battlefield, and I… didn’t stop him.”
Chen Xiliang sighed heavily.
At Miyun Pass, Xie Xi’chui had held the line alone.
Now, he would lead 10,000 monk-soldiers against 60,000 Southern Court reinforcements—all to let Liuzhou’s cavalry and Qingyuan Garrison swallow Huang Songpu’s main force.
Even a layman like Chen Xiliang knew: some battlefields offered hope in desperation; others, none at all.
He couldn’t fathom why Xie Xi’chui had volunteered for this suicide mission without being ordered. Even Xu Longxiang, Li Mofan, and Liuzhou’s governor Yang Guangdou had hesitated.
Because everyone knew: to the young prince of Jubei City, even 20,000 monk-soldiers were worth less than Xie Xi’chui, whom he had personally brought from Chu.
Only Kou Jianghuai had dared to nod and let him go.
West of desolate Old Woman Mountain, Xie Xi’chui halted his horse. Behind him, 10,000 monk-soldiers carried large shields and anti-cavalry pikes, their blades discarded.
When a scout returned, reporting no enemy patrols ahead, Xie Xi’chui raised his arm, and the column advanced.
His lips cracked, Xie Xi’chui grinned and exhaled, suddenly remembering a pretty girl who used to hurry past his doorstep when he was young, basking on the steps.
She was south of Liang.
Reason enough.
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