As the sun set in the west, the gates of Hengshui City, the northernmost stronghold of Jizhou, were about to close. The city towers were preparing to hang large red lanterns when a blood-soaked scout galloped in at breakneck speed. The watchmen on the walls recognized his face and immediately shouted for the half-lowered gates to be raised again. The scout, with two arrows embedded in his back, charged through the entrance and roared with all his might, “Emergency! The Northern Wilderness army is upon us!”
Before long, signal fires were lit in Hengshui City to warn neighboring Yinyao City. The thick smoke indicated the approach of a staggering fifty thousand Northern Wilderness cavalry. Soon, beacon towers south of Hengshui and Yinyao followed suit, and within half an hour, the entire northern region of Jizhou knew the horrifying news—fifty thousand enemy riders were invading from the north!
The newly appointed garrison commander of Hengshui was a portly middle-aged man named Gao Ying, a scion of the prestigious Gao clan from southern Jizhou, a family that had held influence since the days of the old Northern Han. A significant portion of General Yang Shenxing’s southern Jizhou infantry had been recruited from the Gao clan. Gao Ying, too panicked to don his armor, hurried to the city walls surrounded by his personal guards, his face deathly pale. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to flee—it was that, according to the scout’s report, the Northern Wilderness vanguard was already at their doorstep, and a large contingent of their cavalry had already circled south to block any escape.
Gao Ying’s teeth chattered in terror. He regretted his decisions bitterly! He had assumed that after Wei Jingtang’s death in battle, Yuan Tingshan, the Jizhou general with his elite private cavalry of seven to eight thousand from the Li family’s Yan Fort, would continue winning battles here. Moreover, Grand Pillar of the State Gu Jiantang had been reporting victories from the Liaodong border. Gao Ying had thought that since the Northern Wilderness barbarians were struggling against Northern Liang, they wouldn’t dare divert forces to raid Jizhou. So, he had spent a staggering three hundred thousand taels of silver to bribe both General Yuan and officials in the capital, leveraging his family’s old ties with General Yang Shenxing to secure this lucrative post as Hengshui’s garrison commander.
On paper, the city had five thousand garrison troops, but in Jizhou, finding a general who didn’t pocket soldiers’ pay was rarer than a three-legged toad. Though Yuan Tingshan had tightened oversight, most commanders still skimmed ten to twenty percent, at most thirty. But Gao Ying wasn’t the eldest son of his family’s main branch—he had spent his own branch’s private savings to buy this position. In reality, Hengshui’s actual forces numbered fewer than three thousand, all of them seasoned but unreliable troops transferred from southern Jizhou.
Could he be blamed? Northern Jizhou’s famed archers were more skilled but also far more expensive—one northern archer cost as much as two southern infantrymen, who had once been hailed as “peerless under heaven.” Jizhou’s old elite forces had been taken by Yang Shenxing to Guangling, where they suffered a crushing defeat. Now, even the second-tier southern Jizhou troops were tightly controlled by Yuan Tingshan. To recoup his investment within three years, what else could Gao Ying do but put on a show in Hengshui?
Gao Ying glanced toward Yinyao City, where the garrison commander, Wei Kuanxiao, was just as corrupt as he was. Both had recently bought their posts and had been childhood friends, part of the infamous “Four Young Masters of Jizhou” in their youth. Wei was even worse—while Gao Ying at least hadn’t dared to loot the city’s armory, rumors said Wei had nearly emptied Yinyao’s stock, selling weapons at cut-rate prices to powerful northern Jizhou forces.
Just days ago, Wei had invited Gao Ying to Yinyao for a night of revelry, even splurging on two of the province’s top courtesans. As they “battled” on a lavish bed, Wei had proposed a scheme: smuggling fifty wagons of bows, armor, and spears for a quick profit of a hundred thousand taels, with guaranteed safe passage. Gao Ying had been puzzled—General Yuan Tingshan was strict about border affairs. Wei had laughed and scrawled two names on a courtesan’s bare back: **Li** and **Han**.
Gao Ying understood instantly—the Li family of Yan Fort, closely allied with Yuan Tingshan, and the once-exterminated but now resurgent loyalist Han family! One had the Grand Pillar of State overseeing Liaodong as their backer; the other had the emperor’s favor, with Han Fang recently promoted to deputy general of Jizhou. Gao Ying and Wei might have been clueless about military command, but they knew politics. No matter how many victories Yuan Tingshan won, his authority wouldn’t expand beyond Jizhou—his father-in-law already controlled both Liaos. If Yuan took over Hezhou as well, the court would never allow it. Hence, Han Fang was the perfect counterbalance—newly empowered but still dependent on imperial favor.
Before Gao Ying could dwell further, the ground beneath him trembled.
At the horizon’s edge, beneath the dying light, a black line surged into view.
Gao Ying’s heart turned to ash. The northern Jizhou defenses were finished.
This fat man, who had come to Hengshui only to embezzle pay, hadn’t even had time to profit from smuggling.
He looked around in despair. Aside from his personal guards from the Gao family, the soldiers on the walls were young and inexperienced—recruited with promises of easy pay for simply standing guard in armor. They knew nothing of Wei Jingtang, the former garrison commander and student of the late Grand Secretariat Zhang Julu, who had been forced to lead eight hundred cavalry and four thousand infantry out to die against the Northern Wilderness. Nor did they know that earlier, ten thousand Youzhou cavalry had once shattered the enemy here. Hengshui had never been peaceful.
Many soldiers still clung to hope—perhaps the Northern Wilderness army was just posturing, or General Yuan Tingshan would soon arrive to crush them, or Grand Pillar Gu Jiantang would march from Liaodong to save them.
—
Wang Sui had gathered fifty thousand elite cavalry from the Northern Wilderness’ eastern front—ten thousand each from the Autumn and Winter Nabo commanders, Da Ruzhe Shiwei and Wang Jingchong, plus three young Wanfuzhangs who had defied their generals’ “polite advice.” Compared to the three hundred thousand total eastern forces, fifty thousand seemed insignificant, but in war, numbers weren’t everything. By taking these troops, Wang Sui had stripped the eastern front of half its spirit.
The two senior generals on the eastern border, peers of Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan, couldn’t stop him—their authority was inferior, and the three Wanfuzhangs were from powerful steppe clans, let alone the noble-born Da Ruzhe Shiwei and Wang Jingchong. They could only watch as these fifty thousand marched toward Jizhou—an unthinkable scenario in the Liyang dynasty.
Da Ruzhe Shiwei, astride a majestic black steed, grinned savagely at Hengshui’s silhouette. “We’ll make it in time for dinner!”
Wang Jingchong, still some distance from his own ten thousand, frowned. “Intel says the garrison commanders Gao Ying and Wei Kuanxiao are incompetents, but if they dig in, night fighting favors defenders. Plus, we’re all cavalry—we can dismount, but we’ve brought no siege equipment. Can we really take these two northern Jizhou strongholds easily?”
Wang Sui scoffed. “War isn’t just about the battlefield. You must read the broader situation—especially when you reach the Central Plains. Why do you think Yuan Tingshan stationed fools like them here? Does he lack troops? Even if he did, the Li family’s Yan Fort has eight thousand private cavalry—more than capable of holding a city. He’s clearing our path! If he keeps winning, how long would the court let him stay as Jizhou general? With Guangling’s disasters, one imperial decree could send him to serve under Lu Shengxiang. Even if he dared refuse, his father-in-law would crush him first!”
Da Ruzhe Shiwei growled, “I refuse to believe Gao Ying and Wei Kuanxiao have Wei Jingtang’s guts or skill. Once we take these cities, we can strike south into Jizhou, west into Hezhou, or retreat east—all options open! Commander, just give the order! Let me claim Hengshui’s glory!”
Wang Sui sneered. “Attack? Don’t waste lives. Save your deaths for Youzhou.”
Da Ruzhe Shiwei blinked. “Then what?”
Wang Sui gazed at the twilight-shrouded city. “Tell them: surrender and live, resist and die. They have half an hour. Add that we only want their grain and arms—anyone who strips their armor and leaves empty-handed may go.”
Da Ruzhe Shiwei grumbled, “Boring.”
Wang Sui turned to Wang Jingchong. “Inform the other three Wanfuzhangs: Hengshui is yours and Da Ruzhe’s. Yinyao is theirs.”
As Wang Jingchong rode off, Wang Sui added coolly, “Once the garrisons retreat south, how you five divide the spoils is your affair. But leave some survivors to spread word to Yuan Tingshan—let Jizhou know we’re marching south. Afterward, leave three thousand in each city. The rest join me for Hezhou.”
When Wang Jingchong was gone, Wang Sui smirked at Da Ruzhe. “Eager for dinner in the city?”
The fiery-eyed noble grinned. “Hengshui’s two or three thousand should suffice for a light meal. Not filling, but enough to stave off hunger.”
Wang Sui’s face darkened as he silently studied Hengshui, a city that had weathered countless steppe assaults.
—
In the summer of Xiangfu’s first year, Hengshui and Yinyao fell to the Northern Wilderness. Rumors spread that their eastern army would bypass Liaodong and strike south through Jizhou.
The Liyang court was in uproar.
Han Lin, newly appointed as Jinglueshi of Huainan, was hastily granted the title of Grand Scholar.
Cai Nan, Huainan’s Jiedushi, was promoted to Zhenxi Grand General, second-rank.
Yuan Tingshan, Jizhou’s general, was named Pingxi Grand General, third-rank.
Han Fang, Jizhou’s deputy, was authorized to temporarily recruit ten thousand more troops.
Alongside these decrees, a secret imperial edict, delivered by the Director of Ceremonial Song Tanglu himself, reached Jizhou:
**”Keep the war confined to northern Jizhou.”**
—
Horns echoed across the vast plains near Qingcang City.
Liuzhou witnessed its first full-scale battle, drawing nearly all forces from both sides.
Thirty thousand infantry from the Longguan nobles advanced as the main assault force, slowly forming siege lines against Qingcang.
Four garrison cavalries, including Wazhu and Junziguan, shielded the infantry’s southern flank, facing the Dragon-Elephant Army across the field.
Liu Gui, the western front’s commander, oversaw the attack from horseback, backed by thirty thousand of his own troops and ten thousand elite riders under the Northern Court King, Tuoba Pusa.
A noble-born Wanfuzhang from a top-tier clan barely glanced at the siege, his attention fixed on the distant black-armored Northern Liang forces.
Could the four garrisons truly hold against the Dragon-Elephant’s charge? If they broke through, even the siege infantry would be routed in two passes. Was Liu Gui gambling the entire western front for Qingcang—a minor city?
Unable to contain himself, the Wanfuzhang rode to Liu Gui’s side, only for the old general to cut him off coldly: “My decision stands. No debate.”
Furious but restrained, the noble argued, “Commander, splitting cavalry and infantry like this is too risky! Qingcang is insignificant—why not hide ten thousand heavy infantry among the thirty thousand to ambush the Dragon-Elephant? This gamble underestimates Northern Liang’s charge!”
Liu Gui remained silent.
The Wanfuzhang exploded, “You’re sacrificing thirty thousand Longguan lives for your own career!”
Rumors had swirled in the southern court—some even suggested replacing Liu Gui with Tuoba Pusa or the rising star Zhong Tan. The latter, a newcomer, was a blatant insult to Liu Gui’s decades of service. Even the retired Southern Court King Huang Songpu was touted as a better replacement.
Just then, the Wanfuzhang paled as a lone rider approached—a lightly armored man who growled, “Return to your post.”
Without a word, the noble wheeled his horse around.
Liu Gui smiled at the newcomer—Tuoba Pusa. “Do you think the Dragon-Elephant will take the bait? Thirty thousand infantry and four weak garrisons—quite the lure.”
Tuoba studied Qingcang. “Deputy Li Mopan might see through it, but with Yang Guangdou and Chen Xiliang in the city, he’ll have to act. Even if he hesitates, once part of his army charges and stalls, he won’t abandon them.”
Liu Gui chuckled. “On the surface, I’m a desperate old man making reckless moves. Northern Liang needs a morale boost after their battles at Hutou and Xiaguang. The timing is perfect.”
His smile faded. “That said, without your other twenty thousand en route, I wouldn’t have fought this battle. In Liuzhou, anything less than annihilating the Dragon-Elephant is meaningless. This war was always about Liuzhou—we’ve just circled back to where we began.”
Tuoba hesitated. “After this, the court may still recall you.”
Liu Gui shrugged. “So be it. Let Dong Fatso take over the central front.”
Tuoba smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, General. We’ll march into the Central Plains together.”
Liu Gui nodded.
The old man sighed. “I only regret these southern warriors—born in the desert, dying in the desert, never seeing the Central Plains’ splendor. Not even once.”
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