Volume Two: With a Single Strike, I Shake Heaven and Earth Chapter 10: Breaking the Deadlock (I)

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Chaos in the city.

News of the enemy’s assault spread swiftly through the camp with the sound of the rallying horn. Amid the raging winds, the flag-bearer struggled to hold aloft the great banner, while the old brothers of the horse-bandits and the eight hundred veterans shouted and cursed, kicking soldiers out from their warm beds.

The wind was too fierce; torches were lit and snuffed out again. At the gate, five bright banners were raised to mark the direction. The flagpole, sixteen feet tall, held a twelve-foot-long crimson silk banner, and at its tip hung two wind-resistant lanterns, stark and prominent in the pitch-black stormy night.

Soldiers gathered at varying speeds, as Denshe’s orders were relayed one after another through the ranks.

The first completed hundred-man units hoisted defensive gear and rushed up the walls to reinforce the defense. Wu Heni received his orders as well: Denshe assigned him two hundred men to patrol the streets, enforce martial law, and declare a curfew—regardless of race, none were permitted outside. Violation meant immediate execution. He also dispatched his own guards to watch over the hostages in the hostage camp.

In the grand hall of the governor’s mansion, torches blazed everywhere, as bright as daylight.

Wen Huaguo, Zhao Guo, and the others stood in solemn armor beneath the dais. Four or five loyal guards clustered around Denshe as he strode in. No explanation was needed; all the officers knew the battle situation on their way here.

“The enemy is upon us, the Koryo men strike under cover of storm and night. I have sent Lu Qianshiyi to assemble the cavalry…” Denshe glanced at the night sky outside the hall, remaining standing before the table, hand resting on his sword, voice grave. “In a quarter hour, we will sortie from the city to probe the enemy’s strength.”

The enemy had arrived but did not attack, slowly making camp. Denshe speculated their intentions: two possibilities. First, to defend—to cut off communication between Dingzhou and Twin Cities, isolating each for defeat in turn. Second, to attack—once camp was established, they would join the Koryo forces besieging Dingzhou and launch an offensive against Twin Cities.

Regardless of their aim, a probing assault was essential.

Denshe took up the command token from the table, his eyes sharp as he surveyed the officers. “The enemy has severed our connection to Dingzhou and Twin Cities. If Dingzhou falls and Twin Cities get no news, morale will falter. We need a bold warrior, protected by Lu Qianshiyi, to break through the enemy lines and deliver a message to Dingzhou to steady the troops there. Who will volunteer?”

The officers all stepped forward, eager for the task.

Wen Huaguo’s arms were injured and could not go; Zhang Daier, Yang Wanhui, and other formidable warriors were in Dingzhou, so none could be spared; Zhao Guo was also indispensable; Luo Guoqi and He Guangxiu lacked the required courage; Denshe’s gaze settled on Li Monk. “Li General, you have repeatedly distinguished yourself in facing enemy scouts and defending the camp at night.”

He handed the command token and written message to Li Monk. “No one is more suitable than you. The responsibility is great—persevere!”

Days ago, after the city’s capture, Zhang Daier and Yang Wanhui had basked in glory at the head of the officers, leaving Li Monk envious. Now, with this opportunity to shine, his competitive spirit surged; he gave no thought to the dangers. Denshe’s words, “No one is more suitable,” stoked his fighting spirit to its peak. Blood boiling, he declared, “Wait for me, General! I’ll bring Dingzhou’s reply back within a day at most!”

He turned and strode out, heading for the city gate to await Lu Qianshiyi.

Like a lone boat amid stormy seas, the sounds of drums, horns, officers, and soldiers outside blended into a confused tumult, rising and falling with the wind. Inside, Denshe listened for a moment, and having settled this urgent matter, felt a slight sense of calm. “Lu Qianshiyi reports the Koryo men are camped twenty li outside the city. No news from the western pass; whether it has fallen is uncertain.”

Luo Guoqi, uneasy, said, “I am willing to lead my unit to the pass…” The troops guarding the pass were his men; if the pass was lost, his head would not be safe. So, before Denshe could ask, he volunteered.

Denshe shook his head. “The enemy hides, we are exposed; without accurate intelligence, we must not act rashly. I have sent scouts to the western pass. Luo General, station your unit at the western gate. No matter what, do not attack without orders.”

Luo Guoqi’s heart chilled, understanding Denshe’s meaning: if there were enemies at the western pass, Twin Cities faced danger from both sides.

On the road from Fengzhou, during the night of defending the camp, though dangerous, defeat meant there was a way to escape; but if Twin Cities could not be held, the north seemed open for retreat, yet for routed troops, the perilous roads and relentless enemy pursuit, with armies encircling Shanxi cities along the way, made surviving to return to Liaodong nearly impossible.

He replied, “As you command!” and exited.

Denshe looked at the remaining officers, selecting He Guangxiu: “General He, your unit just took the island, with no time for rest. I must trouble you further. Order: immediately defend the eastern gate.”

The main, western, and northern gates might all see enemy action. With formidable foes at the borders, Denshe could not trust the Koryo camp’s loyalty, hence assigned them to the east gate. He summoned Zuo Che’er, commanding him to lead a Han regiment to assist and monitor, secretly instructing him not to allow the Koryo men to operate critical equipment.

Both men took their orders and left.

In the wind came the faint sound of galloping hooves; the teacups on the table quivered. There was no time to analyze the enemy’s movements. Denshe swept his cloak, saying, “Officers, follow me to the walls to observe the cavalry’s charge.”

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He had to seize every moment to gauge the enemy’s combat strength.

The walls were crowded with soldiers; torchlight revealed anxious faces everywhere. Facing battle, it was not the enemy’s ferocity that frightened, but the uncertainty and sudden assault that most shook morale. Denshe kept a calm exterior, his mind racing—how could he steady the troops?

He climbed the half-built tower and looked out. He could see little, only faint glimmers. The city gate stood open, iron cavalry surging forth. Lu Qianshiyi led, over a thousand cavalry charging from the city.

Denshe wished to lead this first engagement himself, but not only would the officers certainly block him, his wounds forbade him from fighting at the front. He stepped forward, gripping the battlement, hoping Lu Qianshiyi would fulfill his trust, and even more, that Li Monk would seize the chance to break through.

He did not expect Lu Qianshiyi to break the enemy in one charge. All he needed was accurate intelligence on the enemy’s strength.

The Koryo men had lain in ambush east of the river for an unknown time, evading scouts and seizing the perfect opportunity: splitting Denshe’s forces, striking as night winds rose, crossing the river to divide and encircle. Their commanders’ vision and patience were extraordinary, their tactical command evident. Against such a formidable foe, hoping for a quick victory was unrealistic.

The wind grew stronger.

Behind Denshe, Wen Huaguo and Zhao Guo exchanged glances, both recalling a similar great battle years ago.

Years before, the bloody battle at the Funiu Mountains. Under Chaghan Temur, Generals Guan Bao and Hulin Chi, with Deputy Chen Ming, led a suicide squad to raid the camp at night. In Iron Cavalry Valley of Luzhou, Master Guan’s forces suffered a staggering defeat, tens of thousands routed. That night, blood flowed like rivers; that night, half the old brothers of the horse-bandits fell.

Denshe did not need to look; he knew what the two were thinking. He too recalled that battle, and suddenly, he laughed aloud, his laughter echoing far. Officers and soldiers, startled, turned their gazes.

Denshe drew his saber, pointing outside the walls. “The Koryo men come fiercely, but their commander lacks cunning.” Before the officers could question him, he asked first, “Tell me—why attempt a long-range raid?”

“To catch the enemy unprepared, to kill in the chaos.”

“Exactly, a basic military principle. Yet the Koryo men, despite favorable time and terrain, hesitate instead of attacking, camp twenty li away, giving me time to prepare. The advantage of surprise is lost. I have strong walls, brave generals, elite troops, ample supplies, sharp weapons, and Dingzhou to coordinate with. With two fronts, why fear the enemy will not be broken?”

Denshe deduced the Koryo men likely sought to defeat each city in turn, but the soldiers could not see this. He boldly twisted the facts, casting the enemy’s tactics as cowardice. Wen and Zhao admired his quick wit; glancing around, they saw the soldiers’ morale rising.

With morale restored, watching the cavalry charge from the city felt completely different. Numbers grew, and the soldiers atop the walls spontaneously struck their weapons, shouting, “Cut the bamboo, mend the bamboo! Throw earth, pursue the enemy!” to cheer the cavalry. Their voices converged, overwhelming the wind, roaring like dragons, then scattered by the gale, echoing across the city and shaking rooftops.

“Throw earth, pursue the enemy!” Lu Qianshiyi led the cavalry along the walls, brandishing his blade and shouting in response. Suddenly, they wheeled, breaking into the wind and night, charging toward the enemy’s camp.

“Fire the cannons, cheer them on!” Denshe seized the moment. Three cannon blasts rang out, transforming the soldiers’ shouts into the battle cries of infantry about to kill: “Awaiwai!” The calls continued without pause.

Denshe was strict in rewards and punishments; those who fought with their lives always had a chance to rise. Through successive battles, many brave and capable soldiers were promoted; some soared, repeatedly advancing to command hundred-men or deputy thousand-men units. Just months ago, all had been mere refugees—none could help but envy them. Once fear and panic were dispelled, the desire for military merit prevailed.

The scouts sent out finally returned. The pass had fallen. “From afar, I saw flags everywhere.”

“Has the enemy emerged from the mountains?”

“No. The pass is ablaze, the enemy is digging trenches and fortifying the camp.”

Denshe pondered, ordering the cavalry to investigate again, determined to ascertain their numbers.

“The Koryo men on both the southern and western fronts are encamped, not coming out. Those bastards want to shut the gates and beat the dog.” Wen Huaguo, though rough, was seasoned in war, gave his assessment, “I am willing to lead a force to retake the pass.”

Denshe’s thoughts raced; Wen Huaguo’s analysis made sense. Flags everywhere, but with defensive camps, the enemy at the pass might be feigning strength, with fewer actual troops. Yet, it could also be a deception, baiting Twin Cities’ forces out for attack. The pass was treacherous; surrounding battle would require less effort than assaulting the city. He rejected Wen Huaguo’s request, ordering, “Luo Guoqi is to strictly defend the western gate; no one leaves the city without orders.”

To Wen Huaguo, he said, “The night is dark, the wind fierce, suspicion everywhere. We must not send our main force out lightly. The northern gate is yours, General.”

Wen Huaguo accepted and departed.

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A single raindrop fell on Denshe’s shoulder. The droplet splashed, hitting his cheek. Black clouds pressed low; thunder rumbled. After a brief pause, dense rain fell in sheets, as though poured from a basin. The wind swept the rain, drenching everyone to the bone. In the blink of an eye, heaven and earth blurred.

Torches were extinguished by the rain, plunging the wall into sudden darkness. Denshe quickly raised his eyes to see, and in the distant enemy camp, the scattered lights vanished as well. The cavalry, once visible, disappeared entirely into the blackness.

As officers shouted orders, soldiers responded, those assigned wind-resistant lanterns lighting them one by one. Yet in the wind and rain, the light was feeble, flickering as if ready to die at any moment. Rain tarps were pulled over the cannons to keep them dry. A soldier stationed at the battlement with a wolf-tooth club slipped, nearly falling from the wall.

The rain was overwhelming.

In moments, the tower was layered deep with water. Along the drainage channels, water poured down, making the wall look like it bore a curtain of tiny waterfalls. The wind chilled to the bone. Zhao Guo found a cloak and draped it over Denshe, worried. “The rain is sudden—who knows if General Lu’s cavalry will encounter trouble?”

Denshe replied slowly, “Heavy rain hinders cavalry, but the enemy is equally blind. The rain has just begun, the roads aren’t slippery yet. If they go fast and return fast, there should be little trouble.” He paused. “The wild wind and rain may help General Li break through.”

No sooner had he finished than a bolt of lightning split the rainy night—mountains and fields flashed and vanished. The enemy’s torches extinguished, their position unseen, only Lu Qianshiyi’s cavalry was visible at the edge of sight.

Denshe suddenly thought of something. He turned to Zhao Guo, “Where is General Huang?” Since gathering the officers, Huang Donkey had not appeared. He had seldom met with the officers these past days; for a moment, Denshe had forgotten him.

“I haven’t seen him. If you wish, I’ll go look.”

Denshe considered and shook his head. Huang Donkey’s presence made little difference; since he bore resentment, let him be. It was a minor matter. Through the curtain of rain, Denshe gazed into the distance again. Despite the downpour, the cavalry could scout and return within two or three hours at their speed.

Denshe calculated: “Ignore the enemy at the pass for now. As long as we can determine the exact strength of the enemy before us, we can plan our next moves.”

The rain poured as if from the sky itself; even the cloak could not shield it. Wind fueled the rain, slashing across faces, seeping through armor seams, soaking clothes until the cold was unbearable. Soldiers running atop the walls slipped and fell, splashing water. Those behind had no time to help, stepping around and continuing to race through wind and rain, deploying defensive gear.

Luo Guoqi, He Guangxiu, and Wen Huaguo reported in succession: troops and equipment were in place. The soldiers were divided—some braved the rain to guard the city, others rested in tents, temporary shelters, or commandeered houses near the walls. The supply camp delivered cloaks, brewed ginger soup in buckets to prevent illness and maintain fighting strength.

Weapons and horses clattered through the night until dawn crept in the east.

Lu Qianshiyi returned. The enemy, relying on hastily built fortifications, remained within, refusing to sortie. The cavalry had charged twice, finding no gap.

“And General Li?”

“He stole enemy armor for disguise. Together with Li Zifan, he slipped through in the wind and rain.”

“The Koryo men’s exact numbers?”

“Twice I charged, each at a different spot. From what I saw, the enemy in the fortifications still numbers around five thousand.”

Having asked about the enemy’s strength, Denshe inquired about their commanders. “When you withdrew, did the enemy pursue?”

“I made a show of retreat, waving false flags, as if routed. But the enemy did not pursue.”

Wind, rain, darkness, muddy roads—the enemy’s refusal to chase, feigning ignorance of opportunity, marked them as a clever commander.

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