Jinting Han people

Even after nightfall, the people of Luoyang still found it hard to sleep. They gathered on the outskirts of the city, gazing at the battlefield at Xilei.

This was certainly not because of the drums in the western suburbs. Although the drums had been beating for four days without stopping, and could be clearly heard throughout Luoyang, to these people of Luoyang, the drumbeats seemed to echo from beyond the heavens; their eyes were fixed only on the western fortress. Even when the figures in the fighting appeared as small as ants, they still strained their eyes, trying to discern their loved ones and praying for their victory and safe return.

The battle at Xilei was unprecedentedly fierce, and the people watched with rapt attention. They cheered for the Imperial Guards' advance and lamented their setbacks, as if they were in Xilei, not in Luoyang.

Unaware that an unknown cavalry force was quietly approaching from behind in the vast darkness, they were completely oblivious to what was happening behind them.

The group numbered approximately three thousand. They carried no torches, wore light armor painted black, and each led a horse, its mouths gagged with cloth strips to prevent any low neighing. They walked westward along the winding, frozen Luo River. As they walked, the swords at their waists clinked softly against their armor, and the ice beneath their feet creaked and crunched, but these sounds were drowned out by the distant drumbeats.

Logically speaking, these people would have encountered many houses along the way, and under normal circumstances, they would probably have been noticed by others. However, due to the fierce battle at Xilei, these hundreds of thousands of people had gathered on the west side of Luoyang, and the eastern suburbs had almost become a ghost town. Naturally, no one paid attention to the indistinguishable dark figure on the Luo River.

This allowed the group of knights to quietly approach a place two miles east of Luoyang.

Upon reaching this distance, some of the people in the southern suburbs realized something was amiss. They first felt a faint tremor on the ground, which quickly disappeared. Just as they were wondering what was going on, the tremor suddenly reappeared, growing stronger and closer. It wasn't until ferocious faces emerged from the darkness, the sound of horses' hooves shattered the campfires on either side, and then gleaming red-hot blades were revealed, that they realized with horror that a ghostly cavalry force had appeared behind them.

On their backs fluttered white tiger banners. The divine beast that was supposed to guard the country was now baring its fangs and claws, revealing its blood-red maw, while its black eyes were coated with a bewitching red light in the firelight, making it look like a soul-stealing demon!
These Western Army knights, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, were after the hundreds of thousands of people on the outskirts of the city!
They trampled through the crowd without restraint, indiscriminately slaughtering everyone from unborn children to frail old men and beautiful young women—all were mere blades. Against these unarmed civilians, the Westerners were like tigers among sheep, rampaging at will and encountering no resistance. Their incursion was so swift that when they reached the southern market, the inhabitants of the city walls were completely unaware of what was happening.

Because of its proximity to the Imperial Academy, Nanshi had many paper mills, and Zhang Fang had already scouted their locations during his last trip to Luoyang. The Westerners, having traveled a long way, arrived very quickly. They took torches from the existing campfires and set them ablaze at the paper mills. The paper and bark from the papermaking trees howled upwards like a whirlwind. A single spark landed on one of these, and a fiery serpent coiled upwards, eventually burning through the buildings and soaring into the sky, transforming into a dazzling pillar of light.

It was only at this time that news of the Western Army's surprise attack on Luoyang became known.

The fire spread rapidly, from one paper mill to another, even reaching the Imperial Academy. Like an insatiable monster, the fire devoured books and idols, buildings and schools, bamboo groves and pavilions. In the end, amidst the endless flames, only the Xiping Stone Classics in the center of the square remained.

Over a century ago, the New Text School and the Old Text School reconciled here, hoping to carve words on the stone so that the world could see morality and truth. Years later, the fire scorched these inscriptions, and people watched as Luoyang fell into ruins. And over a century later, the same stone scriptures, the same firelight, seem to have changed nothing.

Soon, the entire southern suburbs of Luoyang were engulfed in flames, becoming a sea of ​​fire that shocked everyone on the battlefield.

The fire that broke out last year after Zu Ti burned down the Grand Marshal's residence was confined to Luoyang city, destroying nearly a quarter of the city's houses and affecting over 20,000 people. Everyone who witnessed the scene called Luoyang a living hell. And now?
Compared to the buildings within Luoyang city, the residential areas and markets outside the city were more than one or two times denser! Nearly 90% of Luoyang's residents lived outside the city, and the vast area occupied by those neighborhoods could easily have created six or seven more Luoyang cities! But now, everything is ablaze. Luoyang city seems to be undergoing an unprecedented fire bath, melting the ice and snow, darkening the sky and earth, and causing all living beings to cry out in agony.

Liu Xianyuan stared at this scene in utter disbelief. He gripped the reins tightly, his mind filled with only one thought: How dare Zhang Fang? How dare he!
Witnessing such a sea of ​​fire, even the war drums that had been beating for four days ceased, and a brief silence fell over the scene. The drummers on the high platform stared blankly at Luoyang City, as did the officials, soldiers, and laborers on the platform… their minds were equally blank; they were as if their roots had been severed, and they were all speechless. Countless bewildered faces looked back at Luoyang, as if it wasn't Luoyang that was burning, but themselves.

But the silence soon ended, not because the people on the battlefield resumed fighting, but because of the cries of the suburban people being driven away by the Western Army knights. These helpless lambs, amidst the fire and swords, had no choice but to be driven away to avoid being slaughtered.

But these people were too crowded, too densely packed. Three or four hundred thousand people crammed into one place—where could they possibly escape to? The Western Army cavalry merely pressed westward slightly, and they spontaneously rushed towards the western fortress. The cries of children brought tears to mothers' eyes, and the despair of death bred pointless sorrow. So those behind pushed those in front, and those in front pushed those even further ahead, and a continuous stream of people fled. Panic is an incurable plague, and its power is most terrifying when there are many people involved. Even though the source of this plague was only three thousand or so cavalrymen, the people of Luoyang were already terminally ill.

It's over! Everything is over! Many members of the Imperial Guard, witnessing all of this unfold, had the same thought in their minds. The exhaustion from days of fierce fighting erupted at this moment, and they instantly lost all motivation to continue fighting.

Meanwhile, the soldiers in the western fortress were overjoyed. They knew the Western Expeditionary Army had won. These Imperial Guards had lost their homes; what could they possibly fight them with? Without the officers' urging, the Westerners rallied their spirits and launched a counterattack from the city walls. The seemingly invincible Imperial Guards were routed like clay chickens and earthen dogs in a single charge. They successfully recaptured the inner fortress and continued their outward counterattack.

From a strategic perspective, all the Western armies launched counter-offensives. From the south, north, and east, they fought their way out from several directions, like mountain mists constantly stirring up waves in the sea of ​​people.

Liu Xian had originally intended to lead the Songzi Camp to continue the decisive battle against the Tiger Army, but the current situation had completely rendered that impossible. The opposing wolf cavalry even revealed a mocking smile before abandoning them and openly turning eastward. Clearly, they intended to use this opportunity to inflict more casualties and completely crush the Imperial Guards; wasting time with Liu Xian here was unwise.

Now, the only option left for Liu Xian to choose from is how to escape.

But where could they escape to? Liu Xian wasn't on the edge of the main army, but rather in the middle of various forces. To the west were the troops of Sima Yue, the Prince of Donghai; to the east, the troops of Sima Yang, the Prince of Xiyang; and to the north, the enemy army was advancing fiercely from the western camp. To run would mean trampling over the corpses of his own men. Moreover, Suo Jing and other former Western troops were scattered all around, not yet regrouped. How could they possibly escape like this? Liu Xian quickly made a decision: he had to gather his troops first. If he didn't, and were swept up by the defeated soldiers, he wouldn't be able to escape. He immediately ordered Li Sheng and others, "Form ranks on the spot, raise my banner, and send out your troops to rally the other forces to my side!"

The Songzi camp immediately dismounted and formed a circular formation, sending cavalry to notify the scattered units of the righteous army.

But everything was in complete chaos. The Westerners, who had come from afar with no ties to them, saw the Imperial Guards on the verge of total defeat and immediately lost all will to fight. They disregarded their formation and the main force, spurring their horses and weapons westward. Flags and armor were scattered everywhere, and they paid no heed to Liu Xian's calls. Many spare horses broke free of their reins and began galloping wildly along the riverbank, raising clouds of dust in their wake.

In the end, only Guo Song and his troops from Hedong, sent by Li Ju, obeyed and regrouped. Guo Song tried his best to maintain order, but he could only gather half of the cavalry. As soon as Guo Song entered the formation, he ran over to Liu Xian and said, "Marshal, we can't stay here any longer. Let's go! We're heading north to Mangshan!"

As he said this, the refugees driven from the outskirts of Luoyang were already mingling with the soldiers and laborers stationed along the imperial guards' perimeter. The crowd had begun to surge towards Liu Xian, filled with cries and screams, and the sight of flesh and blood being indiscriminately slaughtered. Liu Xian knew there was no other way, and he could only nod and say, "Alright, let's go."

Then they remounted and headed west through the crowd. But it was no easy task; the battlefield was in complete chaos, with friend and foe intertwined. It seemed impossible for Liu Xian to maintain order and avoid being swept along.

Because the Western soldiers were bloodthirsty, they slaughtered anyone in their path, carving bloody trails. Driven by this frenzy, the refugees became the Western army's most formidable weapon, forming raging waves that relentlessly ravaged Liu Xian's formation. To maintain his order, Liu Xian was even forced to hack and slash at the charging refugees, compelling them to clear a path.

But he was now nothing more than a fallen leaf in the sea of ​​people, utterly incapable of withstanding these waves. Moreover, the departing Tiger Division soldiers turned back. They had already seized the opportunity to cut through the crowd, launching barrages at Liu Xian's rear, occasionally engaging in close combat, attempting to keep them there. Under this offensive, the Songzi Camp could only take the beating, unable to retaliate.

After two attempts by the Tiger Division, the Songzi camp's formation showed signs of collapse. At this point, there was no time to worry about anything else; if they continued to retreat at this pace, everyone might die. Therefore, Liu Xian ordered, "Disperse and leave! Each of you must rely on your own abilities. We'll meet again at Heyin!"

As Liu Xian spoke these words, his heart was bleeding. In over a decade of fighting, he had never issued such an order! He understood all too well the cruelty of this command. On the battlefield, formation was life itself. Issuing such an order was undoubtedly a complete surrender, a choice to resign oneself to fate. And in such situations, fate's judgment was rarely kind.

But he had no way to turn the tide. Survival was everything; Liu Xian had to find a way to stay alive. If he didn't swallow this humiliation, he would lose everything because of his dignity.

After the military order was relayed, the cavalry broke into smaller units and split up to break through to the west. Liu Xian was left with only a few dozen riders, including Li Sheng, Guo Mo, Mao Bao, and Meng Tao. However, without the constraints of formation, their speed more than doubled. They whipped their mounts wildly, and almost none of Sima Yang's troops in front could escape them. The pursuing Tiger Army behind them also lost their target, and in just a quarter of an hour, they broke through the encirclement.

But Liu Xian did not leave immediately. Considering his remaining troops who had not yet charged out, and wanting to tie down some of the enemy forces, he halted his horse briefly. Then, he drew his Zhangwu sword from his waist and shouted to the Western Army cavalry behind him, "I am Liu Xian of Zhuojun! Do you dare to fight?!"

Upon hearing that Liu Xian was there, over a thousand soldiers of the Western Army on the outer perimeter gradually relaxed their guard and turned to pursue Liu Xian, hoping to seize the opportunity for wealth and power. However, they inevitably discovered that even with only a few dozen men remaining, this group was still extremely formidable.

Liu Xian first relied on his familiarity with the terrain to lead his troops in circles through the surrounding hills. Once the Western Army's ranks were stretched out, Liu Xian would seize the opportunity to counterattack if anyone overextended. Everyone was furious at the inexplicable defeat, and now they could finally vent their anger. Mao Bao, on horseback, drew his bow and fired arrows with unerring accuracy; Guo Mo, wielding two long spears, struck anyone who got close, and was equally unmatched. Liu Xian, unusually, personally charged into battle, killing more than a dozen men with his own hands.

The knights who broke through the encirclement scattered all around. Many of them fled in the same direction as Liu Xian. Seeing that Liu Xian was still fighting them, they took the initiative to move closer to him. In this way, he gradually gathered more than a thousand men.

But this was no longer of any use. After leaving behind a hundred or so corpses, the Westerners saw that more and more Imperial Guard knights were approaching. Although they were unwilling, they thought that they could still gain some credit in the east, so they simply withdrew and continued to clean up the battlefield around the western fortress.

Liu Xian dared not linger there for too long. After holding them off for more than an hour, he heard the sounds of battle in the distance gradually subside. Fearing that Zhang Fang's main force would pursue them, he led his remaining thousand or so men toward Heyin. Along the way, various deserters sparsely joined them. These included not only his former troops but also defeated soldiers under Sima Yang, Gou Xi, and others.

Halfway there, they were too exhausted to go any further. Covered in blood, hungry and thirsty, their near-death experience had left them utterly drained, and their warhorses were also exhausted. They wanted to rest, but could find no place to land, so they forced themselves to keep going.

Finally, when passing by the Jingu Canal, Liu Xian suddenly remembered that he had converted Jingu Garden into a fortified village and housed more than a thousand refugees and 20,000 bushels of grain there, which could solve the immediate crisis.

So he took a slight detour and knocked on the door of Jingu Garden to identify himself. When the refugees learned that it was Liu Xian who had come, they quickly welcomed him in, and the group was finally able to have a full meal.

But what should they do next? This was a question Liu Xian had to face, a question concerning the life and death of hundreds of thousands of people. (End of Chapter)