Han Ji

Thick smoke billowed into a wall behind the pass. The firelight turned the mountainside crimson. Ashes drifted down from the sky, landing on the city walls, on the shoulders and helmets of the defenders. Some reached out to brush the ash off their shoulders, but after a couple of pats, their hands began to tremble.

Gao Gan stood on the arrow tower. He looked at Liu Bei's infantry pressing up from the east wall, and then at the grain and fodder granaries behind the pass that had been burned to ashes.

How many people were there after the lockdown?

Guo Fu said he didn't know.

"Take men and drive them back. The supplies have already been burned, but we can't lose the area behind the pass. If we lose it, we'll be trapped in the middle."

Guo Fu dispatched three hundred men from the city wall to run towards the rear of the pass. These three hundred men ran sparsely, their formation long and thin. Some looked back at the city wall as they ran, while others paused at the bend to check the thickness of the smoke behind the pass.

After closing the gates, Zhao Yun had already secured the section from the depression to the foot of the mountain. His five hundred men were divided into two teams: one guarding the exit of the depression, and the other guarding the narrow passage at the foot of the mountain.

"The high-ranking officials' reinforcements are arriving soon. Hold the line. Hold until the city is breached from the front."

Qian Zhao's special forces battalion was scattered among the surrounding piles of rocks. People were hiding in the crevices of the rocks, crossbows were strung, and arrows were pointed at the road coming from the direction of the city gate. The road was not wide, with burning grain silos on one side and a steep slope on the other, allowing only three to five people to walk side by side.

When Guo Fu led three hundred men over, the first thing they saw wasn't the enemy army, but the burnt-out frames of the grain storage. The wooden frames had collapsed, and the charred beams lay on the ground, still smoking. The grain had been burned to charcoal, piled up black on the ground, and when the wind blew, the ash flew up and hit their faces.

Where are they?

Before the words were even finished, crossbow bolts shot out from the cracks in the rocks. The first volley felled three or five men in front. Guo Fu's personal guard was struck in the neck by an arrow; blood gushed from beside the arrow shaft, and he stumbled forward, his knife flying a considerable distance.

Guo Fu, lying behind a rock, called for the shield bearers to come forward. Before the shield bearers could even raise their shields, a second volley of crossbow bolts arrived. The bolts were accurate, scattered, one here, one there, not dense, but each bolt felled someone. The men who were drawing the bow were in no hurry; the crossbows were slow to cock, so they fired one bolt and then retreated into the cracks in the rocks, popping out again after reloading.

Guo Fu's soldiers began to panic. Some hid behind their shields, too afraid to move, while others tried to go around the steep slope, but slipped and tumbled down halfway up. The loose stones on the slope were trampled and rolled down, splashing sparks into the charred grain piles.

"Charge! There aren't many of them!" Guo Fu stood up and brandished his knife.

He led the charge forward. A few dozen men followed sparsely behind him. The swordsmen and shieldmen huddled behind their shields, their feet stomping and thumping on the charcoal ash. After moving a dozen or so steps, they began to engage Zhao Yun's men in close combat.

Knife against knife. Knife against shield. Someone was slashed in the leg and fell to the ground, then used the knife to slash at the other person's ankle. Someone smashed a shield into a person's face, the edge of the shield hitting the bridge of the nose, breaking the nose and causing blood to spurt out.

Zhao Yun didn't guard the exit of the depression. He led several dozen men to circle around to the flank of Guo Fu's group. There was a low embankment on the flank; once they crossed it, they could outflank Guo Fu from the rear. Zhao Yun was the first to climb over the embankment; without even drawing his sword, he used the scabbard to smash one of them down.

By the time Guo Fu heard the commotion on his flank, it was too late. Zhao Yun had scattered the men on his flank, and several soldiers threw down their swords and rolled down the slope. Only a dozen or so old soldiers remained around Guo Fu, desperately holding off the enemy.

Qian Zhao stood up from behind the rock. He pulled back the crossbow bolt and aimed at Guo Fu's shoulder. The bolt flew and embedded itself in Guo Fu's right shoulder socket. Guo Fu dropped his knife. He didn't fall, but clutched his right shoulder with his left hand, blood gushing from between his fingers. His guards dragged him back, running into the city gate.

Guo Fu, clutching his shoulder, was carried up to the arrow tower by his personal guards. Gao Gan's expression darkened further when he saw the arrow shaft still trembling in Guo Fu's shoulder. The shaft was black, and the fletching was clumped together with blood.

How many people were there after the lockdown?

"Not much. But it's blocking the narrow passage. We can't get through." Guo Fu spoke through gritted teeth, his lips deathly pale. "All the grain and fodder were burned. There's not a single grain left in the depression."

The high-ranking official remained silent. He stood atop the watchtower, looking towards the area behind the pass. The thick smoke hadn't dissipated; in fact, the column of smoke had grown even thicker. Flames behind the pass were burning uphill from the low-lying area, igniting the dry thatch and shrubs with a single lick of the flames.

The soldiers on the city wall saw it too. Someone shouted, "The grain is gone!" and Gao Gan heard it. Gao Gan turned around, walked to the section of the city wall where the shout had come from, drew his sword, and held it to the shouter's neck. The man collapsed to his knees, his trousers soaked.

"Even if we run out of grain, we still have the city." The high-ranking official's sword pressed against the man's carotid artery. "As long as the city stands, we'll live. Anyone who tries to demoralize my troops will suffer the consequences."

The sword was pulled back, and blood spurted from the neck, splattering onto the blue bricks of the crenellations. Gao Gan wiped the sword on the dead man's clothes, then looked up and glanced at the guards on the city wall. No one dared to utter another sound.

But fear cannot be completely suppressed by killing. Drawing a knife can shut someone's mouth, but it can't stop them from calculating in their hearts: food is gone, reinforcements haven't arrived, the rear is blocked, and the front is still under fierce attack. How many more days can this city hold out? The defenders all know the answer, only a thin veil remains unbroken. Some soldiers' grips on their knives loosen and tighten, the blades gleaming on the crenellations.

Behind the pass, Zhao Yun heard a change in the drumbeats from the front. The heavy drums beat slowly and deeply, each strike like the knocking on a city gate. The drumming paused for a moment, then erupted in battle shouts. The shouts were a massive chorus of thousands, shaking the mountainside and sending rocks tumbling down with a deafening roar.

He knew that the all-out offensive had begun.

"Push them into the city," Zhao Yun said.

His men pushed from the depression's exit toward the city gate. They encountered a few scattered garrison soldiers along the way, but were scattered. There were also rubble blocking the back side of the city gate, but not as thickly as the front. The city's garrison focused all their efforts on the frontal defense, and the rubble blocking the back gate was not carefully piled up, leaving large gaps through which light could be seen from outside the east gate.

"Move the pile of stones away."

Swordsmen and shieldmen stepped forward to move the stones. One stone at a time, they passed them out through the archway. When they were halfway through, someone on the city wall shot arrows down. The arrows struck the stone wall of the archway, sending sparks flying. Shieldmen raised their shields to protect the stone movers, the arrows striking the shields with a thud.

Front. After seeing the signal arrow sent by Zilong, Zhang Fei unleashed all his siege equipment at once. Ladders, battering rams, catapults—the catapults hurled stones from behind the lines, the stones arcing through the air as they struck the city walls, shattering every brick they hit, sending debris flying. One stone struck a crossbow behind the crenellations, shattering it and snapping the string, which sprang back and struck a crossbowman in the face, leaving a bloody gash.

The car was still crashing into the city gate. The pile of rubble had been smashed open, creating a hole large enough for two people to walk side by side. Through the hole, the guards inside the city gate could be seen desperately trying to block the stones; the two groups could see each other's faces through the hole.

The guards inside used spears to stab out of the hole, while the soldiers pushing the battering ram used knives to cut the spear shafts. The spear shafts broke, the white ends exposed, and splinters pierced the hands of the soldiers stabbing the spears.

The ladder was set up again. This time, Zhang Fei personally led the assault team up. He was the first to climb, stepping on the rungs, holding the ladder in one hand and a knife in the other. An arrow hit the crenellation next to him, and brick fragments grazed his face, cutting a gash. He didn't wipe it off and continued climbing.

As he climbed to the top of the battlements, a guard slashed at him with a knife. He parried with his knife and used the momentum to flip over onto the top. When he landed, his foot landed on a corpse, he slipped, and fell to one knee.

The defender slashed again, and he parried with one hand, raising his sword to block. With the other hand, he drew a short knife from his waist and stabbed it into the enemy's stomach. The short knife twisted inside the stomach before being pulled out, pulling out a section of intestine along with it.

"Come on up!"

One by one, the assault team members scaled the crenellations. Zhang Fei led his team to tear a gap in the city wall and then pushed it to both sides. They pushed a dozen steps to the left before being blocked by the defenders, and pushed seven or eight steps to the right before being blocked again. The two sides were locked in a tug-of-war on the city wall, and blood splattered on every brick.

Soon it would be time for them to arrive at the city gate. Behind the gate, Zhao Yun's men cleared away the rubble. The bolts were removed, and the city gate slammed open with a dull thud. Zhao Yun led his men into the city from behind the gate, engaging the defenders in street fighting.

Under attack from both sides, the defenders' lines began to crumble. Not in one place, but in several places simultaneously. The men on the city walls were forced to retreat under pressure.

Those at the city gate were caught in a pincer movement with no way to retreat. The alleys inside the city were narrow, and the defending troops were scattered, fighting in small groups on their own, and were quickly divided and surrounded.

The high-ranking official, witnessing this scene from the watchtower, fell silent. After a moment of silence, he removed his helmet and placed it on the table. The red tassel on the helmet was stuck together with blood.

"Walk."

"Which way?" Guo Fu asked, clutching his shoulder.

"West. In the mountains. Once I'm inside the mountains, they won't be able to find me."

Gao Gan, accompanied by several dozen personal guards, slipped out through a small, still-open gate in the west of the city. Outside the gate was a dry riverbed, the pebbles crunching underfoot. Gao Gan removed his armor and threw it into the riverbed. Wearing only cloth, he burrowed into a ravine, which grew narrower and darker as he went deeper.

When Zhao Yun's men reached the riverbed, they only found the armor that Gao Gan had thrown down. The armor was still warm from his body and covered in dust.

"Chase."

As the sun rose directly overhead, Huguan fell. The defending troops either surrendered or died. The captured soldiers squatted at the foot of the city wall, their hands covering their heads, with their weapons piled up beside them.

When Zhang Fei came down from the city wall, he was covered in blood, it was hard to tell if it was someone else's or his own. He walked around among the surrendered soldiers but didn't see Gao Gan, he walked around again, but still didn't see him.

"They ran away?"

Zhao Yun walked over and said they fled from the west and entered a ravine. Zhang Fei cursed, slammed his sword into the ground, the tip sinking about half a foot into the soil.

When Liu Bei entered the city, the fire in Huguan had already been extinguished. The ashes from the burned grain and fodder were blown everywhere by the wind. There were corpses in the streets—some from the defending soldiers, and some from his own men. Army doctors were bandaging the wounded in the streets; when they ran out of white cloth, they tore off pieces of the dead's robes to continue wrapping them.

Liu Bei stood atop the city tower of Huguan. The black flag on the tower, embroidered with the name of Gao Gan, was still in effect and riddled with arrow holes.

"Qian Zhao, lead men to search the mountains. Find the high-ranking official."

"I want to see him alive or dead."