Chapter One: The Sound of Hooves Echoes Through Chang'an

In 133 BC, the Western Han dynasty, which had long maintained amicable relations with the Xiongnu through marriage alliances, suddenly gathered an army of three hundred thousand around Mayi with the intent to lure the main forces of the Xiongnu into a meticulously prepared encirclement, aiming to annihilate them in a single stroke and eradicate the border troubles that had plagued the dynasty since its inception. This event would become known in history as the Siege of Mayi.

Though the siege ultimately failed due to the vigilance of the Xiongnu, it marked the beginning of a century-long war between the Western Han and their northern adversaries. From that point forward, under the leadership of Emperor Wu, Liu Che, the Han dynasty abandoned its policy of appeasement and embarked on a campaign of military confrontation with the Xiongnu.

By 131 BC, two years had passed since the Siege of Mayi.

It was autumn in Chang’an. The heavy, dense clouds in the eastern sky had not yet entirely dispersed, but the morning sun already pierced through their gaps. The red sun surged upward, dyeing the horizon crimson. Countless structures within Chang’an—whether magnificent towers and high walls or humble market dwellings—were outlined in simple, solemn silhouette by the morning glow. After a night of heavy rain, the city lay in profound tranquility.

The sharp clatter of horse hooves on the stone-paved street rang out without warning.

The sound multiplied in rapid succession—a lone rider dashed through the city, shattering the morning’s peace.

The courier, clad in a red-black armor, urged his steed onward, his legs drumming a swift but rhythmic cadence against the horse’s flanks as he raced toward the Weiyang Palace. Rain and sweat had soaked him through, their traces indistinguishable upon his body.

At last, horse and rider, both utterly spent, halted before the palace gates. The courier hastened to unfasten a bundle and handed a slender, rectangular box to a palace guard of the Imperial Gate Corps. The guard took the box, spun on his heel, and sprinted into the palace with urgent steps.

“Extreme emergency! Critical dispatch from the frontier!” he cried, raising the box high as he ran.

...

In the Hall of Proclamation.

Before an enormous map of the Han Empire stood a striking young man of upright bearing, his keen gaze fixed on the regions of Dai and Yuyang.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black imperial robes, a sword at his waist. His left hand rested on the hilt.

This was Liu Che.

“Before the autumn set in, I issued repeated orders to the governors and generals of the border commanderies, instructing them to guard against the Xiongnu’s customary autumn raids,” Liu Che’s resonant voice filled the hall, tinged with fury. He jabbed twice at Dai and Yuyang on the map, then turned to the two young ministers before him. “Yet these governors and generals took my warnings as empty words, and allowed the Xiongnu to breach our borders. Now, countless of our border people lie dead or wounded, millions are left homeless, and the loss of property and harvests cannot even be measured!”

“Such offenses are intolerable!”

His voice thundered at the last words, causing the heads of the two young men before him to bow even lower.

“Most infuriating,” he continued, “is that a key town on the Dai border was deceived by the Xiongnu—who are known only for their brute force—into opening its gates! Of what use is such a general to my Han?”

“Order the removal and investigation of the Dai commandery governor!” Liu Che commanded at last.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” answered a young civil official, his body trembling. He hurried away to draft the imperial edict, almost as if fleeing.

“Wei Qing!” Liu Che swept his imperial robe aside, seated himself on the throne, composed his mood, and summoned the young general standing respectfully in the hall. “Give me your assessment.”

Wei Qing, who had stood by in deference, understood that this was a test. After a brief reflection, he replied, “Your Majesty, the negligence of the governors in Dai and Yuyang is indeed a crime. However, the Xiongnu cavalry are notorious for their sudden appearances and swift retreats, while our border armies have too few mounted troops to meet them head-on. Our charioteers and infantry are no match for their speed. Moreover, the number of Xiongnu forces this year far exceeds those of previous years. Thus, it is not without reason that our border troops were unable to resist their attack.”

When he finished, Wei Qing glanced up at Liu Che, but seeing no change in the emperor’s expression, he lowered his head again. Liu Che had already shown him the urgent reports from the frontier, which allowed him to speak so knowledgeably.

“These are indeed the very issues we have long strived to resolve,” Liu Che said, voice now calmer but still weighty. He gestured toward Wei Qing. “Wei Qing, if you were in command, could you hold back this Xiongnu incursion?”

Wei Qing paused only a moment before replying with resolve, “As long as I live, the Xiongnu shall not set foot in Han territory!”

“Excellent! Such spirit!” At last, a smile flickered across Liu Che’s face.

“Your Majesty, the draft edict is ready.” The young official who had left earlier now returned, carrying the imperial order.

“Send it at once,” Liu Che waved his hand.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The youth bowed and turned to go.

“Wait, Han Yan,” Liu Che called after him. “Send another urgent edict to Li Guang, governor of Shanggu Commandery—eight hundred li in haste. Tell him to be vigilant against the Xiongnu and not to repeat the disaster of Dai and Yuyang! Shanggu lies between Dai and Yuyang—there is no reason it should be spared while its neighbors suffer.”

“Understood.” Han Yan went to prepare the order, though in his heart he sighed, uncertain whether it would arrive in time.

“How fare the training of the Feathered Forest Army?” Liu Che asked Wei Qing, looking at the young commander whom he had himself raised and in whom he placed so much hope for the defense against the Xiongnu.

“They are ready to march at any moment!” Wei Qing replied with unwavering confidence.

“Good!” The Emperor nodded in satisfaction.

...

Six days earlier, Shanggu Commandery.

A group of four riders, led by a powerfully built young man, sped along the official road. A recent rain had rendered the post road muddy, and their horses’ hooves sent up great clumps of earth as they galloped. Though armored as infantry and armed with long sabers, all four handled their mounts with practiced ease.

The lead rider’s expression was dark and stormy, seething with barely suppressed anger. His eyes were fixed ahead, as though he could devour the air before him. Who could blame him? Any squad leader whose man deserted would be hard-pressed to keep a pleasant face.

He still remembered General Li Guang’s words upon discovering one man missing from his squad during a camp inspection. Li Guang’s usually kind face turned grim in an instant, shadowed with anger and age. “A great battle is looming, and a soldier fails to return from leave—what kind of squad leader are you? Go find him! Bring him back for strict military discipline!”

At the thought, the young squad leader’s face grew even darker, his breath heavier.

His subordinates, noting his foul mood, kept silent.

“When I catch that wretch, I’ll skin him alive! Curse it, he went home on leave and turned deserter—what a disgrace!” The others said nothing, but the squad leader could no longer hold back. “And now I have to borrow a horse and chase all over to find him. I say we ought to just execute him on the spot, forget dragging him back for trial!”

The other three, relieved to hear their leader speak—even if only to curse—hastened to agree. Silence was always the most oppressive, for it left one wondering who might next be made the scapegoat.

“Truly, a disgrace to us all!”

“Every time I saw his craven face, I’d get angry. Now he’s a deserter—if only I’d disciplined him sooner!”

“That coward! Leave it to me, squad leader, I’ll teach him a lesson once we catch him!”

“Hmph!” The squad leader snorted, adjusting his helmet, jostled askew by the horse’s gallop. “He’s worthless! Leave is leave, but to overstay and not return—especially when General Li is inspecting the camp! He’s made me lose face, curse him, what misfortune!”

“Squad leader, though Xiao Chengzi overstayed his leave, we can’t call him a deserter before the truth is known,” the oldest, normally silent soldier finally said, his tone tinged with pity.

The others exchanged complicated glances at this.

“Nonsense!” The squad leader had clearly decided to see the culprit punished, for a deserter in his squad meant the end of his own military prospects. He turned on the old soldier with a snarl. “Wu Daliang, don’t dare lie to cover for him! Everyone knows the Xiongnu always raid in late autumn. To overstay leave now is pure cowardice—a deserter, no question! Did you not hear General Li’s own words today? Keep shielding him and you’ll be next in line for discipline!”

Wu Daliang, though angered by the rebuke, looked at the squad leader’s fierce countenance and, recalling the general’s words, suppressed any retort.

“Squad leader, look—that seems to be Qin Cheng, under that tree!” Suddenly, one of the soldiers pointed ahead, shouting.