Chapter Twenty-Eight: Chaos of Battle

The battle on Qin Cheng’s side raged on with relentless hardship, and the situation in the other directions was just as grim.

Behind the Xiongnu cavalry formation, the more than one thousand Han infantry who had charged out earlier, after enduring several volleys, finally faced the Xiongnu cavalry’s counterattack. Before the Xiongnu could close in, the Han soldiers, who had just barely emerged from the woods, immediately turned and withdrew back into the forest. Though the woods were only a turn away, even that short distance was enough for the Xiongnu archers to leave dozens of Han soldiers dead behind them. Those struck down by the Xiongnu arrows fell instantly, with no hope of making it back to the trees. The furious Xiongnu cavalry, unable to pursue into the forest, unleashed their wrath upon the fallen Han soldiers.

Those Han infantry who made it back into the forest did not forget to take advantage of the cover. They turned, nocked their arrows, and shot out at the Xiongnu cavalry beyond the trees. The Xiongnu, well aware that charging on foot into the woods would never catch these men who knew the forest so well, quickly abandoned the idea of a pursuit. At the command of their centurions, they reined in their horses, keeping a distance of an arrow’s flight from the edge of the woods. As soon as the Xiongnu approached, the Han would retreat into the trees; if the Xiongnu pulled back, the Han would burst forth again. Frustrated, the Xiongnu could only spread out in a line just out of bow range, arrows nocked, staring coldly at the treeline, determined not to allow the Han infantry another chance to charge out. Otherwise, they’d lose hundreds more men for nothing!

The Han infantry, with their earlier volleys, had inflicted heavy losses upon the Xiongnu, for the Xiongnu ranks were not widely spread out. The barrage had felled at least four or five hundred Xiongnu cavalry, and now, having managed to pin down a portion of their forces—combined with the earlier ambush in the woods—their accomplishments could truly be called extraordinary.

In contrast to this tense standoff, another scene was unfolding to the left rear of the Xiongnu formation, where the Han reinforcements had met Xiongnu cavalry sent to intercept them in a bloody clash.

The Han cavalry, galloping from the end of the postal road, barely had time to fan out onto the open ground before the city when several thousand Xiongnu cavalry surged forward and blocked their advance. Those Han cavalry who had already escaped the narrow road found themselves in close-quarters combat, fighting desperately to carve a bloody path forward. The Xiongnu cavalry, determined to prevent the Han reinforcements from getting through, formed up tightly and held the road’s mouth with grim resolve, giving the Han no opportunity to break through their ranks.

At the first contact, the leading elements of both sides smashed into each other at full speed. Horses’ heads collided with explosive force, warriors were hurled through the air by the impact, only to crash into enemy soldiers mid-flight. In these moments, clever fighters stabbed forward with their long blades as they were thrown, hoping luck would guide their weapons into the bodies of airborne foes.

If one drew a line of thirty or fifty paces, the cavalry on both sides would arrive at that line almost simultaneously, horse to horse, man to man, colliding with bone-shattering violence. As the first wave crashed together in chaos, the next wave immediately followed, repeating the carnage. By the third wave, the field was blocked by the growing heap of dead horses and men, making a direct charge impossible. The Han cavalry, desperate to break through, dismounted at their commander’s order, wielding long sabers and the few available spears to fight the Xiongnu on foot.

After a time, in the space of several dozen paces along that line, both sides’ soldiers found themselves fighting hand to hand, trampling the bodies of horses and men alike. Behind these embattled foot soldiers, their comrades continued to exchange volleys from horseback—countless iron-tipped arrows arcing overhead to plunge into the enemy ranks.

Men and horses tumbled, blood flowed in torrents.

At this point, the battle became a brutal stalemate.

Roughly three to four thousand Han cavalry had managed to arrive, but they were penned in on the open ground at the mouth of the road, unable to break free. The Xiongnu cavalry, meanwhile, felt the strain of facing an enemy twice their number, for in this kind of fight, their famed riding and archery skills could gain them no advantage.

The Xiongnu force sent to intercept them numbered only about two thousand. Now, facing Han cavalry twice their size, how could they not suffer losses? Earlier, the fifteen hundred Han infantry who had charged from the woods had already killed about a thousand Xiongnu, then pinned down nearly another thousand. Of the remaining Xiongnu, some clustered at the gates of Qiansang City, while others, together with the Left Wise King, battled the two hundred Han cavalry.

When the Han cavalry first burst from Qiansang’s gates, they were followed quickly by two hundred heavy infantry. As soon as the heavy infantry emerged, the two hundred light infantry began to withdraw back into the city. The heavy infantry, shields locked as a wall and spears bristling, formed a semicircle to withstand the charge led by the Xiongnu’s Right Bone General. Taking some casualties, but barely having left the gate, the heavy infantry managed to fight their way back inside. Meanwhile, the light infantry who had retreated first now took up positions behind the heavy infantry, launching volleys at the Xiongnu cavalry pressing on the gate, relieving the pressure.

Moreover, Qiansang’s east, west, and south gates quickly contributed two hundred and fifty more defenders, who arrived at the north gate just in time. Under Li Guang’s personal command, they used siege engines atop the walls to rain down iron arrows, stones, and wooden beams upon the charging Xiongnu cavalry—a veritable storm.

After the departure of the fifteen hundred infantry for the ambush, only a thousand soldiers remained to defend Qiansang. With the subsequent sortie of two hundred cavalry, two hundred light infantry, and two hundred heavy infantry, only four hundred men remained, scattered among the city’s other three gates. By rights, Li Guang should not have withdrawn these last four hundred from their posts—they were the final defense against any unforeseen assault. Yet now, with the crisis at the north gate, he had no choice but to send two hundred and fifty of them there, reasoning that the other gates were unlikely to be attacked at this moment, since all Xiongnu attention was focused on the north.

The Xiongnu’s Right Bone General, carrying out the Left Wise King’s orders, was determined to take the gate at any cost. He had not anticipated the desperate resistance of the two hundred heavy infantry, which cost him the best window of opportunity. Now, under triple assault from the Han, the cavalry nearest the gate were utterly annihilated, and those further away could not reach the gate in time. That brief moment was all the heavy infantry needed to slam the gates shut.

Outside, the ground was carpeted with corpses and rivers of blood.

Having closed the gates, the heavy infantry breathed a silent sigh of relief. The light infantry, however, had no time to rest. According to Li Guang’s orders, once the gate was secured, they were to return to the wall and prepare to assist the two hundred cavalry rescuing the Han prisoners.

Li Guang stood atop the battlements, his hands never idle. Just like any other defender, he loosed arrows at the Xiongnu cavalry who strayed into range below. By now, the number of Xiongnu who had fallen to his bow alone had reached double digits.

Even as he drew and released, Li Guang’s gaze shifted between shots, seeking out Qin Cheng and the others, still locked in bloody struggle in the field.

The Left Wise King, in placing the Han prisoners, had deliberately kept them far from the city gate, precisely to prevent the Han from easily rescuing them. It must be admitted, this tactic made Qin Cheng’s mission all the more difficult.

When Qin Cheng first charged out, he had not seen clearly who his opponent was. But once they clashed at close quarters, how could he fail to recognize the Left Wise King himself?

Once he realized whom he faced, Qin Cheng fought with even greater recklessness. Outclassed in horsemanship and his mount inferior, he adopted a style that gambled his life on every move. The Left Wise King, already wounded by an arrow, found himself gradually weakening under Qin Cheng’s ferocious attacks, though his superb riding still kept defeat at bay.

The hundred-plus Han cavalry with Qin Cheng formed a broad crescent, shielding nearly a hundred Han prisoners at their center, stubbornly resisting the Xiongnu onslaught. Their casualties mounted alarmingly, and it seemed they would soon be overwhelmed. At this critical moment, the small detachment charged with rescuing the prisoners finally managed to haul them all onto horseback—one or two prisoners per horse. The less-injured prisoners ran behind, sprinting after the cavalry, who then wheeled their mounts—not toward the gate, but straight for the city wall.

This, too, was Li Guang’s arrangement. He knew the gate would be blocked by Xiongnu cavalry, and even if it weren’t, for two hundred cavalry to retreat with wounded prisoners through the gate would mean dreadful losses or outright failure. He therefore ordered them to make for the nearest stretch of wall instead. Once there, the five hundred archers atop the wall could provide covering fire, making survival much more likely. If the Han could form a tight group, with cavalry guarding the perimeter and archers above, they could hold out for some time—long enough, perhaps, for the reinforcements to break through and reach them.

Nearly two hundred Han cavalry fought desperately to shield the wounded. In just a few exchanges, more than half fell, but the prisoners—knowing that hesitation would mean their own deaths and the doom of their rescuers—forced themselves onward. After a tense struggle, some thirty or fifty surviving cavalry managed to bring the prisoners within an arrow’s flight of the wall. At that moment, the five hundred archers atop the battlements unleashed their first volley at the pursuing Xiongnu.

Under a hail of arrows, Xiongnu cavalry and a few Han were struck down alike. Yet for the safety of the main force, this could not be helped.

As expected, with that volley, the pressure on the surviving Han cavalry lessened. They fought their way clear and managed to pull back with the wounded over a considerable distance.

The city wall was now within reach.

And then, the second volley from the Han archers atop the wall was loosed.