Chapter Seventy-Seven: The Art of Deceptive Warfare

Qin Cheng rode far ahead, leaving a trail of dust behind him, with nearly a hundred of his personal guards following close. This time, Li Guang did not come along. With a general and a deputy in the army, both could not pursue a few dozen fleeing Xiongnu soldiers together.

Li Guang turned back to glance at the battlefield. In the setting sun, three to four hundred Xiongnu cavalry, all slain, and nearly fifty Han cavalry who had died in battle, lay quietly on the grassland. The once-green steppe was no longer visible, the grass soaked in blood now a deep, dark brown.

Fewer than fifty Han cavalry had fallen, and the wounded numbered under a hundred; most of the casualties were among the light cavalry. The Xiongnu archers still posed a real threat to these inexperienced riders. As expected, the first engagement ended in victory. Though the Han outnumbered the enemy and had the advantage of strategy, the new cavalry could not help but feel exhilarated, especially the light cavalry. Previously, they had fought as infantry, with little chance to see real battle, much less victory. Now, for the first time, they experienced the thrill of a complete triumph and were brimming with spirit. The heavy cavalry, though more seasoned, had also never before survived a Xiongnu arrow to the chest unscathed. Even though the losses were light, excitement was palpable among them.

Li Guang observed their reactions, then surveyed the battlefield once more before finally allowing himself a satisfied smile. Developing both light and heavy cavalry was unprecedented, a gamble for him. This initial small victory was enough to comfort him for all the hardships he had endured in silence.

Meanwhile, Qin Cheng led his nearly hundred strong guards in pursuit of the remaining four or five dozen Xiongnu cavalry. After the recent skirmish, the guards were invigorated but unsated—the battle had been too brief. Now, like shadows, they dogged the fleeing Xiongnu, each man giving his utmost.

Qin Cheng, seeing the direction in which the Xiongnu were fleeing, knew they were doomed. He ordered his men to sheathe their swords and ready their bows.

The Xiongnu were heading toward Yangzigou, likely hoping to join with the Xiongnu cavalry attacking there and thus escape pursuit. But now, this was nothing more than a death wish.

Thirty li from Xiaohuacheng toward Yangzigou, the light cavalry of the left wing, as Qin Cheng had arranged, waited in ambush. Originally meant to prevent the Xiongnu from Yangzigou sending reinforcements, they now served perfectly to block the fleeing enemy.

The fifty Xiongnu galloped west at full speed, pursued relentlessly by nearly a hundred Han cavalry. When the five hundred light cavalry of the left wing appeared in their path, the outcome was decided in a single sweep, like autumn wind scattering fallen leaves. The large net closed around them with unstoppable force; clouds scattered, and the sky darkened. Hundreds of iron arrows flew back and forth, blocking out the remnants of the setting sun. When fewer than ten Xiongnu remained, encircled and battered by a rain of arrows, their centurion, ignoring the iron arrow piercing his shoulder and the hundred and twenty-five horsemen charging toward him, summoned the last of his strength. Calling upon the Kunlun god, who had always stirred their blood, he raised his long blade without hesitation, leading his men in a final charge.

Qin Cheng and his guards had already reined in their horses, long blades dripping blood onto the grassland. They stood silently, watching the desperate Xiongnu make their last, doomed assault against the light cavalry. When the cries of valor turned to screams of death, they sheathed their swords in unison.

Not a single one of the fifty Xiongnu escaped; all perished there. The one hundred and twenty-five instructors from the left wing, whatever their intentions, had at least given the Xiongnu a death that preserved a soldier’s dignity.

“Withdraw!” Qin Cheng commanded.

Neither the hundred returning guards nor the five hundred light cavalry lingering on the field paid much attention to the small victory, and none noticed a solitary rider in the distance.

Night fell, and the flames of Xiaohuacheng became an unsettling beacon in the darkness. With the fire now raging unchecked, all that was left was to wait for it to burn itself out.

The two thousand five hundred cavalry had no intention of camping here. After meeting with the garrison commander, Shan Jia, Qin Cheng and Li Guang planned to head west under cover of darkness to launch a surprise attack on Yangzigou, a hundred li away.

Both Qin Cheng and Li Guang agreed—there, at Yangzigou, was the ideal camp for the entire force.

Their earlier caution regarding the unknown strength of the Xiongnu had not prevented them from seizing the opportunities presented on the battlefield. They advanced step by step, destroying the enemy through each engagement. What must come will come.

Shan Jia, upon learning of the planned attack on Yangzigou, volunteered to guide the army, relying on his knowledge of the terrain.

“Xiaohuacheng has just suffered a sudden disaster, and the flames have not yet died. You are needed here; let someone else lead the way,” Li Guang said, his expression grim as he looked upon the burning city, unmoved by their recent victory.

“General, I understand, but the Xiongnu have been so cruel, murdering our people and destroying our homes. How can we rest while they go unpunished? Every soldier here wishes to bare his chest and follow you into battle against those fiends! But as you said, Xiaohuacheng needs its defenders. That’s why I volunteered—not for glory, but to do my part for the army, to help bring down more of these Xiongnu!” Shan Jia’s face, contorted with rage in the firelight, spoke through gritted teeth, his voice charged with violence.

Li Guang regarded him for a moment. “Since you are so determined, I cannot refuse. Very well, you shall guide the army.”

“Thank you, General!” Shan Jia saluted deeply and mounted his horse with the others.

“Shan Jia is a fierce warrior, a man of uncommon skill,” Qin Cheng remarked to Li Guang as the army pressed westward.

The heavy cavalry, slower, took the rear. After regrouping with the left wing of the light cavalry, the whole force set off for Yangzigou. The heavy cavalry at the back would serve as support in case of trouble.

A dark, windy night—perfect for killing. They would not let the moon’s clear light go to waste.

Fifteen hundred light cavalry, under the stars and moon, embarked on their first independent campaign of the war. With their numbers alone, they could frighten the three or five hundred Xiongnu cavalry in the night into fleeing.

Yet, after nearly an hour’s ride, as they approached Yangzigou, silence reigned; a pin drop could be heard.

It was an ordinary village, with a dirt road of moderate size, a few leafless trees, and intact fields stretching beyond. In the moonlight, it was eerily strange.

“Yangzigou was attacked by Xiongnu cavalry this afternoon, yet there is not a trace left,” Li Guang said quietly, his hand on his sword.

“Shan Jia, your report,” Qin Cheng called out.

“General, Yangzigou did send up smoke signals this afternoon—we saw it clearly,” Shan Jia replied. “I even sent scouts to investigate, but they have not returned; their whereabouts are unknown.”

Li Guang eyed the village ahead. “There is something odd here. We must be cautious—there may be a trap.”

“Indeed,” Qin Cheng agreed, then gave orders to the messenger. “Relay to all units: stand ready on the spot. Tell Ma Dashan and the heavy cavalry to form up in a wedge and quicken their pace—should anything happen, no matter how small, light fires for warning!”

“Yes, sir!”

The messenger departed. Scouts returned to report: “No sign of Xiongnu within ten li. There are traces of cavalry outside Yangzigou—the local commander is on his way.”

Qin Cheng pondered for a moment. “Qin Qingzhi!”

“Here!”

“Take your guards and Shan Jia, scout again. If nothing is amiss, maintain a vigilant watch.”

“Yes, sir!”

With these arrangements made, Qin Cheng and the others waited in place, the troops remaining mounted and armed.

The north wind was bitterly cold.

After some time, the local commander of Yangzigou arrived and recounted the afternoon’s events, which only deepened the sense of mystery.

According to him, the Xiongnu had indeed attacked in the afternoon, but their assault was all bluster and little substance. They did not burn or pillage, merely surrounded Yangzigou for the afternoon before withdrawing at dusk.

At that moment, Liu Mu, long absent, rode up to Qin Cheng and whispered a report in his ear.

By the time Li Guang and the others had finished their questioning, Qin Qingzhi returned at a gallop, his report matching the earlier scouts.

“General, since things are as they are, shall we camp here for the night?” Qin Cheng asked Li Guang.

“That will do,” Li Guang replied.

“Relay the order: the light cavalry vanguard enters the town, the left and right wings camp outside!” Qin Cheng commanded.

From the start, he had not expected to catch the Xiongnu at Yangzigou. The enemy moved like the wind and would not wait to be attacked. So it had proved. Still, it was perplexing that the Xiongnu had surrounded the town all afternoon yet not attacked. Qin Cheng could not guess their purpose, only that their actions seemed increasingly unpredictable. This campaign, he feared, would not be easy. Under such circumstances, caution was paramount—do not lose composure, and plan as events unfold.

By contrast, Qin Cheng was more concerned for the third wing of heavy cavalry. But with many patrols scattered and the heavy cavalry made up of veterans, fully equipped, he expected no trouble.

He discussed the current situation and upcoming plans with Li Guang and the others for some time, reaching a rough consensus before leaving the central command tent.

The light cavalry rearguard was left to hold Laomayuan, serving as a reserve force and a fallback should the main force meet adversity. Laomayuan, connecting the northern steppe and the southern mountains, with its pass offering both attack and defense, was a vital stronghold.

As Qin Cheng made his way from the command tent to his own quarters, he saw Shan Jia sitting on the ground, lost in thought. Qin Cheng sat down beside him.

“Have you noticed anything?” Qin Cheng asked, glancing around.

“General Qin.” Shan Jia saluted and sat back down. “Nothing in particular, except that tonight the atmosphere feels unbearably oppressive.”

“That’s true,” Qin Cheng said, glancing up at the round moon, just then obscured by a cloud. “The Xiongnu’s actions defy all logic—no one can guess their next move.”

“Who knows which village they are harassing now,” Shan Jia sighed.

At that moment, the heavy cavalry reached Yangzigou. Ma Dashan reported no incidents along the way. Qin Cheng instructed him to camp outside the town and was about to retire when a realization struck him.

The heavy cavalry had not encountered any Xiongnu.

Nor had the scouts.

“Damn!”