Chapter Fifteen: Treacherous Lands and Mountains (Part Two)
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News of the fall of Shiling Pass reached Taiyuan, and Tong Guan immediately intensified efforts to transport treasures.
In front of a lavish mansion, Zhang Xiaochun stood with dozens of civil and military officials blocking the way.
The Taiyuan prefect’s official hat was askew, his emotions running high: “Lord Tong! You are the Pacification Commissioner and Military Secretary overseeing Hedong and Hebei, fully commanding the military forces of these two regions. Now, heading south, without unified command, Hedong is surely lost!”
His voice was hoarse. “Taiyuan’s terrain is strategic and its soldiers and civilians are fierce—if only...”
The vermilion gates swung wide open. Tong Guan strode out in light civilian clothes, followed by his guards carrying a dozen heavy chests. This Pacification Commissioner, who led the Song border armies in these two routes, wore an expression full of impatience.
“Prefect Zhang,” Tong Guan’s sharp voice carried a chill, “I have been ordered to pacify, not to defend territory. If I must personally handle everything, then what use are local officials like you to the court?”
Suppressed gasps erupted from the crowd. A young military officer couldn’t help but shout, “But the Jin have breached Shiling Pass! Once you leave, morale...”
“Impertinent!” Yuwen Xuzhong beside Tong Guan interrupted sternly. “Military affairs are not for you to meddle in! Lord Tong is returning to the capital to report to His Majesty and request reinforcements!”
The words sounded impressive, but no one failed to notice Tong Guan’s trembling fingers and his frequent glances toward the south gate.
The chests did not contain military dispatches, but rather the rare treasures plundered from Hedong over the years, already sent out in multiple batches.
“Report—!”
A rider on a bloodied horse dashed into the street entrance. The scout was soaked in blood. “The Jin vanguard is sixty miles from the city!”
The gathered townsfolk instantly erupted.
An old man selling pancakes collapsed to the ground, muttering, “It’s over... I heard the Jin dogs will slaughter all the men after they take the city...”
Tong Guan’s face turned deathly pale. Forgetting all dignity, he hurriedly leapt into a prepared carriage. “Go! Leave immediately!”
His sharp voice came from behind the curtain, “Take the route through Luzhou back to the capital!”
As the convoy of luxury carriages, escorted by two hundred guards, charged out the south gate, someone was the first to throw rotten vegetable leaves.
In an instant, rotten eggs and stones rained down on the convoy like a storm. The crowd’s curses rang through the air:
“Castrated dog!”
“Acts high and mighty every day, but runs faster than a rabbit when the battle comes!”
“Eunuch thief! Only knows how to bleed us dry, now that the Jin come, you just want to run!”
“My son still serves in the Victorious Army! You wretch!”
Inside the carriage, Tong Guan tightly pulled the curtain and growled at Yuwen Xuzhong outside, “Faster! Hurry! Are these rabble planning a rebellion or what?”
The curses continued outside, spitting at the carriage, kneeling and kowtowing, begging Heaven to protect Taiyuan.
In the biting wind, someone began singing a folk song from the Sanjin region, its mournful tune tightening everyone’s hearts.
Within the Victorious Army’s camp, the atmosphere was deadlier than a graveyard.
Soldiers gathered in small groups, silently polishing their spears; more stared blankly into the campfire.
Suddenly, someone smashed a rice bowl, the shattering porcelain startling a few.
“Have you all heard?” sneered an old soldier with a scarred face, “Lord Tong ran away with the gold and silver, leaving us as meat shields for the Jin dogs!”
From a corner came muffled sobbing. A man curled up, clutching a wooden amulet inscribed with the characters for “Peace”—which he had just prayed for at the city temple that morning. “I don’t want to die. I still have parents to support. What will happen to them if I die? Boohoo...”
A man who never shed tears was now crying helplessly.
Footsteps echoed at the camp gate.
The soldiers looked up to see a line of ironclad guards entering in single file. At their head was a middle-aged commander clad in mountain-patterned armor, a heavy ringed sabre hanging at his waist.
Most surprising was a young man in his twenties, also fully armored, whose features bore a strong resemblance to the commander.
“It’s Commander Wang!” someone exclaimed. “He’s brought the young general!”
Wang Bing strode to the center of the parade ground by the fire, the flames casting sharp shadows on his chiseled face.
He removed his sabre and plunged it heavily into the ground, the clash of metal on stone invigorating all present. “Brothers! Tong Guan has fled, but Taiyuan still stands!”
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The old general tore open his armor to reveal an arrow scar along his left rib—wounds from the Fang La campaign. “I have fought alongside Tong Guan for ten years. He took his greed for riches, I hold fast to my land!
“Look at Taiyuan City: controlling Luoyang to the south and dominating Yunshuo (Datong and Shuozhou) to the north. If the Jin dogs take this place, they can march straight to Bianjing! Then your parents, wives, and children will all be slaves to the Jin!”
“I, Wang Bing,” he raised his sabre, the tip pointing to the sky, “take an oath today to live and die with Taiyuan! My son, Wang Xun, is here too, to live and die alongside me!”
More soldiers emerged from the barracks, quickly filling the parade ground.
Wang Bing’s son, Wang Xun, silently stepped beside his father, removing his sword and planting it alongside his father’s weapon. “The old general is right. The soldiers of the Victorious Army will die on the city walls if need be!”
His voice, though hoarse, stabbed into every heart like a red-hot awl.
“The Jin broke through Shiling Pass, but they will never break Taiyuan!” Wang Bing suddenly raised his voice. “Do you know why? Because here stand the fiercest sons of the Great Song! You!”
From a corner came a choked voice, “But... Lord Tong already fled...”
“What kind of lord is he?”
Wang Xun spoke, his clear voice filled with disdain, “Nothing but a eunuch without courage! The glory of the Victorious Army was carved out by your blades and spears, not rewarded by that filthy creature! He merely stole your achievements!”
His words were harsh, and the parade ground instantly fell silent.
“To hell with him!”
A burly commander stepped forward, slamming his iron mace into the ground. “Yang Keshi will fight to the death with the commander! My family has served the army for three generations—we’ve never seen a coward flee from battle! Today I say this: wherever my iron mace lies, there flies the flag of the Victorious Army!”
“Zhang Zhiyuan too!”
Another commander took down his divine arm bow, nocked an arrow, and broke a banner rope thirty paces away with a single shot. “One Jin soldier comes, one I’ll shoot!”
Like gunpowder ignited, the parade ground erupted in deafening roars.
Soldiers, eyes red, pounded their breastplates, some cutting their palms to smear blood on their battle flags. The man who had cried earlier stood, wiping tears fiercely and stuffing his peace amulet into his quiver.
Wang Bing took a deep breath and suddenly knelt on one knee, silencing everyone again.
“I, Wang, on behalf of the millions in Taiyuan and Bianjing, thank you all for your loyalty!” He clasped his fists tightly. “As long as we hold the Jin dogs for one more day, the court gains one more day to prepare. Taiyuan is a thorn in the throat of the Jin dogs!”
“Fight to the death!”
“Fight to the death!”
“Fight to the death!”
The waves of voices grew louder and louder, even the gathered townsfolk outside joined the cheers.
Wang Bing looked at the scene before him and raised his voice once more: “Yang Keshi!”
“At your command!” Yang Keshi stepped forward, slamming his iron mace on the ground. “I volunteer to lead the left flank brothers defending the north gate!”
“Zhang Zhiyuan!”
“At your command!” Zhang Zhiyuan straightened his back. “Right flank brothers, follow me to defend the east gate. My divine arm bow will keep the Jin dogs from reaching the walls!”
“Wang Xun!”
“At your command!” The young man’s voice rang clear. “I volunteer to lead the personal guard, defending the most perilous northwest corner tower!”
Wang Bing nodded, then glanced once more over the crowded camp. Their faces no longer bore despair; their eyes burned with light, like sparks in the snow. “Good!”
He turned sharply, his sabre pointing toward the city gate. “Follow me to the walls! Let the Jin dogs see the bones of the Great Song’s soldiers still remain!”
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The shouts shook the snow-covered camp. Soldiers surged with Wang Bing toward the city wall.
Yang Keshi’s iron mace gleamed coldly in the sunlight; Zhang Zhiyuan’s divine arm bow was already set; Wang Xun followed steadily behind his father.
An elderly white-haired woman trembled as she handed hot porridge to the soldiers guarding the gate. “Child, drink some warmth... Tomorrow this old woman will carry stones to the walls!”
By now, the city walls of Taiyuan were filled with townsfolk.
The wealthy could flee with cattle and horses, but they could not leave.
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Their homes were in Taiyuan; to leave would be to become lost souls.
White-haired elders brought door planks to barricade the walls; women cradled children and passed steaming ginger broth to soldiers; adolescent boys carried stones in repeated trips to the battlements.
Someone was chiseling words into the city bricks. Upon closer look, it read “I want to live,” carved deep and urgent.
As dusk fell, the last batch of scouts returned with worse news.
Wang Bing stood atop the north gate tower, gazing at the horizon where torches gradually formed a continuous line.
Those torches moved astonishingly fast, like countless crimson eyes closing in through the night.
“At most, half an hour,” Wang Bing said grimly. “Order heavy troops to defend the north gate. Wang Xun, you take three hundred archers nailed to the arrow tower.”
He clasped his fists to acknowledge the order. Before leaving, Wang Xun suddenly turned back. “Father, what of mother and sister...”
“They left this morning,” Wang Bing’s voice was hoarse. “They took the western mountain path.”
Wang Xun visibly relaxed, his youthful face illuminated by the torchlight breaking into a smile. “That’s good. I’m going!”
Watching his son’s receding figure, Wang Bing’s hand gripping his sabre veins bulged.
Below the city, townsfolk busily reinforced the gate with sandbags. Craftsmen hurriedly repaired armor.
From the north wind came a faint sound of horns, drifting from the northern skyline like wolves howling.
The city dwellers paused their work and looked northward.
On the distant horizon, a white dust cloud billowed, growing nearer and denser, like a torrent of steel rushing toward Taiyuan.
“They’re coming...” someone whispered, voice trembling.
Far off, the Jin torches revealed their formation—the Jurchens’ specialty “chisel formation,” with vanguard cavalry breaking through enemy lines first.
“Commander!” Yang Keshi came running, his iron mace stained with blood. “Captured three spies—they say Geng Shouzhong sent them to persuade surrender!”
Wang Bing sneered, “Off with their heads. Throw them back with the catapult.”
As three bloodied heads sailed through the night sky toward the Jin camp, the bells of Taiyuan tolled thunderously.
Wang Bing drew his sabre, the tip aimed at the ever-approaching sea of torches. “Brothers!”
His roar rose above the howling north wind, “Tonight, we make the Jin dogs remember—”
“The bones of Sanjin heroes are harder than their blades!”
Among the Jin below the city wall, Wanyan Yinchuke was cracking his horsewhip toward the tower, smiling crookedly at his deputy: “Tong Guan ran off. This city should be ours for the taking.”
Before the deputy could reply, a roar erupted from the city wall, shaking snowflakes from tree branches. The voices held no fear, only a burning iron heat!
“Hold Taiyuan to the death!”
“Live and die with the city!”
“Fight to the death!” Wang Xun’s clear voice broke the clouds like lightning.
“Fight to the death! Fight to the death! Fight to the death!”
The soldiers’ and townsfolk’s shouts mingled, drowning out the northern winds and the distant Jin horns.
The great “Song” banner on the battlements flapped fiercely in the cold wind, as if responding to this earth-shaking vow.
Yinchuke’s smile froze on his face.
On the city wall, Wang Bing stared fixedly at the leading Jin general: “We’ve been waiting for you!” His figure was like an iron gate welded to the bricks.
The snow fell heavier again, landing on the Victorious Army’s armor, melting swiftly like a fresh layer of blood.