Chapter 28: The Exhilaration of Vindication

Standing atop the city gate, Yang Xi gazed out and saw a towering blaze erupting some five or six miles from Tongguan. His taut nerves eased a little—he knew the rebels had surely been ambushed. As expected, Li Fude commanded an elite force, achieving successive ambush victories.

At first, Yang Xi had considered leading the troops himself to set up the ambush, confident that his understanding and expertise in special operations would allow him to prepare a flawless trap—one that would reveal no trace to the rebels even up close. This was, after all, his specialty. Yet such actions did not suit his current status, and these soldiers were not the seasoned, specially trained men he had personally drilled in his previous life. They would not fully grasp his intent.

After much deliberation, he ultimately entrusted the task to Li Fude.

The three thousand soldiers under Li Fude and Liu Guangting had rushed with great speed from Chang’an to Tongguan, yet few fell behind or showed signs of exhaustion, maintaining their formation even after the long run. From this alone, Yang Xi could tell this was indeed a force that deserved to be called elite—their military discipline was commendable, and they would surely perform impressively in battle. That was why he had entrusted the critical task of laying an ambush to Li Fude’s command.

Yang Xi was not disappointed. Li Fude had brought him a pleasant surprise.

By now, it was almost midday. The sun blazed overhead, bearing down with oppressive heat. Yet the inferno raging in the distant valley somehow made the air feel even hotter. Still, despite the searing flames in the distance, a sense of comfort came with the sight.

On the city walls, the fourth shift of soldiers had just taken over. Many gazed upon the distant fire with inexplicable dread, for only yesterday they had suffered a devastating attack by the rebels’ flames, a tragedy marked by heavy casualties. The commanders, and even Geshu Han himself, would never forget the inferno that swept through the pass the day before.

But today’s fire brought them a sense of vindication and pride.

The agonized screams of men and horses rising from the flames proved that many rebel soldiers were now caught in the firestorm.

“An eye for an eye”—today’s fire was retribution for yesterday’s disaster. Though the revenge was not strictly proportional, at least some blow had been dealt to the enemy. The successful ambush filled the officers on the ramparts with a thrill that words could scarcely describe.

Yang Xi, who had not experienced yesterday’s crushing defeat, did not harbor the same fear of fire as the other commanders. The ceaseless screams from afar gave him a sense of achievement, a grim satisfaction born of slaughtering the enemy. He knew it was cruel—those men dying or maimed in the flames had, half a year before, all been soldiers of Great Tang as well. But now, they stood as enemies. Unless they surrendered, death was all that awaited them.

On the battlefield, there could be no room for pity—otherwise, it would be oneself who perished, or the fate of the nation that was lost.

It was precisely because he understood the merciless nature of war that Yang Xi did not shrink from the enemy’s screams; he would even have delivered another fatal blow if he could. Any advantage for his own side was a welcome sight. He watched, unblinking, as the two forces clashed amid the flames—indeed, it was his first time witnessing hand-to-hand combat in the age of cold steel. Though some distance away, he could make out the scene well enough.

Li Fude was already leading his troops in a fierce assault against the several hundred rebel soldiers trapped by the fire on the Tongguan side of the gorge.

From what Yang Xi could discern, his own side had won a decisive victory.

The rebels, cut off from retreat by the blaze, were being overwhelmed by Li Fude and his deputy, Wang Yaguang. The battle was entirely one-sided.

With the fire severing the rebels’ escape, there was no longer any need for concealment. Both Han Tongguan and Sui Tongguan, where Yang Xi stood, beat their war drums with all their might, cheering on their soldiers.

Though the sun beat down mercilessly, the shirtless drummers pounded away with enthusiasm, sending thunderous drumbeats echoing for miles, mingling with the shouts and cries of battle, reverberating and amplifying in the mountain valleys.

Li Fude and his men’s morale was at its peak. With two successful ambushes behind them, and no need to fear rebel reinforcements, they focused all their efforts on wiping out the rebels trapped by the fire. Their fighting spirit soared as they swept into the wider part of the valley outside the gorge, launching a decisive assault on the rebel vanguard.

The difference in morale between the two sides was stark, and the outcome was already clear.

Even in numbers, Li Fude and Wang Yaguang held the advantage: the rebel vanguard numbered just over eight hundred cavalry, while the Tang troops encircling them from two directions counted about fifteen hundred—nearly twice as many. Moreover, the rebels, their retreat blocked and their spirit broken, surrendered after only brief resistance, once a portion of their number had fallen.

These rebel soldiers, too, had once served the Great Tang—only to follow An Lushan in his uprising.

Having lost the advantage, surrender was the only course left. More than a hundred were killed or wounded, but the rest became prisoners.

At this point, having observed the general course of the battle, Yang Xi sent urgent orders for Li Fude and Wang Yaguang to withdraw their forces into Han Tongguan, to join Pang Zhong in its defense.

Pang Zhong, from the walls of Han Tongguan, had witnessed Li Fude achieve two brilliant ambush victories in the space of a few hours, gaining splendid results at minimal cost. He could not help but feel deep admiration. As Li Fude’s triumphant troops marched back with their prisoners, Pang Zhong opened the eastern gate early to welcome them in and expressed his respect with a salute.

Pang Zhong found himself regretting that he had not volunteered to lead the ambush when Yang Xi assigned the task—otherwise, the glory now showered on Li Fude would have been his. The defeat at Lingbao was largely Geshu Han’s responsibility, but the subordinate generals shared the blame as well. If he could have claimed a swift victory, not only would it have served as atonement, but it would have eased his own conscience and lifted his spirits.

Nevertheless, the successive victories won by Li Fude’s troops greatly boosted morale. Just yesterday, Pang Zhong’s men had suffered defeat; now, their spirits were revived, the gloom on their faces nearly dispelled, and their fighting resolve much restored.

Had Li Fude’s force faltered earlier, Pang Zhong would likely have led his men swiftly to their rescue.

Once Li Fude’s troops entered the city, he immediately sent a battle report to Yang Xi and Geshu Han at Sui Tongguan.

Upon receiving the detailed report, Yang Xi promptly ordered it to be sent to Chang’an at the fastest possible speed—six hundred miles in urgent relay.

Such a report would surely put Emperor Li Longji’s mind at ease far more than any message of “all is well.”