Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Trap

None of the rebellious soldiers storming the city had anticipated such a situation. No one expected the Tang army to have destroyed a large section of the lower city’s stairways or to have doused them with oil, making them treacherously slippery. Hundreds of soldiers from various directions slipped and fell from the walls, either losing their lives or suffering serious injuries.

The thick fog blurred the soldiers’ vision; had it not been for the fog, perhaps things might have been better.

After hearing that the Tang army might have already fled and that there were no defenders left atop the walls, Li Qian and Cheng Wei both led their personal guards up to the ramparts. Upon discovering the truth, they erupted in furious curses. It was now painfully clear: the Tang army, having used straw dummies or wooden figures as a ruse, had withdrawn under the cover of night, leaving them an empty city. Before leaving, the Tang troops had sabotaged Hantong Pass, setting up various traps—piles of logs or stones stacked atop the battlements, which, when the rebels set up their scaling ladders, would roll down with the height’s momentum, causing hundreds of casualties.

The destruction and oil-slicking of the stairways and horse ramps by the Tang army caused even more deaths and injuries.

Li Qian and Cheng Wei, in command of the assault, were both beside themselves with rage.

To suffer such heavy losses in an empty city, with not a single living defender left to resist—how could one not be driven mad by such humiliation?

Yet this was no time to vent anger or hurl insults. Li Qian and Cheng Wei both knew the most important thing now was to open the gates of Tongguan, to allow the ever-arriving soldiers to pour into the city, cross through Hantong Pass, and launch their assault on Sui Tongguan beyond.

With the stairways and horse ramps ruined and slicked with oil, the two commanders immediately ordered soldiers to descend by ropes to the city’s base and open the gates from within. But neither Li Qian nor Cheng Wei realized that the Hantong Pass they assumed would be easily seized was riddled with traps, ready to cause them endless trouble as they prepared to enter.

The sun had now risen above the horizon, the fog thinned a little, and the soldiers below could see some distance ahead as they rushed toward the gate. Yet, as they hurried to open the gates, the air was soon pierced by scream after scream—some soldiers were gashed by blades set in the ground, others struck by hidden weapons or beams suspended overhead.

Many of these dangers were virtually invisible; the soldiers never even saw them until it was too late. As one of the core defensive strongholds of Tongguan, both Hantong and Sui Tongguan were certain to be riddled with traps—any unfamiliar entrant was liable to fall victim. These initial casualties were only the beginning.

Eventually, a handful of luckier soldiers managed to reach the gate tunnel, ready to force it open.

Inside the passage, they found heaps of dry straw piled up, with several large barrels beside them. The moment they saw this, the soldiers rushed forward to clear the straw away from the entrance, only to discover, to their surprise, that beneath the straw was a mass of packed earth.

To reach the gate and open it, these soldiers had to dig away the dirt. They quickly looked for tools and set to work in a frenzy. Fortunately, the commanders atop the wall soon lowered more soldiers by rope, and these reinforcements joined the effort to clear the earth. No one noticed that the barrels had begun to leak, their contents streaming into the scattered straw. The soldiers’ sole focus was to clear the soil from the gate, allowing their comrades outside to storm in.

Luckily, there were plenty of oil lamps and candles burning around the gate, for without their light, the work would have been even slower.

Several gate tunnels were cleared quickly, and soon, passage was possible. Soldiers surged into the tunnel, preparing to unlock the gates, while others continued to clear debris for easier access.

Li Gui, a captain under Cheng Wei, was a native of Fanyang. He had been conscripted by An Lushan in Fanyang. Brave in battle, with many military merits, he had been promoted to centurion and now, following his fellow townsman Cheng Wei from Luoyang to Tongguan, had risen again in rank. Originally a captain, Cheng Wei had also been promoted to mid-ranking officer. Both hoped for further glory and advancement.

Li Gui was a cautious man. When the other soldiers rushed to be first to open the gate, he held back, suspecting a trap.

Sure enough, the Tang soldiers had set up tricks on the ramparts, and many eager for merit met their deaths or suffered grave injury.

Now, though, everyone was convinced the Tang had abandoned the city, leaving only some last-minute sabotage. When Cheng Wei ordered soldiers to be lowered by ropes to open the gates for the main force, Li Gui, seeing an opportunity for glory, volunteered to lead his men to the eastern gate.

Cheng Wei, his fellow townsman, readily agreed.

Li Gui led several dozen men to the base of the wall. Encountering no resistance, he cleverly avoided a few minor traps. After directing his soldiers to clear the soil by the gate, he and several others finally reached the entrance.

“Brothers, let’s open the gate together!” Li Gui shouted to his comrades.

The tunnel was dark, lit only by a few flickering oil lamps and candles overhead. As Li Gui groped forward, he sensed water trickling nearby and noticed the ground was sticky beneath his feet. But there was no time to dwell on it—since the Tang had fled, and Hantong Pass was now empty, opening the gates and letting their comrades in would seal their victory.

At his command, a dozen soldiers rushed to the gate, heaving at the thick bar with all their might, ready to swing open the massive doors.

But just as they lifted the bar together, disaster struck—the towering, heavy gate toppled inward. Li Gui and his men had no time to react; they were crushed beneath its weight.

With a final agonized scream, Li Gui died on the spot, his internal organs crushed and forced out of his body. Until the moment of his death, he could not have imagined that, despite all his caution and his avoidance of reckless ambition, in the end he would still be killed in pursuit of military glory.

With the gate collapsed and the passage open, the main rebel force outside surged in, trampling over the fallen doors and those crushed beneath.

Pitiful Li Gui and his men, already mangled and eviscerated, were trampled into pulp by their comrades, their blood mixing into an indistinguishable mass.

Yet, neither the dead Li Gui nor the living soldiers could have foreseen what would happen next.