Chapter 20: Entering the City

After passing Fenyang and heading north, one enters the grazing lands of the Southern Xiongnu.

On the vast open plains, occasional glimpses of foreign herders driving sheep and horses evoke a tranquil scene.

Perhaps they were unaware of the new Governor of Bingzhou taking office in Jinyang, or perhaps they knew but simply did not care.

Chen Cong relied on his “tongue” to navigate all along, and thus managed not to lose his way.

After traveling two more days along the riverside near Nanshui, they finally came upon the royal court of the Southern Xiongnu.

It was not much different from the Han cities.

The four gates of Meiji were wide open, and those riding in and out on horseback were all barbarians. Those driven under the whip like cattle and sheep were the Han inhabitants of this land.

The Southern Xiongnu were a faction of the Xiongnu who, after the tribal split, migrated southward and actively assimilated into Han culture.

Due to military defeats, they moved south to the northern part of Bingzhou, accepting Han imperial rule.

Emperor Guangwu hoped that these riders of the grasslands could guard the northern borders of the great Han.

In fact, they did make outstanding contributions to the stability of the northern frontier.

However, as the Han dynasty waned, these grassland wolves no longer satisfied themselves with subordinate status and began to openly rebel.

During the Huan and Ling periods, the northern ends of Bingzhou—the Yunzhong and Wuyuan commanderies—gradually fell into the hands of the Xiongnu and other tribes.

By the late reign of Emperor Ling, five commanderies of Bingzhou—Dingxiang, Yunzhong, Wuyuan, Shuofang, and Shang—had fallen under the iron hooves of the Wuhuan, Xiongnu, Xianbei, and Qiang peoples.

Chen Cong cast a distant glance, then pulled back his horse three li and rested overnight in the dense river valley forest.

The next day,

At the first ray of dawn piercing the sky, the cavalry finished an early meal, fed their warhorses full, and slowly emerged from the deep woods.

Perhaps the Xiongnu had grown too accustomed to comfort.

Until the hundred riders came within three hundred paces of Meiji’s walls, the city below went about its business as usual; some even cast curious glances and waved their riding whips from afar, shouting greetings in languages Chen Cong could not understand.

Xu Huang reined in his horse. “General, how shall we attack?”

Chen Cong sneered, “What more is there to say? Form a column like a long snake, spacing five steps front and back.”

Then, he took off his iron-bound bow from his back, spurred his horse forward, and shouted, “All troops, follow my charge! Kill anyone who blocks our way!”

The Flying Bear Iron Cavalry swiftly followed, each drawing their powerful bows, galloping forward with urgency.

At last,

The Xiongnu warriors guarding the city walls were the first to sense something amiss. The armored cavalry in the distance were certainly not Xiongnu—they were elite Han riders!

Alas, he realized this too late. Raising his long horn halfway to blow, a flying arrow suddenly pierced his throat, spraying a plume of red mist.

As the body toppled heavily from the city wall to the ground below, the people finally realized the enemy had struck.

Unlike the Han custom of closing city gates immediately upon attack, the Xiongnu defenders, seeing that the invaders numbered only a few hundred, did not shut the gates. Instead, they mounted tall horses, brandished their curved sabers, and shouted battle cries as they charged.

“Hahaha! These Han men must wish to die! So few and yet daring to storm the Xiongnu royal court! Kill them all!”

“Ho!~”

“Ho!~”

The riders in and out of the city showed no panic. They turned their horses, drew their waist knives, and howled as they joined the ranks.

The heads of Han soldiers were always the most prized trophies—tokens exchanged for horses, wealth, and women.

Though times had changed and the Xiongnu no longer wielded the terror of old, their ingrained pride clearly told them they were still the bravest warriors under the heavens, masters of the saddle.

Two hundred steps, one hundred steps, fifty steps.

Chen Cong, riding at the front, aimed his powerful bow for a long time, but not a single unlucky soldier approached the city gate to attempt to push it open. He suddenly rejoiced.

This saved them the hardest step—the capture of the gate.

In Chen Cong’s original plan, relying on the advantage of archery and the swiftness of Jueying, once the gate was taken, they could rush inside and wreak havoc.

Since the Xiongnu were so considerate, no need for ambushes then. He flipped his iron-bound bow back over his shoulder, took up the Flying Tiger Halberd, and fiercely struck at the fastest charging Xiongnu horsemen.

With a ‘bang’,

Jueying whistled past, leaving a trail of shredded flesh.

The bloodied scent in the air fully ignited the ferocity of the Flying Bear warriors. Without waiting for Chen Cong’s orders, they either loosed arrows or, when close, raised crossbows to fire shadowy bolts.

The horsebound warriors only knew to brandish steel sabers, shouting wildly, only to be met by the peerless fury of the Flying Tiger Halberds.

One moment, a tribal leader, laughing arrogantly and mocking Chen Cong’s recklessness,

The next moment, he saw the drifting white clouds above as his splendid head flew over ten yards before rolling to the ground. The following trampling hooves erased the last glimmer of his existence.

As battle raged fiercely,

Chen Cong wielded the halberd as if it were a sword, spear, axe, or battle-axe, killing enemies at will with every flourish.

Perhaps the Xiongnu had never heard of Chen Wudi’s illustrious name,

But seeing was believing, and they were soon terrified.

With each sweep of the long halberd, man and horse were split in two, red and white spilling across the ground.

The Flying Bear warriors who followed need not be mentioned.

Protected by the mightiest heroes at their vanguard, they were the deadly ghosts lurking behind the shadows, ruthlessly reaping humble lives.

By the time the Xiongnu realized their mistake and tried to close the gates, Jueying’s strong figure had already reached the foot of the city wall.

...

“Great Chanyu, bad news!”

After a long silence, Ufuro, clutching a leg of lamb in the royal court, rose in anger and slapped the messenger across the face. “Can’t you see I’m entertaining guests? What are you yelling about?”

“Great Chanyu... Great Chanyu, the Han army—the elite Han cavalry—have surged into the city,” the messenger wailed, collapsing to the floor in tears.

To this earnest Han man, fleeing the battlefield was a shameful act, a betrayal of honor.

“What?!” Ufuro’s face turned pale.

He glanced around; seeing that the wise kings on either side were looking at him, he forced himself calm and asked quietly, “How many Han troops?”

The messenger swallowed hard, trembling as he raised a finger. “Nearly a hundred cavalry.”

Ufuro suddenly felt his mind go blank.

Nearly a hundred cavalry?

Attacking the Xiongnu royal court?

Even scaring the messenger into tears?!

“Fools! Do I need to teach you? Rally the city’s warriors and kill them all!”

The messenger shook his head through tears. “It’s too late, Great Chanyu. They charged too fast; the city warriors cannot stop them. In moments, they will reach the royal court. Great Chanyu, you’d better flee first.”