Chapter Seventeen: Midnight Raid on the Camp

Li Wenyuan shielded Yuan Gaisuzhen as they returned to the forest where Xue Ju’s troops were stationed. After he recounted the details to Xue Ju, the latter pondered for a moment before saying, “A carrier pigeon from the main camp has arrived—orders are for us to choose a day to launch an attack against the Goguryeo reinforcements, to slow their advance. The siege of Liaodong has reached its most critical stage; Yuan Taizu cannot hold out for many more days.”

Li Wenyuan nodded in agreement and spoke no further. He left his personal guards to watch over Yuan Gaisuzhen, donned his armor, and prepared to lead his men out. This time, Xue Ju did not wear his usual steel armor, but instead put on the golden helmet with red plume said to have been passed down from his father.

Fully armed, Xue Ju mounted his horse and addressed his cavalry: “Men, you will charge with me. As long as the golden helm stands, our lines will not falter! Let us see tonight whether the Goguryeo troops are fiercer than the nomads.”

Yuan Gaisuwen’s spirits were at their lowest today. In the morning, his own generals had pressed him to dispatch reinforcements to Liaodong. Of the more than a thousand scouts he sent out for safety, only a hundred or so returned, all reporting that Sui scouts had annihilated their comrades. The farthest group had glimpsed the situation at the city from afar: corpses were piled beneath the walls. Blood stained the city gates, the ramparts, and the ground below, but the banners of Goguryeo still flew atop the walls, and the large flag bearing the Yuan character hung from the gate tower.

This meant his father was still organizing the city’s defenders. The timing of his arrival was fortunate—if he led a charge, he might relieve the siege. But that was not what he truly desired. What excuse could he find to delay? While Yuan Gaisuwen was scheming how to stall further, Xue Ju had already decided to act.

That evening, Li Wenyuan led five hundred cavalrymen armed with incendiaries and charged into the completely unprepared rear camp. After breaking through the gates, they set fires everywhere. A northwesterly wind fanned the flames, and the blaze leapt from camp to camp, lighting the sky as bright as day. The rear camp was adjacent to the supply depot. The news startled Yuan Gaisuwen—he thought of the hundreds of thousands of bushels of grain and the vast stockpiles of weaponry and quickly ordered the soldiers in the central camp to open the gates and send aid. Fortunately, they were still by the Yalu River and water was close at hand. He then ordered the forward camp to send troops to guard all three camps and prevent a Sui surprise attack.

Li Wenyuan returned with his men as the central camp was fully engaged in fighting the fire. Seeing that their objective was achieved, Xue Ju waved his hand and five thousand cavalry split into five columns and charged toward the three Goguryeo camps.

At this moment, Yuan Gaisuwen remained in the central camp, his personal guard holding the main gates, while he directed the firefighting efforts from a high vantage. Suddenly, the watchtower trembled. Looking into the distance, he saw moonlight glinting off armor—the reflection from a mass of cavalry. Listening closely, he heard the great Sui banner snapping in the night wind.

He saw the cavalry making straight for the central camp and was seized with terror, shouting hoarsely, “Close the gates—quickly!”

As the gates shut just before the Sui cavalry arrived, a measure of relief washed over him. Suddenly recalling something, he hastily ordered the signalman to raise the flags, warning the outer troops to brace for a cavalry assault.

But before the signals were even finished, the enemy cavalry had reached the central camp, splitting in two: one group toward the forward camp, the other toward the rear and the firefighting soldiers. Xue Ju led the charge at the forward camp, carrying incendiaries. His spear swept aside several Goguryeo officers, tearing open a gap in their defenses, through which his cavalry poured.

They stormed the forward camp, hurling incendiaries onto the tents. The following riders seized torches from the stockades and set the kindling ablaze. Wherever the cavalry passed, fires broke out, halting any pursuit. When the incendiaries were spent, they broke out from the far side of the camp. The Goguryeo infantry, unable to match the cavalry’s speed, stayed behind to extinguish the flames.

Xue Ju quickly reformed his men and led them back the way they’d come—this time not with torches, but with gleaming sabers. On the battlefield, long spears were useful, but for a night raid, the short, sharp saber was far more practical. Wherever Xue Ju’s cavalry rode, the swiftest Goguryeo soldiers managed to dodge, suffering only a cut or two. The slower ones lost their heads, their corpses collapsing onto the burning tents, so that for a moment the torrent of blood smothered the very fires.

Meanwhile, Li Wenyuan and his men, having replenished their incendiaries, charged the rear camp. Unlike the forward camp, which was tasked with defense, the rear was filled with unarmed firefighters—most only gripped empty or water-filled buckets. They were no match for cavalry: Li Wenyuan’s men smashed through them, breaking bones and scattering bodies into bloody heaps.

Riding through the chaos, Li Wenyuan made straight for his true target: the supply depot. He and Xue Ju had discussed this earlier. Li Wenyuan would lead five hundred men to ignite the rear camp, for during the day, when accompanying Yuan Gaisuzhen to see Yuan Gaisuwen, he’d noticed how poorly defended it was—not even chevaux de frise guarded the approach.

Once the rear camp was ablaze, Yuan Gaisuwen would naturally fear for the nearby supplies and order men to save them, forcing the central camp to send soldiers in the ensuing confusion. Then, in a coordinated assault, Li Wenyuan and Xue Ju would lead two cavalry columns at the rear and forward camps.

Since the forward camp was unlikely to be redeployed, it was the harder target; Xue Ju would lead the attack there, set it aflame, shake off pursuit, and then return. The fact that the forward troops were busy fighting fires was an unexpected boon, allowing Xue Ju to slaughter at will, sending the defenders fleeing in all directions.

Li Wenyuan’s real objective was the supply depot. Breaking through several barricades, he and his men reached the stockpiles. Not caring whether it was grain or munitions, they tossed incendiaries onto every storage hut they saw and set them alight. They burned more than half the depot before the enemy managed to form a cordon. Before the encirclement closed, they escaped under the cover of night, circling back to rendezvous with Xue Ju in the small grove where their troops were hidden.

From the watchtower, Yuan Gaisuwen watched the two Sui cavalry columns make several bloody passes through the forward and rear camps before disappearing into the distance. His hands, gripping the railing, were white with strain, yet the corners of his lips curled in a faint, uncontrollable smile.