Chapter Twenty-Two: A Fierce Battle Upon the Liao River

Just as Li Wenyuan was arranging for ships to transport the intercepted mountain-sized armor to the far bank of the river, Yuan Gaesomun finally led his troops to the gates of Liaodong City. Yuan Taizuo’s bloodshot eyes at last revealed a hint of joy; outside the walls, banners bearing the Yuan character and the military flags of Goguryeo fluttered in the wind, while the Sui army that had camped below the city the night before was nowhere to be found.

Upon learning of the Sui army's sudden retreat from Liaodong, Yuan Gaesomun suspected it was a ruse—an enemy gambit—and dared not rashly advance. He was purely deterred by the memory of Li Wenyuan and Xue Ju’s previous raid on their camp. Only after scouts reported that not a single Sui soldier could be found within several miles did he muster the courage to lead his troops into the abandoned Sui encampment beneath the city walls.

Yuan Gaesomun sent word to his father at the city gates that the Sui army had fully withdrawn, while he personally inspected the camp. The more he saw, the more alarmed he became: the Sui camp was strewn with siege towers, giant crossbows, scaling ladders, battering rams, armor, weapons, grain reserves, and countless tents both used and unused. Even the tables overflowed with mountains of unprocessed military documents.

Supported by attendants, Yuan Taizuo arrived at the abandoned Sui camp outside Liaodong. Seeing his son, he hurried to raise him up, saying, “My son, you have truly not let your father down—bringing the entire nation’s forces to relieve Liaodong City! You are indeed a tiger among generals. When we return, I shall petition for you to receive the title of Moli-ji.”

Yuan Gaesomun thanked his father and then said, “Father, seeing so many supplies left scattered in the Sui camp, it’s clear they fled in disarray. This is the perfect moment to pursue and strike—they cannot be far, and surely we can seize victory.”

Although Yuan Gaesomun styled himself Grand Marshal, he remained respectful and obedient in his father’s presence, never daring to overstep his bounds. Yuan Taizuo sat in Yu Wen Shu’s command tent, gazing at the maps left behind on the desk, and spoke in a grave tone: “The Sui commander is renowned for cunning. Their losses below the city have been heavy; they may have intentionally feigned defeat, tempting us to pursue, only to annihilate us on the open field. We must not act rashly. Send a thousand cavalry to follow at a distance and observe their movements.”

Yuan Gaesomun was somewhat dissatisfied, but he could only comply with his father’s orders, directing his troops to haul every piece of Sui equipment from the abandoned camp into the great warehouse of Liaodong City.

Thousands of cavalry rode out from Liaodong City, searching toward the Liao River. From afar, they saw the Sui banners standing tall and their formations orderly by the riverbank; not daring to advance further, they returned to report to Yuan Taizuo. Yuan Taizuo nodded, leaving some soldiers behind to repair the city walls and dwellings, to compensate the civilians, and to hold solemn funerals for those who had died in battle.

A night passed in this manner. Li Wenyuan, meanwhile, was not idle—he constructed a simple fortification, assigned each unit its defensive sector, and kept a tight guard at the mouth of Dijin.

The next day, Yuan Taizuo awoke from a restful sleep, full of vigor, and listened to his subordinates’ reports within Liaodong City. The spies sent to Zhuojun had returned with news: the Emperor of the Sui had already crossed Zhuojun heading south with his Imperial Guard, and a flood of fleeing soldiers and laborers from Liaodong had poured into Zhuojun.

“So, the cavalry saw only an isolated force yesterday?” Yuan Taizuo sipped his tea and questioned his subordinates.

“Reporting to the Grand Duilu, our scouts have not heard of the Sui Emperor ordering troops to guard the crossing or receive the routed soldiers.”

“Good. Summon my son,” Yuan Taizuo’s eyes brightened as he spoke. The Sui army had trapped him in Liaodong City for over a month—he had eaten poorly and slept worse, suffering much. Now, with the Sui routed and surely lacking the will to resist, how could he let this heaven-sent opportunity slip by?

Soon, Yuan Gaesomun, fully armored, appeared before Yuan Taizuo and bowed deeply. “Father, you called me—do you have urgent matters to discuss?”

Yuan Taizuo looked at his son, proud and imposing, and felt greatly comforted. He said, “The scouts have confirmed the Sui army has indeed retreated. Today, you will lead one hundred thousand troops in pursuit. Take no prisoners; slay all you can, and ensure Goguryeo’s borders remain peaceful for twenty years.”

Yuan Gaesomun was overjoyed. Though he held some prestige at court, his reputation among the army was less than half that of the puppet Prince Yingyang. This was his moment to establish authority. He knelt on one knee, saluted, and received the command.

Yuan Gaesomun assembled his one hundred thousand soldiers and followed the path of the Sui retreat. Two hours later, they reached the banks of the Yalu, where they saw, from afar, the Sui encampments and countless routed soldiers scattered across the wilderness.

Li Wenyuan had no time to worry about the approaching Goguryeo forces. His headache was Yuan Gaesojin, who had hidden herself aboard a ship and followed him, insisting she must try again to persuade her brother to abandon thoughts of war and submit to the Central Plains.

At this moment, soldiers from the fort reported that Goguryeo troops had been spotted northwest of the camp. Seeing he could not rid himself of Yuan Gaesojin, Li Wenyuan took her up to the ramparts to observe the situation.

Meanwhile, Yuan Gaesomun could no longer restrain himself. Seeing the wilderness teeming with Sui fugitives, he ordered his cavalry to follow him in attack, specifically instructing his riders, “Leave none alive—not a single one.”

Over ten thousand cavalry broke from their ranks, forming up and charging into the wilds among the Sui soldiers. The routed Sui troops, having exhausted themselves to reach the Yalu, had neither the strength nor the courage to resist the Goguryeo cavalry. Some cried and scattered in all directions, others raised their hands above their heads and knelt in surrender, while still others stood frozen, lost and helpless.

Yuan Gaesojin watched from the ramparts as her brother led his troops in slaughtering the fleeing soldiers, struck speechless by horror. She covered her mouth with her hands, her wide eyes filled with disbelief. At that moment, Yuan Gaesomun, caught in a frenzy of killing, seemed to sense her presence. He stopped, saw his sister on the Sui ramparts accompanied by an officer, and led his troops toward the fort, raising his bow and shooting an arrow directly at them.

The distance was too close to dodge. Li Wenyuan cursed the beast for attacking even his own sister; gritting his teeth, he pulled Yuan Gaesojin into his arms and took the arrow with his left arm. Blood spurted, splashing across Yuan Gaesojin’s face.

Li Wenyuan paid no heed to her expression. He was a staunch chauvinist, and nothing enraged him more than seeing a woman bullied—especially when that woman was a sister. His face darkened, and with clenched teeth, he pulled the arrow from his left arm. Ignoring the blood that continued to flow, he issued his orders: “All troops, sortie! Rescue our brothers stranded in the wilds!”

The camp gates slowly opened. Zhang Juntao of the Second Unit charged ahead, leading his men into battle. Gone was his earlier scholarly demeanor; somehow he found the strength to pull a Goguryeo cavalryman from his horse and hack off his head in a single stroke, then mounted the horse and cut down two more enemy riders who came near.