Chapter 80: Extinguishing the Fire (Part Three)

The small town of Xiaohua was reduced to ashes by the Huns; when the flames finally died down, nine out of ten houses lay destroyed. After a night of grief, the townsfolk, who had witnessed the desperate battle between the Han army and the Hun cavalry, had little tears left. Compared to the defenders, the civilian casualties were remarkably few—barely more than twenty in total.

In times of war, everything was handled with utmost simplicity. The fallen Han soldiers and townspeople were buried outside the town, and a detachment of soldiers, together with the civilians, began to tidy up the ruins, constructing temporary shelters. As for rebuilding the entire town, that would have to wait until the war was over and government support arrived.

Now, the three thousand cavalrymen stationed at Xiaohua had settled in, following the clear orders of Qin Cheng and Li Guang: hold Xiaohua, and send out scouts far and wide. Yet both commanders knew that, at this point, the scouts’ usefulness was limited. Even if they discovered Hun cavalry harassing nearby villages, unless conditions were especially favorable, the Han army would not rush into action.

Facing the unknown strength and movements of the four Hun cavalry groups, the Han army’s strategy was just as Qin Cheng had said to Liu Mu the day before: wait.

Were they waiting for the Huns to attack, for the right moment to strike, or something else? Apart from Qin Cheng, Li Guang, and a handful of others, no one knew.

With the main force camped at Xiaohua, other border towns and forts entered a defensive state; civilians and soldiers rarely ventured out, not even beyond the fort walls. Essential tending of the fields was only permitted after scouts rode out thirty or forty miles, confirmed there was no danger, and provided military protection.

But with the end of the year approaching, there was little left to do in the fields; come spring, the busy farming season would begin. Compared to the quiet New Year’s Eve forced upon them, most people worried whether the war would be over by then. Missing the spring season would mean a whole year lost.

This year, the northern wind was especially bitter, dry and abnormal, with no rain or snow at all.

Thanks to the support of the Shanggu cavalry, temporary shelters for Xiaohua’s people were quickly built, and everyone moved in.

The weather was cold and gloomy; the sky seemed pressed down by a vast, grey blanket, threatening to suffocate the already pale town.

Outside Xiaohua, urgent hoofbeats echoed along the roads leading in every direction as scouts returned, bringing the latest news of Hun cavalry movements.

Qin Cheng and six military captains of the light and heavy cavalry stood in Li Guang’s central tent, watching as the scouts arrived one by one. With each report, Li Guang’s face grew darker.

"Far-off villages like Changliang, Xiaohezi, Sandao; closer ones like Ertai and Shagou—all have suffered repeated Hun raids these past days! Those damned Hun barbarians—when they can’t find anyone, they burn houses, burn fields, commit every evil imaginable. Truly hateful, truly hateful!" Li Guang slammed his bamboo scroll on the table, nearly roaring, the twitch of his facial muscles making his beard tremble.

"Less than two thousand Hun barbarians, and yet they treat my three thousand Han soldiers as nothing, running rampant across our land. It infuriates me! Where do these devils get their confidence? Are they not afraid our iron army will charge into the desert, destroy their royal court, and burn their sacred city?!"

Li Guang raged behind the table, but the senior officers could only bow their heads in silence. Each of them had fought their way here through blood and battle; none truly feared these Hun cavalry. If any of the six captains were sent with their own men against a Hun unit, not one would refuse.

Yet now, all they could do was swallow their anger.

Li Guang and Qin Cheng had made it clear: the entire army must hold Xiaohua. Anyone who dared suggest marching out would be dealt with according to military law.

Just two days ago, Ma Dashan had questioned Qin Cheng’s orders and was punished with the rod.

That was why Li Guang’s fury was so great. In truth, his anger was not stirred by the Huns, but by his own frustration.

Because the Han army could not march out!

Attacking any one of the four Hun groups would be unwise; dividing the force even more so; leaving Xiaohua with the main army was out of the question.

Even if the main force did set out, there was no guarantee they could catch the Hun cavalry. Small groups of three to five hundred moved like shadows, impossible to track. And even if found, how could they be caught if they chose to flee?

So Li Guang kept waiting—waiting for the moment he and Qin Cheng deemed right.

The wait was agonizing.

Li Guang vented his frustration in the tent, but ultimately refrained from giving reckless orders. Though the waiting was torment, it was the best way to avoid unnecessary risk and loss.

As the officers left the tent, each wore a grim expression, Qin Cheng among them, deep in thought.

"General Ji, what now? Are we allowed to go to battle?" As soon as Ji Zhu left the tent, Li Gan grabbed him—he had been lurking outside, waiting. He had heard of the Huns’ raids on countless villages, both near and far. Now, setting aside his ambition for glory, Li Gan's only wish was to vent his anger, to teach the Hun cavalry a lesson, to stop their unchecked arrogance.

Ji Zhu shook his head, his face stern, and strode away.

Li Gan cursed, and just then caught sight of Qin Cheng emerging from the tent. He knew the policy of not fighting was Qin Cheng’s idea; indeed, it was common knowledge throughout the army. Seeing Qin Cheng, the “culprit,” emerge, Li Gan’s anger flared. He stepped forward, blocking Qin Cheng’s path, and demanded, “General Qin, why do we not engage the enemy? When will we go to battle?”

Li Gan had never accepted Qin Cheng. Ever since being appointed as a mere squad leader by him, he had bottled up resentment, eager to prove himself better than this country bumpkin. He had resolved to shine in this campaign, but before the fighting had even begun, Qin Cheng had insisted on not marching out—a decision Li Gan saw as weakness, a hindrance to the army. He was thoroughly dissatisfied.

Qin Cheng glanced at the furious Li Gan. “Squad Leader Li, follow orders,” he said, and tried to move past.

“Qin Cheng!” Li Gan shouted, ignoring any sense of rank, stepping in front again. “If you’re afraid to fight, don’t—why must you hold back the whole army? Claiming you can't track the Huns, what nonsense! When has the Han army ever not sought them out for battle? Your cowardice is a disservice to the nation. Do you realize that?!”

Qin Cheng’s gaze chilled, his body tensed.

“Li Gan, insolent fool, stand down!” Just as Qin Cheng was about to resolve the matter by force, Li Guang barked from the side and strode over.

“Father...” Li Gan began.

“Silence! This is no place for your words. Do you even respect military law? Get out!” Li Guang snapped.

“Hmph!” Li Gan snorted, flung his head, and strode off.

“This boy grows more unruly by the day!” Li Guang cursed, then said to Qin Cheng, “If he ever dares confront you again, deal with him by the law. Don’t spare him for my sake—he’s lost all sense of discipline!”

Qin Cheng smiled. “It’s nothing; the young general is simply hot-blooded.”

“The officers’ tempers are unstable. If this continues, before the right moment arrives, I fear something may happen,” Li Guang sighed.

“You overthink, General,” Qin Cheng replied, dismissing the concern. “The officers are simply provoked by the Huns, angry for the moment. They will come to understand. Even if some don’t, the discipline of the Shanggu garrison is strict, your reputation strong—no one will step out of line.”

“You’re so confident?” Li Guang smiled.

“If we can’t manage even this, how can we hope to defeat the Huns? No matter how strong our cavalry, it would be useless,” Qin Cheng said.

Li Guang paused, then nodded, and asked a seemingly offhand question, “Is everything ready?”

“All is prepared,” Qin Cheng replied with a smile.

...

That night, at the hour of the ox, the Xiaohua camp was silent. The soldiers slept, lanterns burned bright, and patrols marched mechanically across the sprawling camp. On the watchtowers, a few guards struggled to stay awake, nodding off.

A faint rustling came from just beyond the camp. If one looked closely, one could barely make out moving shadows—a cluster of dark figures.

Cavalry.

Hun cavalry.

Bits in their mouths, hooves wrapped.

They moved slowly, quietly, cautiously.

Like phantoms, soundless.

The leader’s cloak hugged a slender frame.

Along the way, they had stealthily eliminated several Han scouts, leaving no trace.

As they neared the camp, the whole group halted. The leader raised a hand, and, in a cold, delicate voice, uttered a single word: “Go.”

The voice was soft.

A dozen riders dismounted, bows slung on their backs, crouched low, and quickly approached the camp.

They stopped one arrow’s flight from the gate. Two bent their bows, quietly took aim at the drowsy guards atop the gate towers.

The two Han sentries were struck silently, collapsing without a cry.

The group pressed up against the fence; one peered inside, just as a patrol marched by.

He signaled his companions, and all held their breath, pressed tight to the fence.

When the patrol was gone, the man drew his bow again, this time aiming back the way they had come, and loosed an arrow.

The slender leader saw the iron arrow land nearby, waved his hand, and the group moved forward.

The dozen had now opened the gate, clearing the way for the cavalry.

The riders surged through, each suddenly producing a wooden stick—upon closer look, unlit torches!

They meant to burn the camp.

The slender leader’s lips curled in a triumphant arc, pleased.

But in the next instant, his expression froze.

From behind the camp, countless Han cavalry burst forth, shouting as they charged!

Even outside the gate, cries of battle erupted!

Instantly grasping the trap, the slender leader ordered, “Drop the torches, retreat!”

His followers threw their torches at the tents, whether lit or not, then drew their long blades.

At the gate, Hun cavalry in the rear clashed with Han cavalry!

“Kill!”

“Kill these damned Hun devils!”

“Don’t let them escape!”

“Follow me!”

Inside and outside the camp, Han soldiers, mad with pent-up fury, unleashed a tidal assault.

“Kill them all!” Li Gan roared, waving his long blade, leading his men into the Hun ranks.

At that moment, Li Gan was like a crazed leopard—every Hun he saw, he struck down. His bloodshot eyes burned with excitement, and soon he was splattered with blood.

The two cavalry forces collided, and the melee began around the camp gate.

“Hu Xie, centurion, cover the rear! Everyone else, retreat—break out!” the slender Hun leader commanded calmly, cutting down Han cavalry with his blade.

The space was tight, the melee fierce.

Five hundred Hun cavalry were surrounded, enduring the furious assault of fifteen hundred Han heavy cavalry.

Qin Cheng and Li Guang sat astride their horses, watching the melee unfold.

“Ji Zhu, take men to extinguish the fires!” Qin Cheng ordered.

“Yes!” Ji Zhu replied.

The Huns had thrown their torches in haste, most unlit, so the camp suffered little damage. Light cavalry, unsuited for close combat, were just right for putting out fires.

The brutal melee lasted a while. One hundred Hun warriors shielded the slender leader, hacking a bloody path through the chaos and breaking free.

“They got away,” Li Guang and Qin Cheng exchanged a smile.

Just outside the encirclement, the slender leader glanced back at the Han camp and smiled as well.

A smile that could turn the world upside down.