sovbooks Chapter 24 Duchang
Chapter 24 Duchang
They are not afraid of death.
For someone who has died once, what is there to fear in dying in order to protect their current life and to fight for the survival of more people?
"good!"
Li Zhao sheathed his sword and waved his hand.
"Let's go! Destination: Duchang!"
The army set off.
Zhao Yun led two thousand white horse cavalry as the vanguard and quickly disappeared into the vast snow.
Guan Yu and Zhang Fei led the main infantry force closely behind.
Liu Bei, on the other hand, led the logistics and supply train, escorting enough provisions to sustain the army for a month, and followed slowly.
Li Zhao and Xu Shu were stationed at the center of the army.
Inside the carriage, a charcoal brazier emitted heat.
Xu Shu lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and looked at the troop struggling to move forward outside the window, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes.
"My lord, the snow is too heavy. The marching speed is much slower than expected. If we cannot reach Duchang within five days, the army's morale will be completely broken."
Li Zhao held a hand warmer in his hands, his expression calm.
"It's alright to go slowly. This snow is our best cover."
He looked at Xu Shu, a cold smile appearing on his lips.
"What does Yuanzhi think Guan Hai's Yellow Turban rebels are doing in this kind of weather?"
Xu Shu was taken aback for a moment, then realized what he meant and laughed, "They just received our food, so they must be hiding in the camp from the wind and snow, eating and drinking to their hearts' content."
"Indeed. When people are well-fed and clothed, they think of lustful desires and also develop a lazy and complacent attitude."
Li Zhao asserted:
"Guan Hai never imagined that someone would travel hundreds of miles to attack him in this awful weather."
"Pass down the order: the entire army must be silent, men must gag themselves, and horses must keep their hooves wrapped. Except for necessary scouts, no one may leave the ranks."
"We're like a venomous snake lurking in the snow, waiting until we're closest to our prey before baring our fangs!"
……
Beihai Kingdom, Duchang City.
This once prosperous county town is now desolate.
Inside the governor's mansion, Kong Rong was staring blankly at a bowl of rice porridge so thin that one could see their reflection in it.
He was a 20th-generation descendant of Confucius, a renowned scholar, and famous for his talent from a young age.
But he never imagined that he would be driven to this point by a group of peasant-born Yellow Turban rebels.
"My lord, the city's grain reserves... are only enough for three days."
The chief secretary of the Prime Minister's residence in Beihai knelt on the ground, his voice trembling with sobs.
"The people have already started peeling tree bark and digging up grass roots. If this continues, we'll starve to death even without the Yellow Turban rebels attacking."
Kong Rong sighed and put down his chopsticks. His pride and joy in the classics and historical texts were utterly useless in the face of hunger.
"Is there any news about Ziyi's attempt to break through and seek help?" he asked.
A few days ago, he sent his fierce general Taishi Ci to break out of the encirclement and seek help from Li Zhao, the chancellor of Pingyuan. This was his last hope.
"Reporting to the Prefect, there is still no news. The wind and snow have been too heavy these past few days, I'm afraid..." The Chief Clerk dared not continue.
Kong Rong closed his eyes, his face filled with despair.
"Heaven has forsaken me! Am I, Kong Wenju, destined to die at the hands of thieves?"
……
Five miles outside the city lies the Yellow Turban Army camp.
Just as Li Zhao had predicted, Guan Hai's camp was filled with jubilation.
They used the gold and silver they plundered to exchange for large quantities of grain from the plains.
Inside the central command tent, Guan Hai and his men, both big and small, were gathered around a campfire, drinking and eating heartily.
"That feels great! That's fucking great!"
Guan Hai tore off a leg of lamb and ate it with his mouth full of oil.
"That Li Zhao is really a foolish rich man; he'll sell grain for money. With this grain, we won't have to worry about food this winter!"
"Commander is wise!" a junior officer flattered. "Once the snow stops, we'll take Duchang City in one fell swoop and bring that old man Kong Rong here to serve as your horse's stirrups!"
Everyone laughed.
After several rounds of drinks, Guan Hai became somewhat tipsy.
He stood up unsteadily, walked to the tent entrance, lifted the curtain, and looked outside.
The wind and snow continued outside, and the world was a vast expanse of white.
"This awful weather..."
Guan Hai muttered, "Send the order down to have the patrolling brothers withdraw and rest. In this weather, even birds can't fly over, let alone government troops."
Numbed by alcohol and a feeling of fullness, Guan Hai lowered his guard to the last vestiges.
The entire Yellow Turban camp, except for a few symbolic watchtowers, was almost completely undefended.
Unbeknownst to them, a troop was quietly approaching from the snow-covered plains less than ten miles away.
……
It was the 27th day of the twelfth lunar month, late at night.
The snow finally subsided a bit.
Zhao Yun reined in his horse and stopped behind a snow-covered slope.
The two thousand cavalrymen behind him stood silently in the snow like a group of ghosts.
Not far ahead was the Yellow Turban Army's camp.
The camp was dimly lit by firelight, and the faint sounds of drinking games and toasts could be heard.
The outer perimeter of the barricades and chevaux-de-frise were mostly buried by heavy snow, making it almost impossible to see the patrolling sentries.
"General, shall we make our move?"
"A lieutenant asked in a low voice, his hand holding the knife trembling slightly—a trembling of excitement," he said.
Zhao Yun did not answer immediately. He looked up at the sky.
The darkness before dawn is when people are most tired.
"Wait a little longer," Zhao Yun said in a frighteningly calm voice, "wait for the infantry behind to catch up."
Another half hour passed.
A dark mass of figures appeared on the snow. Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's main force of eight thousand infantrymen had finally arrived.
Although the soldiers were exhausted after four days and four nights of forced march, their eyes lit up with greed when they saw the enemy camp so close at hand.
That's the look in a hunter's eyes when he sees his prey.
Guan Yu rode up to Zhao Yun's side, his phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, exuding a murderous aura.
"Zilong, how should we fight?"
Zhao Yun pointed to the northwest corner of the enemy camp: "That's where the enemy's provisions are stored, and the defenses there are the most lax. I'll lead my cavalry to break in from there, go straight to the central command tent, and kill Guan Hai."
"Brother Yunchang and Brother Yide, lead the infantry to attack from the front and east. Make sure to tighten the encirclement and do not let the thieves escape."
"good!"
Zhang Fei roared in a low voice, "My old Zhang's broadsword has been itching for a fight for a long time!"
The three generals exchanged a glance, needing no further words.
Zhao Yun took a deep breath, suddenly drew his gleaming silver spear from his waist, and pointed it straight at the enemy camp.
"White Horse Cavalry! Charge with me!"
"kill!"
Two thousand cavalrymen suddenly sprang into action.
The horses' hooves, wrapped in thick burlap, pounded on the snow with a dull "plop" sound.
It wasn't until they rushed to within a hundred paces of the camp gate that the Yellow Turban sentries on the watchtower discovered the suddenly appearing white cavalry in horror.
"Enemy attack! Enemy... *pfft*!"
Before the sentry could finish his warning, an arrow pierced his throat.
Zhao Yun sheathed his powerful bow, took the lead, and smashed open the simple camp gate.
"boom!"
The Yellow Turban camp was instantly thrown into chaos.
The Yellow Turban rebels, who were fast asleep, were startled awake. They rushed out of their tents, disheveled, and before they could figure out what was happening, they were cut down by the cavalry that came rushing in.
Zhao Yun's goal was clear: he headed straight for the largest cowhide tent in the central army camp.
He wielded his silver spear, creating a burst of white light that sent blood and flesh flying wherever it passed.
Behind him, two thousand cavalrymen, like sharp knives, plunged a bloody path through the Yellow Turban camp.