The Majesty of Half a Million
The sight of both sides in the Battle of Hanei, their combined forces nearing half a million men, all surging into motion at once was a spectacle of such grandeur that no clumsy vocabulary could ever hope to capture it, even after witnessing it with your own eyes. Each single step landed with a boom like thunder splitting the heavens. The blare of war trumpets from every direction shattered the morning’s hush. The thunder of drums swallowed the sound of wind snapping against banners and rolled outward with enough force to scatter the clouds themselves.
This was nothing like the opening skirmish. As if to prove that first clash had merely been a probing of each other’s livers, the military spirit of both armies now spread thick and heavy all the way to the horizon. From the observation tower—high enough to command a full view of the battlefield—that spirit could be felt so vividly it seemed to possess physical weight. I and the three newcomers who had only just joined the Alliance command stood frozen within that overwhelming sensation, unable to utter even a murmur of awe.
“Study the formation carefully. See how the three armies are structured.”
The fundamental shape of an army in the field: a tripartite deployment divided into left wing, central army, and right wing.
While I and Xiang Tai hesitated, Sima Shang spoke first, cutting straight through the tension.
“Zhao forces on the right wing, Wei in the center, and Yan and Chu on the left. By numbers alone that makes it fifty thousand on the right, seventy in the center, and eighty on the left. The reason they’ve thickened the left wing is almost certainly because they anticipate that the Qin will commit their main strength to their own right wing under Piao Gong—his troops possess unmatched breakthrough power.”
The clear ring of Sima Shang’s voice lifted some of the crushing pressure weighing on my shoulders. Seizing the opening, Xiang Tai began to offer his own thoughts.
“The placement seems to have taken the emotional ties between the states into account. They paired our country with Yan—distant enough that old grudges are minimal—while keeping Yan and Zhao, who share bad blood, separated. It’s difficult to claim Wei enjoys particularly warm relations with either of us, but since Wei stands at the very heart of this campaign, placing them in the center is only logical.”
“After all, we share the experience of rescuing Handan together under Lord Xinling’s command,” Xiang Tai finished.
Sima Shang and Xiang Tai. They were true direct disciples of Li Mu and Xiang Yan, the towering renowned generals who represented Zhao and Chu. Since the battle had not yet begun in earnest, nothing further about the Alliance army caught my eye beyond what the two had already explained.
Instead I turned my gaze to the opposite side. Lord Xinling had spoken of formations, yet he had not limited the lesson to our own. Knowing your own forces was only half the task; knowing the enemy’s was equally vital. I focused on the Qin deployment.
“The Qin have placed supreme commander Meng Ao in their center, Zhang Dang on their left, and Piao Gong on their right. The scale of troops looks roughly equal across the three, but they’ve weighted their wings more heavily. And judging by the greater number of cavalry on Piao Gong’s right wing, it does appear they intend to make that sector their primary thrust, just as you said.”
As I spoke I rapidly counted the Qin banners. Then I estimated the black surface area created by their armored soldiers and calculated their approximate numbers. Studying business management had taught me Fermi estimation—an approach that, when given limited data, relies solely on basic knowledge and logical inference to produce a quick approximation. The famous Google interview question about how many ping-pong balls it would take to fill an airplane was a classic example.
The pressure of war also kindled a fierce excitement to counteract it. My mind, wound tight as a bowstring, completed the calculation in moments.
“Roughly… one hundred thousand on each wing and eighty thousand in the center. They’ve deliberately thinned the center where their supreme commander sits… It seems they’re inviting the numerically superior but resource-strapped Alliance to overextend and break through. With their defensive depth they can absorb the blow, then envelop us from the wings. That appears to be their design.”
Lord Xinling offered a faint yet deeply satisfied smile.
“All three of you observed well—the distinctive character of an alliance formed by many states, your analysis of the enemy camp, and the formation we have prepared in response.”
The instant Lord Xinling gave us that brief praise, the two armies finally collided. A black torrent reminiscent of night-sea waves slammed into the Alliance’s left wing. Piao Gong’s Qin forces charged straight at the Yan and Chu armies with utterly destructive momentum. Their chariots shattered battle lines while cavalry tore into the flanks attempting to form defensive squares. Had the two states’ commanders—Xiang Yan and Ji Xin—not held the center with iron resolve, that single shock might have decided the entire battle. Even so, death spread like wildfire.
Before the Qin spears and swords, men who had smiled and called me Crown Prince were dying. When the realization hit that someone I had exchanged greetings with only yesterday was now gone, a wretched feeling surged through me and I unconsciously squeezed my eyes shut. Lord Xinling’s voice cut into me like cold steel.
“Do not look away. Witness every one of their deaths.”
I forced my eyes open with desperate effort and confronted the carnage unfolding before me. The Yan and Chu forces, having weathered the initial shock, continued to bleed casualties yet now stood their ground, locked in a fierce contest with the Qin.
“The Qin possess the strongest combat power among all the states. The soldiers at the very front are certain to die. Knowing this, they still stand there. Why do they raise their weapons and take up positions where death is assured? Think on that.”
A fatal ground where death was inevitable. The Alliance did not demand military merits with the same brutality as Qin, so why did these men still stand in such a place?
“Some fight for glory, others for advancement, and still others out of a desire for revenge against Qin.”
Lord Xinling went through their motivations one by one. No matter how strict the chain of command, life remains more precious than anything. How many men would truly fight to the bitter end against the Qin simply because they had been ordered to do so?
“But the largest group fights to protect.”
That, Lord Xinling declared, was the true root of their willingness to offer their lives.
“To protect their hometowns, to protect their countries, to protect their families. They stepped forward prepared to lay down their lives gladly. They understand. If they lose here—if they retreat—then it will not be only themselves who die.”
The Qin were merciless. They treated even their own soldiers’ lives with contempt, regarding them as mere consumables; there could be no mercy for their enemies. They killed everyone. They buried resisting soldiers alive, massacred prisoners, and did not spare even civilians who had taken no part in the fighting. That was how hundreds of thousands, millions, had died, were dying, and would continue to die. Even those who survived would face lives not worth living. Qin’s laws were cruel, and harsher still toward those incorporated as conquered subjects. The descendants of the Six States would pay heavier taxes, bear longer military service, and be dragged into more grueling corvée labor than Qin’s own people. Knowing this, they fought.
“And to answer the prayers of those people, we have gathered here.”
The moment any single one of the Six States fell into Qin’s hands, the balance would collapse completely. The fall of the Zhou dynasty—which had already become a powerless figurehead—had sent massive shockwaves across the world. The destruction of one of the Seven States that had reduced Zhou to a mere puppet would be an even more catastrophic event. Qin would no longer hesitate in its wars of conquest. It would erase countries without remorse and treat their people like slaves. Having realized this and shared that sense of crisis, the Alliance had risen.
“B-but Lord Xinling! The Qin momentum right now is…”
Despite standing above the famed Chu general Xiang Yan and below the peerless hegemon Xiang Yu—who would be remembered for thousands of years—perhaps the reason he himself had left no lasting name was not mere misfortune but a lack of ability. Watching the Alliance gradually being pushed back by the Qin, Xiang Tai cried out in alarm.
Yet the supreme commander’s expression remained utterly calm, without the slightest ripple. He even went a step further, offering an assessment of the enemy general.
“Meng Ao is an excellent commander. His management of troops lacks the mysterious subtlety shown by many famed generals, but he commits no errors whatsoever. He secures victory through straightforward use of a large army’s advantages. For Qin, possessor of the greatest host among the states, he is the ideal General-in-Chief. However.”
Lord Xinling’s aura transformed completely.
“Li Mu defeated Meng Ao. Despite being at a disadvantage. How was that possible?”
Whether the question was meant for us or a rhetorical inquiry directed at himself, Lord Xinling turned to face us.
“I will teach you the answer starting now.”