The Siege of Hanzhong (3)
Inside the government hall of Hanzhong, in a building hung on every side with ornaments symbolizing the Daoist faith, a man was venting his fury.
"So that cur Liu Tan has gone and dragged Jeong Reung into this after all!"
The sheer gall of it — offering up a mountain of tribute and then begging the man to attack him! With the balance of power already hanging by a thread, if Jeong Reung wedged himself into the fray, who could say whose hands Yi Province would ultimately fall into? In his zeal to drive out a wolf, Liu Tan had all but invited a great tiger into his own house!
After fuming for a good while, the man loosed a long sigh and leaned back against his chair.
"Does anyone have a clever stratagem to cut us out of this predicament?"
"...It is my humble assessment that surrender is the only course left to us."
Hardly had Zhang Lu, ruler of Hanzhong, finished asking before a man with a vile face stepped forward. Zhang Lu turned his head toward him.
"What do you mean by that, Yang Song?"
"However great a heaven-sent fortress Hanzhong may be, we cannot hope to withstand the endless tide of supplies and soldiers pouring out of Jing Province."
"The greater the losses our troops suffer, the less likely the General-in-Chief will be to show us mercy," Yang Song said.
"Hmm..."
"They say those who surrender of their own accord will have their crimes pardoned — that official posts will even be found for them. Why not simply surrender?"
Slitted eyes, flesh settled thickly across his frame — a thoroughly sinister countenance. It was a face no one would find easy to trust, and yet Yang Song had long since secured Zhang Lu's confidence by serving up, time and again, exactly the words his lord wished to hear.
Hadn't he, even now, read his lord's reluctance to wage war against the greatest power in the land, and counselled surrender accordingly?
Just as Zhang Lu's heart began to lean toward capitulation, his younger brother Zhang Wei strode forward and shouted.
"Have you taken leave of your senses? Yangping Pass is a heaven-sent fortress where ten thousand men could hold back a hundred thousand — and you dare speak of surrender!"
"...And do you truly believe the terrain alone can stop the General-in-Chief?"
"Is that not self-evident?"
Zhang Wei shouted to his brother Zhang Lu. "Brother! Entrust me with the soldiers, and I will show that thieving dog coveting Hanning what we are made of!"
"My lord, you must judge the situation with a cool head. How can a single city stand against the greatest power under heaven?"
Take up arms and resist — or bow the knee and beg for mercy. Zhang Lu's deliberation did not take long.
"Hmm... Zhang Wei, I shall place twenty thousand soldiers under your command."
"Yes, my lord! Leave it to me!"
Perhaps the bonds of blood were not so easily disregarded after all. Zhang Lu adopted his brother's proposal, and Zhang Wei, realizing his counsel had been the one chosen, bowed in salute with a confident cry.
Yang Song's face went slack with dismay.
"My lord, I beg you to reconsider—"
"How could I surrender without fighting so much as a single battle?"
It had been nearly twenty years since he had first put down roots in Hanzhong. He had spent those long years raising up a land ravaged by ceaseless war — how could he cast aside decades of toil in a single breath?
Viewed one way, it was an understandable choice; viewed another, a foolish one.
Realizing that Zhang Lu had no intention of changing his mind, Yang Song fell silent.
What exactly passed through Yang Song's head in that hall, only he himself would ever know.
Several days had passed since Zhang Wei, bearing Zhang Lu's orders, had taken up the defense of Yangping Pass.
"Wh-what did you say? You need reinforcements?"
"Yes, my lord! Jeong Reung's army has brought every siege engine imaginable to bear against our gates and walls — the damage is ruinous!"
The General-in-Chief's host — the very army that had once held the line against every foreign tribe under heaven and repelled a coalition of nearly all the realm's warlords — proved mightier than anything they had imagined. Zhang Wei, holding Yangping Pass, patched up the weakening walls nearly every day, until at last he judged that this could not go on and frantically called for aid. Soldiers, supplies — everything.
For all the talk of a natural fortress, Yangping Pass was crumbling at an alarming pace. No — if anything, it may have been precisely because it was such a fortress that Zhang Lu's army, lacking a single capable commander, had managed to hold out for days at all.
Zhang Lu asked a civil official standing nearby, "Hmm... how many troops remain in Hanzhong as we speak?"
"...Fewer than five thousand now, my lord."
Zhang Lu sank into silence at the dismal news.
Thanks to his benevolent rule — the grain he had given freely whenever his people fell on hard times — the loyalty of his soldiers ran deep. But there are things that devotion alone cannot solve. Jeong Reung's forces pressed their ferocious assault without pause, as though the walls might crumble at any moment. They heaped up earthen ramps to soften the incline and raised siege towers upon them to pour down volleys of arrows; they built stone-throwers and flung boulders against the walls without pause. The ramparts were no shoddy work — a few rocks would not bring them tumbling down — but unless something was done, the damage would only accumulate. That much was self-evident.
"...There is no help for it. I shall send reinforcements."
"Yes, my lord!"
The moment Jeong Reung's great host crossed Yangping Pass, Hanzhong would be surrounded on all sides and fall in short order. Convinced there would be no tomorrow once the pass broke, Zhang Lu committed nearly all the troops garrisoning Hanzhong to its defense. With numbers like those, even the General-in-Chief would be hard-pressed.
How many more days slipped by after the relief force marched out?
"...Thank the heavens."
Hearing the reports from Yangping Pass, Zhang Lu breathed a sigh of relief at how well matters were proceeding — better, in fact, than he had dared hope. Perhaps his bold gamble, leaving only the barest garrison in Hanzhong to reinforce the pass, had not been mistaken after all. Told that Jeong Reung's offensive was weakening with each passing day, Zhang Lu allowed himself a moment's ease.
Yes. If things went on like this, holding Hanzhong against the General-in-Chief would be no absurd fantasy after—
"My lord! Disaster has struck!"
"...What is it?"
Before he could even finish the thought, a civil official came sprinting into the hall, his face drained white. A man with a vile countenance — Yang Song.
Zhang Lu asked in the same level voice as ever, "Has Yangping Pass fallen? Why all this commotion—"
"Th-the gates! The city gates have been opened!"
"...What did you say?"
Zhang Lu started in alarm and cried out, "The city gates — opened? What in the world are you saying!"
"Enemies, my lord!" Yang Song answered, head bowed. "Enemies came up along the Hanshui River and seized the walls outright!"
"Haah..."
At that, Zhang Lu felt his mind go white.
Had all of this — every last bit of it — been a scheme? At the report that his city had been pierced in the blink of an eye, Zhang Lu loosed a groan of despair.
Yang Song, watching him, cried out, "My lord, you must flee this very instant! The north gate is still safe — make for it at once!"
"...Very well."
Supported by the aides guarding him on either side, Zhang Lu set his feet in motion. To think he would lose his city so pathetically, so cheaply. A bitter taste on his tongue, he trudged along.
"My lord, what shall we do with the supply depots?"
It was then that Yan Pu, the civil official attending him, spoke up. "Rather than let the stores fall into enemy hands, it would be better to burn them all—"
"The treasuries and granaries belong to the state. How could I put them to the torch for my own sake?"
Yan Pu could find no reply.
"That is the tax our people paid in sweat and blood. I will not see it made waste."
Brushing aside Yan Pu's counsel, Zhang Lu sealed the warehouses holding all of Hanzhong's stores under lock and key, then quickened his pace.
"My lord! This way! Quickly, follow me!" Yang Song called urgently.
"Yes."
Zhang Lu was nearly to the north gate, following Yang Song's guidance, when a voice drifted down to him.
"...So he really is coming."
"Huh?!"
He whipped his head toward the voice — and saw a warrior with dark brown hair leap down from the top of the ramparts. Her hair was an unruly mess, strands escaping every which way; her fierce, rust-red eyes were the kind to crush the spirit of anyone they landed on; and in her hands were twin halberds still dripping blood, as though they had already cut down more than a few men. Despite having flung herself from the high wall with nothing but her own body, the woman stood there without a scratch — and at the sight, Yang Song burst out laughing.
"Didn't I tell you not to worry? I said the man was hopelessly naive — that he'd swallow it hook, line, and sinker!"
"Don't tell me...!"
As matters unfolded thus, Zhang Lu could no longer miss it: Yang Song had betrayed him.
Yan Pu, who served at Zhang Lu's side, roared, "You wretch—! To betray your own lord! And you still have the gall to call yourself a gentleman!"
"Hah. And what, pray tell, is there to admire about following a lord who insists on fighting a battle with no chance of winning?"
With those words, Yang Song brushed aside Yan Pu's denunciation as though it were nothing at all.
"...Tsk."
At the sight of a man proudly boasting of selling out the very lord he had served, the woman's brow creased in faint disgust.
A battle with no chance? What a joke. Yang Song was nothing more than a greedy wretch, his eyes glazed over with gold and jewels, willing to peddle anyone around him without a second thought.
The woman leveled her halberds at Zhang Lu. "Hey. You Zhang Lu?"
"...I am."
"I just swam a whole river and climbed your damn wall with my own two hands, so I'm seriously tired right now, see?"
The white-haired strategist had been riding her without mercy of late, insisting that this time — at last — was her chance to prove what she could do. Gan Ning called to mind that unreadable, scheming little brat, then went on.
"Surrender nice and quiet. Otherwise, I kill every last one of you."
At that chilling warning, Zhang Lu pressed his lips shut and sank into deliberation.