26. Cursing Under One's Breath

Wang Bo watched with delight each day as large quantities of supplies needed by the Xinghan Army were piled into the warehouses, while all he had given in exchange was a modest amount of Xinghan wine—most of which was actually brewed by others. He merely processed it a little and resold it, earning dozens of times the profit. This was practically making money out of thin air! Why was it suddenly so easy for him to get rich, so much easier than his previous life?

As Wang Bo strolled proudly around his territory with two burly bodyguards, Yang Feng, who had been frantically busy, hurried up to him. Without waiting for Wang Bo’s puzzled question, Yang Feng announced, “My lord! Feihu has just reported that the Xianbei are once again assembling to attack. They may soon arrive at Yunu Pass!”

“Barbarian dogs! Was the last lesson not enough to deter their greedy ambitions? This time, our Xinghan Army will show them what we’re made of!” Wang Bo’s good mood was instantly shattered, and he flew into a rage, immediately ordering a meeting of all officers to discuss how to repel the Xianbei.

Gathered together, everyone was filled with righteous indignation, eager to volunteer for action.

Wang Bo was determined to teach the Xianbei a profound lesson—if they weren’t hurt badly, they’d be back in a few days. So before the discussion, Wang Bo made it clear what he wanted from this battle: the Xianbei must be left in fear, knowing the Xinghan Army is not to be trifled with, so they wouldn't dare return, at least not before winter when most of the young and able-bodied herders have not returned to Yunzhong.

Thus, defending passively within Yunu Pass was not enough—they needed to seize the initiative and strike. Even if they couldn’t annihilate the enemy, they had to cripple them thoroughly.

But most of those present were rough men, more suited to wielding weapons and fighting than to devising strategies to save time and reduce casualties. Yang Feng and Liao Hua had some experience commanding troops, but their methods were costly, winning by sacrificing nearly as many men as they killed—not acceptable. Chen Dao might have had some tricks, but lacked experience. As for Xu Chu and the rest, they were lone warriors, likely to lose themselves in battle and even ignore their own lord, so they were even less suited.

After much discussion, no good plan emerged. Wang Bo waved them all out except Yang Feng, Liao Hua, Chen Dao, and Niu Feihu. He spread the cowhide map on the table, questioned Niu Feihu about the situation outside Yunu Pass, and explored with the others the possibility of a proactive strike.

A frontal assault was out of the question—with just over two hundred cavalry, no matter how brave, charging into thousands of barbarian horsemen would be futile. Using infantry against cavalry would be madness—unless Wang Bo had lost his mind completely.

Even deploying the “Wolf Owl Army” wouldn’t work. Not only was Wang Bo unwilling to sacrifice his carefully nurtured elite, but the Xinghan Army’s strength was insufficient against the endless waves of barbarian cavalry. Even minor losses were unacceptable, as Wang Bo anticipated this battle was only a warm-up—the real war would come after the herders returned to their tribes in late autumn, possibly with Budugen himself leading the troops. Therefore, he could not afford heavy losses now.

Since a frontal attack wasn’t possible, they had to wait for the barbarians to tire or strike unexpectedly. If the enemy camp fell into chaos, victory would be nearly assured. Wang Bo’s “Wolf Owl Army” was well-fed and vigorous—no one could mistake them for weaklings.

But how could he pull off such a surprise? Wang Bo racked his brain all night but found no solution. In the end, he sighed: he wasn’t Zhuge Liang, and he intended to live a few more years. He went to rest, lamenting the lack of a strategist.

The next morning, for the first time ever, the Xinghan Army skipped its morning run. Everyone pitched in, transporting supplies to defend Yunu Pass. The logistics team worked tirelessly to prepare defensive equipment. Zhang Baiqi and Niu Feihu led the cavalry and scouts out beyond Yunu Pass, harassing the eastward-moving barbarian cavalry. When the enemy advanced, they retreated; when the enemy paused, they harassed, trying to slow the Xianbei’s progress.

After making these arrangements, Wang Bo studied the latest enemy reports and maps.

The invaders were once again from the Chile Tribe, but their numbers had increased to nearly ten thousand. This time, they brought over two thousand Han slaves, each carrying sacks or pushing wheelbarrow-like carts.

They had learned from their previous defeat at the trenches and now planned to use slaves to fill them in. This was a grave problem—without the trenches, far fewer barbarians would die, and the Xinghan Army’s defensive burden would increase, making casualties inevitable even if they didn’t attack.

It wouldn’t do! Wang Bo resolved to find a way to launch a surprise attack, even if it meant exhausting his mind.

He considered ambushing in the mountains, but even if he managed to climb up, how would he descend for the attack? He couldn’t just drop onto the enemy’s heads. Hiding at the foot of the mountain, with the Chiles advancing carefully, would surely be discovered and wiped out. Hiding east of the river, the water would block a daytime attack, and at night, the Xianbei would surely post guards. If he tried a “counter-trick,” the risks were too high. Wang Bo broke into a cold sweat at the thought.

Taking a route around the rear? There was no such route. Even if they climbed out of the mountains around Xinghan City and reached the rear of the Xianbei, they’d likely miss the battle or arrive exhausted.

There was simply no solution! Wang Bo shook his aching head. Enough—let things take their course. He wasn’t Zhuge Liang; he didn’t have so many schemes. Better head to Yunu Pass and see what happens.

Two days after Wang Bo arrived at Yunu Pass, the Xianbei cavalry reached the trenches. They stopped several hundred paces away, but Wang Bo quickly realized the Xianbei were determined to take Yunu Pass this time.

The enemy had come fully prepared: carts, slaves, digging tools, large leather shields, and even makeshift ladders crafted from timber by the mountainside. They erected tents, barricades, and obstacles, everything needed for an assault, and even built a simple defensive line on the west bank of the Hun River near Yunu Pass, stretching nearly two miles. Nighttime raids across the river were now impossible.

Only a hard fight remained. Wang Bo clenched his fist for encouragement and ordered the archers and hunting squads to divide into three groups: one to defend atop the walls, one to rest below, and the smallest group to drop baskets by rope from the narrow wall on the east bank each night, firing flaming arrows to harass the Xianbei camp and deprive them of rest. The river was sixty or seventy paces wide, just within range for the hunting squad’s bows to strike the enemy’s defenses and tents, and the archers could reach even further. Every ninety minutes, they would harass the enemy, returning to the walls by day.

As he issued these orders, Wang Bo cursed fiercely: if the enemy wouldn’t let him be, he wouldn’t let them rest easy either!

That day, the Xianbei did not attack but busied themselves with preparations. Their tents clustered densely on the narrow west bank of the Hun River. Their carts and sacks brimmed with earth and stones, dozens of ladders were hastily made, and everything was set for the next day’s assault.

But that night, the Chile warriors, exhausted from a day’s labor, tasted the Xinghan Army’s wrath.

Led by Niu Da, they harassed the enemy all night. Tents near the river were set ablaze every hour by flaming oil arrows—though quickly extinguished by the startled soldiers, the constant disruption made sleep a luxury.

The furious Chile chieftain organized his men to fire back, but the cunning Xinghan Army concentrated dozens of arrows on one or two spots, then stopped, banging some mysterious contraptions loudly. Despite increasing their numbers, their arrows vanished without effect—no screams, no casualties.

He considered sending men across the river to hunt the harassers, but it would mean a detour of several miles, and by the time they arrived, the enemy might be gone. In the darkness, ambush was a risk. So, he could only endure the night in anger and frustration.

The next morning, his warriors were listless, especially the two thousand Han slaves, some barely able to walk. In such a state, an assault was impossible.

The Chile chieftain ordered a rest until late morning, then prepared to attack. He sent the recovered Wutugui upstream, crossing at the shallows and setting up a “snake formation” with over a thousand men between the riverbank and the cliffs.

Only then did he relax, understanding why he’d heard no screams the previous night—the enemy had hidden in pits, firing arrows and ducking back down. Nearly bursting with rage, the chieftain vented his fury in the afternoon’s assault.

At the appointed hour, the Xianbei sounded their attack horns.

The usual tactic: Xianbei archers lined up at the trenches, firing at the walls to cover Han slaves filling the trenches. Though the walls offered little danger, the archers provided cover, and their arrows became a boon for the Xinghan Army.

Behind them, the cavalry lined up, watching intently for the moment the passage was widened to charge Yunu Pass.

At the order, the Xianbei drove the Han slaves forward, carrying and pushing sacks and carts, dumping earth and rocks into the trenches. The Xianbei were clever, dividing the slaves into waves; as one group finished and hadn’t returned, another surged forward, rapidly, like an endless tide.

On the Xinghan side, Wang Bo ordered the four hundred archers to divide into three waves, using their triple-weight bows—slightly longer range than the Xianbei short bows—to target only the Xianbei archers, avoiding the Han slaves when possible, though occasional accidents were inevitable.

Watching the slaves fill the trenches and widen the passage, the impatient Huang Long suggested dealing with the slaves first—otherwise, once the passage was wide, the cavalry would soon be at the gates, and the slaves would be slaughtered anyway.

Wang Bo vetoed this: they were Han people, forced into this situation. Even if all were killed, what if the Xianbei sent another batch? It would only waste arrows and give the Xinghan Army a reputation for slaughtering their own. Better to kill the true culprits—the Xianbei—while sparing their compatriots when possible.

Seeing his archers being picked off by the Xinghan Army, the Chile chieftain ordered dozens of large leather and wooden shields erected. With the shields, Xianbei casualties dropped sharply. He scratched his messy hair, watched the slaves dumping earth, and laughed heartily, his belly shaking, as the cavalry behind him howled exaggeratedly.

The trenches had been hastily dug and weren’t very wide or deep—just over seven feet. After several waves of earth and stones, the passage was already visible, with water being pushed out.

The chieftain ordered the slaves to add rocks and timber, making the new passage sturdier for cavalry charges—no risk of horses stumbling. He even laid boards and leather over it, sparing no effort or expense.

Seeing the lively Xianbei, Wang Bo frowned and ordered the archers to form teams of five, firing flaming arrows at the shields, while the best marksmen targeted the most active slaves, shooting them in the limbs.

The results were swift and dramatic. Soon, the Xianbei behind the shields didn’t know how to deal with the growing fires—some got splashed with flaming oil and screamed in confusion. Among the slaves, cries rang out. Already fatigued from the previous sleepless night, their work slowed further—now, anyone who moved quickly risked being shot.

The chieftain howled again, ordering the shields pushed into the trenches. After losing another dozen warriors, he ordered the archers to retreat twenty paces, reducing casualties but rendering their arrows unable to reach the walls, providing no cover.

He finally ordered the archers to stop shooting—no point wasting energy. Now, the slaves filling the trenches were exposed to the Xinghan Army’s fire. Their pace slowed further, no matter how fiercely the Xianbei whipped and slashed them; a flogging was better than death. When returning, they ran quickly.

But worse was yet to come. When the Xianbei cavalry pulled back, the Xinghan Army opened one gate of Yunu Pass, and several burly men stood outside with shields, shouting, “We Han sons would rather die than aid the barbarian dogs! Our general won’t harm you—if you still have a shred of courage, seize this chance and join the Xinghan Army, and we’ll protect you as best we can!”

They shouted several times, and then fired several smoking arrows into the midst of the slaves.

As the chieftain frowned, a large wave of slaves, just having dumped their earth and stones, simultaneously rushed toward Yunu Pass, not looking back, moving almost as fast as sprinters.

The men at the gate shouted, “Through the middle! Through the middle!” The scattered crowd converged toward the central passage, as more smoky arrows were fired from the walls.

The chieftain exploded in rage: “Fire! Fire! The Han dogs are shameless!”

A volley of arrows rained down on the fleeing slaves, felling many, but nearly a hundred managed to reach the gate, collapsing and gasping for breath, some even laughing at the Xianbei. At the urging of the Xinghan Army, they quickly fled inside.