Get down.

A sudden, urgent blast of ox-horn resounded, and the enraged leader of the Chiler tribe, ignoring the barely widened trench passage, ordered the Xianbei warriors to charge recklessly, regardless of cost.

The outcome, naturally, was that before the soldiers carrying the cloud ladders could advance, the cavalry who had charged ahead lost more than two hundred men on the passage and had to retreat empty-handed, returning to their camp. In doing so, they also provided the Xinghan Army with dozens of strong laborers.

...

The two-hour long battle for control ended, with the Xianbei having gained little except for a slightly wider passage across the trench. The Xinghan Army, having suffered no losses, not only repelled the barbarian cavalry but also rescued numerous Han civilians. Cheers and jubilation filled the air, as a sense of accomplishment and soaring morale invigorated the troops.

The Han civilians who survived were overwhelmed with emotion, some weeping and shouting about gods descending—whether heavenly deities, Kunlun spirits, or Martial Star, every manner of divine intervention was declared.

Wang Bo, in high spirits, calmed the newly arrived Han refugees, then sent most to the logistics department of Xinghan City, with abundant meat and food to speed their recovery. He kept only a dozen, those whose relatives remained enslaved by the Xianbei. These volunteered to stay behind, calling out to other slaves to seize the chance and escape to the Xinghan side.

That night, the Xianbei camp on the west bank of the river was not greatly disturbed, but rest was scarce. The "Long Snake Formation" on the western bank, however, suffered calamity.

This time, Wang Bo did not hold back, finally allowing Xu Chu and Chen Dao to indulge themselves. The narrow terrain was perfect for personal feats of valor. The two took turns, wreaking havoc among over a thousand Xianbei tents. Countless drowned, slain, and captured.

At dawn, Wutu Bone returned to the central command tent with just over two hundred dispirited, empty-handed soldiers, leaving behind a field of tents, weapons, supplies, and corpses, all now in Xinghan hands.

Inside the Xianbei main tent, the Chiler chief, eyes bloodshot, glared at the battered Wutu Bone, raising his right hand for a killing blow. Quick-thinking attendants stopped him, so he stamped his feet in frustration, shouting, "Get out! Get out!" Watching Wutu Bone stagger away, overwhelmed, the chief nearly coughed up blood, barely restraining himself, then collapsed weakly onto the floor.

His attendants rushed to massage him back to strength. Once he recovered, he smashed the side table with his hand and roared, "Light the fires! Keep filling the trench!"

Driven mad, the Chiler chief spared no cost, with archers covering, shield bearers and wooden boards, relentlessly driving slaves to fill the trench. After losing nearly a thousand archers and all his Han slaves—either escaped, dead, or wounded—on the fourth day, he finally widened the passage before Yu Nu Pass to nearly ten yards.

The east bank did not dare send any more men across. An attempt at night pursuit ended as expected: apart from falling into traps, those who pressed on were forced back by arrow volleys from the gates, accomplishing nothing but casualties. Afterwards, the west bank was also arranged in a "Long Snake Formation," this time much thicker. More night sentries were posted, and subordinates were instructed to cover their ears and hold fast through the night.

In these days, the Xinghan Army rescued nearly a thousand more Han civilians; in the last two days, many clever ones crossed carrying half sacks of earth and stone, saving their lives.

That night, the Xianbei camp was harassed multiple times by more than a dozen archers. The furious Chiler chief, unable to bear it, ordered his army the next day into several thousand-man formations, launching a formal, brutal assault on the pass.

The cavalry in front, after throwing down their wooden boards and leather mats, charged across the trench with unstoppable force, followed by masses of Xianbei cavalry. Upon reaching within several dozen paces of the wall, they split left and right like a flood, circling and shooting arrows at the top of the pass.

This was the legendary mounted archery—the scene spectacular. With the close range, arrows flew in dense swarms, whistling toward the wall, piercing the hidden soldier chambers. The Xinghan Army suffered casualties, their cries echoing, while the Xianbei cavalry themselves, under counterattack and frequent traps, also sustained heavy losses. Yet, by sheer numbers, they managed to suppress the Xinghan archers atop the wall, though they could do nothing against the hunting squads in the lower chambers.

The Chiler chief roared, signaling the ox-horn again, urging the infantry forward. Each carried a ladder in one hand, a shield in the other, a saber at the waist, charging toward Yu Nu Pass. Seeing the first thousand-man squad suffer over half casualties from traps and volleys, he waved his hand, sending another squad into battle.

Under Wang Bo and the Xinghan generals’ careful preparation, Yu Nu Pass finally revealed its ferocious teeth. Waves of attacks, seemingly unstoppable, were annihilated by its formidable defenses.

Arrows flew back and forth in the air, their whistling never ceasing, some even colliding mid-flight, testifying to their density.

---

On the trench, oil arrows from the Xinghan Army ignited the wooden boards and leather spread on the ground, though the flames were trampled out by charging Xianbei infantry and cavalry, filling the air with choking burnt odors as the attackers carried the smoke everywhere.

Before the walls, Xianbei archers on both sides fired volleys, while infantry in the center pushed ladders, shielding themselves and rushing forward. People fell to arrows, others replaced them, ever more so as they neared the wall.

Having grown accustomed to seeing their comrades fall, the Xianbei soldiers became numb, as if life and death were irrelevant, mechanically charging and shooting until exhaustion or death.

Xinghan archers rotated every half hour, but even so, after several rounds, all suffered weakened arms, their arrows losing force.

Wang Bo ordered them to rest; meanwhile, the Xianbei assault troops had reached the base of the wall. The sword-and-shield battalion began their work, with spearmen hidden behind. The heavy shield unit entered the lower chambers, tasked only with listening for bells and shooting arrows, disrupting the Xianbei attack rhythm as much as possible.

Now, the traps and pits before the wall, filled with countless Xianbei lives, no longer served their purpose.

A constant stream of Xianbei soldiers now placed cloud ladders along the eight or nine hundred-pace-long wall, secured by iron hooks, impervious to Xinghan soldiers’ attempts to push them down. The sword-and-shield battalion, cramped in the chambers, struggled to swing their weapons freely, greatly slowing the destruction of the ladders.

Xianbei soldiers, shouting as they set up the ladders, raised shields in one hand and called out various weapons, climbing rapidly upward.

Those lucky enough to avoid arrows from the lower chambers found it relatively easy, as the Xinghan Army had not prepared many rocks on top of the wall—making the climb surprisingly unchallenged.

But when they neared the top, only a yard or so from victory, ready to surge over, they finally understood how heaven and hell could be a blink apart.

Countless fierce Xianbei warriors stopped here; this became the nightmare of Xianbei assault troops, an impassable chasm before them.

Whenever they reached this point, at least four or five spears jabbed from the front and sides, aimed at head, chest, and thighs, leaving nowhere to dodge. Even the quickest could throw away their shields and hack a few spears, but before climbing a few more steps, sharp blades above awaited their blood.

Ladders meant for scaling the wall now transformed into conveyor belts, endlessly devouring Xianbei lives. Soldiers climbed from below, scrambling upwards, only to be dispatched near the top, their screams raining down like dumplings, forming a chilling cycle of death.

Some clever Xianbei threw heavy weapons—mace or flying axe—into the chambers to create gaps, or benefited from brief vacancies caused by arrows fired upwards, but these were fleeting. Those who slipped through were soon overwhelmed in a forest of blades and spears, reduced to heaps of corpses below.

To pass this death zone, they would have to wait for the Xinghan Army to be exhausted or too tired to wield weapons—that was the common thought among all Xianbei at Yu Nu Pass. Despair, fear, hesitation, and retreat filled their hearts.

The result was that the fresh Xianbei attackers crowded at the base, mixing with their cowardly comrades, forming dense clusters. The rain of arrows from above became even more deadly, turning the battle into one-sided slaughter.

Watching from the rear, the Chiler chief saw the siege devolve into this horror, closed his bloodshot eyes, and weakly waved for retreat.

The ox-horn sounded the end of the assault. The surviving Xianbei troops, overjoyed, fled desperately, leaving a scene of corpses and ceaseless wails before Yu Nu Pass.

After several hours of fierce battle, with nearly two thousand Xianbei dead and wounded, the attackers withdrew in vain.

The Xinghan Army finally breathed a sigh of relief. Wang Bo, seeing nearly a hundred fallen Xinghan soldiers and more than several hundred wounded carried away for treatment—many permanently disabled—turned and shouted, "Wolf and Owl Army cover! Auxiliary troops out! Behead all Xianbei below the pass, burn corpses, recover weapons!"

Noticing Yang Feng’s lips twitch, as if to speak, Wang Bo glared with chilling eyes and roared at full strength, "Sever the barbarian heads! Build a mound of skulls! Speak no more!"

---

Immediately, heads rolled and smoke billowed beneath Yu Nu Pass.

At first, the Xianbei across the way tried to charge over, eyes blazing, to reclaim their comrades’ bodies, but a rain of arrows from the Xinghan Army forced them to give up. Helplessly, they watched as Xinghan soldiers busied themselves, gathering Xianbei corpses and wounded, beheading them and piling the heads together.

Within dozens of paces from the wall, the Xinghan Army assembled a huge mound of ferocious skulls, tied together, forming a grand "Jingguan" heap. The Xianbei eyes, from fury, turned to grief, then to terror and retreat.

Half an hour later, nearly a thousand bloodied, grotesque barbarian heads were arranged into a terrifying mound eight or nine feet wide and six or seven feet high. Even Wang Bo and his officers shuddered at the sight, their backs chilled.

After a long pause, seeing the morale low, Wang Bo stepped up to the top of the pass, mustering his strength, and thundered, "I have heard: our Great Han's illustrious General Huo, Marquis of Champions, built skull mounds after slaying slaves beyond the frontier! His might awed the land—how heroic was he? Now, the Xinghan Army emulates the deeds of our forebears, to terrorize the barbarians! Do you not feel this act proclaims our army's glorious power?"

He paused, then, voice hoarse, demanded, "Barbarians invade our borders year after year, pillaging and slaughtering our people, treating Han civilians worse than animals, exterminating the old, weak, women, and children! I, Wang Bo, ask you: did the barbarians ever show mercy? If you were frontier folk, what would you do?"

He spat, "Put away your compassion! We must wield our blades and spears to slaughter the barbarians!"

Those who understood shouted, "Slaughter the barbarians! Slaughter the barbarians!"

Wang Bo flourished his spear, then cried the immortal words widely known in later ages, "Whoever offends mighty Han, no matter how far, must be punished!"

"Whoever offends mighty Han, no matter how far, must be punished!" The shouts rang out, shaking the land and echoing to the heavens.

"Slaughter the barbarians! Xinghan victorious!" The triumphant Xinghan Army on Yu Nu Pass erupted in cheers, venting the tension of battle.

In the Xianbei camp below, soldiers heard the cries and their terror deepened, morale sinking further.

After tallying the battle at dusk: Xinghan Army wounded three hundred, eighty dead. Most casualties were archers, the vast majority felled by Xianbei cavalry archers.

The bowlegged barbarians were poor at infantry combat, especially sieges. Almost none reached the top of the pass; those few who did were quickly hacked to pieces, their deaths insignificant.

Thus, Xinghan casualties, aside from those who died quickly from neck wounds, were mostly injuries to shoulders and arms. With Xinghan medicinal wine and careful treatment, most survived and over half could return to battle.

Even so, Wang Bo was deeply pained by these losses. These were elite soldiers preserved through countless trials from old villages in southwestern Ji. Many were close brothers to the officers; Wang Bo could nearly name each one. To lose one-fifth dead and nearly a third wounded in one battle was a heavy price.

After hearing reports from Yang Feng and others, Wang Bo’s gaze turned wolfish, his face dark as night. The officers were as silent as cicadas in winter; even Chen Dao, usually scornful, was cautious, fearing Wang Bo’s red eyes would fix on him.

The nightly harassment continued. Wang Bo, determined, for the first time ignored all advice, organizing Yang Feng, Li Damu, Niu Da, Wu Huan, and a dozen others—elite officers skilled in mounted archery—to openly ride, each with two horses, shooting arrows and hurling insults at the enemy camp throughout the night, right under the Xianbei scouts’ noses.