Chapter 008: Blood Rain Splatters the Sky

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White Cloud Lake lay to the northeast of Zhangqiu, but the attack led by Zhi Shilang was targeted at the city’s northern gate. After about half an hour, Li Dong arrived with his government troops, striking the rear of Zhi Shilang’s besieging army.

Upon the towering city walls, a variety of defensive machines whirled up and down, felling the conscripted soldiers who dared approach. Some tumbled to the foot of the wall, others were killed or wounded on the spot.

Zhi Shilang’s force of one hundred thousand surged against the city all at once—a daunting number, yet not without its flaws. Their formation was poorly managed: at times they clustered into a dense mass, at others they scattered so thinly that soldiers could not support one another. The line stretched for miles from the rear guard to the vanguard. The front lines had already suffered heavy casualties or were wounded, while the rear still donned armor in camp.

Li Dong knew that victory depended on striking the enemy’s weak point—just as, when killing a snake, one must hit the vulnerable spot, the seventh inch, to finish it in a single blow. Otherwise, you risk a counterattack that could cost you dearly. With a sweep of his command banner toward the thinnest part of the enemy line, he ordered, “Charge!”

Like ravenous wolves and tigers, the three thousand government soldiers surged into the no-man’s-land between the armies, splitting the besiegers in two and preventing them from supporting each other.

The front lines, caught in the act of assaulting the walls, found themselves attacked from both front and rear, with no escape. Panic set in, their formation crumbled. The rear, unaware of the chaos ahead, believed that government troops had sallied out from the city and that the vanguard had been annihilated. Convinced all was lost, they fled in every direction.

Cavalry led the rout, followed by infantry, fleeing desperately in all directions. Standards were abandoned, weapons discarded, siege engines left behind, and only one thought remained: escape!

Zhi Shilang burst from his command tent to find the battlefield awash with fleeing conscripts, each one terrified, running for their lives. Only a few thousand of the attackers, fierce and relentless, cut and slashed at the government soldiers with desperate fury.

Wang Bo, enraged, ordered his officers to rally those who had not yet fled. “The elite enemy troops have all gone to Liaodong to fight Goguryeo. Only a rabble of old, sick, weak, and crippled men remain in the city—barely a few thousand. Do they really think they can devour my hundred thousand? The fools. Attack! Cut them to pieces!”

A force of ten thousand quickly charged toward Li Dong’s men. The rebel troops, heartened by the arrival of reinforcements, fought the government troops with renewed ferocity.

Li Dong’s three thousand, like starved tigers among sheep, were enjoying a rout when suddenly a new force surged toward them, surrounding them completely. The government soldiers went pale with fear, their limbs weak, eyes wide in disbelief, not knowing whence this new enemy had come. All glanced to Li Dong for orders.

The situation was perilous.

If only the county constable would lead a sortie from within, Zhi Shilang’s conscripts would not dare linger. But the city gates remained tightly shut, not a soul in sight. No defenders could be seen atop the walls either. Clearly, the constable, cowed by the hundred thousand attackers, had no intention of risking battle—hiding like a turtle in its shell and leaving Li Dong’s three thousand to die in his stead.

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Grinding his teeth in fury, Li Dong wished he could storm into the city and tear the constable limb from limb. Opportunities in war are as precious as they are fleeting—once lost, they never return. To defeat an army of a hundred thousand concentrated at a single county seat was a golden chance, if only for the vast stores of supplies alone—enough to feed and clothe three thousand troops for years. Now, this chance to drive Zhi Shilang out of Zhangqiu was slipping away.

Li Dong had no choice but to fight alone.

There was no other path.

His government troops were well-trained, disciplined in advance and retreat. Li Dong, having the mind of a modern military commander, was versed not only in the tactics of the Sui and Tang, but also in later and modern mass warfare. He quickly devised a battle plan:

He divided his three thousand into two groups—one forming a circular defense, shields outward, weapons ready, to avoid being attacked from both sides. The other formed a second ring inside, shooting arrows through the gaps at the rebel forces.

After a bout of fierce combat, the inner troops would rotate to relieve those on the perimeter, allowing everyone a chance to rest and catch their breath. This way, they could hold out against the numerically superior enemy, hoping for a miracle.

The rebels, hastily assembled, lacked discipline and coordination. They fought by brute instinct, hacking at anything that moved, their wild, unfocused attacks sapping their effectiveness. Moreover, they had little rest and soon began to tire.

Yet, outnumbering Li Dong’s men several times over, the rebels’ attacks could not be taken lightly. Every mistake meant a government soldier fell, wounded or slain. Fallen comrades were quickly replaced, the formation kept tight, but as time went on, their numbers dwindled, and the inner circle threatened to collapse altogether.

Li Dong was drenched in sweat, his body bearing numerous shallow wounds, blood soaking his uniform. But he showed no fear—calm and resolute, he fought with precision, felling an enemy with every strike. When his blade dulled, he snatched another from a fallen foe.

The government troops were surrounded, with no gaps in the encirclement. Each rebel charge left several dead, and soon only a few hundred government soldiers remained inside, while the rebels continued to press in, relentless.

The situation grew ever more dire. If the constable did not emerge soon, they could not hold much longer—at most another half hour, and all would perish here.

Li Dong let out a long, defiant roar to the heavens.

Suddenly, a great cloud of dust rose behind the rebel army, shouts and cries of battle shaking the skies.

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Li Dong’s heart leapt—had Prefect Zhang’s army arrived at last?

Holding his breath, he listened. The battle cries indeed invoked the name of Zhang Xutuo. Shielding his eyes, he glimpsed through the haze a fast-moving detachment, their banners billowing in the wind, the character “Zhang” faintly visible in ancient script.

The prefect had arrived at the perfect moment!

Li Dong rejoiced—he was not yet abandoned by heaven. He rallied his men to fight their way outward, clinging tightly to Zhi Shilang’s conscripts, giving them no chance to flee.

Zhi Shilang’s army was forced to fight for their lives. No one knew how many reinforcements had come, but they struck like a storm, throwing the rebels into chaos. Banners vanished, men fell in droves, severed limbs flew, and blood rained through the air. The conscripts, terrified, saw only one way out—into the underworld. Who would dare fight on? They broke and ran.

The fresh government troops drove in like a dagger, piercing the back of Zhi Shilang’s army, splitting them in two. Still, the rebels fought desperately. The reinforcements hacked a bloody path through to Li Dong’s embattled men.

As the rescuers broke through, Li Dong stopped in shock. The leaders were none other than Du Fuwei and Fu Gongtao, whom he had sent for help. Their detachment was small, barely a thousand strong—fewer than the three thousand Li Dong had led from the city.

Yet these newcomers fought with unmatched savagery, each one worth ten foes. Wherever they went, the conscripts broke and fled. Their attire was wild and mismatched, unlike the uniformed government troops—some wore short jackets, others armor, some long tunics, some short, their ages and statures all different.

They did not look like a regular army. And why was Du Fuwei carrying a “Zhang” banner? Zhang Xutuo, as the prefect, was known for his discipline and would never be so careless. Something was amiss—had they disguised themselves and marched in secret to Zhangqiu? If rescuing Zhangqiu was a just cause, why all the mystery?

While Li Dong pondered, Du Fuwei dismounted and strode up, saluting with a broad gesture. “I, Du Fuwei, am late. Forgive me for letting you suffer and for my delay.”

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