Chapter Twenty-Four: The First Drop of Blood

Henan Dao lies on a vast plain, its terrain broad and level. The entirety of the Imperial Stallion Guard—one hundred and seven riders, fully armed—raced like the wind, reaching Guochang Town in just two hours.

In winter, the days are short. By dusk, darkness had already fallen. Quan Ce led his horse through the town, passing by men and women who eyed them with open hostility. Throughout the countryside, forts and villages abounded, each gathering its own for defense; the gates were tightly shut, and they wanted nothing to do with imperial troops.

Guochang Town sits at the source of the Wo River, with lakes and streams crisscrossing the land. The main road skirts the northern edge of town, leading to Xunyi County, running parallel to the wide river to the north, while a dense forest lies to the south. Whichever way one turned, taking a detour would add over a hundred li to the journey. Li Gui’s main army had marched for several days and nights at a stretch, morale on the verge of collapse, so they would not choose such a circuitous route.

Quan Ce pondered his defensive arrangements when several village elders approached, trembling and panting, followed by a few sturdy men. There was no food or drink in their hands, only walking sticks.

“General, may I ask what brings you here?” The elder’s hair was snowy white, with only two teeth left in his mouth. His tone was far from peaceful—rather, it brimmed with hostility.

“Good day, elder. The rebel army is about to attack these parts, and I have been ordered to garrison here,” Quan Ce replied politely, saluting from horseback.

“Garrison? We don’t need anyone garrisoning here. You’re all harbingers of misfortune, get out, leave—now!” the old man shouted, waving his stick so furiously it whistled in the air.

“We are the imperial army of Great Tang. This is the empire’s land, and it is my duty to defend it. Forgive me, but I cannot comply,” Quan Ce retorted, already annoyed. The times were perilous and war was upon them; they had not even entered the town, nor disturbed anyone—they were being unreasonably domineering.

“The imperial army? Imperial army, my ass! You’re worse than mountain bandits…” The old men all cursed in unison.

Suddenly, hoofbeats sounded ahead—two riders, likely scouts.

Quan Ce signaled. Lu Jiong vaulted from his saddle, motioning two guards to follow him as they dove into the forest. The scouts galloped past but froze in terror at the sight of massed cavalry ahead, wheeling their horses to flee.

Lu Jiong knelt on one knee, drawing his bow in the textbook shooting stance.

With a sharp whistle, he struck both horses square in the forehead. The animals toppled with a shrill cry, throwing their riders heavily to the ground. The two guards swiftly bound the scouts and dragged them back.

“Talk. Where is Li Gui? How many troops does he have?” Lu Jiong pressed his boot against their shattered kneecaps. Both men howled in agony, pounding the earth, but refused to speak.

Furious, Lu Jiong pressed harder, bones cracking beneath his heel. The scouts were beside themselves with pain, but still kept silent.

Zheng Zhong interjected, “Question them one by one. The first to answer lives; if he stays silent, he dies. If he talks, the other dies. Leave only one survivor—no need for trouble.”

Lu Jiong nodded approval, prodding between the two with his finger, muttering as he chose. At last, he fixed on one. “You. Will you talk?” he asked, drawing his saber and holding it to the man’s throat.

No one wants to die—not when there’s hope of survival. With the promise of unequal fates, unity vanished. The chosen man spilled everything in a rush: “I’ll talk—I’ll talk. There’s only a small force making a showy diversion. The main army—one thousand men under Lord Li—are camped in the Qixian Valley, resting and conserving strength.”

Lu Jiong nodded in satisfaction, and with a swift motion, beheaded the other scout. Blood sprayed, not a single drop touching him. He untied the survivor and kicked him back into the forest—whether he lived or died would be up to fate.

Quan Ce chuckled softly. So Li Gui was resorting to sleight of hand—he was no fool. The valley was low and strewn with stones, making it impossible for cavalry to charge through. Now that he knew the enemy’s plan, how best to counter it?

After careful thought, Quan Ce made up his mind and turned to the irate elder, offering reassurance: “Elder, we are soldiers of Great Tang, an army of kings. We do not harm civilians without cause.”

He squeezed his knees to his horse’s flanks, gave a great shout, and led his troops thundering away.

As darkness deepened, a hush settled over the land. In the Qixian Valley, a dense mass of men and horses stretched for two li. Though the cold bit to the bone and there were no tents, after days and nights of forced marches, the exhausted soldiers huddled together for warmth, fast asleep. In the middle of the valley, where men were packed tight, a dozen horses were tied to a gnarled tree on the slope. A young general sat there, eyes half-closed but sleepless. He was Li Gui, fifth son of Li Zhen, brother to King Li Chong of Langya.

Quan Ce left the main force and horses on the road, leading twenty men on foot to the valley’s rim, where they gazed down at the shadows of over a thousand men below.

“General, the haystacks are ready,” Zheng Zhong reported. They had gathered dozens of damp haystacks, tied at each end, with smoldering firestones tucked inside.

“Disperse them. Throw them down,” Quan Ce ordered, then turned and headed back to the road.

His men moved in darkness, dropping a smoking haystack every twenty paces down the slope, until smoke billowed thick and the stench grew unbearable.

Mounting his steed, Quan Ce drew his saber. “Light the torches!” he commanded. Behind him, his guards lit pine torches in unison. One group stood in the roadside woods, another blocked the road on horseback. Two lines of fire stretched out like dragons, the hundred-strong band forming a formidable front. He waited at the only route to Xunyi County—so long as the enemy kept away, both sides could avoid conflict.

Coughs broke out. “Fire! Fire!” came the shouts.

“The enemy’s here! Enemy troops on the slope!”

“Ah—kill them!”

“Lord, the enemy cavalry has caught up!”

Panic swept the valley. Soldiers awoke, choking on smoke. In the pitch-black night, unable to see their own hands, they blundered in terror, cutting and hacking blindly. Some, in their frenzy, struck down their own comrades, were in turn beset and killed, the chaos devolving into slaughter.

“Lord, retreat! Retreat at once!” Li Gui’s bodyguards shielded him up the slope and onto a horse. A dozen riders fled in disarray.

“General, should we pursue?” Lai Chong licked his lips, exhilarated. Now, with the enemy still in shock and exhaustion, the slaughter would be easy.

“Do not pursue. Wait for the enemy,” Quan Ce replied, calm and unmovable. Lai Chong withdrew, abashed.

“Do not panic—the valley is full of our own men. Follow me and fight our way toward the fire!” A horse’s hooves thundered, a fierce shout splitting the night.

“Kill! Charge toward the fire!” the bodyguards echoed.

As expected, they were coming back.

Quan Ce narrowed his eyes and shouted, “Prepare yourselves—bows and crossbows ready!”

The enemy cavalry charged first, followed by soldiers struggling up from the valley. Quan Ce could already make out their faces. “Loose arrows from the flanks—advance in the center!”

A storm of arrows rained down, cries and neighs filling the night. Corpses piled along the road, the next wave crushed beneath them.

“Loose arrows from the center—flanks, mount up!” Quan Ce commanded with precision. He knew his men’s desires. Now, they no longer wished to shoot from afar—they wanted to charge.

After two volleys, not a single enemy cavalryman remained opposite the Imperial Stallion Guard.

“Charge! Kill!” the enemy lieutenant cried, fearless of death.

“Charge!” Quan Ce snatched up his long saber from beneath his mount, gripping it one-handed, spurred his horse into a full gallop. The steed leapt forward ten paces, saber held low, blade slightly angled down. Using his horse’s momentum, he slashed through the enemy’s throat, decapitating the foremost lieutenant in one stroke.

With a single charge, Quan Ce’s saber felled over a dozen men, though he took a wound to the leg.

Having played the part of vanguard, Quan Ce handed command to Zheng Zhong, who led the troops through the enemy ranks again and again.

“Tell me—did Li Gui die? Where did he go?” Lai Chong, wild-eyed, slashed the prisoners with his saber, cutting them again and again.

“The lord—he’s dead, dead! Over there!” the captive sobbed.

Quan Ce glanced at the lifeless head of the young lieutenant on the ground. He swayed, darkness edging his vision.