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Zheng Jian's face was ashen with fury, his teeth clenched tightly as he stood firmly at the forefront of the battle. A sword was gripped in his hand, and behind him stood a general with his blade drawn. A long line had been etched into the ground behind the general.
The Hongnong Yang clan had already sent additional troops as promised, yet not only had Zheng Jian failed to hold Hangu Pass, but he had also been routed in a humiliating night raid by a mere hundred soldiers!
If he failed again even with reinforcements this time, he would have no face left to show anyone.
Never mind whether the Hongnong Yang clan would forgive him—even the Xingyang Zheng clan could not bear such disgrace!
"I can die, but I cannot let my family be shamed!"
Thus, Zheng Jian personally took command, vowing not to retreat a single step. No one was allowed to cross the line behind them. If a common soldier retreated, their squad leader would be executed. If a squad leader retreated, their platoon commander would be executed. If a platoon commander retreated, their company commander would be executed…
If an officer of higher rank retreated, Zheng Jian himself would execute them. And if Zheng Jian retreated, the drawn blade of the general behind him would be waiting for him.
As the saying goes, even a cornered dog will leap over a wall—let alone Zheng Jian, who was now backed into a hopeless situation.
The previous night, Zhang Liao's raid had not caused many deaths—only about two hundred—but the chaos had left the troops disorganized, unable to receive or execute orders. As a result, the entire army had been rendered useless, allowing the siege engines and supplies to be burned.
However, after learning of the fall of Hangu Pass, the Hongnong Yang clan swiftly gathered a second wave of private soldiers and handed them over to Zheng Jian. With these reinforcements, Zheng Jian's forces swelled to nearly five thousand men, giving him an overwhelming numerical advantage over Fei Qian and Zhang Liao.
With this advantage, Zheng Jian's rebuilding of siege engines proceeded much faster than the day before. In less than half a day, the new weapons were ready. After a hasty meal of meat and wine, the assault began immediately.
Zheng Jian's eyes were bloodshot, his gaze terrifying. The supplies burned the previous night had not been fully replenished, and if Hangu Pass was not taken quickly, his army would soon run out of provisions. Thus, Zheng Jian poured almost all remaining resources into the battle, ensuring that every wave of retreating soldiers could eat their fill and rest before returning to the fight.
He divided his forces into three rotating waves, launching relentless attacks. Though each wave only had about twice the number of Fei Qian and Zhang Liao's troops, the defenders' thousand men were stretched thin trying to hold the long western wall of Hangu Pass.
Worse still, the defenders lacked long-range suppression, allowing Zheng Jian's forces to easily close in for melee combat. Had Fei Qian not taken advantage of the lull that morning to organize laborers to haul rolling stones from the eastern wall, the first wave of battering rams might have already breached the gates!
The battle had escalated to a fever pitch from the very beginning.
While the attackers suffered heavy losses, Fei Qian and Zhang Liao's troops were also steadily dwindling. Soldiers on both sides fought like madmen, lives slipping away at a terrifying pace. Dark streaks of blood, like giant earthworms, slithered down the walls, a gruesome sight. Many fighters slipped and stumbled on the slick gore as they clashed.
If not for Zhang Liao and Huang Cheng's exceptional martial prowess—leading elite troops along the walls and repeatedly repelling Zheng Jian's climbers—the defenses would have already fallen.
As for Fei Qian's combat skills… well, they were nothing to boast about. Rather than getting in the way, he organized auxiliary troops to transport bricks and stones, even scavenging usable materials from the burned-out magistrate's office in the inner city.
Now, he had some millet rice cooked, wrapped with salted meat, and tied in cloth bundles. A large pot of water was also boiled, and during a brief lull in the assault, the provisions were sent up to the defenders.
Fei Qian personally handed a few rice balls to Zhang Liao, who accepted them silently. After ensuring his men had also received their portions, Zhang Liao tore into his meal ravenously.
Of the original thousand soldiers on the wall, only slightly more than half remained. With manpower growing ever scarcer, even if Zheng Jian called off the attack for the night, holding out until tomorrow seemed impossible…
The once-refined and composed Zhang Liao was now unrecognizable. His face and body were caked in layers of dried and fresh blood, his helmet lost at some point in the chaos. His hair, matted with blood and dirt, clung to his forehead and neck.
Fei Qian leaned over the sticky parapet, looking down. The latest wave of attackers had just retreated, with some of Zheng Jian's troops regrouping while others ate. Judging by earlier patterns, the next assault would come soon…
"Wenyuan, the situation is looking dire..."
Zhang Liao remained silent. From the afternoon until now, as dusk approached, the attacks had barely ceased. No matter how skilled a warrior was, exhaustion would eventually take its toll. They were nearing their limit.
The numerical disadvantage was becoming increasingly apparent.
Zheng Jian's forces showed no signs of setting up camp—clearly, they intended to continue the assault through the night. Once darkness fell, the defenders' already thin numbers would leave gaps in their lines. If a large number of attackers breached the walls, total annihilation would be inevitable.
Zhang Liao swallowed another mouthful, leaning against the parapet without speaking. He knew as well as anyone that defeat was looming, but to retreat now would render last night's glorious raid meaningless. History would not remember the hundred cavalrymen who stormed the enemy camp—only the humiliating defeat of being driven from Hangu Pass.
Yet there was little they could do. Zheng Jian had controlled Hangu Pass for years, his influence deeply rooted. Rallying civilians to aid in the defense was impossible—any conscripted locals would likely turn on them instantly.
They could only rely on the soldiers they had, but their numbers were dwindling rapidly. The stretch of wall was simply too long to hold for much longer.
Zhang Liao was filled with bitter frustration.
Fei Qian understood his thoughts perfectly. This conflict had little to do with Dong Zhuo or the Shandong gentry, and Fei Qian had no intention of declaring either side righteous or wicked at this stage. After all, history was written by the victors, and the defeated were almost always painted as villains—such was the way of the world.
Moreover, the fact that Zheng Jian's forces still wore yellow scarves—daring not to openly fly the banners of the Hongnong gentry—spoke volumes.
At this point, if the city fell, Fei Qian, Zhang Liao, and the others would undoubtedly be silenced permanently.
But what could they do now?
Fei Qian gazed down at the wreckage of three or four shattered battering rams below the gate. An idea struck him, and he turned to Zhang Liao…
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A/N: There is a difference between defeating, routing, and annihilating an enemy. Casualty numbers also vary depending on whether pursuit occurs. Total annihilation is a high bar—it usually only happens when an army is surrounded with no escape, forcing them to fight to the death and inflict heavy losses even in defeat.
In the Three Kingdoms era, many deaths in open battles occurred during post-victory massacres. For example, after Yuan Shao's defeat at Guandu, 70,000 of his soldiers—including support troops—were buried alive.
Historically, when Zhang Liao led 800 men to charge Sun Quan's "100,000-strong" army, he only broke through to Sun Quan's main formation, causing a chain collapse rather than slaughtering the enemy outright. Most casualties occurred during the rout, not from Zhang Liao's initial strike.