Chapter 249: The Final Battle at Talas (Part 2)

The Zoroastrians in Damascus witnessed the destruction of their sacred relics and the death of their holy maiden. They launched a final rebellion, but were quickly crushed by the army’s brutal force. Yet, the flame of resistance had been kindled.
Before dying, the holy maiden Gulan issued a call to resist, which instantly spread throughout all the lands of the Light Faith. The Zoroastrians rebelled, and a massive uprising broke out in Bukhara. Hundreds of thousands of Zoroastrians gathered in front of the temple in Samarkand to pray for Gulan. Soon, this prayer turned into a full-scale uprising as the enraged believers killed the Arab defenders, seized their food supplies, and burned their military equipment.
The wave of rebellion swept across the nine Sogdian kingdoms along the River Jaxartes. At the same time, an uprising erupted in Spain as Rahman, the last member of the Umayyad dynasty, raised the banner of the Umayyad dynasty once again. Fires blazed simultaneously in the East and West under the Abbasid dynasty, while their army was engrossed in a fierce battle with the Tang dynasty, causing great anxiety for the Abbasids. Their worst fear had come true—while their internal strife still unresolved, they now faced a two-front war.
As the uprisings among the Sogdians intensified, the battle at Talas reached its decisive moment.
…
The sudden appearance of 500 Tang war chariots took Abu Muslim by surprise, casting a dark shadow over him.
The Tang war chariots moved like thunder, reaching the left flank of the infantry formation in an instant. Two thousand Arab cavalry formed a line to protect the weaker parts of the formation.
The chariots were arranged in a row facing away from the infantry, with their roofs and back panels lifted to reveal their interior. Inside each chariot were six soldiers, including two shield bearers. Behind the shields was a small catapult with a short arm that used a winch to launch stones weighing five jin up to 400 steps away.
The moment the interior of the chariots was exposed, the Tang army launched a sudden attack. Hundreds of black bundles rose into the air, emitting green smoke as they flew toward the heads of the two thousand cavalrymen. The Arab cavalry looked up in confusion at these bundles, realizing they were clearly not stones—what could they be?
But the Arab army had no idea what kind of demon they were facing. This demon had been locked away in alchemists’ laboratories until the arrival of Li Qing’an, a time traveler, who set it free.

As hundreds of smoking bundles crashed into the dense cavalry formation, in just an instant, a blazing light erupted among them, followed by a series of thunderous explosions. Large numbers of cavalry were blown apart, their bodies shattered, flesh and limbs scattered everywhere, while thick black smoke rose into the air. The once-dense cavalry formation vanished completely, leaving corpses everywhere. The dense infantry formation also suffered a huge gap, with hundreds killed or injured. The entire battlefield was stunned silent, except for the warhorses, which reared up in panic, running away with the corpses of their fallen riders, their long manes flying in the smoke, resembling ghosts from hell.

Abu Muslim’s eyes widened in shock. He instinctively covered his head with both hands and cried out, “O Allah!”

Hundreds of gunpowder bombs killed over 900 cavalry on the spot, with many more injured, lying on the ground writhing in pain. The remaining 300 or so unharmed cavalry were also terrified, ignoring their duty to protect the infantry’s flanks, and frantically spurred their panicked horses toward their positions.

At that moment, the flanks of the Macedonian phalanx were exposed. Le Wan Chun, the general in charge of attacking the flanks, roared, “Follow me and charge!”

He swung his hammer at the flanks of the infantry formation. “Kill!” Behind him, 3,000 Tang cavalry let out a roar like an earthquake, charging like a storm toward the weakest side of the phalanx.

Then, 500 war chariots disappeared silently. After unleashing a nightmare that terrified the Arabs, they withdrew as if nothing had happened.

But Abu Muslim’s gaze remained fixed on this mysterious fleet of chariots. Their devastating power filled him with dread. What could they be? In comparison, his giant fireballs seemed weak and insignificant.

“General Muslim, the infantry formation has collapsed!” someone shouted loudly.

“What?”

Muslim turned abruptly and looked at the infantry formation. What was once a dense phalanx had turned into chaos. Tang cavalry had rushed in from the flanks—this was the weak point of the infantry formation. The once-mighty army instantly became like sheep waiting to be slaughtered, dying tragically under the brutal onslaught of the Tang forces.

Le Wan Chun unleashed his full fury. He swung his hammer wildly through the infantry ranks, shattering the brains and breaking the bones of the Arab soldiers beneath it.

Behind him, the 3,000 Tang troops fought in groups of a hundred, moving in all directions—swinging swords, shooting arrows, and thrusting spears into chests. They separated the heavy infantry and mercilessly slaughtered the already chaotic enemies, their swords covered in blood. With the assault from the Tang cavalry on their flanks, the tightly organized Macedonian phalanx collapsed, and they scattered in panic, completely demoralized.

The Muslim closed his eyes in pain. Suddenly remembering something, he glanced at the Sogdian cavalry, where the battle was just as fierce. Forty thousand Sogdian cavalrymen were fighting against over 18,000 Tang cavalrymen. Despite outnumbering them by more than twice, the Sogdians were still forced to retreat step by step. It wasn’t due to inferior equipment but rather their low morale—they had no desire to fight at all.

“Use the ballistae to attack their center!” the Muslim shouted loudly. The mysterious weapons of the Tang army had dealt a severe blow to the morale of the Abbasid forces. Now, he had to regain the initiative, and perhaps his Greek fire could bring him a turning point.

A hundred massive ballistae roared forward, and the entire Abbasid front advanced alongside them. Eight hundred paces away, they entered range of the crossbows. The Tang army had already prepared 400 crossbows, with their strings taut and arrows loaded. “Fire!” All 400 crossbows shot simultaneously, sending black arrows at the towering ballistae.

With a loud crash, one ballista was hit by an arrow, its long arm breaking. Another crash followed as the massive wooden frame collapsed, and the soldiers below screamed and scattered. After one round of crossbow fire, over twenty ballistae were rendered useless. But the Abbasids had too many ballistae, spread out over a wide area, making it difficult to destroy them all at once. Just then, the Abbasid ballistae came into action.

Dozens of huge fireballs streaked across the dim sky, heading straight for the Tang army’s main formation. Hundreds of Tang soldiers armed with swords and shields were hit by the fireballs, suffering heavy casualties. Many were engulfed in flames, screaming in agony as they collapsed to the ground. Hundreds of banners were set ablaze and instantly reduced to nothing but sticks.

Li Qing’an flew into a rage. Pointing his sword, he ordered, “All troops, charge!”

The Tang army launched a full-scale attack. Their massive forces rushed at the Abbasids, and as they ran, arrows rained down like a storm, darkening the already dim sky once more. Due to the close distance, the Abbasid ballistae became ineffective. The Khurasan and Syrian troops shouted and charged headlong into the hail of arrows.

The two sides collided violently and engaged in fierce combat, with the war reaching its most intense stage. At that moment, the Muslims saw that mysterious fleet of war chariots, following the Tang army’s right flank, surrounded by five thousand Göktürk cavalry. The Muslims’ hearts nearly stopped beating from tension; they cried out in their minds, “Göktürks, brothers of the Göktürks, capture them! I will give you everything—you will have everything you desire!”
They had already received news from Turkic spies that the Göktürks were willing to cooperate with the Arab army on the battlefield.
Shi Han glanced in this direction from afar; it seemed he understood the Muslims’ intentions. With a shout, a thousand Göktürk cavalry rushed forward, accompanied by fifty war chariots, toward the far left flank of the Arabs, where the Syrian army was located.
The Muslims were overjoyed—the chariots had broken away from the main Tang army, indicating that the Göktürks had captured them. They shouted loudly, “Chase after them and seize the chariots!”
At that moment, it seemed he had forgotten the power of those chariots, as if they had become easy prey for him. He imagined himself using these mighty weapons of the Tang dynasty to destroy the sturdy, towering walls of Constantinople.
The fifty chariots charged into the left flank of the Arab army and were instantly surrounded by ten thousand Syrian cavalry. They were packed tightly together, trapped like thirty poor sheep trembling in fear. The Göktürk cavalry left the chariots, raised the Arab black flag, and rushed behind the Syrian cavalry. Dozens of Syrian cavalry charged forward, cutting open the doors of several chariots. Inside, there were no Tang soldiers—only black oil-paper bundles, each tightly tied. No one knew what was inside. They cut open more chariots, and the same thing was found inside.
The cavalry members looked at each other, unsure what those black bundles contained.
Li Qing’an saw this from afar. He held back his horse and smiled coldly—the moment that would decide victory was approaching.
Fifty charioteers holding torches stepped out of the chariots. Each of them had a solemn expression, their eyes filled with tragic determination. They thrust the torches into the chariots.
A thunderous explosion shook the ground. The demon of death roared, spewing flames mixed with poisoned iron sand and shards, mercilessly devouring everything around it.

On the battlefield, both the Tang army and the Abbasid army staggered unsteadily, some covering their ears and screaming as they fell to their knees. When a huge black mushroom cloud rose into the sky, the left wing of the Abbasid army had already vanished. The power generated by the simultaneous explosion of fifty carts of black gunpowder was unprecedented; five thousand Syrian soldiers surrounding them became sacrifices to this war demon. Its strength was beyond even Li Qing’an’s imagination. He was knocked to the ground by his panicked horse, and the Tang army also suffered losses—first and foremost, the thousand Göktürk cavalry, not a single one of whom survived. In addition, more than two hundred Tang soldiers were killed or injured by the iron sand. Many years later, when later historians wrote about the Battle of Talas, they all became solemn, struggling to put pen to paper. The Battle of Talas ended with explosions as loud as earthquakes. The Sogdians were the first to collapse, and their retreat triggered the downfall of the Khorasan army. The Abbasid army was utterly defeated, and the Tang army pursued them, with blood flowing like rivers and corpses scattered everywhere. Countless Abbasid soldiers knelt and surrendered. In this battle, sixty thousand Tang soldiers defeated one hundred thousand Abbasid soldiers, killing over forty thousand and capturing thirty thousand, while seizing countless supplies. Abu Muslim led a few thousand remaining troops to flee toward the Syr Darya River. The smoke from gunpowder still hung over the battlefield, the fires started by the Abbasid fireballs had not yet fully burned out, and the ground was covered with corpses and limbs. Burnt flags lay scattered everywhere, and broken trebuchets lay in ruins. Groups of Abbasid prisoners, with their hands raised, were led across the battlefield by the Tang army in defeat. Li Qing’an silently watched the spot where the fifty gunpowder carts had exploded—there now lay a huge pit, stained red. He couldn’t help but sigh deeply, his heart heavy, without any joy from victory. At that moment, a group of Tang soldiers brought in a high-ranking Abbasid official, who was injured, with three arrows in his body. As he passed by Li Qing’an, he stopped and asked in Turkic, “Are you Li Qing’an, the commander of the Tang army?” Li Qing’an glanced at him and nodded. “I would like to ask, don’t you feel ashamed of using such demonic weapons?” Li Qing’an smiled faintly and said, “War is inherently cruel. When the Byzantines used Greek fire to kill tens of thousands of Arab sailors, why didn’t you condemn them?” The Abbasid official was speechless. Li Qing’an smiled again and asked, “Who are you?” The Abbasid official raised his head and said arrogantly, “I am the governor of Samarkand, Ziyad ibn Sarih.” …

Three days later, Abu Muslim crossed the Syr Darya River. He stopped fleeing and began to gather his defeated troops. For two days in a row, soldiers fled from Talas one after another, and he managed to assemble 13,000 men in total—8,000 from his Khorasan forces, 2,000 from his Syrian forces, with the remaining 3,000 being Sogdian soldiers.

Abu Muslim was filled with despair. In this war against the Tang Dynasty, he had deployed 130,000 soldiers, 80,000 horses, and 30,000 camels, along with countless supplies of food and money. Yet in the end, only 13,000 men remained, with less than 7,000 warhorses and a few hundred camels—everything else, including camp supplies, had been lost.

How could he explain this to the Abbasid Caliph? With a deep sigh, he muttered to himself, “It’s better to die in battle than to be humiliated to death by the Abbasids.”

He suddenly drew his sword, intending to commit suicide. His personal guards, terrified, rushed forward and grabbed his waist and arms. “Governor, it was the Tang army’s sorcery that caused our defeat. The Caliph will surely forgive us.”

“Sorcery?” Abu Muslim perked up. Right! How could he have forgotten? This was the perfect excuse. The Tang army’s thunder had killed or wounded 5,000 Syrian soldiers—wasn’t that sorcery?

Now he had another reason to survive. He slaughtered hundreds of horses for food and led his remaining troops toward Samarkand. When they were still 200 miles away from Samarkand, they encountered a messenger sent by the Abbasids.

“Your Excellency, all the troops in Transoxiana have been withdrawn to Khorasan. The Caliph orders you to cease fighting the Tang army and return to Khorasan immediately.”

Abu Muslim was shocked. “What happened?”

The messenger sighed bitterly. “There has been a major rebellion among the Sogdians in Transoxiana. Our troops cannot suppress it, so we must withdraw to Khorasan. The remnants of the Umayyads have raised their flag again in Spain. The Caliph needs troops to suppress them, so he orders you to end the war with the Tang Dynasty, bring your troops back to Damascus, and abandon Transoxiana.”

“What!”

Abu Muslim stared blankly in the direction of Transoxiana. Suddenly, he let out a scream, spat blood, and collapsed to the ground.