Chapter 9: Chaos in Times of Turmoil (9)

Golden horns, silver edges, and a grassy belly!
This is a strategic principle well-known to every chess player.
It succinctly summarizes the tactics of the opening phase: those with high-level strategies first control the corners, those with mid-level strategies focus on the edges, while only those with low-level strategies rush to seize the central area.
No matter how refined chess may seem, at its core it is about seizing territory. The chessboard represents a miniature version of the land of China, where black and white pieces attack each other to claim territory—those with stronger forces and larger domains naturally become the victors.
The corners are easy to occupy due to their solid structure, while the central area, though seemingly less fortified, holds great strategic value and is the ultimate goal. Reaching the center signifies achieving supreme dominance, completing the conquest of the land. But is this heartland of China so easy to seize?
If the Tang Dynasty’s realm is regarded as the chessboard, then Luoyang lies right in its core.
Yet An Lushan ignored these strategic principles and seized Luoyang first!
In fact, An Lushan’s ability to swiftly capture Luoyang, a key stronghold in the heartland, was partly due to the surprise of his uprising and partly thanks to his advisor Yan Zhuang. This Confucian scholar, whom An Lushan regarded as a modern “recluse dragon,” possessed sharp insight and remarkable talent.
Yan Zhuang had long known An Lushan’s ambition to conquer the land of China and thus devised three strategies—upper, middle, and lower—to assist him in seizing power. The upper strategy involved marching south to take over Hebei and Henan, thereby connecting An Lushan’s territories. After a brief rest, they could then besiege the strategic city of Suiyang, opening the way to the Jianghuai region. Once this region was secured, An Lushan could intercept all the grain sent to Guanzhong each year, further straining the Tang army’s supply lines. Over time, victory would tilt in An Lushan’s favor.
The middle strategy involved bypassing Luoyang and advancing swiftly toward Guanzhong. By capturing Tongguan at any cost, Chang’an would fall into An Lushan’s hands. This approach might even allow him to capture Emperor Li Longji while he was indulging in pleasure, completely eliminating the possibility of the Tang court launching a counterattack.
The lower strategy involved methodically besieging Luoyang, the eastern capital. Located in the heartland with no natural defenses and close to An Lushan’s base, Luoyang had little chance of resistance. Once captured, An Lushan would have a more reliable stronghold from which to expand his forces. Another important factor was that Luoyang was the Tang Dynasty’s eastern capital and a secondary capital to Chang’an. Its capture carried greater symbolic significance than any practical advantage.
Yet An Lushan ultimately chose the lower strategy.
In truth, An Lushan was able to quickly capture Luoyang because he had the entire Hebei region as his backing. In other words, he had already seized the northeastern corner of the land!

It was with this backing that he dared to launch an attack on the heartland of Central China. With 200,000 fierce soldiers attacking together, the fall of Luoyang was only a matter of time.
Now, Li Kuo had to decide how to avoid An Lushan’s rebel forces!
From the map, it seemed An Lushan had already taken control of the northern part of Henan Circuit and most of the Capital Circuit. Looking at the map, the only city not occupied by the enemy was Tangzhou.
But this report had been submitted by scouts seven days ago—could this city, just over a hundred li from Xuzhou, still bear the Tang name?
Of course, Li Kuo wouldn’t take the route via Southern Shan East Circuit, as that would violate the emperor’s orders and be considered defiance. With Zhu Gui as a spy in the army, Li Kuo didn’t want to invite trouble. And taking the route through Xuzhou would inevitably lead to a fierce battle with An Lushan’s rebels, which he also didn’t want.
By now, it seemed he had no choice left.
Tangzhou! Tangzhou!
Li Kuo marked this city, located downstream of the Huai River, with a thick black circle using charcoal!…
Accompanied by Qian Yuanke, the governor of Yingzhou, Li Kuo and his army of 10,000 soldiers left Yingzhou City.
From a distance, they formed a vast, endless procession.
The snow finally stopped falling, allowing the soldiers to escape the agony of seeing nothing but white everywhere and to see the distant mountains and green rocks just a few hundred steps away.
The wheat fields along the road were still covered with thick layers of frozen snow. The soldiers stepped carefully into snow pits, took a deep breath, and struggled to pull their legs, wrapped in protective gear, out of the snow.
Marching in the snow was extremely difficult. Those on horseback fared better, but the infantry really struggled. Their armor and weapons alone weighed thirty to forty jin, plus nearly sixty jin of emergency rations each. With such a heavy load, it wasn’t surprising they got stuck in snow pits.
At such times, some reckless new recruits would quietly curse the wise emperor sitting on the throne. Most of these soldiers were sons of families from Yangzhou, conscripted into the military camps. They thought they could just make a living there, but never expected to encounter An Lushan’s rebellion.
Worst of all, they had to travel thousands of miles to suppress the rebellion by imperial order!
Normally, these soldiers were strong men used to farm work and shouldn’t have so much to complain about, but after only 19 days, they encountered such a severe snowstorm.
For these well-born men who had grown up south of the Huai River, this was the first time they had seen such heavy snow.

Walking with a sword in the snow—good heavens, this seems like something only found in legends, right? At such times, the veterans of the Copper Weapons Camp would firmly twist the ears of the new recruits, teaching them the cost of gossiping. In the army, the worst thing you can do is speak ill of others behind their backs, especially when those they’re talking about are the current emperor himself. Veteran soldiers all understand one principle: a few who talk little and work hard—those who talk the most in the army are often the first to die! Pretending to be ignorant while actually knowing everything is the most difficult skill to master. These veterans of the Copper Weapons Camp have long since risen to the top, becoming officers at the rank of colonel or brigade commander; even the lowest-ranked among them hold the position of platoon leader. As the saying goes, “One rank higher can crush a man.” Those new recruits might look down on Emperor Li in the Daming Palace in Chang’an and dismiss him, but they dare not argue with their superiors. After all, their promotions and demotions are in the hands of these officers, right? Since they’ve already embarked on this path, they must think of ways to climb to higher positions—this way, they can at least live up to their hard work. Li Kuo held the reins in one hand, gazing at the city of Tangzhou hidden in the misty haze, and exhaled a long sigh. “Pass my order: the entire army shall camp and rest here, while the scout unit shall go ahead to investigate!”