Chapter 125: Luring the Snake Out of Its Hole

The distance from Fusi City to Dafei River is over three hundred li. To ensure the safety of the supply routes, the Tibetans built several castles along the way. Among them, Haixi Castle was the closest to Fusi City. Two months ago, the Tibetans mobilized more than two thousand Han male slaves to build the castle. The construction was extremely difficult—first, stones had to be quarried two hundred li away at Dafei River, then carved into blocks by stonemasons before the city walls could be built. With a shortage of stonemasons, the Tibetans brought in over a hundred Han blacksmiths from the blacksmith camps to assist.

Over a hundred Tibetan soldiers supervised these Han slaves, led by a centurion. Their main task was to prevent the Han from escaping, so they focused on monitoring their journey to the quarry. They were not particularly strict about their daily work but used the harshest punishments to force the slaves to work hard—any delay would result in execution!

Haixi Castle was not large, capable of housing only three to four hundred soldiers. It was located just half a li from Qinghai, on a small hill, with a beacon tower nearby. From the top of the walls, one could clearly see the vast expanse of Qinghai’s blue waters.

That afternoon, two thousand slaves were busy building the city walls. Most of them were shirtless, their skin darkened by intense ultraviolet rays. Several Tuuguhun supervisors walked back and forth with whips, glaring fiercely at each slave.

Like the Qiang and Turks, the Tuuguhun were considered second-class people in Tibet. Their status was far higher than that of Han slaves—they could serve in the army, own cattle and sheep, and even possess Han slaves. In this massive Tibetan military mobilization, thirty thousand Tuuguhun, Qiang, and others joined the forces, mainly deployed along the eastern shore of Dafei River.

Among the three thousand soldiers in Fusi City, a thousand were Tuuguhun. While most Tibetan soldiers were drinking and reveling in their camps, the supervision of the construction at Haixi Castle was left to ten Tuuguhun.

One Tuuguhun supervisor suddenly saw several Han slaves gathered together. He rushed over and whipped them mercilessly. “Damnards! Trying to slack off?”

“He twisted his ankle!”

A tall slave dodged the whip and snapped, “Can’t we just rub it for him?”

To improve efficiency, the Han slaves were organized into military units—two thousand divided into four groups of five hundred, each led by a respected slave. This tall slave was the leader of the first group; his name was Luo Han, from Fengxiang in Guanzhong, and he was a captured Tang army officer.

On the ground sat a boy of about sixteen or seventeen years old. Years of hard labor had left him extremely weak; his face was pale, covered in sweat drops the size of beans. He had fainted while carrying stones. The Tuuguhun supervisor suddenly saw him, stepped back, narrowed his eyes, and said, “You’re sick!”
“No! I’m not sick.”
The boy struggled to get up, gasping, “I’m fine. I can work.”
The Tuuguhun supervisor gave the boy a cold look and turned away.
Luo Han became anxious and quickly shouted at the others, “Help him away! Hurry!”
The Tibetans did not keep useless people alive; the old, weak, sick, and disabled were all executed. A few slaves helped the boy toward the castle, but before they could go far, more than a dozen Tibetan soldiers rushed out of their tents after being alerted. Armed with spears and shouting, they chased after the boy. The slaves who were helping him, fearing the approaching soldiers, dropped him and fled. The boy trembled with fear, kneeling on the ground and begging for mercy, but the Tibetan soldiers mercilessly pierced his chest with their spears. With a scream, he died instantly.
The Tibetan soldiers lifted his body high and laughed cruelly. The brutal killing caused chaos among the two thousand slaves present, and many became enraged. Suddenly, someone picked up a stone and threw it at the Tibetan soldiers. Enraged, one of the soldiers charged at the thrower with his spear, causing further chaos.
Luo Han’s face turned red, and his fists clenched tightly. As the Tibetan soldier passed by him, Luo Han suddenly roared, leaped from behind, and knocked the soldier to the ground. The other dozen or so Tibetan soldiers were shocked and charged at Luo Han in anger. The slaves, unable to bear it any longer, erupted in fury. They rushed forward, hitting with stones, fists, and teeth, quickly overwhelming the soldiers.
Luo Han snatched a spear and thrust it deep into the chest of the Tibetan soldier beneath him. Shouting, “Rather die fighting than be tortured to death!” he added, “Let’s fight! We’ll return to the Tang Dynasty from Dunhuang!”
The two thousand Han slave workers, armed with sticks and crowbars, charged boldly at the Tibetan camp. The ten Tuuguhun supervisors knelt on the ground begging for mercy but were quickly killed by the enraged slaves. At that moment, dozens of Tibetan soldiers rushed out of their tents, terrified, and scrambled toward their horses. Those who were slower were caught by the slaves and beaten to death. Only a dozen or so faster soldiers managed to mount their horses and flee desperately. Seeing the Tibetans either dead or fleeing, the slaves cheered loudly.

At that moment, the beacon tower on top of the hillside was lit, with thick smoke rising into the sky—this was a signal for help sent by two Tibetan sentries.
Luo Han was shocked. Frowning deeply, he realized that lighting the beacon tower would surely attract a large force of Tibetan troops to suppress them.
Suddenly, someone pointed in the distance and shouted, “The army!”
In an instant, everyone fell silent. An army was rushing toward them, the sound of horse hooves pounding the ground like thunder. The slaves slowly retreated, fear evident in everyone’s eyes.
“Clang!” Sticks and crowbars fell to the ground as fear of death enveloped them.
…
Warhorses galloped, and several patrol soldiers sped toward the Tang army’s camp. On one of the horses was a man covered in blood.
Inside the tent, Li Qing’an was gathering officers above the rank of brigade commander for a military meeting. He said to He Yanming, who had just returned, “Tell us about the intelligence you’ve gathered.”
He Yanming stood up and said to everyone, “I was ordered by the general to go to Datong Valley. The valley is about a hundred li wide and easy to pass through. But after traveling dozens of li, the gorge became narrower, with the narrowest part being only five li wide. The Tibetans built a five-li-high wall to block the gorge and constructed three castles. We didn’t dare approach. Judging from their dense camps, there are at least 30,000 troops there. In other words, if we want to pass through Datong Valley, we’ll have to fight against those 30,000 men.”
Silence filled the tent. Everyone felt heavy-hearted. He Yanming’s meaning was clear—they couldn’t pass through Datong Valley, let alone reach Hehuang in the south. If they could pass, what would be the need for the Battle of Hehuang?
At that moment, Li Qing’an helplessly said to everyone, “It seems we’ve taken a dead end. We can’t reach Hehuang from here.”
Whispers immediately arose. Li Fei Shouyu laughed loudly and said, “General, even if we return to Dunhuang, we should achieve something before leaving. We can’t just come for nothing!”
Li Qing’an nodded. “That’s exactly what I think. At least we should burn down the food supplies in Fusi City and eliminate thousands of Tibetan troops. That would count as a significant achievement.”
Bai Yuanguang also laughed and said, “Actually, if we hurry and enter Hehuang through Biandukou from Liangzhou, we can save a lot of time. By the end of October, we should be able to reach Shanzhou.”
The words of these generals essentially set the tone—they would capture Fusi City and then turn back to Dunhuang.

At that moment, hurried footsteps were heard outside the tent. A soldier reported, “General, the scouts found a Han slave on the road.”
“Bring him in!”
A moment later, several scouts carried the man they had found in. One of the scouts reported, “We saw the beacon fires lit, so we went to check. We happened to see this man riding a horse away. He said he was a Han slave from Haixi Fort.”
Li Qing’an stepped forward to take a look. The man was covered in blood, with at least a dozen cuts on his body, but he was strong and still alive.
Li Qing’an asked, “What’s your name? What exactly happened?”
The man slightly opened his eyes and said weakly, “My name is Luo Han. I used to be an officer in the Longyou Army’s scout unit. I was captured in the fifth year of the Tianbao era. Today, there was a rebellion among the Hans in Haixi Fort, which was suppressed by the Tibetan army. It was terrible.”
“When did this happen?”
Li Qing’an asked twice, but the man had already fainted. The scout added, “It must have happened about two hours ago. I suddenly noticed beacon fires lit in the direction of Haixi Fort.”
Two hours earlier, an unexpected event had disrupted Li Qing’an’s plans. He unrolled the map and examined it carefully. The distance from Haixi Fort to Dafei Chuan was over 200 li. The lighting of the beacon fires meant that a large group of Tibetan reinforcements was on the way. They had no time left.
……
Haixi Fort had turned into a bloody slaughterhouse, with corpses lying everywhere. Thick streams of blood pooled together, bubbling and emitting a foul smell.
Nearly a thousand headless corpses formed small hills. The Tibetans poured kerosene on the corpses, preparing to burn them. Unfinished sections of the city walls were adorned with slave heads. In the forests near Haixi Fort, each tree had a Han slave with their abdomen ripped open tied to it, dying in extreme pain.
When the beacon tower was lit, a Tibetan army from Fusi City was just a few miles away. That morning, a tribal chief came to report that thirteen families had gone missing, and traces of Tang army scouts were found in the vicinity.
The highest-ranking Tibetan general stationed in Fusi City took this very seriously and personally led 1,000 troops to capture the Tang army scouts. Unexpectedly, they encountered Tibetan soldiers fleeing from Haixi Fort. Learning about the rebellion of the Han slaves, he became furious and rushed to Haixi Fort to brutally suppress the rebellion.

The supreme commander of Fusi City was Shangxidezan, the brother of the Tibetan prime minister Shangxidongzan. He held the position of governor of Haixi, with his jurisdiction extending across all areas west of Qinghai. Shangxidezan was violent and cruel by nature. In the fourth year of the Tianbao era, he brutally suppressed a rebellion by Han slaves from Jiuqu, personally tying over 300 captured serfs to wooden stakes and disemboweling them—a habit he took great pleasure in. Rape of women was another of his passions.

For this military assembly, he was not given the role of frontline commander but instead assigned to manage logistics and food supplies in Fusi City, which greatly angered him. He vented his fury on the Han female slaves who served him; any slight disobedience led to immediate rape and murder. Over the course of two months, he had tortured and killed no less than fifty such slaves.

Today’s rebellion by the Han slaves in Haixi Fort ignited his innate desire to kill. He roared, “Execute all rebellious Han slaves on the spot! Use their heads as trophies!”

At that moment, a battalion commander whispered, “Governor, Haixi Fort will be completed soon. Why not keep a few hundred people alive and execute them after it’s done?”

Shangxidezan nodded slowly. “Alright! Keep five hundred strong men; execute the rest and send their heads to Jiuqu to show other Han slaves what awaits rebels.”

After suppressing the rebellion, he left a hundred soldiers to oversee construction. He then led more than a thousand Tibetan troops back to Fusi City, satisfied with himself.

The distance from Haixi Fort to Fusi City was only thirty li, but the road was not smooth—mountains and forests lined the way, slowing down the warhorses. Fifteen li north of Haixi Fort, they had to cross the Fusi River, which had a simple bridge over it. The bridge was unstable, and the large troop force could not cross on horseback; they had to lead their horses by hand.

It was already dark. The narrow and small wooden bridge was pitch black, with the churning river below, making it especially terrifying. Fifty steps away from the bridge’s end lay a vast forest that stretched all the way to the sea.

Shangxidezan led his large Tibetan army at full speed. He was anxious because he had just received news that a Tang army patrol of over a hundred men had been spotted on the north bank of the Fusi River, fleeing westward.

Furious, Shangxidezan thought that killing a hundred slaves was not as satisfying as killing a single Tang soldier. How could he let a hundred Tang soldiers enter his territory?

When the Tibetan troops reached the wooden bridge, they dismounted and lined up. The bridge consisted of wooden planks laid across a dozen iron chains, barely five feet wide, requiring everyone to cross one by one. No matter how anxious they were, there was no shortcut. Shangxidezan shouted and yelled, urging his soldiers to cross quickly. He couldn’t tolerate even the slightest delay. Standing by the bridge, he whipped them relentlessly.

“Hurry up and cross the bridge!”

“Damn it, why didn’t you get off your horse and get ready earlier? Go back and queue up!” Shang Xidezan could wait no longer and rushed onto the bridge first. Dozens of Tibetan soldiers moved like parts on an assembly line, leading their horses at full speed across the bridge. After traveling over fifty zhang, they finally reached the other side, but the bridge began to shake violently and became unusable. Over nine hundred people were waiting on the other side, yet only Shang Xidezan and thirty men had crossed the bridge. “Hurry up and get on the bridge!” Shang Xidezan stood at the bridge’s end, waving his arms and shouting angrily. Just then, an arrow shot in like lightning from the forest nearby. Hearing the sound of the arrow flying through the air, Shang Xidezan instinctively turned around—only to have an arrow pierce his face, with the tip emerging from the back of his head. With a deafening scream, he fell along with his horse into the rushing Fusai River. Fifty steps away in the forest, Li Qing’an retracted his bow and smiled coldly. A flaming arrow rose from behind him, shining brightly in the night sky. Soon, arrows rained down, and screams filled the air. The first thirty Tibetan soldiers who crossed the bridge fled in all directions, but none could escape their fate—they were all shot dead by the bridge. A few more tried to scramble back onto the bridge in panic, causing it to shake violently. They lost their balance and fell into the river along with their horses. On the other side, chaos reigned as well. In the darkness, arrows flew from the forests on both sides, striking the enemy forces in dense waves. The Anxi archers and cavalry utilized their advantages to the fullest—moving swiftly, shooting arrows like thunder, with poison on them. Once hit, the Tibetan soldiers would fall ill within moments. Hundreds of Tibetans were killed in an instant, especially their warhorses, which died in large numbers. The remaining horses broke free from their owners’ control in terror and scattered in all directions. After the initial panic, a battalion commander helped the Tibetan army regain control. The remaining five hundred men quickly gathered together, holding their shields, ready to retreat. With the rushing river behind them, their only option was to cross the bridge. When over a hundred men on the bridge had reached halfway, a fierce fire suddenly broke out at the other end. The flames engulfed the wooden planks of the bridge, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder. The fire spread rapidly toward the center of the bridge. The Tibetan soldiers on it became chaotic as more and more of them screamed and fell into the river, instantly swallowed by the rushing waters.

South of the bridge, Li Feiyuanli charged into the enemy ranks like a mad tiger. Wielding his large bird-beak sword, he slashed up and down, killing dozens of enemies in an instant. Behind him, 500 Tang soldiers advanced with their lances, and the two armies collided in the narrow space at the bridgehead, engaging in a bloody fight.

Most of the Tubo soldiers had lost their horses and could only fight on foot. Though at a disadvantage, they remained fiercely determined, fighting in groups against the Tang soldiers. Heads rolled and blood flowed like rivers in this brutal battle.

Nan Jiyun was experiencing such a bloody close-quarters fight for the first time. His body was covered in Tubo blood, and the pungent smell made him want to vomit. But thinking of the bloody massacre at Haixi Fort, a flame of hatred burned fiercely in his heart. His iron spear flew like snowflakes, killing countless enemies. Gradually, he led 100 Jiangdu soldiers to carve out a bloody path. By then, he could see the thousand-soldier commander standing at the bridgehead, directing the Tubo army.

He hung up his spear, drew his bow, and shot an arrow. The Tubo commander fell dead on the spot. Without a leader, the Tubo army could no longer withstand the Tang forces’ assault. Their fighting spirit collapsed, and they scattered in all directions, screaming as they tried to save themselves.

The Tang soldiers intercepted them from all sides, killing the fugitives without mercy. Half an hour later, the 1,000 Tubo soldiers led by Shang Xidezan were annihilated on both banks of the Fusi River. Perhaps a few managed to escape into the forest, but none returned to Fusi City.

In this battle, the Tang army also suffered dozens of casualties, including 8 deaths among the Jiangdu soldiers. They then returned to attack Haixi Fort. Hundreds of freed Han slaves put on Tubo chainmail, picked up weapons, and followed the Tang army toward Fusi City, filled with hatred.

…

A few slaves were brought before Li Qing’an’s horse. They exchanged glances, knelt down together, and cried, “Thank you, General Li, for saving our lives.”

“Get up quickly!” Li Qing’an sighed slightly. “It’s my fault for arriving too late.”

“If General hadn’t come, we would have fought to the death anyway. Even after finishing building the fortress, they would have killed us. We had no choice but to flee—westward, toward Dunhuang. If we were lucky along the way, we might encounter scattered Tubo supply troops and seize their horses and food.”

“What if the Tubo army chased after you? You have no weapons—how will you defend yourselves?”

Another slave sighed. “If we can survive, it will be sheer luck. Death is inevitable anyway. It’s better to fight than to be killed by the Tubo in the end.”

Li Qing’an nodded and said, “We came here very secretly, and so far the Tubo people haven’t noticed us. I plan to attack Fusi City immediately. I lack troops and hope to get your help in fighting together. We’ll return to Dunhuang together.”
“Our lives were saved by the general; we must also avenge our fallen comrades!”
At that moment, a slave suddenly remembered something and hurriedly said, “General, if we can capture Fusi City, I have a way to return to Hehuang directly.”
…
There were only a little over twenty li from the Fusi River to Fusi City, but the road was difficult. It wasn’t until the second watch of the night that they could see Fusi City in the distance. Fusi City was the second capital of the Tuyuhun people. Though not as grand as the cities in the Tang Dynasty’s heartland, it was built of large stones and was extremely sturdy. Its city walls were about forty feet high, without moats, and its gates were made of solid iron, requiring massive battering rams to break open. The governor, Shang Jiedezan, had led a thousand troops to suppress a rebellion by Han slaves at Haixi Fort, so the defenders in the city were highly vigilant. Tuyuhun sentries patrolled back and forth on the walls, not daring to slack off in the slightest.
At that moment, a group carrying torches approached—about three hundred Tubo cavalrymen. Holding torches, they slowly moved toward the city gates. The leading officer shouted loudly, “We are sentries from Datong Valley. There are beacon fires lit here—what’s going on?”
His Tibetan was fluent, with an accent from the Wuhai area. The Tuyuhun sentries on the walls, seeing that they were dressed as regular troops, did not dare neglect them and quickly replied, “There’s a rebellion by Han slave rebels at Haixi Fort. Our governor has led troops to suppress it.”
“I see. We’ve been patrolling all the way and are very tired. We want to enter the city and rest for the night. Open the gates quickly.”
Saying this, he raised a silver badge of a thousand-man commander high, and the other officers also took off their copper badges from their waists. Seeing that their identities were genuine, the Tuyuhun sentries slowly opened the city gates.
The leading officer was actually Luo Han, disguised as a captive officer. He had been a slave in the Wuhai area for two years and spoke fluent Tibetan. Seeing that his deception had succeeded, he was overjoyed and spurred his horse into the city.
As soon as they entered the city gates, Li Fei Yuanli behind him suddenly acted. With a fierce roar, he slashed the soldier who opened the gates in two. Swinging his sword and shouting, “Comrades, kill these Tubo barbarians!”
Chaos ensued at the city gates. The Tang troops fought bravely, killing dozens of defenders and leaving them lying dead. Seeing that the city gates had been breached, Li Qing’an waved his hand and ordered, “Charge into the city and kill all the enemy troops.”

The cavalry charged forward, followed by five hundred slave soldiers. The Tang army surged in like a fierce storm, bringing with it a terrifying killing intent as it stormed into Fusi City, shattering the Tubo people’s peaceful dreams. Shouts of battle filled the city, and raging fires lit up the sky, turning it daylit—visible even from a hundred miles away. While the Tang army deceived the defenders of the city, Nan Jiyun led two hundred Tang soldiers in a rapid march along the shore of Qinghai Lake, guided by a Han slave interpreter. “General, it’s right ahead. Go slowly; the Tubo army camp is not far away—only about a hundred men. They should be asleep by now.” They entered a forest shrouded in mist, where the occasional hoot of an owl and the crack of breaking branches could be heard. Strange rustling sounds accompanied their footsteps as they moved cautiously through the woods. Suddenly, the night-covered Qinghai Lake appeared before them. The sea breeze carried a faint fishy smell, and the vast ocean’s waves gently surged. Along the shore, dozens of large ships capable of carrying a thousand bushels each lay quietly moored in the water.