Woling Pass was a place that was easy to defend and difficult to attack. And unfortunately, it turned out that it was now the rebels who had taken hold of the pass.
He Chunhua's face grew solemn as he asked with utmost seriousness, "What course of action would you have this lowly official take?"
A thunderous upheaval had just rocked the central region of Yuan, and the fate of the state now hung by a thread. In such times, even a commoner had a duty to act, so how much more so for an official like himself? To shy away now would be utterly shameful.
At that moment, a servant entered to change the tea. Sun Fuping took a sip of the freshly poured cup and then asked, seemingly out of nowhere, "Lord He, you've served in Qiansong Commandery for years. Do you know how the wilderness became the Panlong Desert and how the Hongya Route came to be?"
Why is he suddenly asking about this? He Chunhua's brow furrowed slightly. "That's a matter of local history. Roughly a hundred and fifty years ago, before the founding of Yuan, this land belonged to West Luo. At that time, the area we now call the Panlong Desert was not yet barren. It had lower amounts of rainfall compared to other regions, yes, but there were still woodlands and seasonal rivers. When West Luo was at its most prosperous, it established four commanderies and twelve cities on the western border, primarily to control the east-west trade route that passed through there. The largest of those cities was Panlong City. However, West Luo gradually declined, suffering defeat after defeat against foreign states. The states of Baling and Xianyou each took bites out of their lands. Eventually, the entire region fell, save for the Panlong Wasteland, which alone continued to resist. That resistance turned the area into an enclave, cut off from the rest of West Luo by over five hundred kilometers."
He Lingchuan listened in silence. As someone from Heishui City, he had heard the story of the Panlong Desert many times, as had the former He Lingchuan.
"For thirty-two years, the armies of Baling and Xianyou laid siege to the Panlong Wasteland. And for thirty-two years, the defenders, led by Commander Zhong Shengguang, held the line at Panlong City, yielding not a single inch!" He Chunhua turned to his eldest son. "Lingchuan, do you remember the name of that army?"
"The Gale Army!" He Lingchuan nodded. "They were tougher than Euphrates poplars and loyal beyond all reward. That's what it said about the Gale Army, who held out deep behind enemy lines."
They were outnumbered, cut off from their homeland, plagued by drought and hunger, and received no aid from West Luo.
Yet still, they held out for thirty-two years.
Such a tale would never grow old.
"In the twelfth year of the siege on Panlong City, Xianyou made a brief truce with West Luo. The Gale Army seized the chance to send word back home. The monarch of West Luo, shocked that Panlong City still stood, issued a commendation and recalled most of the elites of the Gale Army to quell domestic unrest and suppress the rebellion." Seeing that his father had stopped talking, He Lingchuan continued, "But Xianyou soon broke the truce and resumed hostilities, severing the Gale Army's supply lines once again."
"West Luo soon plunged into civil strife and never again had the strength to pay Panlong City any attention. Yet, despite having been abandoned and having had the Gale Army stripped of its elites, Panlong City held on for another twenty years."
The will of the Gale Army could no longer be likened to steel; even steel would have long since been bent and broken. Such troops were worthy of a strong state, but their state had failed them.
A state unworthy of its warriors. He Lingchuan felt the phrase had never been more fitting.
"Well said." Nian Songyu gave him a couple of approving claps. "But how did the wasteland become a desert?"
"The Gale Army never surrendered. They fought to the last man. When Panlong City finally fell, the invaders slaughtered everyone inside in a fit of rage, leaving no survivors." This was the most iconic scene in every teahouse storyteller's tale. "The battles were too brutal. The fury and resentment of the fallen surged into the sky and seeped into the earth. Panlong City and its surroundings, once teeming with life, lost all vitality. Rivers changed course, and the wasteland slowly turned to desert."
"There's another theory. Commander Zhong Shengguang was a powerful spellcaster. Knowing that help would never come, he gathered the power of the souls of the tens of thousands of fallen comrades as Panlong City fell and laid a curse upon the land, turning it into a lifeless ruin." He Lingchuan shrugged. "This way, even if West Luo couldn't hold Panlong, neither could Baling or Xianyou. And sure enough, to this day, no state claims the Panlong Desert as its own."
"What else?"
"But Zhong Shengguang also left a thread of life for those who traverse the desert, the Hongya Route. That was once the very path tread by the Gale Army." He Lingchuan looked at Nian Songyu. "There are many more details. If you'd like to hear them, we'd best open some wine and talk over a proper meal."
State Preceptor Sun Fuping turned to He Chunhua and asked, "Is this the extent of what you know, Lord He?"
"More or less." He Chunhua detected something in his tone. "What are you getting at?"
State Preceptor Sun said, "It's true that the Gale Army was a force of steel, and that Zhong Shengguang was an exceptional commander. However, once their elite forces were recalled back to the homeland, what allowed the remaining troops to hold their ground for another twenty years? At that point, the armies of Xianyou were already capable of sweeping through most of West Luo. Even if West Luo still had famous generals, they could not turn the tide. You and I both know that it takes more than patriotic fervor to hold out that long."
Victory in war depends solely on strength. The cruelest truth is that no matter how full of zeal the weak may be, they cannot escape their destined defeat.
Their enemies were that powerful, especially the seasoned and formidable troops of Xianyou, who launched over three hundred assaults on Panlong City. At the height of the siege, there had been fifteen attacks in a single month.
How did the Gale Army, short on food, water, men, and weapons, manage to endure?
To that, He Chunhua could only answer, "There's not enough historical evidence to say."
No matter how stirring the tale, it remained a bygone legend from over a century ago. Future generations may sigh in awe, but how many would actually delve into its truths?
Certainly not He Chunhua. He had far more pressing matters to attend to. "State Preceptor Sun, what does this old tale of the Panlong Desert have to do with Great Yuan's current crisis?" He was not about to believe these two had come all this way just to hear him speak of history.
Here came the heart of the matter. Sun Fuping took two steps forward, fixing his gaze on He Chunhua. "That's exactly what I'm getting at. Whatever allowed the Gale Army to persist back then may well be the key to reversing the tide at Woling Pass and saving our capital from peril! Commandery Administrator He, this time, there's no evading your duty!"
He Chunhua's face turned solemn. "I'm listening."
But He Lingchuan could not help feeling that the man had been leading up to this moment just to slam down a huge hat of responsibility onto his father's head. The question now was, could his father bear the weight?
"He Jian, the Gale Army's registrar, served under Zhong Shengguang for many years. He died of illness shortly before the city fell. After Xianyou captured Panlong City, they sorted through the remains and discovered a record he had left behind. In it, he had written a brief account of those final years. That journal changed hands many times and eventually found its way into the archives of the Great Yuan."
He Lingchuan could not hold back. "So the truth has been in our own hands all this time? Why has it never surfaced in any official history?"
Every state maintains a bureau of records responsible for collecting its own and the histories of its predecessors. They might gloss over their own faults, but they dive deep into the past. This was especially so in the case of tales like those of Panlong City and the Gale Army, an epic of loyalty and sacrifice. Those were exactly the kinds of stories worth preserving and promoting, moral lessons that seep into hearts without a sound.
Nian Songyu smiled and said, "Well, that's simply because… It could not be made public. At that time, the record was already in tatters. Most of the sentences within it were incomplete, and the full scope of the story couldn't be reconstructed. However, there was one thing that was recorded with perfect clarity…"