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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Assault on Xiangyang
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Although remnants of the bandit clans still lingered in pockets throughout Jing Province, control had effectively passed to Liu Biao.
In Xiangyang, materials hauled in from lumber mills and quarries were stacked neatly one after another.
Repairs began on the crumbled walls with stone facing, and new buildings rose, including the government offices.
Watchtowers went up, and torches blazed through the night along the battlements.
With these new jobs came a long-absent spark of hope and energy among the people.
Gazing at Xiangyang's evolving landscape, Baek sank into quiet contemplation.
Liu Biao's official residence wasn't yet complete, so Liu Qi was still staying with the Jin Clan.
Thanks to that, Baek could naturally keep tabs on how Liu Biao was consolidating power.
From what he'd heard, Liu Biao had used a banquet as a pretext to execute the resistant great clans, seizing real authority over Jing Province.
The Liu Biao from Baek's past life was no such man.
In peaceful times, he might have been deemed capable of governing a single region.
But in the end, he was dismissed as indecisive and lacking in spirit—a ruler without backbone.
A man who held this fertile land of Jing Province yet accomplished nothing, who squandered a once-in-a-lifetime chance amid Cao Cao and Yuan Shao's clashes by stepping aside himself.
Yet now, that assessment was starting to waver.
Restored walls, new offices, river transport, city order.
Liu Biao's shadow loomed over every change.
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After the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition disbanded, the land split between the two Yuan houses.
The prestigious Yuan Clan of Ye, with its four generations of Three Dukes.
Yuan Shu, heir to that direct line.
And Yuan Shao, a bastard son who nonetheless basked in the Pure Stream faction's favor.
Blood kin, yet they bared fangs like mortal enemies, and the lesser warlords soon aligned with one or the other.
All eyes turned to which Yuan Liu Biao would choose.
But the decision came faster than expected.
During the suppression of the last holdouts among the bandit clans, evidence surfaced of Yuan Shu pulling the strings behind them.
Yuan Shu, who had dispatched Sun Jian to assassinate the previous Inspector of Jing Province, Wang Rui.
This time, he had incited the bandits to undermine Liu Biao's base and swallow all of Jing Province.
With his scheme exposed, Liu Biao had no reason left to hesitate.
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Chuping 2nd year (191 AD).
Panic gripped the Jin Clan estate as people bustled about in fear.
Porters hauled bundles in silence, while women packed with trembling hands.
To eliminate Liu Biao, who had sided with Yuan Shao, Yuan Shu dispatched Sun Jian.
Liu Biao sent his most trusted general, Huang Zu, to intercept—but the result was a crushing defeat.
Huang Zu barely escaped with his life, his main force shattered.
Sun Jian was coming.
The Tiger of Jiangdong, who had dyed countless battlefields red.
His mere name was enough to make soldiers drop spears and flee, his fame shaking the realm.
Children clung to adults' robes in terror; grown-ups could only gaze skyward with sighs.
"The Tiger of Jiangdong, huh? If anything, they undersold him."
Hauling luggage amid the fearful crowd, Baek shook his head bitterly.
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The refugee procession toward Xiangyang seemed endless.
Elderly women carrying children on their backs, wives shouldering loads, limping men.
The Jin Clan finally entered the city, leaving their empty estate behind.
More refugees streamed in afterward.
But not everyone could make it.
With word of Sun Jian's army approaching, the gates slammed shut.
Latecomers wailed at the walls, but the soldiers atop them averted their eyes.
Some pounded the gates until hoofbeats echoed from behind, collapsing in despair.
Drumbeats rolled across the northern plains, far from the city.
Baek looked out from the ramparts.
Amid the heat haze, banners fluttered; armor gleamed in the sunset for the vast host.
Atop it all loomed a crimson standard emblazoned with one fierce character.
(Sun)
A man parted the cavalry and rode forward.
His dark red cloak billowed over his armor, mane and plume whipping in the wind.
He raised his head, revealing the face beneath the helmet.
Sun Jian himself.
Firm lips, jaw chiseled like a blade, eyes cold with the chill of battlefields—bearing the full aura of one who had painted them in blood.
Three generals followed.
Once called Sun Jian's Four Elite Generals, but the loyal Cheng Pu had recently died heroically saving his lord, leaving only three.
The survivors exuded extraordinary presences.
The city plunged into dread; people held their breath, trembling.
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"General Who Subdues the Rebels, Sun Jian! Cease this pointless resistance and surrender!"
His roar echoed off the walls, stirring unrest among the city's people.
But Cai Mao, atop the gatehouse in Liu Biao's stead, shot back.
"A roadside drought ghost's yapping dog dares call itself General Who Subdues the Rebels? What a sorry state the world has come to. Crawl back to your master's lap!"
Mocked as Yuan Shu's hound, Sun Jian's gaze turned to ice.
Silent, he raised his sword toward Xiangyang.
"Sweep them away."
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The siege began, turning Xiangyang into hell itself.
Fire arrows rained on the walls; screams and blood-scent spread on the wind.
Sun Jian's forces advanced with cloud ladders toward the battlements.
Defenders loosed arrows and hurled stones, but under Huang Gai's command, the attackers sheltered behind screens and pressed on.
Ladders reached the walls; Han Dang gave the order, and assault troops began climbing.
Yet Xiangyang held firm.
Thick walls, defenders resolved to die fighting.
They toppled ladders; civilians hauled boiling water and rocks to aid the fight.
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A day passed, then two—soon twenty.
Xiangyang teetered on the brink but refused to fall.
Pushed to collapse, it rallied again and again.
They rationed water, survived on rice gruel, but never opened the gates.
Baek's face, etched with fatigue from dashing to aid everywhere, showed deep weariness.
Taking a bowl of porridge from Duseon, he sighed wordlessly.
Amid the corpses everywhere, he could only pray to survive another day.
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Sun Jian's army, brimming with momentum at the siege's start against Xiangyang's desperate defense, began to flag.
Armor grew sodden with sweat and blood; ladders splintered, arrows dwindled.
Alone in his hilltop camp overlooking the city, Sun Jian pondered the stalemate when a messenger approached.
"General, a herald from the Rear General has arrived."
Sun Jian's brow furrowed slightly.
After a silent pause, he spoke low and firm.
"Bring him in."
Moments later, a dust-caked herald entered the camp.
"The Rear General commands: Supplies and funds are depleting rapidly. Swiftly capture Xiangyang and end the war."
'No thought for the battlefield or our casualties—just take the city fast.'
"Any reply yet to my reinforcement request?"
Sun Jian was certain more troops would topple Xiangyang soon.
But the response shattered that hope.
"Well... Nanyang's populace is restless; conscripting more men is difficult, he says."
Yuan Shu always flung Sun Jian into the fray but never spared his own troops.
"Where is the Rear General now?"
"Reviewing military texts at his garrison."
"Military texts..."
He swallowed a bitter laugh.
A man who never properly wielded a sword, pontificating on war from books—laughable.
"Tell him I'll obey."
The herald bowed and withdrew quietly.
Watching him go, Sun Jian clenched his fist.
Yuan Shu supplied the grain, but his own men died for it.
Troops were woefully short; the city wouldn't yield.
Yet all he got were orders to hurry.
Knowing he couldn't defy Yuan Shu, still the boiling rage wouldn't subside.
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They assaulted again, but nothing changed.
Only more men died.
Then Han Dang rushed to Sun Ce with a report.
"Huang Zu, who fled, has been spotted hiding in Xian Mountain."
Sun Jian's eyes flashed.
A breakthrough to cut through the deadlock.
A chill smile touched his lips.
This was his chance.
Pluck out Liu Biao's fang, and the gates would open.
Gripping his scabbard, Sun Jian stood.
His Four Elites—knowing him best—spoke up at once.
Cheng Pu first.
"Xian Mountain's terrain is treacherous; even routed remnants might ambush. No need for you to go personally for the likes of Huang Zu."
Han Dang knelt on one knee, pleading.
"Entrust it to me. I'll stake my life for his head."
Huang Gai urged restraint too, but Sun Jian's gaze held steady.
"I'll go myself."
Before his iron resolve, the Elites fell silent.
They knew arguing was futile.
Yet having followed this man—who always led the vanguard—through countless hells, worry mingled with unspoken anticipation.
Decision made, Sun Jian wasted no time.
He mustered cavalry on the spot; in under half a day, he led them from the field.
Leaving Xiangyang and the besiegers behind, one thought filled his mind.
'Cut off Huang Zu's head quick—even a day sooner—to spare my men's lives.'
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Xian Mountain was rugged, with deep gullies and jagged rocks.
Huang Zu hid below a cliff with barely a hundred men.
Gone was the proud general; now just a ragged fugitive.
"Some troops slipped away in the night."
"Rations won't last two days."
Every report spelled doom.
Huang Zu gripped his sword hilt silently.
All that remained was choosing his death.
But Gan Ning refused to accept it.
He was ready to fight to the last.
"General, the mountain paths are tangled, sightlines narrow. We can turn that to our advantage for a chance."
Huang Zu wouldn't hear it.
"You dare lecture on strategy? A mere pirate scum with a big mouth... Shut it!"
That night, while Huang Zu slept, Gan Ning moved quietly.
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True to form, Sun Jian led the vanguard.
Ignoring the terrain, he spurred into the rocky defiles.
His red cloak tore through the trees; steep slopes didn't faze his steady advance.
Then—an arrow pierced the air.
Before the cloak could shift, the sharp point punched through his chest.
Yet Sun Jian held his seat.
Just a slight sway; his grip on the reins stayed firm.
Watching, Gan Ning yelled.
"Damn, miss! Scatter!"
His men dispersed in an instant.
Then red blood poured down the armor.
Reins slackened; the horse reared in panic.
Sun Jian's eyes wavered.
'After all those battlefields... me...'
One arrow ended it.
Mouth agape, no final words escaped.
Without a parting utterance, Sun Jian slumped from his saddle.