Chapter 67: The Battle Against Bo Cai (Part Two)

At Xu Kang’s command, the thunder of cannons erupted across the battlefield. In an instant, hundreds of Yellow Turban soldiers at the vanguard fell to the ground, clutching their wounds and crying out in agony. The sight utterly shocked their nearby comrades, who halted their charge in terror.

The regular infantry managed to withstand the chaos, but the cavalry suffered terribly. Unlike Xu Kang’s own cavalry regiment—whose horses and artillery crews had trained together for nearly a month and whose ears were protected with cloth—the Yellow Turban riders were wholly unprepared for the deafening roar of artillery. The instant the cannons fired, their horses panicked, bolting in all directions. Riders were thrown to the ground, trampled in the stampede; many more Yellow Turban soldiers were crushed or maimed in the chaos.

Though Bo Cai’s cavalry wasn’t vast, it still numbered several thousand horses. The sudden mayhem shattered the ranks of his vanguard, throwing tens of thousands of men into disarray. Any seasoned commander would recognize such a moment as a golden opportunity.

Seeing this, Zhao Hong immediately tore the yellow scarf from his head, raised his spear high, and shouted, “Men! Now is the time to win glory and honor—follow me, and strike!”

Niu Sheng too lifted his halberd, the white-bannered black boar standard fluttering in the wind, and bellowed to the heavens, “Invincible in battle, unstoppable in attack! We are the strongest army—strong! Strong! Strong!”

Emboldened by their leaders, the cavalry regiment roared in unison, surging forward to charge Bo Cai’s scattered Yellow Turban forces. Amid the tumult, the battlefield was filled only with the cannon’s thunder, the thunderous drumming of hooves, and the shouts of Xu Kang’s cavalry:

“Strong—strong—strong, strong, strong—strong, strong, strong—!”

It was a scene of breathtaking power. On the city walls, Lu Zhi could not help but clench his fists tightly. “Who would have thought Yide possessed such elite cavalry? Truly, Heaven favors the Han!”

“Indeed!” Huanfu Song’s face, too, showed a flicker of excitement. “I must join him in defeating the enemy!”

With that, he turned to leave, intent on joining Xu Kang on the field.

But before he could take two steps, Lu Zhi grabbed his arm. “Yizhen, do not be rash. Bo Cai commands a host of one hundred thousand—mere thousands cannot break him. Yide is now busy covering his men as they enter the city—we must aid in the defense within!”

Huanfu Song considered this and nodded. “Zigan, you are right. I nearly jeopardized Yide’s plans. Rather than joining the fray, I should clear the way at the city gates so our allies may retreat safely.”

“Exactly so!” Lu Zhi smiled at his understanding and waved him on. “Go, Yizhen. I shall hold the walls.”

“My thanks, Zigan!” Huanfu Song thanked him, then hurried down to organize the city gates.

Soon, the sixty thousand Yellow Turban non-combatants who had pledged loyalty to Xu Kang entered the city and, according to Huanfu Song’s command, dispersed to the sides, moving their supply wagons to the roadsides to keep the passage clear for the retreating troops.

Once Xu Kang saw his people were safely inside, he ordered the artillery and Huai River troops to withdraw, signaling the cavalry to cover the rear and then retreat in turn.

With only a few thousand to withdraw—much quicker than tens of thousands—and Bo Cai’s army in chaos, Xu Kang and his men swiftly entered the city. With the retreat complete, Zhao Hong and Niu Sheng wasted no time. With a turn of their standards and a final shout of “Strong, strong!” they drew their cavalry back to Changshe under Bo Cai’s furious gaze.

Thus, Xu Kang’s entire force withdrew safely, suffering losses of less than one in a thousand. Bo Cai, by contrast, had lost nearly ten thousand men and several thousand horses in this uneven contest—a devastating defeat.

Staring at the firmly shut city gates, Bo Cai was beside himself with rage. Yet, no matter his fury, he would not order an assault on the city. In these times, cities were formidable to defend and nearly impossible to storm; in desperate defense, the loss ratio could reach dozens to one—one defender for every dozens of attackers.

This fearsome cost explains why, when a city was taken at great expense, the victors so often slaughtered its inhabitants. As an effective means of terror and crippling enemies, many warlords at the end of the Han dynasty favored massacres.

In the early Eastern Han, the population stood at about sixty-five million. By the dawn of the Three Kingdoms, it had fallen to only twenty-three million. Warlord strife was the primary cause of this sharp decline. Later historians estimate that over twenty million perished in the chaos, many in the wake of massacres.

The most notorious was Dong Zhuo, who made a habit of sacking cities, forging the ruthless Xiliang Army whom even the Qiang and Xiongnu feared.

The Yellow Turbans, too, committed massacres. Originally they killed only officials, but as discipline broke down and hunger pressed, they slaughtered commoners as well, leaving devastation in their wake—hence the name “Yellow Turban Bandits.”

Had Bo Cai managed to capture Changshe, he would certainly have sacked the city. But fate had other plans.

Now, Changshe was not only defended by Huanfu Song and Lu Zhi’s thousands, but also reinforced by Xu Kang’s tens of thousands. Its defense had risen to another level entirely. Against such a force, even if Bo Cai brought all of Zhang Jiao’s men, he would have but a fifty-fifty chance.

Besides, Zhang Jiao had declared, “The Blue Heaven is dead, the Yellow Heaven shall rise,” signaling his intent to supplant the Han and found his own dynasty—how could he waste all his strength at Changshe?

Bo Cai knew this well. Seeing Xu Kang’s forces safely within the city, he realized his campaign had failed—and that Peng Tuo was likely dead.

As a Yellow Turban leader, Bo Cai understood that from the day they rebelled, there could be no turning back—the court would never allow their surrender. Now, seeing Peng Tuo’s troops retreat into Changshe, there could be only one explanation: Peng Tuo had fallen.

Though they were not sworn brothers, as fellow leaders of the Yellow Turbans, Peng Tuo’s death brought Bo Cai a deep sorrow. He gazed long at Changshe’s walls before closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

“Pass the order—we withdraw!”