HCT – Chapter 237 The Collapse of the Five-Nation Army

After a day and a night of brutal fighting, the battle finally reached a temporary conclusion.

Although the Zhao army was brave, the Qin army had the Longping commandery city at its back.

On the walls, city residents continuously rushed up to help.

Below the walls, once the defenders secured control of the situation, they opened the gates to support Bo Fu.

Meanwhile, the Zhao soldiers had nothing but their lives.

Most of the time, a battle is not decided by courage alone. With Longping holding every geographical and human advantage, the Zhao army’s attempt to take the city was doomed from the very beginning.

But the Zhao general, his body covered in blood, knew that the court of Zhao had already achieved its goal. They had exhausted Qin’s strength, and they had consumed the sick and starving refugees. Their objective was accomplished.

At last, the Zhao general ordered the retreat.

The Zhao troops withdrew from the walls and looked down at the heaps of charred corpses below. Human emotions slowly returned. Fear and exhaustion finally set in.

The courage of ordinary people often flares only once. After it dissipates, it becomes hard to muster again. As the Art of War says: “In battle, morale is everything. Strike once for vigor, twice and it wanes, thrice and it is spent.”

City assault and defense work the same way. At the beginning, the pressure on the attackers is the greatest; afterward, it becomes a tug-of-war between besiegers harassing the city and defenders holding on for reinforcements.

Now, the Qin soldiers were repairing the walls and towers while burning the corpses. The Zhao general set up camp and gathered his remaining troops. Both sides briefly laid down their arms to prepare their next strategies.

Bo Fu, after bandaging his wounds, ignored his fatigue and immediately urged the defenders to deal with the bodies and scatter the prepared lime and herbal water over the battlefield to “disinfect” it.

Some Zhao corpses had already turned black and were oozing pus—clearly infected with plague.

Having been a garrison commander for so many years, Bo Fu immediately understood one of the Zhao army’s goals: they wanted to spread the plague into Longping.

Fortunately, Lord Zhu Xiang had long since implemented epidemic-prevention measures and mentally prepared the citizens. Officials beat gongs and drums to inform everyone of the Zhao army’s intentions, urging them to stay vigilant and report any attempt to throw corpses into the city. The residents cooperated fully.

However, not every household had the means to drink freshly boiled water every day. Officials could only try to teach them to add more water when cooking, to eat porridge and gruel, and minimize drinking water directly.

Anyone who contracted the disease would be expelled from the city; anyone who sheltered them—family or neighbors—would be punished as accomplices. The strict Qin law worked. The people did not dare take the risk of hiding loved ones.

As Bo Fu expected, the next day the Zhao army began throwing corpses into the city and dumping bodies into the water sources near Longping in an attempt to contaminate them.

Fortunately, Longping had dug many wells inside the city during its defense preparations. Targeting water sources was common in sieges; any cautious garrison would prepare accordingly.

After the first day of fierce battle, the Zhao army no longer attempted a proper assault. Bo Fu felt something was off and secretly sent scouts at night.

They discovered that the Zhao army had left only elite soldiers to guard the main camp. The hastily recruited Zhao soldiers were sent to sweep through the villages around Longping.

The Five-Nation Allied Army had never expected to capture many Qin cities. Their purpose was to plunge Qin into chaos, slow its recovery, delay its eastward campaign, consume the starving refugees, and seize grain.

Although Qin had moved most of its grain into its cities, villagers could not all enter the walls. They hid in cellar pits or in the mountains, waiting for the enemy to pass.

Under normal circumstances, a conquering army would only raid villages along its route to avoid delaying military operations. But this was not a normal campaign.

Not only the Zhao army besieging Longping, but the other allied armies also began sweeping through Qin villages after consuming the starving migrants at the city walls—killing people, seizing grain, and burning fields.

Some places had already begun spring plowing, with young sprouts emerging. The starving masses not only devoured the fresh shoots but even dug up sprouting or rotting seeds to eat.

They had survived the locust plague, yet the tender spring growth could not escape the mouths of the starving. Anything edible became food.

The Five-Nation armies consisted mostly of elite private troops raised by nobles, but the newly conscripted soldiers received very little ration. Bringing their own starving civilians into Qin was precisely so they could find food locally.

Vegetation in the Five Kingdoms had almost been eaten bare. But because Qin had prepared rigorously for the locust plague—with Shu Commandery and Southern Qin supplying grain despite hardship, and Zhu Xiang and Zichu suppressing food prices—Qin people had not fallen to eating bark and roots.

Since they were not forced to eat tree bark, the vegetation burst back into green in spring. Now, all of this became food for the Five Nations’ starving soldiers.

Bo Fu and the other commanders were anxious, but there was nothing they could do. The allied armies were showing their true intentions: to maximize their gain, the Qin generals could only guard the cities and key passes, unable to save the scattered villages.

Villages were too dispersed, and communication impossible. Even if they wanted to rescue them, they had no way of knowing where to go.

After enduring the autumn and winter locust plague, Qin now faced a second “locust plague” in midwinter.

But this one was far worse: last year’s locust plague did not kill people, did not dig up seeds and roots, and did not burn houses.

Even worse, many of these “Qin people” were not originally Qin. The border regions between Qin and the Five Kingdoms had been conquered only in the last decade or so. These residents were immigrants from the Six States, including the now-destroyed Han.

They were more closely connected to the Five Kingdoms than to Qin.

Especially Yingchuan, formerly Han territory, freshly conquered. Han bordered four states, and now it had become the primary battlefield for the Wei–Chu coalition.

The old Han aristocrats had intended to rebel when the Five Nations attacked, but because Qin had delivered grain relief and prevented famine, many lower-class Han scholars had been won over. Qin garrisons were heavy, and the Han king had betrayed them, so the rebellion plan stalled.

But once Wei and Chu attacked, even the old Han nobles could not bring themselves to defect.

They realized that Wei and Chu had no intention of capturing cities—they only wanted to destroy everything.

Qin King Zichu had not forced the gentle Han nobles to surrender their estates. Thus the best lands still belonged to the Han nobility. When Wei and Chu ravaged villages and manor estates, the Han nobles suffered the most.

Wei and Chu also tried to introduce plague into the cities. Commoners inside had grown accustomed to following Qin officials during the three years of disaster and obeyed epidemic-prevention guidelines. But the Han nobles refused to obey.

They themselves lived cleanly—cooked food, hot water—so they were unlikely to get sick. But their numerous servants suffered.

Because they resisted Qin officials, their servants and retainers did not follow precautions, or even deliberately ignored them. Plague targets precisely such noncompliance.

The first major outbreak occurred among the Han noble households.

Qin immediately sealed off their districts. Anyone wanting to leave had to stay in quarantine first and be proven disease-free. Otherwise, no matter their rank, they would be executed.

The Han nobles panicked.

They began killing and burning their sick servants—enforcing quarantine even more brutally than the Qin. Healthy Han nobles only needed five days of isolation to reach a safe zone. For their own safety, once they escaped the plague district, they absolutely refused to allow anyone inside to come out.

They even enthusiastically helped Qin officials manage the quarantine and increased the isolation period for newcomers to ten days.

Seeing this, Qin officials entrusted the entire plague district to these Han nobles and placed full confidence in them.

Then they strictly ordered residents of every district not to leave their area to prevent the spread. The Han nobles were resettled in the zone surrounding the quarantine area.

Everyone fears death. Qin officials believed these Han nobles—who had refused to let go of their pride even during three years of famine—would now put it aside and work earnestly for Qin.

The Five-Nation coalition and Qin broke into full-scale war.

The battle in Changping Commandery was the bloodiest of all, yet the historical records mention it only briefly because no famous generals took part.

The battles in which Meng Ao and the veteran Qin generals faced Zhao’s old general Pang Nuan, and Chu’s newly rising and celebrated general Xiang Yan faced the seasoned general Lian Po, were the ones most extensively recorded in the histories.

The fight between Meng Ao and Pang Nuan was the most classic kind of Qin-versus-Zhao confrontation, perfectly fitting Zhao She’s old saying: “When narrow roads meet, the brave win.”

Pang Nuan and Meng Ao were about the same age; both personally donned armor and charged into close combat, as if determined to leave their last breath on the battlefield.

Zhao had not only no young commanders—most of the slightly more competent mid-level officers had been trained back when Lian Po was still in Zhao.

On the Qin side, although they had many young commanders, this battle was one in which the old generals volunteered themselves, ready to be wrapped in horsehide for burial. Thus, most of the commanders were also elderly.

Their bodies were failing, but their battlefield experience had climbed to its peak with age.

The quality of Qin and Zhao’s regular troops represented the pinnacle of the Warring States era.

Every battle between Qin and Zhao displayed the era’s purest and most quintessential military skill.

In the end, unsurprisingly, Qin still bested Zhao by a margin.

As for Xiang Yan—an offensive general—facing Lian Po—the master of defense—the battle turned out rather dull.

Once Lian Po began defending, his fortifications formed interlocking angles, barrier upon barrier.

Qin had money, grain, and manpower; meanwhile, Lian Po happily piled obstacles outside the city. He layered them so thickly that Xiang Yan felt sick just looking at them before even fighting.

If Lord Wu’an Bai Qi had been watching from heaven, he would surely stroke his beard and agree with Xiang Yan: Even if King Zhao of Qin replaced Wang He with Bai Qi, Bai Qi would first demand Lian Po be removed from Zhao’s command. Not because he couldn’t win—just because it was nauseating.

To Lian Po, defense wasn’t about winning individual battles—it was about attrition.

His entire strategy was one of deadlock—sticky, dragging, relentless.

Qin’s national strength far surpassed that of the Five States, and Lian Po’s style suited the moment perfectly. Every day he ate and drank well, gathered energy, went to the front lines to shout insults at Xiang Yan, then refused to fight and went home to sleep.

Xiang Yan was so furious he shouted back, calling Lian Po a cowardly old dog and demanding he fight him one-on-one.

Lian Po cleaned his ears with a finger. A junior defeated by that brat Zhu Xiang’s men is barking at me? I, Lord Xinping Lian Po, was already famous in your grandfather’s time. You want to duel me? You think you’re worthy?

And so he continued to eat well, drink well, sleep well, and when refreshed, came out only to exchange insults, never to fight.

Driven crazy, Xiang Yan swept through villages, but Lian Po ignored him completely.

He had built so many fortresses that he’d already moved most villagers inside as logistical support staff. As for villages and farmland, he had burned them all long ago—he would not give Xiang Yan a second chance to burn anything.

Lian Po, after all, was an old noble. He was of the Ying-clan Lian family—true orthodox Central Plains nobility—unlike the Xiang clan, who needed genealogical scrolls to remind people of their “glorious ancestry” in Chu, a “southern barbarian” state.

So Lian Po never bothered with reputation or commoners when fighting—he was even more arrogant and domineering than Xiang Yan.

Besides, hadn’t he already relocated the commoners outside the city into his fortresses? If some refused to come, that was their fault.

Defense required scorched earth. Lord Xinping Lian Po would never allow the enemy to live off the land.

Thus, Xiang Yan’s results were: few casualties, but almost no achievements—and his army was on the verge of collapse due to hunger and disease.

While the Qin–Chu border war fell into stalemate, Li Mu and Wang Jian finally acted.

Wang Jian marched out of the three passes of the Dabie Mountains, crossed the Huai River, moved north along the Ru River, bypassed Chen, and struck directly at the Xiang clan’s fief.

Chu’s king had already lost over half his territory. The central counties’ troops had been reduced by half, and the private armies of other nobles had also suffered severe losses. Most of the elite troops Chu could still muster belonged to the Xiang clan.

Xiang Yan had committed everything—emptying his clan’s private troops—because the Chu King and Li Yuan promised him: “When you return, you will be granted the rank of Lord.”

Wang Jian’s assault on the Xiang fief was meant to force Xiang Yan to return.

If Xiang Yan continued fighting Qin, he could not possibly capture Qin strongholds to claim as his new estate. And if his original fief was taken, even if he returned to Chu and received a noble title, with so many Mi-clan feudal lords crammed into Chu’s shrunken land, where would there be space for a new estate? At best, he would receive an empty title.

Wang Jian had dealt with Chu nobles for over a decade; he understood their personalities well. He was certain Xiang Yan would turn back.

Before marching, he had envoys persuade Li Yuan and the Mi-clan lords in Chen.

Xiang Yan’s rise threatened to make him a second Lord Chunshen—and because Xiang Yan was a better commander, potentially even more powerful than Lord Chunshen. That threatened both the Chu King and the nobles.

Was Chu now Xiang Yan’s? Or the Chu King’s?

If Xiang Yan’s fief were destroyed and his clan captured by Qin, then even if Qin withdrew later, the Xiang clan would be so weakened that they’d have no choice but to rely on the king and other nobles. This would restore balance.

Moreover, if Xiang Yan ignored the defense of Chu and kept attacking Qin, it would prove that, to him, the Xiang clan mattered more than the king—making him even more dangerous.

Lord Chunshen was a thorn in Li Yuan’s heart. Though Lord Chunshen was long dead, Li Yuan—who imitated him obsessively but never earned his prestige and was openly mocked for it—hated anything resembling Lord Chunshen.

Xiang Yan being favored by the king was already intolerable.

Now comparing Xiang Yan to Lord Chunshen? Li Yuan immediately allied with his vassals and slandered Xiang Yan, urging the king to forbid him from returning.

But at this moment, the Chu King was lucid.

Even if he didn’t care about the Xiang fief, he knew it lay within Chu. Qin was attacking Chu—why talk about attacking Qin? Xiang Yan must return and protect him!

Seeing the king siding with Xiang Yan, Li Yuan went for broke.

He and the queen conspired: they dosed the king’s medicine with poison, sent the queen to distract him with beautiful women, and when the exhausted king fell asleep, they let him freeze through half the night.

King Xiong Yuan died suddenly. The crown prince, Han, succeeded the throne.

The new king immediately revoked his father’s order and forbade Xiang Yan from returning, promising to send reinforcements himself.

Xiang Yan was trapped. Under pressure from his clan, he split his forces and sent half to return home.

Wang Jian, waiting specifically for this, began his attack.

Meanwhile, Li Mu sailed north along the coastline.

Although he encountered difficulties, his extensive naval experience allowed him to overcome them easily.

He even stopped to resupply at ports on the way—openly letting Qi know that Qin had arrived by sea.

This was the first time the Central Plains had seen a naval force travel such a long coastline.

Qi had long remained aloof because it was surrounded by sea on most sides, with only one land route—blocked by the other five states. Its nobles believed they were perfectly safe.

Now Li Mu’s naval force proved that even coastal states were not safe—Qin could come from the sea.

Though Qi had sent troops as part of the coalition, since the death of the Queen Dowager, the king—under the influence of nobles, especially his uncle Hou Sheng—neglected military affairs and indulged in pleasure.

Qi’s nobles lived extravagantly; prestige was determined by wealth, not merit. The famed Jixia Academy had declined into empty debate.

When Qin forces neared, the Qi King stared blankly at his ministers: “What should we do?”

The ministers stared blankly back and asked him the same question.

They had spent decades thinking only about making and spending money. Warfare? They had no idea.

Even the Qi troops and generals they had sent westward were only there to pick up benefits—not to fight or capture cities. Qi genuinely had no one capable of commanding an army.

The Qi King asked helplessly, “Then what should we do?”

The ministers said, “Maybe form a navy first?”

The king nodded. “Good. Who will organize it?”

Blank stares again.

Your Majesty… if we knew, we wouldn’t be asking you.

Who in Qi was good at naval warfare?

They abandoned the idea and decided to fortify the coastline to stop Qin from landing.

The king agreed. Then he asked who would command the defenses.

Discussion started again.

Qi’s generals were few. The handful who could fight were already in Qin. Surely the ministers weren’t going to risk themselves?

So they immediately advised the king to recall all Qi troops fighting in Qin.

The king thought this brilliant and issued the order.

Then he simply waited.

Li Mu’s goal was to force Qi to withdraw its troops from Qin.

He knew that with his isolated force, he couldn’t break Qi’s coastal defense and penetrate inland.

But upon reaching Qi’s coast, Li Mu was puzzled—where were the defenders?

He suspected a trap, so he circled the coastline, choosing an open landing site to avoid ambush.

Even after circling, he still saw no Qi troops.

Though puzzled, Li Mu seized the opportunity, landed, lined up his troops, and marched straight inland, soon surrounding the Qi capital, Linzi.

Sitting in his command tent, Li Mu was utterly confused.

With the forces he brought, he certainly couldn’t take Linzi. He surrounded it only to force Qi to withdraw its army from Qin.

But where were the remaining Qi troops? Qi was huge—there was no way it had sent all its troops to the coalition.

From the coast to Linzi, not a single army came out to block him. Every city shut its gates tight and merely watched from the walls.

Had every county governor and feudal lord in Qi rebelled collectively, waiting for their king to die? Otherwise how could Qin troops reach Linzi without resistance?

Li Mu looked at the towering city walls and felt a deep regret.

If he had known, he would have brought more troops and taken Linzi outright.

Qin King Zichu had suffered a setback in his hegemony because of famine; surely he was frustrated. If Li Mu could capture the Qi King and bring him to Xianyang, perhaps he could ease Zichu’s regrets.

After much thought, Li Mu sighed, slapped his leg, and prepared to withdraw.

Since Linzi was surrounded, Qi’s armies must already be returning.

He had brought only fifty thousand troops, including only a few thousand logistics staff. His expedition was meant to intimidate Qi; he carried minimal supplies—certainly not enough for a siege.

His mission complete, he had to leave despite his reluctance.

Li Mu ordered his men to bring out their trebuchets and catapults, firing all remaining ammunition before leaving. The “explosive” powder jars—more smoke and noise than damage against stone walls—were launched wildly.

As the bombardment continued, Li Mu stood with arms folded, lost in thought, waiting for the troops to finish “unloading.”

The city gate opened.

Under the persuasion of Hou Sheng—his most trusted chancellor, the Queen Dowager’s cousin, and the uncle he adored—the Qi King Jian opened the gate to surrender, hoping for the same treatment given to the King of Han.

Hou Sheng told him that if he surrendered too late, he might not live well. If he surrendered now, he could at least live as a wealthy noble in Xianyang.

A pampered, middle-aged man-child, Qi King Jian had been terrified by the explosions, sleeping each night clutching the Queen Dowager’s memorial tablet.

Qi nobles, hearing that Li Mu could summon thunder and fire, immediately lost all will to resist.

Qi’s nobles had ignored foreign affairs for decades, focusing only on wealth and luxury. Though Qin’s navy had existed for years, they knew only the term “Qin navy,” never investigating what it actually looked like.

Li Mu’s thunder machines had been used for over ten years; Chu soldiers barely flinched at the noise, knowing its damage was negligible.

But the Qi people truly had no idea.

And so, under Li Mu’s “divine thunder,” while the recall edict was still en route, while Qi’s other nobles and county lords were still waiting for orders, Qi King Jian opened the gates and surrendered.

Li Mu hesitated. Fortunately, his face was naturally stern—Zhu Xiang called him “expressionless.”

Keeping his face stiff, Li Mu accepted the surrender—then faced a dilemma.

He didn’t bring many Qin troops—too few to conquer more Qi cities, and too few to escort Qi King Jian overland across multiple states back to Qin.

What now?

Surely he couldn’t bring the Qi King back by sea…?