Unbridled

Luoyang measured six li from east to west and nine li from north to south, its walls towering several zhang high. The imposing structure gave the defending soldiers a profound sense of security. One could say that as long as the defenders lacked neither morale nor grain, they could hold out until the enemy fell into utter despair. And yet, throughout history—and in generations to come—whenever an imperial capital was besieged, the defenders' morale was invariably at rock bottom. This was easy to understand. Though imperial capitals were built sturdy and tall, they were never designed with the intention of withstanding a siege. By the time it came down to defending the capital, it meant the dynasty had already reached the brink of ruin. Present-day Luoyang was no exception. Even though the Han army defending the city held the numerical advantage, was backed by a colossal fortress, and lacked neither grain nor weapons, their morale was dismal. They looked upon the Yellow Turban Army outside the walls as fearsome tigers, trembling with dread. "Snap out of it, all of you!" At Daxia Gate, Sun Jian had been ordered to patrol the gate tower. Seeing so many soldiers staring blankly with drooping heads, he could not help but bark a reprimand. Startled by his scolding, the soldiers shuddered, cursing inwardly: *We're the ones freezing in the biting wind guarding the walls! You officers are just going through the motions, yet you have the gall to lecture us?! The Moth Rebels ought to breach the city and flay the skin right off you!* A squad commander grumbled, "Major Sun, the Moth Rebels haven't attacked for days. They aren't even building siege engines, just digging up dirt all day. Why do we need to be so vigilant? It's not like they can fly over the battlements! If you ask me, what we really need to watch out for is someone secretly unbarring the gates to let them in." If they were not going to scale the walls like ants, their only option was to coordinate from within and without. Sun Jian knew the squad commander had a point, but he kept his face stern. "You don't need to worry about the gates. Hold the battlements and keep your eyes peeled on the enemy camp!" The squad commander nodded helplessly. Suddenly, a thunderous, frantic rolling of drums echoed from afar. "That direction... it's the Moth Rebels' main camp!" Everyone's expression changed drastically. Sun Jian rushed forward, leaning over the parapet to peer toward the Yellow Turban encampment. An earthy yellow tide of men was pouring orderly out of the open stockade gates. Some carried long spears and ring-pommel broadswords; others wore leather armor and bore shields with sabers. Company after company, rank upon rank—merely marching out to deploy into formation would take a considerable amount of time. *Are the Moth Rebels finally launching a full-scale assault?* Sun Jian was bewildered. How could they assault the walls without siege engines? Could they truly fly onto the battlements? Waving his hand, he decisively barked, "Sound the drums and blow the horns! Signal every garrison in the city—the Moth Rebels are about to attack!" Even though he could not fathom what the Yellow Turban Army intended to do, Sun Jian gave the alarm without hesitation. Hearing the sky-shaking rumble of drums from beyond the walls and atop the towers, the entire city erupted into chaos. The Moth Rebels were finally attacking! The boulder of anxiety that had weighed on their chests for days was finally about to drop! If the defenders could repel the initial wave, morale among Luoyang's troops and civilians would gradually stabilize. If the first line broke, nothing else would matter. General-in-Chief He Jin and Grand Commandant Deng Sheng arrived at Daxia Gate's battlements in haste, flanked by their personal guards. Sun Jian bowed in greeting, but He Jin ignored him completely, leaning directly against the parapet to gaze outside. Across the level expanse of open ground, tens of thousands of Yellow Turban troops stood arrayed in solemn formation. Spears and halberds stood like a forest, battle banners fluttered, and warhorses whinnied—a scene drenched in grim, chilling menace. Deng Sheng helped Sun Jian to his feet and walked to the wall edge to observe. Watching the Yellow Turbans in their orderly ranks and complete armor, he furrowed his brows deeply. "The Moth Rebels have indeed grown into a formidable force. Though not equal to the elite soldiers of the Five Encampments, they are nonetheless remarkably sharp." He Jin had never liked Deng Sheng, but now was a time for unity in defending Luoyang, so he refrained from bickering and replied, "The Moth Rebels defeated Huangfu Song and Lu Zhi in succession, capturing weapons and armor from tens of thousands of imperial troops, and then drilled extensively in Ji Province. It is hardly surprising they are elite. It would be strange if they marched on our capital wielding pitchforks and hoes." His words were laced with bitter displeasure toward Huangfu Song and Lu Zhi. Had those two not suffered defeat after defeat, would the Moth Rebels' equipment ever have been this good? Deng Sheng, however, was rather sympathetic toward Huangfu Song and Lu Zhi. Rather than agreeing with He Jin, he remarked with furrowed brows, "What use is merely drawing up battle lines? They don't even have scaling ladders or battering rams to besiege the city." He Jin found it puzzling as well. Just as he was about to speak, a commotion arose behind them. His expression instantly darkened. He turned, ready to snap an angry reprimand, but when he caught sight of that familiar, pale and sickly face, a shiver shot through him. "Y-Your Majesty, what brings you here?" He Jin stammered. The newcomer was none other than Liu Hong. Clad in a dark black robe with jade pendants hanging from his sash, he carried an undeniable air of nobility. Behind him trailed a flock of eunuchs; Regular Palace Attendants like Zhang Rang and Zhao Zhong were among them, though every last one wore a sour, reluctant scowl. Deng Sheng was equally astounded. He had never expected Liu Hong to step out of the imperial palace and climb the walls. He hurriedly advised, "Your Majesty, the Moth Rebels are poised to attack, and this place is perilous. We urge Your Majesty to depart at once." Liu Hong shook his head. "No rush. I will descend once the Moth Rebels begin loosing arrows and swarming the walls." His presence at the gate tower was largely because panic gnawed at his heart; he simply could not sit still in the palace. Moreover, he wanted to see with his own eyes just what kind of force these Moth Rebels were—the very rebels who had driven him and the Han Empire to the brink of ruin. "They look like nothing more than an ordinary army..." Scanning the Yellow Turban Army arrayed outside the walls, he muttered his appraisal. As ruler of all under heaven, Liu Hong held lofty standards. Even though the Yellow Turban soldiers were vastly superior to ordinary commandery and kingdom troops, in his eyes they warranted no more than an "ordinary" rating. While he studied the field, more and more high ministers and commanders gathered on the gate tower: Zhang Wen, Yuan Wei, Liu Yan, Dong Zhuo, Cao Cao, Gongsun Zan, Liu Bei, Yuan Shao... Some among them had not truly wished to come up. Yuan Shao, for instance, had been busy arranging his escape route toward Dongyang Gate. Yet with the emperor ascending the walls in person to "boost morale," they had no choice but to follow along to display their loyalty and lack of treacherous intent. After all, no one knew whether Luoyang could hold. If by some chance it did, anyone fleeing before the battle would certainly find themselves on Liu Hong's reckoning list later... Surrounded by his court, Liu Hong suddenly felt a reassuring wave of security. Struck by an idea, he adopted a dismissive posture and pointed down from the battlements. "The Moth Rebels haven't even fashioned scaling ladders or grappling hooks, yet they dream of seizing our city! What utter absurdity!" The assembled officials chimed in with laughter. Seeing these dignitaries laughing so freely and without restraint, the surrounding defenders felt their anxiety ease, and their morale began to revive. Seeing that his ploy was having an effect, Liu Hong struck while the iron was hot: "Pass down the imperial decree: every man defending the walls today shall be rewarded with one thousand coins and two bolts of cloth!" As the order was relayed, cheer after cheer erupted along the ramparts, their spirits soaring. Liu Hong felt smug inside. *I truly am gifted by nature! Without ever serving in the ranks, I already know how to govern and wield an army!* Yet before his smugness could last, cry after cry of terror rang out. Liu Hong frowned in annoyance, wondering what could possibly frighten the soldiers so. But when he stepped up to the parapet, the sight before him shook him to his core. Across the plains below the city, tens of thousands of Yellow Turban troops knelt prostrate on the ground, fanatically chanting, "Holy Sovereign Huang Tian!" At that very moment, a young man in a cloud-patterned Daoist robe stepped slowly out from the heart of the host. Walking up to the earthen terrace, he lightly waved his sleeve, and wisps of pale mist bore him aloft, drifting gently up toward the summit of the terrace more than three zhang high...