Woling Pass was easy to defend and hard to breach, and now the rebels were the ones holding it.
Straightening his expression, He Chunhua asked in all earnestness, "What would you have this humble official do?"
Such an earth-shattering thunderclap had detonated in central Yuan, leaving the kingdom's fate hanging by a thread. If even a commoner bore responsibility, how could a high-ranking official like him shirk it?
To make excuses now would be unseemly.
Just then, a servant came in to refresh the tea. Sun Fuping took a sip of the hot brew and brought up a seemingly unrelated topic. "Governor He, having lived in Qiansong Commandery for so many years, do you know how that wasteland turned into the Panlong Desert—and the origin of Red Cliff Road?"
Why bring that up? He Chunhua furrowed his brow.
"Those are local chronicles. Roughly a hundred and fifty years before Great Yuan was founded, the land beneath our feet belonged to the Xiluo Kingdom. Back then, the Panlong Desert wasn't even a wasteland. Rainfall was merely sparse, yet there were still woodlands and seasonal rivers. In fact, at its peak, Xiluo established four commanderies and twelve cities across its western border to command this bustling trade route linking east and west. The largest of them was Panlong City.
"Later, Xiluo fell into decline, suffering defeat after defeat abroad. The kingdoms of Baling and Xianyou vied to swallow its territory, and except for the Panlong Wasteland stubbornly holding out, all of Xiluo's western border was seized. The Panlong Wasteland thus became an enclave, stranded far outside Xiluo's borders, a thousand li from its motherland."
He Lingchuan listened in silence to this piece of history. Every resident of Blackwater City had heard the origins of the Panlong Desert, and his body's previous owner had been no exception.
"Baling and Xianyou attacked the Panlong Wasteland for thirty-two years, and the Xiluo defenders, led by Panlong City Commander Zhong Shengguang, fought for every inch of soil and held out for thirty-two years as well!" He Chunhua turned to his eldest son. "Lingchuan, do you remember the name of that force?"
"The Gale Army!" He Lingchuan nodded. "'More unyielding than desert poplars, their solitary loyalty never fulfilled their grand ambition.' That was said of the Gale Army trapped behind enemy lines!"
The Gale Army had been besieged by two powerful foes, cut off from their homeland, lacking food and water, without a single shred of aid from Xiluo.
Even so, it had held out for a full thirty-two years.
Such legends never grew old.
"In the twelfth year of the siege of Panlong City, Xianyou and Xiluo made a brief peace, and the Gale Army seized the chance to send word to the homeland. The King of Xiluo, never expecting Panlong City to still be standing, issued an imperial commendation—and recalled most of the Gale Army's elite back home to suppress rebellions." Seeing his father remain quiet, He Lingchuan continued the story. "Yet Xianyou soon turned hostile again, severing communication between the Panlong Wasteland and the homeland once more. The Gale Army plunged right back into dire straits.
"Afterward, years of warfare wracked Xiluo, leaving it no leisure to look west. Cut off and without aid, having lost most of its main force, the Gale Army held on for another twenty years."
The will of this army could no longer be described simply as iron and steel. It was a pity their motherland had been so feeble, squandering such fine soldiers.
*A nation unworthy of its men.* He Lingchuan felt the phrase was particularly apt.
"Well said." Nian Songyu clapped twice for him. "But how did the wasteland become a desert?"
"The Gale Army never surrendered, fighting down to the last man. In vengeful fury, the enemy slaughtered Panlong City, leaving no one alive." This was the most classic trope in teahouse storytelling. "Those battles were so horrific that the fury and resentment of the fallen spirits surged into the sky and soaked into the earth, extinguishing all life for a hundred li around Panlong City and turning the rivers aside. Thus, the wasteland slowly turned into a desert.
"There is another version. Commander Zhong Shengguang of Panlong City was himself a powerful mystic. Knowing that a solitary tree could not withstand the gale, he gathered the power of tens of thousands of heroic spirits as the city fell and cursed this land, turning it into a barren expanse." He Lingchuan shrugged. "That way, Xiluo couldn't keep Panlong, but neither could Baling or Xianyou claim it. In truth, today this desert belongs to no kingdom at all."
"What else?"
"Yet Zhong Shengguang also left a sliver of hope for living creatures passing through the desert—Red Cliff Road. That was the route the Gale Army used to march." He Lingchuan looked at Nian Songyu. "There are plenty more details. If you want to keep listening, we'd better start the banquet and talk over food."
National Preceptor Sun Fuping asked He Chunhua, "Is this what you know as well, Governor He?"
"More or less." He Chunhua detected something unusual. "What does the National Preceptor mean by this?" *Stop keeping us in suspense.*
"It is true that the Gale Army was an iron legion, and it is true that Commander Zhong Shengguang was a formidable man. But after the core elite was recalled to the homeland, how could the Gale Army hold out all alone for another twenty years? By then, Xianyou's armies could sweep across more than half of Xiluo; even Xiluo's finest generals could not stop them." National Preceptor Sun said calmly, "You and I both know that mere fiery zeal could never accomplish that."
The outcome of war depended solely on strength and weakness. The cruelest truth was that no matter how passionate the weak were, they could not escape defeat and ruin.
The enemy was overwhelmingly powerful, particularly Xianyou with its elite troops and fierce generals, launching over three hundred assaults against Panlong City. At their peak, they attacked fifteen times in a single month.
Lacking food, water, men, and weapons, how could the Gale Army have held on?
To this, He Chunhua could only answer, "Historical records are lacking; there is no way to judge."
However stirring the tale was, it was an event from over a century ago. Posterity could sigh over it, but how many truly intended to delve into it?
At least He Chunhua had not; he had far more important matters to attend to.
"National Preceptor Sun, what does the past of the Panlong Desert have to do with our Great Yuan's current plight?" These two could not possibly have traveled thousands of li just to hear him tell stories.
The main event had arrived. Sun Fuping rose, took two steps forward, and looked him dead in the eye. "That is precisely what I came to say. The key to how the Gale Army endured might very well be our key to reversing the battle at Woling Pass and relieving the capital's peril! Commandery Governor He, this time, you cannot shirk your duty!"
He Chunhua's face turned solemn. "I would hear the details."
He Lingchuan, however, felt that the man was finally baring his fangs, yet had first pinned a towering obligation onto them. He wondered if his old man could bear the weight of it.
"The Gale Army's Chief Secretary, He Jian, served alongside Zhong Shengguang for many years before dying of illness shortly before the city fell. When Xianyou took Panlong City, they inventoried his belongings and discovered his concise accounts of those events.
"He Jian's records survived, passing through many hands, before finally making their way into the imperial palace of Great Yuan."
He Lingchuan could not resist chiming in. "So the truth has been hidden in our kingdom all along? Why has it never appeared in the historical records?"
Every kingdom maintained a bureau of state history to compile the annals of their own nation and past dynasties, particularly former dynasties. Contemporary national histories were often skimmed over, but former dynastic histories were probed deepest by scholars, from secret records and lore down to human nature and motives—the reasons for which were self-evident and understood by all.
Moreover, such findings were gladly published for the public. A tale of loyalty and sacrifice like that of Panlong City and the Gale Army should have been held up as a shining example to educate the masses and quietly mold their virtues.
Nian Songyu smiled. "Because it cannot be told!"
"By then, the records were heavily damaged, with barely enough intact sentences to piece together, let alone reconstruct the complete history. Yet one matter was recorded with crystal clarity—"
Chapter 9