Chapter Seventy-Seven: Assault on the City (Part II)

The hour was just past midnight.

The gates of Shanhai Pass swung open, and Li Kong led five thousand cavalrymen into the city like a storm sweeping away the remnants of clouds. Yet, just as half of their forces had entered, the city walls suddenly blazed with firelight. Nearly a thousand Goguryeo soldiers raised their bows, taking aim at the Tang cavalry below.

“Have we fallen into a trap?” Li Kong paused for a moment, then his voice grew cold: “Everyone, charge in! Same rules as always—no prisoners, only heads. Break through the checkpoint and destroy their provisions!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” Thousands of cavalrymen roared as they surged into the city.

But Shanhai Pass was merely a small fortress; the streets within were no more than a few meters wide, barely enough for five or six men to ride abreast, so their advance was not particularly swift.

In moments, arrows rained down from the walls, plunging into the ranks of cavalry. Dozens fell where they stood, crushed beneath the hooves of those behind until nothing remained but flesh and mud.

Yet no one showed mercy. The essence of cavalry charges was speed and precision; if they faltered, the rear ranks would collapse into chaos, trampling those ahead to death—a fate no one could bear.

Thus, they could only silently note this hatred, waiting to avenge their fallen comrades by severing enemy heads.

Li Kong, at the very front, understood this well. He could only pray that the ranks moved faster; to urge them on, he doubled the pace of his whip, and his chestnut warhorse, stung by the lash, charged wildly ahead, smashing everything before it to pieces.

But as they reached halfway through the city, torches suddenly flared ahead. Judging by their density, at least a thousand men were gathered, led by a figure atop a tall warhorse, who regarded them coldly.

Seeing this, Li Kong realized they had truly walked into a snare. Yet their movements had always been covert, leaving no room for error. If someone in his ranks had betrayed them, Li Kong would not believe it. So how had their plans been leaked?

As his mind raced, Li Kong raised his spear high and shouted, “Charge!”

“Kill!” The cavalry responded loudly, drawing their cold, gleaming blades as they spurred their mounts toward the enemy.

On the opposite side, the commander was also a man in his twenties, with fierce brows and angry eyes, gripping a long halberd. “So it’s true? The Tang dare greatly. Shieldmen, forward! Block them!”

With a clang, hundreds of shieldmen stepped out, forming dense layers across Li Kong’s path. Between their iron shields, sharp spears jutted out, forming a makeshift chevaux-de-frise.

Li Kong’s expression darkened, and he led his personal guards in a charge. He swung his spear down at the shieldmen. Though not exceptionally strong—nothing compared to legends like Li Yuanba or even the previous dynasty’s Yuwen Chengdu—he struck with all his fury, sending six shieldmen flying into their comrades.

A chain reaction followed; four ranks of the shield wall toppled at once.

Li Kong did not relent. He crashed through the formation, his guards following closely, cutting down the survivors, who were then trampled by the cavalry.

The Goguryeo commander gasped, unwilling, and shouted, “Who is that man? How can he be so strong?”

Silence answered him. Yet several hundred spearmen abandoned their spears, took up shields, and stepped forward to continue blocking Li Kong’s advance.

Li Kong, caught up in the slaughter, had overturned more than a hundred shieldmen and spearmen in only a dozen breaths. Slightly fatigued, he repeated his actions, his gaze fixed on the enemy commander.

Meanwhile, the cavalry who had been waiting outside the city now entered and quickly secured the gates. A deputy, seeing the stalled advance, led several hundred cavalrymen to dismount and stand guard at the rear, preventing enemies from the walls from attacking and creating a situation of being surrounded.

As Li Kong’s strength waned, the Tang charge slowed, but they had already pushed through most of the city. Even at a sluggish pace, they would break through in half an hour.

The opposing commander grew anxious and glared at Li Kong, shouting, “All men, withdraw from the city! Mount up and face the enemy outside!”

“Yes, sir!” The remaining five or six hundred Goguryeo soldiers obeyed, retreating while fending off Li Kong’s assault.

“This man is indeed talented, but precisely because of that, he cannot be allowed to live. Deputy, take a thousand men to burn the supplies. The rest, follow me in the charge—we must kill him and rid Tang of future troubles!” Li Kong shouted, quickening his pace.

A deputy silently withdrew, and the thousand cavalry at the rear halted to search for hidden provisions throughout the city.

The enemy commander had no intention of fighting within the city. Li Kong’s push accelerated, and in less than half an hour, they reached the eastern gate. To his surprise, waiting there was not a ragged band of defeated foes, but a dense formation of over a thousand cavalry, with the enemy commander standing opposite him, eyes cold.

This time, Li Kong fully realized he had fallen into a trap, all suspicion gone.

At that moment, his rage reached its peak. He had sought the dream of a perfect Tang, yet even in this early Zhenguan era, traitors had appeared? How could he accept such a thing?

Moreover, judging by the enemy’s arrangements, it was clear someone in his own ranks had leaked information. The only ones who could do so were those he sent to Shanhai Pass to scout, for his movements had been erratic—even the court only knew he was in Liaodong, not his exact location, unless they were gods.

Was his luck truly so poor? Had he randomly chosen traitors among his own scouts? Was fate itself against him?

“Kill!” The enemy’s roar suddenly shattered all of Li Kong’s thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Li Kong raised his spear once more and demanded, “Enemy commander, state your name! I do not kill nameless men!”

“I am Gao Huizhen—Tang brat, prepare to die!”