Chapter Twelve: The Emperor Arrives in Liaodong

So this is the ancient city of Liaodong, Li Wenyuan thought as he sat atop his horse, carefully surveying the recently reconstructed city built upon the ruins of old. According to Xue Ju, this Liaodong city had been abandoned during the previous dynasty, with a new city established east of the Liao River. Later, during the Northern and Southern Dynasties, Goguryeo took over the region. Last year, Emperor Yang Guang, intent on his campaign against Goguryeo, rebuilt the city on these ruins as a depot for grain and military supplies. Under the emperor’s penchant for grandiose projects, the city had been fortified with towering walls and deep moats; if well-defended, it could withstand a siege by two hundred thousand soldiers.

Following the arrangements of local officials, Li Wenyuan and Xue Ju had set up their camp outside the city. Xue Ju was daily occupied with entertaining various officials, while Li Wenyuan, entrusted with the training of the troops, was content with his leisurely routine.

That day, after concluding the drill, Li Wenyuan returned to his tent. He had just sipped a few mouthfuls of hot soup to warm himself when he heard a commotion outside. He called for a soldier to inquire about the disturbance.

The soldier explained that a group of conscripted laborers had passed the camp. Their oxen and horses had perished while transporting grain, and they were hoping the authorities would compensate them with some rations. But with all the grain in Liaodong reserved for the army, no one dared release any; the officials had simply deflected, claiming the stores had already been moved into the city. So, the laborers had headed toward Liaodong city.

Li Wenyuan listened in silence. To die on forced labor and leave one’s family destitute—such was the tragedy of these chaotic times. Suddenly, the noise outside grew louder; he heard the neighing of horses and the faint wails of dying men. Grabbing his bow and arrows, he strode out of the tent.

Climbing the timbered rampart around the camp, he saw in the distance a cloud of dust rising on the official road: countless cavalrymen were riding back and forth. Shading his eyes, Li Wenyuan’s heart froze. The cavalry were slaughtering the scantily-clad commoners.

He summoned the same soldier and pointed at the massacre, asking, “Are those the laborers you mentioned?”

The soldier looked and nodded. “Yes, General, those are the ones.”

Seeing the defenseless laborers being massacred on the road, Li Wenyuan could restrain himself no longer. He leapt from the rampart, calling, “Cavalry, assemble! Follow me out!”

Just then, Xue Ju returned from Zhuo Commandery. Seeing Li Wenyuan in full armor, eyes blazing and exuding murderous intent, he quickly grabbed his reins. “Brother, what are you doing?”

Li Wenyuan replied, “Elder brother, have you seen the slaughter on the road?” He quickly recounted what had happened.

Xue Ju shook his head and pulled Li Wenyuan down from his horse, signaling to disband the assembled cavalry. “Brother, those laborers attempted to storm the military granary and were mistaken for rebels by the guards. That’s why they were killed.”

“But they were just laborers! They hauled the grain here from afar, and now with their oxen and horses dead, how can they return home?” Li Wenyuan pleaded.

“These matters are beyond our hands,” Xue Ju replied. “This is Zhuo Commandery, not Jincheng. Besides, the Emperor has already set out from Zhuo Commandery and will soon arrive at Liaodong. Don’t risk everything for a small matter. If you save these tens of thousands now, you might ruin a far greater cause, losing the chance to save the whole realm!”

Xue Ju grew stern. His brother had grand vision in some things, but was rash in others. He needed to be taught, lest he suffer such losses when acting independently in the future. He calmed himself and shared with Li Wenyuan many secrets of officialdom, stories that made Li Wenyuan’s blood run cold. Truly, the world of officialdom was a battlefield where lives could be lost without a drop of blood being spilled.

After a long while, Li Wenyuan realized he was neither a god nor a saint—he could not save everyone, only choose between lesser evils. Seeing Li Wenyuan’s dawning understanding, Xue Ju fell silent, watching the sky.

The cries on the road faded, the chaos subsided. Li Wenyuan slowly unclenched his fists and said, “Elder brother, you are right. Had you not stopped me, I might have been guilty of harboring rebels and implicated you as well. But to watch these people’s bodies left to rot in the wild is unbearable. Still, if they remain, the imperial procession may be disturbed. Please allow me to take five hundred men to bury the dead.”

Xue Ju, seeing that Li Wenyuan had understood, nodded. Li Wenyuan led five hundred soldiers out the camp gate to the road, leaving two hundred to dig a mass grave in the wasteland, while he led three hundred to collect the bodies.

At that moment, the cavalry captain who had led the slaughter rode up and blocked Li Wenyuan. “Who are you? Why are you burying these rebels? Are you one of them?”

Li Wenyuan, heart heavy with grief, replied coldly, “Sir, I’m not burying them for their sake, but for yours.”

The captain, angered, raised his whip to strike Li Wenyuan, but Li Wenyuan continued, “The Emperor left Zhuo Commandery only yesterday and may arrive in Liaodong today. This is the only road from Zhuo Commandery to Liaodong—if these corpses remain, disturbing His Majesty’s procession, do you think you’ll survive?”

The captain broke out in a cold sweat, realizing his blunder. He quickly saluted, “You are right, brother. I was careless. I have duties to attend to—please handle the aftermath. I am Luo Yi, the officer in charge of the military granary in Liaodong. If you ever come to Liaodong, I’ll treat you to a drink.” With that, Luo Yi hurried back to the city with his men.

Watching Luo Yi ride away, Li Wenyuan was silent. No wonder that at the end of the Sui, every peasant uprising began by slaughtering the local officials—there were some innocents, but most were cruel tyrants who preyed on the people. He truly admired the great leader of later times, who overturned the established order with the strategy of encircling the cities from the countryside. Without a foundation, even the grandest tower would soon collapse.

Having properly buried the laborers, Li Wenyuan ordered his men to scatter dirt and water on the road to wash away the blood. He himself poured a jar of strong wine over their communal grave, silently vowing to one day rid the world of cruel officials and bring peace to the people.

Standing atop the camp wall, Xue Ju watched Li Wenyuan complete the burial and offer wine to the dead, and nodded to himself. He truly cared for the people and possessed a kind and gentle heart—he had not judged him wrong.

Li Wenyuan returned to his tent and did not emerge for the rest of the day. The next morning, he was back on the training ground as usual, no trace of yesterday’s turmoil on his face.

That day, Xue Ju returned early and said, “Brother, put on your armor—the imperial procession is near. We must go to the road to greet His Majesty.”

Thousands of officials and generals had already gathered on either side of the road. Li Wenyuan and Xue Ju mingled among them, listening to the whispered conversations. Li Wenyuan joked to Xue Ju, “Elder brother, half of Sui’s finest are gathered here. If the Goguryeo army sent a small force, the losses would be huge—it could even doom the entire eastern campaign.”

“Haha, if that happened, the Emperor would simply summon even more officials to lead the troops. The Sui never lacked for officials,” Xue Ju replied with a laugh.

“The imperial procession approaches!”

With the messenger’s report, everyone straightened their attire and fell silent, awaiting Yang Guang’s arrival.

“They’re coming,” someone whispered, as Yang Guang’s mobile palace, the Tower of the Winds, appeared in the distance. This structure, crafted by skilled artisans, was a four-story tower designed specifically for imperial tours of the northwest. It was fortified with wooden battlements; should those fall, guards could retreat inside, with only a narrow stairway connecting the floors—easy to defend, hard to attack. Yang Guang had even shown off the ingenious design to envoys from Fusang, instructing them to describe it to their emperor, the so-called Son of Heaven of the Land of the Rising Sun.

Seeing the Tower of the Winds meant the Emperor had arrived. The crowds lining the road knelt and pressed their foreheads to the ground, not daring to show the slightest disrespect. Leading the way were twelve white stallions, ridden by imperial guards in gleaming armor, followed by hundreds of attendants, the Emperor’s carriage, and then thousands more elite troops, resplendent and imposing.

Li Wenyuan stole a glance at the imperial carriage. He had only ever read about it in sparse lines of the history books; nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes. Even the boldest of men would be awed by its grandeur.

After Yang Guang’s procession passed, the crowd rose and dispersed, each returning to their duties to await an audience that evening.

That night, Yang Guang hosted a grand banquet for his generals in Liaodong city. Rising with his cup, he declared, “Generals, the Eastern Barbarians of Goguryeo do not respect Heaven’s might nor value benevolence. They have long oppressed the peoples of Liaodong! I, bearing Heaven’s mandate and answering the cries of its people, lead two million Heavenly Soldiers to punish Goguryeo. Once the East is pacified, I shall reward you all according to your merit. Each of you must fulfill your duties and act as the situation demands. I await your good news!” With that, he drained his cup.

The generals all rose, raised their cups, and shouted, “May His Majesty lead us to victory in person—this campaign will surely succeed!” They too drained their wine. Li Wenyuan followed suit, thinking that what must come had come—the time had arrived to consider how to help Xue Ju and his men survive this ordeal.

The next day, the Emperor’s aides went from camp to camp, verifying troop numbers and the names of commanders. Soon it was determined that ninety-eight thousand troops had gathered for this campaign, divided into three routes. Li Wenyuan and Xue Ju’s forces were assigned to serve under Yu Wenshu, Grand General of the Left Wing, preparing to cross the Liao River and attack the new Liaodong City, now occupied by Goguryeo.

Another force under Yang Yichen would bypass Liaodong, cross the Yalu River, and strike directly at Pyongyang. The third, led by Xue Shixiong, would head north to overawe the Shiwei tribes and prevent them from aiding Goguryeo.

“We cross the Liao tomorrow—are you afraid?” Xue Ju asked Li Wenyuan as they groomed their horses.

“Not particularly,” Li Wenyuan replied with a smile. “If we were to fight Goguryeo in open country among these white mountains and black waters, I wouldn’t fear. But this new Liaodong City is a fortress, and the Goguryeo are known for their resilience—many will die.”

“True, but everyone knows our northwest troops are used to fighting nomads and not skilled in sieges. Our mission is to bypass Liaodong, ride along the Yalu, and harass the enemy’s supply lines,” Xue Ju said.

“That’s just as well. The Goguryeo have always been ruthless to us Sui—at a time like this, we can settle the score,” Li Wenyuan replied, thinking of the laborers slaughtered the day before. His anger, though irrational, sought an outlet in the coming battles.

“All in good time. Years ago, Emperor Wen promised that the gold, silver, and beauties of Pyongyang would be shared among the generals and soldiers once the city was taken. If you and I return to Jincheng empty-handed, we’ll have little to boast about,” Xue Ju laughed.

After tending his horse and securing his equipment, Li Wenyuan returned to camp with Xue Ju. It would take days for the army to be ready to march. As the two armies moving north and east set out in succession, it was already late April when Yang Guang led the central force across the Liao River, ordering Yu Wenshu to besiege Liaodong.

The war had begun. Sui scouts spread out like bees gathering nectar, and dozens of cavalry detachments like Xue Ju’s set out to raid Goguryeo’s supply convoys. Among them was a man named Liu Wuzhou from Loufan, who had even wagered with Xue Ju to see who could seize more enemy grain.

Standing by the Liao River, Xue Ju took his time, unlike the other units that rushed straight for the Yalu. As he put it, “The enemy needs time to conscript laborers and gather supplies before they can transport them. We’re not far from the Yalu—if we proceed at a normal pace, we’ll intercept the bulk of their grain. Whatever slips through won’t matter to the tens of thousands of Goguryeo troops in Liaodong.”

Galloping among the white mountains and black waters was indeed a joy of life. Li Wenyuan reined in his horse, looked at his fellow men from Longxi, and was seized by a surge of heroism. He began to dream of the day when he would lead ten thousand cavalry in a thunderous charge, and with a hearty curse, he bellowed:

“Damn it, what a thrill!”