Chapter Forty-One: The Invasion of the Nomadic Tribes

The Xiongnu, Wuhuan, and Xianbei were nomadic tribes active during the twilight of the Han Dynasty. While they occasionally submitted to the Great Han, for the most part, they remained a constant threat.

Learning that the eighteen regional lords were currently campaigning against Dong Zhuo, the northern tribes perceived an opportunity to pillage the Han heartlands. In a rare show of unity, they mobilized their tribal cavalry to invade the Central Plains together.

Villages were reduced to ruins, the earth carpeted in corpses. Young women were bound together like spoils of war, while the severed heads of men served as grisly ornaments for enemy banners.

Beishan Village, a small mountain settlement in Hedong Commandery, had once been a place of profound tranquility. Now, it had become a living hell.

The nomadic cavalry burst into the village, slaughtering those who attempted to flee. Young women were dragged into huts by the swarming barbarians, their harrowing screams echoing through the air.

A young, stout villager shielded his elderly father and two children, fighting his way out of the village. Possessing immense courage, he wielded a long spear, carving a path through the chaos.

Suddenly, the thunder of hooves roared from behind; a large detachment of cavalry was closing in.

"Go! Quickly!" the man shouted urgently. "I will hold them off!"

With that, he leveled his spear and charged into the ranks of the pursuing horsemen, engaging them in a desperate struggle.

The old man, torn between terror and grief, could not look back at his son. He clutched his two young grandsons and sprinted away. The sounds of shrill, agonizing cries drifted from behind him; tears streamed down the old man’s face, but he dared not stop.

He ran until his strength failed him, eventually collapsing to the ground. His grandsons fell with him, kneeling beside him, weeping in terror and confusion.

Other fleeing refugees took notice of them and hurried over to help them up, continuing their flight toward the south.

Along the way, the crowd of refugees grew larger, their lamentations filling the desolate wilderness. Yet, paralyzed by fear and grief, they could only stumble blindly southward. They knew not where safety lay; they only moved by the primal instinct to survive.

The Administrator of Hedong hurried to the top of the city gate tower, looking down at the thousands of refugees gathered outside, begging for entry.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Administrator asked, his brow furrowed.

A soldier beside him cupped his hands and reported, "Scouts have arrived with urgent news: a force of 200,000 Xiongnu, Xianbei, and Wuhuan cavalry has suddenly appeared. These people are the lucky few who managed to escape."

The Administrator was struck with shock. "How could these barbarians..."

The soldier continued, "According to the scouts, the barbarians are burning, killing, and looting everything in their path. The casualties among the populace are horrific. Administrator, should we sally forth to rescue them?"

The Administrator snapped, "With so many barbarians descending upon us, to sally forth would be suicide!"

The soldier, at a loss for words, asked, "Then should we let the people outside into the city?"

The Administrator glanced at the refugees and frowned. "If enemy agents are mixed among them, the moment the gates open, the consequences will be unimaginable!"

The soldier hesitated. "But..."

The Administrator waved his hand dismissively. "My mind is made up. Say no more!"

The soldier fell silent, consumed by frustration.

"Enemies!" a lookout suddenly shouted, pointing toward the horizon.

The Administrator and his men peered into the distance, seeing countless black silhouettes emerging on the skyline, rapidly swelling into a dark, encroaching tide. Though still far off, the vibration of the earth was already palpable.

The Administrator’s face turned pale. "Have these northern barbarians emptied their entire nation to attack us? Defend the city at all costs! Without my direct order, no one is to sally forth!"

Seeing the gates remain closed while the barbarian tide surged forward, the tens of thousands of refugees outside fell into a state of panic.

Driven by desperation, the refugees began to skirt around Hedong Commandery, continuing their flight south. Those who could not keep pace were overtaken by the barbarian cavalry and slaughtered, their blood spraying into the air. At this moment, they were nothing more than a flock of sheep waiting for the butcher.

Luoyang. The Administrator’s Office.

Luo Ang strode into the great hall to find a dust-covered scout waiting for him.

Upon seeing Luo Ang, the scout saluted. "Report, General! The Xiongnu, Xianbei, and Wuhuan have suddenly appeared. The northern commandery of Hedong is choked with the smoke of war, and the civilian casualties are catastrophic!"

Luo Ang frowned and cursed, "Bastards! They must have seen the regional lords’ campaign against Dong Zhuo as their chance to loot the chaos! Has the Administrator of Hedong taken any action?"

The scout replied with indignation, "The Administrator has holed up his troops in the city, watching the barbarians ravage the land without lifting a finger. He even barred the gates, refusing to let the refugees in! Thousands have now fled to the northern bank of the Yellow River."

Li Jue asked, "How many barbarians are there?"

"The exact number is unclear," the scout replied, "but it must exceed 100,000!"

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Deng Chaozuo, a general of the Northern Army, said with deep concern, "We have only 50,000 troops in Luoyang, and they are exhausted from the recent battle. If these barbarian hordes arrive at our gates, the consequences will be unthinkable!" He turned to Luo Ang. "Marquis of Yan, we must beg the Grand Preceptor for reinforcements!"

All eyes turned to Luo Ang.

After a moment of reflection, Luo Ang said, "Send word to the Grand Preceptor! Zhongde, Yunchang, Song Xian, and Li Jue will lead the infantry to hold the city. All cavalry will ride with me to the Yellow River!"

The officers saluted in unison.

The news of the sudden southern invasion by the nomadic armies spread through Luoyang, casting a heavy pall of tension over the city. The streets emptied, and most shops shuttered their doors.

Luo Ang led 5,000 of his own cavalry, 15,000 Xiliang cavalry, and 5,000 Northern Army cavalry out of Luoyang, racing toward the Yellow River. Upon reaching a small hill overlooking the bank, they saw a sea of people—at least 100,000 refugees—packed along the northern shore.

They were trapped by the Yellow River, unable to cross.

Luo Ang felt a chill in his heart; the situation was even direr than he had imagined.

Zhang He stepped forward. "My Lord, we must build pontoon bridges immediately to save these people!"

Deng Chaozuo interjected urgently, "How can we do that? If we build bridges, the barbarian army will use them to cross as well, and the consequences would be catastrophic!"