On the second day of the twelfth lunar month in the fortieth year of Emperor Huawen’s reign, Han Fei, Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate and deputy commander, led three thousand light cavalry from Hejia Village toward Nianzi Ravine. The following day, the Eighth Prince, Prince Yu and deputy commander Feng Xuanzhen, led twenty elite soldiers disguised as refugees from Hejia Village toward Bitong Pass. That same day, Ning Xuan, Bureau Director of the Ministry of War and General Who Pacifies the West, led the western expedition army slowly out of Hejia Village. Three days later, they established camp ten li outside Bitong Pass.
For concealment, Ning Xuan ordered the camp erected within the forest, using dead trees as cover. The tents were gathered in some places and scattered in others, resembling a nomadic tribe upon the grasslands. The bitter winds beyond the frontier were hardly something an ordinary person could withstand. Inside the command tent, with a large brazier blazing, Ning Xuan would curl up beside the charcoal fire like a decrepit old man whenever no one else was present. Sniffling, he wrapped his padded coat more tightly around himself.
“It’s already the sixth day of the twelfth month. Judging by the time, Han Fei should have arrived by now, shouldn’t he?” Maintaining dignity and an imposing presence before others came with certain conditions. In front of the ever-present Xuan Guang, Ning Xuan had long since ceased acknowledging his existence as a “person” and simply did whatever made him comfortable.
“Yes.”
“Do you think Feng Xuanzhen’s mission is going smoothly? Could he have been caught and treated to a whipping?” Ning Xuan looked positively eager, without the slightest grief or anxiety one might expect over a companion potentially meeting disaster.
Strenuously suppressing the twitch at the corner of his brow, Xuan Guang maintained his customary coffin-like expression. “This subordinate does not know.”
Ning Xuan sighed. “I suddenly miss the days when Han Fei and Feng Xuanzhen were in camp making an endless racket. At least that was better than being bored to death with this wooden block.”
Holding an iron poker, Ning Xuan prodded the glowing red coals in the brazier. His face was filled with frustration, practically declaring, I’m bored out of my mind. Hurry up and entertain me.
Xuan Guang’s expression distorted once again. He dared to be angry but did not dare speak. All he wanted was for this torment of both mind and body to end as soon as possible so he could return to the darkness. He was much better suited to the life of hiding in corners and “stabbing people in the back.”
“I’ve noticed that you rarely speak and treat almost everyone with indifference. You don’t seem particularly eager to earn military merit or gallop across the battlefield either. So why did you decide to join the army?”
Perhaps Ning Xuan was merely bored. More accurately, however, he had been observing this man for a long time. Xuan Guang was obscure and silent, yet by no means mediocre—one might even call him exceptional. He was skilled with blades and spears, meticulous in thought, and remained calm even amid seas of blades and flames. Many times on the battlefield, had this man not been beside him, Ning Xuan might not have died, but neither would he have escaped unharmed. More than once, Xuan Guang had made him feel as though he were protecting Ning Xuan with his very life.
Ning Xuan did not know whether he failed to understand the ancients’ concept of loyalty or this man’s understanding of life. At the very least, Ning Xuan could not do the same. He could not comprehend willingly sacrificing his life for a complete stranger whose background he knew nothing about merely because it was his duty and occupation, even when Ning Xuan was the person being protected and the one receiving that sacrifice.
“The kindness of recognition must be repaid a thousandfold.” Xuan Guang remained expressionless and unperturbed, speaking as calmly as though he were describing an unrelated stranger.
The unexpected answer gave Ning Xuan a faint understanding. Everyone had hardships and difficulties they could not speak of. In a society governed by rigid hierarchy, being offered advancement and an opportunity meant even more. If risking and sacrificing one’s life could purchase an opportunity, a possibility, and a hope that one’s entire family might escape its present circumstances, then perhaps it no longer seemed quite so impossible to accept.
The person who had given Xuan Guang such an opportunity was Feng Xuanzhen. And from now on, the person who might continue granting him that opportunity was Ning Xuan himself.
An indescribably soft place in Ning Xuan’s heart was touched. Family, responsibility, identity, status, and the countless forms of helplessness that followed them—somewhere deep inside, he sensed that one day, he too would be bound by all of these and unable to free himself.
“Sit down. Stop standing there like a clock. Even if you aren’t tired, I’m annoyed just looking at you.” Ning Xuan kicked the low stool beside him toward Xuan Guang, signaling for him to sit.
On the seventh day of the twelfth lunar month in the fortieth year of Emperor Huawen’s reign, Han Fei seized victory through surprise and annihilated the Xiliang grain convoy in a single engagement, capturing one hundred thousand shi of provisions. That same night, flames soared into the sky above Bitong Pass, reddening the frozen frontier beneath its swirling snow. The sound of gongs and drums calling people to fight the fire rang repeatedly from inside the city. Outside the walls, Ning Xuan raised his arm and shouted. War drums thundered through heaven and earth, and the soldiers who had lain in ambush for days, rested and ready, surged forward like a tidal wave. They roared and brandished their weapons like messengers from hell, like life-stealing asuras. Blades descended, tearing through flesh and destroying lives, while the victors rejoiced and celebrated.
The Xiliang soldiers, whose eyes had been deceived by Ning Xuan’s deliberate smokescreen, were completely unprepared for the sudden assault. With turmoil also erupting within the city, their defeat came like a collapsing mountain. Not only did the Hua army successfully receive Feng Xuanzhen and the others after their surprise infiltration of the pass, but Xiliang’s morale, already devastated by three consecutive defeats, sank to its lowest point. They withdrew into the city and refused to emerge. Ning Xuan did not force an assault. Knowing when to stop, he instead had the army openly establish camp outside the walls and settle into a standoff.
The following day, a single light cavalryman rode into the city in a wretched state. Like a bomb, his arrival instantly detonated the deathly stillness hanging over Bitong Pass. Nothing could have worsened their misfortune more. The previous night’s surprise attack had caught Xiliang completely off guard. Fortunately, the city gates had been closed in time, preventing excessive losses. Yet only after taking stock did they learn that nearly all the provisions within the city had been destroyed. What little had survived was not enough to provide even a single meal for the city’s civilians and soldiers. All their hopes had rested upon the grain convoy expected to arrive by the following night at the latest. They had still been planning how to hold off the army before them while safely escorting the supplies into the city. Instead, the news that arrived early that morning was that every grain shipment had been seized and the entire convoy annihilated.
Winter warfare already consumed tremendous resources, and provisions were scarce. Losing such an enormous quantity of grain left the Xiliang commander barely able to remain standing. Gathering and transporting another shipment would require ten days to half a month at the very earliest. How could the soldiers and civilians throughout Bitong Pass endure ten days or half a month without food or drink? The army’s morale was unstable, the people’s loyalty was wavering, and the city could no longer be secured. Furthermore, even if they somehow endured those days, there was no guarantee that the next shipment could reach the city safely while they were in such a starved and exhausted state.
Inside Bitong Pass, every Xiliang general in the room wore an ashen expression. The commander sat in the seat of honor, his fists tightly clenched and his knuckles blue-white. As the bloodstained soldier below continued his report, the commander’s expression grew increasingly grave.
“Pass down my order. If the Hua army promises to guarantee the safety of every civilian and soldier, young and old, throughout Bitong Pass, then our army is willing to surrender the city. I am willing to submit myself to whatever judgment they impose.”
On the seventh day of the twelfth lunar month in the fortieth year of Emperor Huawen’s reign, General Who Pacifies the West Ning Xuan led fifty thousand troops to achieve victory through strategy without bloodshed, capturing the frontier stronghold of Bitong Pass without sacrificing a single soldier. He took the enemy commander and more than thirty thousand soldiers prisoner. After leading his troops into the city, he extended widespread benevolence and earned the wholehearted support and praise of Bitong Pass’s people.
This battle was recorded in the histories of the Hua Dynasty, where its achievements were praised and admired. It became known as the Great Victory at Bitong Pass. An urgent victory report was carried eight hundred li to the imperial capital, sending shockwaves through the court and the realm. Emperor Huawen personally issued a decree promoting Ning Xuan in rank and ordering the victorious army back to court, with all ceremonies upon his return to be conducted according to the honors due a viscount. Ning Xuan, once so obscure that no one had cared even about his origins, suddenly rose above the crowd and became famous throughout the realm. Tales from the frontier and legends concerning him swiftly began circulating throughout the imperial capital.
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