Chapter Fifty-Two: United Defense of the Seventh Fort—Soldiers and Bandits as One Family

Today, three guests arrived at Hexibao. They were the leaders of Qiyunzai, Qianhezai, and Houhezai respectively. Their purpose for coming to Hexibao was simple: to form an alliance.

In the battle of Sanhebao, the joint forces of the four forts annihilated the entire Aslan tribe, sending shockwaves through Jinzhou. It also gave hope to many Han Chinese fortresses. The four-fort alliance, led by Hexibao, was powerful, leaving the Geluolu people helpless against them.

As a result, some Han Chinese fortresses, aware of their own insufficient strength, began to consider alliances.

“Truly, heroes emerge from the young,” someone remarked.

“Lord Li is a youthful hero—brave in battle and exceptionally wise, skilled in both strategy and tactics. Brother Li, you have a worthy successor,” another praised.

“Seeing Lord Li’s achievements, we can only admit our age,” a third added.

Who says people from the Northern Frontier are hot-tempered, straightforward, and inarticulate? Li Xiao thought otherwise. The three fortress leaders before him were gentle, eloquent, and gifted men.

The old patriarch laughed heartily, glancing lightly at Li Xiao beside him. He nodded slightly and said, “This boy is all right.” The old man never turned down praise for his eldest grandson; it was something that made him prouder than his own accomplishments.

Li Xiao smiled softly, noticing the elder’s mood had improved greatly recently—he smiled more, perhaps due to the presence of his second uncle. After days of recuperation, the second uncle’s injuries were gradually healing, though he still needed to rest in bed.

Or perhaps it was because Li Xiao himself had proven capable of shouldering the banner of Hexibao, allowing the old man to rest easier.

“Three leaders, then it’s settled,” Li Xiao said, looking at the three men. “The Seven Fortresses will unite to resist the Geluolu!”

At his words, the three nodded firmly and echoed, “Seven Fortresses united!” “Sworn as one!”

Among the nine Han fortresses and eighteen villages in Jinzhou, they were always grouped according to kinship and geography. Hexibao, Hedongbao, Gushanbao, and Tazhai formed a close-knit quartet, united against outside threats.

Qiyunzai, Qianhezai, and Houhezai were also closely linked, but their strength paled in comparison to the four-fort alliance. After the news of the Sanhebao victory spread, the three leaders realized that if the remaining Geluolu attacked them, even combined they would suffer heavy losses.

Hence, they sought the protection of a stronger elder brother—Hexibao.

Li Xiao welcomed their arrival without hesitation. Though he would bear the responsibility of sheltering them, when he decided to mobilize, he could also call on the forces of the three fortresses to bolster his strength. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, one that would expand Hexibao’s power and influence—a net gain overall.

After settling the matter, Li Xiao invited them to stay for a proper reception. But just then, Zhao Dabao hurriedly rode in and burst into the room.

“Big Dragon, Grandfather, something’s happened!” he exclaimed. “Tazhai is under siege!”

Upon hearing this, everyone’s gaze turned to Zhao Dabao, their faces growing solemn.

“Who’s besieging Tazhai?” someone asked. “Is it the Geluolu? How many are there?”

Sweating and catching his breath, Zhao Dabao replied, “Not Geluolu, nor does it seem to be the Khitan. They came from the west, trying to steal our sheep and kill us.”

He then recounted the details.

Li Xiao frowned, a thought flashing through his mind. “A feint to draw reinforcements?”

He was all too familiar with such tactics—he had just dealt with it recently at Houzhai. He suspected the siege on Tazhai was a ruse to ambush the relief forces.

The elder and others guessed the attackers’ identity. “From the west? Could it be from Yinshan or Beihai?”

They exchanged grim looks.

“If it’s the Eastern Capital’s troops, that would be troublesome,” said the leader of Qianhezai, a man in his fifties or sixties, lowering his voice.

Their arrival did not bring joy but a warning.

“Why would the Eastern Capital’s army attack Tazhai instead of the Geluolu? Aren’t they afraid of punishment from the Eastern Capital’s garrison?” Da Hu asked, frowning. To him, it seemed like fratricidal conflict.

The old man glanced at Da Hu and shook his head silently.

The second uncle, lying on the kang bed in the inner room, sighed. “Da Hu, don’t speak. Just listen.”

Da Hu, inheriting the second uncle’s honesty and kindness, still lacked the experience to see the harsh reality—that the Eastern Capital’s army was not their ally, but a force with its own agenda.

“The enemy of my enemy isn’t necessarily a friend; sometimes they’re another enemy,” Li Xiao explained gravely. “When an army moves into a new area, it inevitably brings chaos.”

He cited examples: Dong Zhuo’s Hedong army entering Luoyang, and the Tang dynasty’s Anxi forces crossing the pass to quell the An Shi Rebellion—all causing immense suffering to the local people.

“Besides, the Eastern Capital’s troops aim to suppress the Geluolu rebellion, not to protect us Han people.”

There has long been a saying among the common folk: “The calamity of soldiers rivals that of natural disasters.”

Rebels pillage and kill, but so do government troops—often worse. Civilians fear official soldiers like tigers. Commanders usually turn a blind eye to the harm their men cause because their primary mission is to crush rebellions. The lives of commoners come second.

When the court cannot supply provisions, commanders even allow looting to maintain morale.

“In the Northern Frontier, without strength, being bullied is deserved. No one will pity you, nor will the Khitan intervene,” Li Xiao said firmly.

Though he had not been here long, Li Xiao understood the brutal nature of the Northern Frontier. The Khitan did not consider Han people as their subjects and would not protect their interests. The Han fortresses were effectively autonomous, with the Khitan only collecting taxes and conscripts, unable to interfere in internal affairs.

The so-called Governor’s Office was more supervisory than administrative.

To the Khitan, Han fortresses, as well as the Gaochang Uighurs and Zhelan tribes, were all semi-independent entities.

In short, the Western Liao’s social structure was a Khitan overlord with a group of unruly underlings, many prone to rebellion.

When the underlings fought each other, the Khitan did not care, even encouraging it.

“The Khitan don’t care how many Han die in Jinzhou,” the old man said gravely. “They only care about the taxes paid and the soldiers conscripted.”

The other three leaders nodded in agreement.

Such things were common in the Western Regions. The Khitan conscripted troops from tribes and fortresses without paying wages, forcing soldiers to loot for themselves.

Under these conditions, soldiers became wolves—not only seizing enemy spoils but also robbing weaker allied tribes along the way.

Soldier and bandit were one and the same since ancient times. The old man and his peers had done the same in their youth. As long as the plunder was not from Khitan tribes, commanders did not interfere.

Hearing this, Da Hu nodded thoughtfully. “Those Eastern Capital troops see us as soft targets.”

They continued their habitual looting wherever they went.

In short, the Geluolu were the enemy, the Eastern Capital’s army was no friend, but if one was strong enough, everyone could be a friend.

“After this war, the Han in Jinzhou will be greatly weakened,” sighed the leader of Qiyunzai.

“That’s why we must make those from the Eastern Capital know that the Han fortresses are not to be trifled with,” Li Xiao said fiercely.

“If they want to loot our Han fortresses, they’ll first break a mouthful of teeth.”

The line must not be crossed; Tazhai must not fall. Otherwise, if these unruly troops taste victory, next will be Hexibao, and more Han fortresses will suffer.

The three leaders understood and exchanged glances, nodding resolutely. “We fight!”

Tazhai must be rescued, and those Eastern Capital troops must be taught a harsh lesson. Only by showing strength can they avoid being underestimated by the Khitan.

“We will return at once, gather our forces, and rush to Tazhai,” they said in unison.

Having joined the alliance, they were obliged to contribute.

Li Xiao did not stop them. Though their round trip would take at least a day—too late for immediate aid—the more manpower the better.

“Thank you, leaders,” he said.

“Tazhai’s situation is urgent. I will lead Hexibao’s forces there first; you can follow shortly,” Li Xiao added.

Though it might be a trap, Tazhai had to be saved.

He glanced at the sky outside; there was at least an hour before sunset.

There was enough time.

If it were already dark, Li Xiao would not risk moving troops—ambushes were easier under cover of night.

But in broad daylight, the terrain between Hexibao and Tazhai was open and visible for miles.

Most of western and southern Jinzhou comprised gentle grasslands, lacking treacherous mountains.

Any ambushes would be obvious at a glance.

With cautious progress and scouts sent out, there would be no problem.