Chapter Sixty-Six: The Assassination of Sun Jian

Night had fallen. The mirror-bright moon hung high in the sky, pouring its clear, flowing light over the vast expanse of earth.

A horse’s piercing hoofbeats sliced through the night, coming to a halt at the residence of Liu Biao, governor of Jingzhou.

Within the inner court of the Governor’s Mansion, lamps still glowed. Through the doors and windows, two indistinct figures could be seen in conversation.

“That Yuan Shao is truly a cunning old fox—he actually wishes to use my hand to eliminate Sun Jian.”

“My lord, Sun Jian is our sworn enemy. If we can rid ourselves of him, there will be no threat left in our vicinity,” said Kuai Liang, Liu Biao’s most trusted advisor, hurrying to the mansion as soon as Yuan Shao’s vanguard delivered a letter. Kuai Liang was a man of great wisdom, versed in the stars and skilled in judging horses.

“To assassinate Sun Jian is a double-edged sword,” Liu Biao mused, stroking his beard. “If it is done well, the great menace is removed; if not, Sun Jian’s revenge will not be so easily withstood.”

“My lord speaks wisely. Jingzhou is a land of wealth. If Sun Jian seeks revenge, our soldiers are not to be taken lightly,” replied Kuai Liang, stepping forward with confidence.

“Very well. With your assurance, my heart is at ease. I will entrust you wholly with the task of ambushing Sun Jian. Jingzhou lies on his only path—set the trap in secret and let there be no margin for error.”

The flames were extinguished; peace returned to the night...

The sound of horses’ hooves echoed, sometimes near, sometimes far. Dust billowed on the horizon, and vague shadows drew closer. The thunderous rhythm of the cavalry beat upon the earth. There was always friction between Jingzhou and Eastern Wu, their borders perpetually tense. At this moment, Sun Jian sought to intimidate Liu Biao and assert his authority, unaware that danger crept ever nearer.

His army stretched out, nearing the gates of Jingzhou. From horseback, Sun Jian saw Liu Biao standing squarely in the middle of the city gate, and suspicion flickered in his heart.

“Why is Lord Wentai so eager to return to Eastern Wu? Surely he harbors some secret. As for the Imperial Seal, I wonder, Lord Wentai...” Liu Biao called out loudly from atop the gate.

Sun Jian refused to show weakness. Yuan Shao, as the alliance leader, might bully him, but for an insignificant Liu Biao to berate him was intolerable.

“Why such anger, Lord Jingsheng? If you’ve swallowed a grievance, do not vent it on me—I have no intention of soothing your wounds,” Sun Jian retorted. At this, the Eastern Wu soldiers behind him pointed at Liu Biao and burst out laughing.

Liu Biao’s face darkened with rage, but he soon composed himself, waving his right hand and turning back into the city.

Suddenly—“whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!”—a cold flash streaked through the air as countless arrows blotted out the light above.

Jingzhou’s hidden soldiers surged forth from the right like tigers descending the mountain, breaking through Sun Jian’s rear guard and charging into the vulnerable supply lines of Eastern Wu.

With overwhelming force and the swiftness of thunder, the Jingzhou troops surrounded Sun Jian’s forces, sealing every escape. Battle erupted in earnest.

Arrows rained down and Eastern Wu soldiers charged forward selflessly. Blood spattered everywhere like falling feathers.

The gates of Jingzhou were strewn with corpses, blood soaking the earth, and screams pierced the night.

Sun Jian quickly ordered a retreat. Spears were leveled, shield-bearers formed a line, each at their post, ready to fight to the death.

Liu Biao dispatched two thousand cavalry for a frontal assault, with infantry arrayed on the left and right wings to counter Sun Jian’s horsemen.

The two armies fought from dawn until noon, neither side yielding or retreating.

Among Liu Biao’s generals, Huang Zu led the charge, spear in hand, directly assaulting Sun Jian’s central ranks. Alarmed, Sun Jian sent his own general, Xu Kun, to meet him. After a dozen exchanges, Xu Kun faltered, unable to withstand Huang Zu’s attack, and was run through and toppled from his horse.

Seeing this, Sun Jian dispatched another general, Huang Gai, to confront Huang Zu, quickly driving him back.

But Jingzhou’s soldiers swarmed like waves—one group fell, another surged forward, severing Sun Jian’s forces and cutting off all communication between front and rear.

Sun Jian organized four breakout forces, sounding drums and charging together in hopes of carving a path out. But after four or five attempts, all failed.

The scent of blood hung thick in the air; the world itself seemed to tremble, as if mountains and earth would crack open. Both sides had lost half their men, and the leaders at the front, exhausted but unyielding, commanded their troops with bloodshot eyes.

Liu Biao sought to encircle Sun Jian completely, attacking from both front and rear, while Sun Jian struggled to break free.

Once more, spear met shield in violent collision...

Sun Jian raised his wine flask, swallowing the cold, clear liquor in a single draught. He tossed the empty vessel aside, a satisfied smile on his lips. With a sweep of his sword, he pierced the chest of an attacking Jingzhou soldier.

This was a contest of men and commanders alike.

The Eastern Wu soldiers, stretched thin and running to and fro, grew ever more exhausted and fell increasingly into a defensive posture.

As his last line of defense was about to collapse, Sun Jian could wait no longer.

He selected an elite detachment, armored them heavily, mounted them on horseback, and personally led them in a desperate charge to break through.

Whether by fortune or fate, the point he chose was at Hebei, where Liu Biao’s defenses were weakest.

Sun Jian decided to feint east and strike west, avoiding strength and seeking weakness. He sent a small squad to draw Jingzhou’s fire, allowing his main force to escape.

The sound of drums and horns soared to the heavens, the cries of battle shook the earth.

In Sun Jian’s camp, even cooks and crippled veterans revealed their tenacity, biting at the arms and faces of Jingzhou soldiers with bloodied teeth, determined to drag the enemy down with their last breath.

The struggle was fierce—a tug-of-war, attack and counterattack. Sun Jian’s breakthrough tore an opening in the encirclement.

Leading his men, Sun Jian broke free. With a sweep of his sword, he pointed to the rear, and the morale of the Eastern Wu soldiers surged. Roaring with fury, they plunged back into the fray.

Yet the tide turned once again, and both sides became entangled like pressed cakes, each encircling the other.

Witnessing the slaughter from atop the city walls, Liu Biao’s heart wavered. His elite troops were being massacred; to continue would only bring mutual ruin. He ordered the recall, sounding the gong for retreat.

Sun Jian, his body stained with blood, glared up at Liu Biao on the ramparts with eyes sharp as blades, then burst into thunderous laughter.

Outside the gates of Jingzhou, the aftermath was a scene of devastation and woe, devoid of its former peace.

The enmity between the two armies grew ever deeper, impossible to resolve...