Chapter Seventy-One: The Battle of the Valley

Cao Ren?
You actually dared to come?
Shen Chen sneered inwardly, unaware that he had long prepared for this day in countless ways.
Looking down at Cao Ren below, Shen Chen mocked, "I wondered who it was—turns out it's the one-eared thief, Cao Ren. The blood debt of over a hundred kin at Zengyang Gathering will be settled with you today."
One-eared thief?
Cao Ren's eyes instantly reddened. Pointing toward the distant Qionglong, he ordered, "Kill him."
"General, there is no entrance to that arrow tower."
One of the lower officers who had previously followed Cao Yong in, hurried forward to say, "We have nowhere to strike, sir."
"No entrance?"
Cao Ren was stunned. "How can that be?"
Above, Shen Chen continued through the loudspeaker, "Cao Ren, looking for an entrance, are you? Let me tell you—the entrance is underground. If you have the guts, dig your way in."
"General, the ground over there shows signs of having been disturbed and is covered with some dry grass and branches."
A soldier happened to discover the concealed entrance.
Cao Ren wasn't foolish. He realized that since the enemy dared to tell him the entrance was underground, they must be confident. Yet he was now riding a tiger—having come under the pretext of vengeance, and having lost his kinsman Cao Yong, he couldn't return in disgrace.
So he could only steel himself and say, "Order the army to search for other entrances first, then send the death squad in to investigate."
"Understood."
The officer began selecting the death squad.
In ancient times, bows, crossbows, arrows, and armor were vital strategic resources. Huangmen Pavilion's stockpile of arrows was not large; it was impossible to rely solely on archery to destroy Cao Ren's army.
From the start, Shen Chen never intended to depend only on Qionglong to contend with Cao Ren's forces—the true trump card lay underground.
Cao Ren had over four thousand troops left; excluding five hundred stationed outside the valley, about three thousand entered and searched the valley thoroughly.
Soon, they found four entrances in the cardinal directions.
The quartermaster provided torches. For military expeditions, fire flints and a certain amount of fish-fat grease were essential, though not in great supply—stored in water bladders made from pig bladders, to be used in crucial moments for light.
Nearby, many branches served to cover the entrances. The entrance itself had planks, which the soldiers chopped down, split into sticks, coated with grease, and ignited with fire flints, turning them into torches.
The death squad members, torches in hand, probed into the entrance. Inside was pitch-black, like the gaping maw of a beast, seemingly ready to devour them.
Many soldiers swallowed hard—everyone knew entering was a near-certain death, but Cao's army laws were harsh. Most were former Yellow Turbans from Qingzhou surrendered to Cao Cao, whose families were under his control as military tenants.
If they disobeyed orders, not only would they suffer, but their families would be implicated. So even knowing how dangerous the path ahead was, the death squad could only force themselves onward.
Soon, they entered in single file—the first wave purely cannon fodder, numbering just over thirty, spaced about half a zhang apart, each probing ahead with their torch.
Upon entering, there seemed to be no ambush—only a very long corridor, like an underground passageway, with solid rammed-earth walls on either side. They walked about forty to fifty zhang, yet still couldn't see the end.
"Strange, what's this hole for?"
One soldier, as he walked, suddenly noticed a small hole in the right wall, puzzled.
"Not good, retreat!"
The thirty were led by three squad leaders and a captain. The captain, experienced and knowledgeable, turned pale and hurriedly called for the soldiers to retreat.
He had once served in a secret unit under Cao Cao, following a Tomb-Raiding Colonel to excavate mausoleums at Mang Mountain. There, in the underground palace, he'd seen such holes in the walls.
That time, over three hundred went underground, only eighty or so returned with gold and jewels.
The Tomb-Raiding Colonel died there; with no leader, the team dissolved, and this soldier was reassigned, now serving under Cao Ren as captain.
Now, seeing these passageway walls again, he recalled that dreadful experience and quickly ordered everyone to retreat.
But it was too late.
Shen Chen had actually studied the Mohist mechanical arts and Luban's treatises from the Gongshu family. These skills weren't lost in Han times—Zhuge Liang's wooden oxen and flowing horses were also inspired by such texts.
Moreover, before crossing over, he was a designer, familiar with tunnel and architectural designs, so he had some expertise in underground passages.
The corridor hole was indeed a mechanism, but not the kind described in mechanical treatises with triggered crossbows. It was a spear trap.
Almost as soon as the Cao soldiers sensed danger, the wall behind them slid open, revealing a horizontal iron grille, blocking their retreat.
This grille was a real design from historical tunnel warfare; lacking welding equipment, the gate was assembled from red-hot forged iron rods.
Normally hidden in wall crevices, camouflaged with rammed earth. When needed, men behind the wall pushed the grille, sealing the passage.
Once the path was blocked, the holes erupted with spears.
A chorus of screams ensued.
Sharp spears pierced bodies, the sound of flesh being stabbed echoed, blood gushed, the corridor became strewn with corpses, blood seeping outward through drainage channels in the rammed-earth floor.
After two or three minutes, as Huangmen Pavilion soldiers stabbed repeatedly from both walls, the cries faded—the Cao soldiers all perished in the trap.
Behind them was a second group, who watched in terror as the iron grille separated them from the first group, then saw the massacre by spears. Panic-stricken, they fled, wishing they had more legs to run.
"Gen...General."
A surviving officer staggered to Cao Ren, terrified, "There are traps below."
Cao Ren, impatient, said, "Of course there are traps. Did you see what kind?"
The officer, still shaken, pale-faced, replied, "There are holes in the walls. Once inside, iron gates come out and lock us in; spears thrust through the holes."
Iron gates blocking the way, holes spearing out?
Cao Ren pondered and asked, "Did you mark the position of the iron gates?"
"We did."
"Then this trap is easily broken. Dig a pit at the gate's location, embed a large stone slab, and when the gate pushes out, have two men push it back. Others use shields to block the holes, or thrust spears inside, or cut the spears' shafts—understood?"
"Understood."
"Go."
"Yes, sir."
The officer received the order and quickly began implementing Cao Ren's instructions.
Indeed, despite being angered by Shen Chen, Cao Ren retained his reason and was very clever, quickly devising a solution.

Since the iron gates push out from the wall, they could simply push them back. When spears thrust out of holes, they could thrust back with their own spears.
Moreover, only the spearheads were iron—the shafts were wooden, so they could use shields to defend and cut the shafts, damaging the enemy's weapons.
Cao Ren didn't believe that Shen Chen's mere Huangmen Pavilion gathering could possess vast quantities of weapons and equipment.
In fact, Cao Ren was correct.
No matter how Shen Chen tried to build up Huangmen Pavilion, their scale meant they couldn't have much equipment.
Over ten thousand arrows had been painstakingly collected—some self-made, some confiscated from the Yellow Turbans, others bought secretly through merchants like Zhou Lin.
If discovered, it was a capital offense. Both Liu Zhang and Liu Biao strictly prohibited the flow of such strategic materials—arrow shafts and feathers were contraband.
So, both arrows and armor were in short supply at Huangmen Pavilion—not because they lacked iron for arrowheads, but because they lacked proper wood and feathers.
However, regular blades and spears were well-stocked, since the Han Dynasty didn't prohibit civilians from owning weapons; sword-carrying was common, and in peaceful times, a wrought iron sword could be bought for six hundred coins.
After Cao Ren issued his command, the officer followed his instructions, sending another team underground. These soldiers blocked the iron gates with stones and used shields to cover the holes.
Huangmen Pavilion soldiers repeated their tactics, stabbing with spears. But their spears were either blocked by shields, cut by Cao soldiers, or thrust back, injuring their own men.
Seeing the situation turn, Deng Zhao, commanding, ordered, "Withdraw, move to the second checkpoint."
So Huangmen Pavilion soldiers retreated.
Cao soldiers cleared the trap, entered single file, and found another iron gate ahead—this time, no one was pushing from behind, so they easily moved it aside.
They found themselves facing two side passages, leading to the sides of the corridor they'd entered—where Huangmen Pavilion soldiers had stabbed them from before.
Cao soldiers split left and right, occupied the passages, and, uncertain what lay ahead, hesitated, sending men to report to Cao Ren.
Learning the entrances were occupied, Cao Ren ordered troops to simultaneously attack from all four entrances, block all points, then send larger detachments in behind the death squad, slowly advancing.
With reinforcements, the death squad gained confidence and pressed forward through the two side passages.
And then...
The tunnel collapsed.
The left and right passages had been hollowed out, covered with planks and earth on top.
Deng Zhao's Huangmen Pavilion soldiers, after crossing the planks, initially intended to remove them once the pursuers arrived, letting them fall into the pit traps below.
But since the enemy didn't pursue, Deng Zhao followed Shen Chen's contingency plan—if the enemy doesn't chase, saw away most of the planks, leaving only a small portion.
The Cao death squad didn't immediately pursue, and the passage was long enough to mask the sawing sounds. When reinforcements arrived, they stepped onto the planks, which soon snapped under the weight, and all fell into the pit.
The pit was filled with sharp wooden stakes; instantly, over ten soldiers died on each side. Aside from the one passage reserved for Huangmen Pavilion villagers, the other two were the same.
After a chaotic scramble, Cao Ren received word of the second trap. He ordered troops to carry the siege ladders intended for attacking Huyang city, using them to bridge the pits and finally pass through.
But the winding tunnel held more checkpoints—crossbow traps, rolling boulders, even poison gas.
Except for zongzi, all ancient tomb-defense techniques were used, giving a few lower officers who had participated in Cao Cao's tomb-raiding expeditions a sense of déjà vu.
After sacrificing nearly seven or eight hundred lives, with corpses littering the tunnel, Cao's soldiers finally despaired, for the last trap was called the Dragon-Severing Gate.
Normally, these thousand-jin boulders were locked by winches and chains; when attacked, they were released to block the enemy.
The only entrance without a Dragon-Severing Gate was the western one.
This entrance had the fewest traps, as it was the regular passage for Huangmen Pavilion villagers—no pit, no crossbow trap, no boulders.
Even Cao Ren realized: three entrances were fake, only the western one was real.
And Shen Chen's position was in the Qionglong atop the western High Tomb Mountain.
So Cao Ren, furious, ordered his men to storm the western entrance.
But though this entrance lacked boulders, it had poison gas.
Shen Chen had concocted this by mixing poison with gunpowder. Not a chemistry major, he only knew the formula from online: one saltpeter, two sulfur, three charcoal.
He didn't know the exact proportions—so his gunpowder was impure, producing copious smoke, even more than fireworks.
He mixed in arsenic, covered it with mud, ignited and tossed it, causing the mud to crack and releasing clouds of toxic smoke, which, in the confined space, wreaked havoc.
Shen Chen had no idea that what he invented would later be called "poison smoke balls" in the Song Dynasty—theirs would be more powerful, with more poisons.
Luckily, he used it in the tunnels—once thrown, he immediately sealed the passage, and the billowing smoke spread through the corridors.
Cao soldiers choked or were poisoned, soon suffering hundreds more casualties.
"General, the poison smoke below is too fierce, casualties are severe."
A returning officer, pale-faced, had caught a whiff of the smoke and now felt dizzy and faint, barely keeping upright.
"Damn it."
Cao Ren was infuriated; not a single enemy killed, yet over a thousand men lost. Including those lost with Cao Yong, the five thousand brought had lost nearly a third.
"General, let's retreat."
Chunyu Dao advised, "Since the enemy dared use poison smoke, it means they have another exit outside the valley. If we can find it, perhaps we can trap them inside."
"Shen Chen, the villain, is truly despicable!"
Cao Ren knew a frontal assault was no longer realistic, and could only bitterly say, "Withdraw!"
At his order, the troops, relieved, rushed toward the exits.
Meanwhile, atop Qionglong, Shen Chen's expression grew grim—he only regretted his lack of fish-fat grease.
If he had it, he could pour it down from Qionglong onto the mountain path below, ignite it, and trap Cao Ren's army inside, unable to escape.
When Gan Ning's army arrived, it would be a slaughter.
But fish-fat grease was not only, like arrows and armor, a vital strategic material in ancient times, but also an essential for common life.
It came from rare sources, only obtainable by livestock farming or hunting.
Already scarce and expensive, even Huangmen Pavilion, relatively prosperous, could only barely supply daily needs, let alone stockpile it.
So Shen Chen could only watch as Cao Ren retreated.
But a clean getaway was impossible. Shen Chen shouted, "Loose the arrows! Kill them!"
"Charge!"

From all around Qionglong, hundreds of archers drew their bows once more.
This time, every arrow was fired, almost without reserve.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Arrows rained down like a storm, their consumption astonishingly rapid.
Some soldiers, when out of arrows, grabbed weapons and entered the tunnels beneath Qionglong, following the labyrinthine passages toward the exits.
In fact, there were multiple tunnel exits, but at that moment, the northern exit near the sandy river opened, and countless Huangmen Pavilion soldiers streamed out.
At the start of the year, Huangmen Pavilion had only twelve hundred troops; Gan Ning later supplied three hundred elite fighters.
These three hundred were former Brocade Sail Pirates, fierce and brave.
Altogether, fifteen hundred men, about three hundred archers on the Qionglongs, and over a thousand hidden in the tunnels, fighting Cao's army.
After slaughtering large numbers of Cao's forces via the tunnels, they now faced the fact—the Cao army was retreating.
Without fish-fat grease to block the road, they could only rely on lives.
So Deng Zhao and Shen Zhen each led over a thousand men out from the southern and northern exits, charging toward Cao's forces.
Outside the valley, several hundred of Cao Ren's reserve troops saw the enemy approaching and immediately formed ranks, ready to fight.
Deng Zhao led the charge, the tragic memory of Huangmen Pavilion's massacre fueling his hatred—like a wolf, he plunged into the enemy ranks, fighting fiercely and killing a Cao soldier.
Just as he felled his opponent, ring-handled sabers swung at him from both sides.
Seeing danger, several clansmen rushed to his side, blocking and covering him as he fought.
Ultimately, only heroes like Lü Bu, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, or Zhao Yun could charge alone—ordinary soldiers and officers relied on teamwork.
Especially when outnumbered, cooperation was vital.
Fortunately, this time they had the advantage, attacking in groups of three or five against one or two Cao soldiers, driving the five hundred outside the valley into retreat.
Within the valley, Cao's troops still tried to break out—stones, arrows, logs constantly crashed down the mountain path. Trapped by Qionglong, unable to escape via the cliff, they could only rush through the narrow path under a rain of arrows.
Shen Chen stood atop Qionglong, eyes locked on Cao Ren's position. With Qionglong's firepower at full, Cao Ren dared not advance, instead sending soldiers to deplete their supplies, staying in the rear.
The valley was neither large nor small. The Qionglongs were atop the surrounding hills—even with tall towers, their range was limited, so the valley's center remained relatively safe.
Outside, sounds of battle echoed. Shen Chen shouted, "One-eared thief, your death is near!"
"Shen Chen, one day I'll take your life!"
Cao Ren roared.
"No other day—you die today!"
Shen Chen continued to destabilize him.
Cao Ren gritted his teeth, veins bulging. He admitted he'd underestimated Shen Chen, never imagining such a formidable trap.
But he thought, with Shen Chen's meager force, he couldn't stop him—when he escaped, he'd send his elder brother's elite to flatten the valley.
"General, look! Smoke signals!"
Zhai Yuan beside him suddenly pointed to the distant Qionglong.
Cao Ren looked up—smoke was rising from Qionglong.
"Damn, a trap."
He instantly realized Gan Ning hadn't come to rescue Huangmen Pavilion, but was waiting for their signal.
His eyes reddened as he barked, "Charge, break out, quickly!"
"General's orders—break out!"
Soldiers relayed the command, ordering Chunyu Dao, who led the breakout, to hurry.
But the mountain path, though over ten meters wide, was now littered with corpses, boulders, logs, and even lime poured from above.
Too many obstacles—less than a hundred meters of path had become a slaughterhouse, with countless objects hurled from Qionglong above.
All able-bodied men from Huangmen Pavilion were fighting, but the old, weak, women, and children remained. Even Shen Chen's mother, Lady Deng, remembering the grudge against the Shen Min family, threw stones down.
Soon, rolling stones, logs, arrows were exhausted—even ceramic jars, bowls, plates, furniture, anything throwable was hurled, the clan's fury unleashed for vengeance.
"General, they've gone mad—throwing everything down. The ground's covered in shards, iron caltrops, and nails."
Chunyu Dao, battered and bleeding, returned to report to Cao Ren.
Iron nails existed in Western Han, but were mainly used in noble coffins; commoners used mortise-and-tenon joints, as iron was scarce and expensive, not mass-produced until Song, Ming, and Qing, when smelting improved.
But Huangmen Pavilion's iron technology was revolutionary, producing vast quantities, and making iron nails especially for this occasion.
Many nails were scattered on the path, mixed with pottery shards and caltrops, causing great harm to Cao's soldiers.
Han soldiers wore all kinds of shoes—round-toed cloth, pointed, duck-billed, straw, etc.—but mostly thin-soled, sometimes just straw sandals. Stepping on nails could pierce the foot.
Under such conditions, soldiers couldn't break out.
"Raise shields overhead, walk over corpses," Cao Ren ordered grimly, fearing the worst.
The soldiers obeyed, and after over a thousand casualties, finally broke through.
Cao Ren was last to leave. By then, Huangmen Pavilion's supplies had been depleted, and they could only watch him descend. As he turned, he sneered, "Shen Chen, I won't let you off."
But Shen Chen wasn't despondent, instead shouting through the loudspeaker, "One-eared thief, look outside! Do you think you can escape today?"
Cao Ren descended. Outside the valley, the battle continued—three thousand entered, only two thousand emerged; outside, fifteen hundred fought five hundred, now down to less than two hundred survivors.
Witnessing this, Cao Ren remained composed, confident that with his two thousand troops, he could easily defeat the enemy in open combat.
But the next moment, his expression froze.
In the distance, dust billowed—Gan Ning's army had finally arrived.