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Influenced by various Three Kingdoms-themed games, Fei Qian had always imagined Hangu Pass as nothing more than a section of wall—perhaps a thicker one, but still just a wall. It wasn't until he saw it in person that he realized later games had oversimplified it, reducing it to a mere fragment of a rampart.
In reality, Hangu Pass was a city. Not a large one, but a city nonetheless.
The location of Hangu Pass was particularly fascinating. Standing before it, Fei Qian truly understood the despair a commanding officer must feel upon receiving orders to attack this fortress.
Hangu Pass was situated at the final bend of the Yellow River's "几"-shaped course, occupying an extremely treacherous position. To the north, the Yellow River surged violently through mountain gorges, while to the south, the Qinling Mountains stretched endlessly in a series of towering peaks. Hangu Pass was built right between these two mountain ranges, and at its narrowest point, the path was only wide enough for one and a half carriages. Traffic had to take turns passing through—if a landslide or something similar occurred, everyone would be left staring helplessly at each other…
Even with an army of millions, such terrain made it impossible to deploy effectively. At most, a thousand soldiers could advance at a time; any more, and they'd be packed together like sardines. If the defenders simply poured burning oil from above and set it alight…
Fei Qian shuddered.
Ever since that incident on the road a few days ago, even the sight of meat made his stomach churn. He didn't dare let his imagination run wild now—what if it left him with some kind of lasting trauma? How would he live with that?
Standing at the foot of Hangu Pass, Fei Qian craned his neck to gaze up at the towering gatehouse, genuinely awestruck. The gatehouse was three stories tall, and right above the arched entrance, bold and ancient characters proclaimed "函谷关" (Hangu Pass)—likely the calligraphy of some long-gone master.
The eastern wall of Hangu Pass stood about thirteen or fourteen zhang (roughly 40 meters) high and stretched ten zhang (about 30 meters) across, wedged firmly between the mountains. From his vantage point below, Fei Qian couldn't see how thick the wall was, but judging by how freely the soldiers patrolled atop it, it must have been fairly wide.
The gatehouse's top level was an octagonal tower with bronze bells hanging from its eaves. When the wind blew, the bells chimed crisply. About a hundred meters east of the gatehouse, two small watchtowers had been built into the mountain slope—one called the "Astral Observation Platform" and the other the "Rooster Crow Platform." From these vantage points, defenders could attack the flanks and rear of any force assaulting Hangu Pass, forcing attackers to fight on two fronts.
Such a formidable stronghold would give any commander a headache.
As he waited for his group to enter the pass, Fei Qian pondered: If he were the one leading an attack, how would he do it? The terrain made it impossible to deploy troops effectively, let alone siege engines. The narrow approach meant that even if he resorted to human-wave tactics, the defenders wouldn't be stretched thin—instead, the assault would devolve into a futile, piecemeal effort.
Would he really have to resort to something like tunneling under the walls to plant explosives?
Fei Qian stared at the ground for a moment before dismissing the idea. The top layer might be dirt, but beneath it was solid rock—large and small boulders everywhere. By the time anyone tunneled through all that, the world would probably be unified under someone else's rule.
After what felt like forever, they finally made it inside Hangu Pass. There was no helping it—the road was just that narrow. Even if someone wanted to make way, there was nowhere to go. The center of the path had to remain clear, reserved for urgent military dispatches carried by fast riders.
In the Han Dynasty, only two types of people were allowed to travel down the middle of the road: the emperor and couriers delivering emergency messages. Anyone else caught trespassing in the central path would be warned once—and if they didn't heed it, the guards had every right to shoot them down with arrows.
Inside Hangu Pass, Fei Qian discovered that this small city was actually a compact fortress with an inner and outer layout. The inner city hugged the northern mountains, forming a rectangular stronghold that blocked the valley.
The ancients really were ruthless. Even if an attacker somehow managed to breach the outer gates—never mind how—they'd immediately find themselves in a brutal urban battle, with defenders raining down arrows and other projectiles from the towering inner walls.
The city had only one main road running east to west, the sole thoroughfare. Near the center, a smaller path branched south toward a relatively flat area along the north bank of the Zaojian River—the primary residential and commercial district of Hangu Pass.
As a crucial checkpoint for east-west travel, Hangu Pass naturally had its share of inns and other civilian facilities, as well as an official courier station. Fei Qian had no trouble finding the station and, thanks to his status as a Left Deputy Minister, secured lodging.
No wonder everyone in history had coveted such a strategically vital pass. The problem was that it was simply too difficult to capture—throwing lives at it would be like filling a bottomless pit.
Having spent the entire day jostled around in a carriage, Fei Qian was eager to stretch his legs. Now that he'd arrived, he took the opportunity to stroll around and ponder the earlier question.
If he were to employ the usual tactics of fire or flood—water was clearly impractical. As for fire… Fei Qian glanced at the civilian houses lining the streets and frowned. The buildings were constructed from local stone and compacted yellow clay, and fire prevention seemed to have been a priority. Instead of thatched roofs, they used tiles, and a canal running alongside the road diverted water from the Zaojian River, serving both daily needs and firefighting purposes.
Even fire attacks would be severely limited under these conditions.
Walking leisurely with Huang Cheng at his side, Fei Qian mused to himself: Then again, throughout history, the fall of many famed cities and impregnable fortresses wasn't due to external forces but internal factors.
So if it really came to war… there might still be a way.
Fei Qian stopped at the entrance to Hangu Pass's inner city, hesitating.
It seemed the local government offices were all inside the inner city. Should he go in and take a look?
Hangu Pass had both civil and military administrators. The civil official, known as the "Hangu Pass Magistrate," was someone Fei Qian didn't recognize—a certain Zheng, possibly related to Zheng Xuan? Or perhaps from another Zheng family?
The military commander, naturally, was a figure from Dong Zhuo's faction, a man named Guo Pu, likely connected to Guo Si in some way.
Should he enter or not?
As Fei Qian hesitated, back at the courier station, a man dressed as a station attendant lurked in a corner, watching Huang Xu direct the arrangement of carriages and horses. His eyes flickered with uncertainty before he quietly retreated into the shadows, slipping out unnoticed…