Zhang Xin began to seriously weigh the option of striking Jincheng.
Even if he managed to retreat safely to Chang'an with his 5,000 troops intact, it would hardly count as a satisfying outcome. If Liu Hong allowed him to remain and continue the campaign, then given the current balance of morale and strength, the war might drag on endlessly—perhaps even until the sixth year of the Zhongping era.
But Jincheng…
No—he didn't actually need to capture it.
If he could threaten Jincheng and force Han Sui to withdraw his forces, that alone would achieve his objective.
Though Wang Guo was the nominal leader of the rebellion, everyone knew the true power lay with Han Sui. Once Han Sui pulled back, the cohesion of the rebel forces would falter. Others might follow his lead—or at the very least, their effectiveness would be weakened, making future battles around Chang'an easier.
Zhang Xin's eyes moved repeatedly across the map as he questioned Yang Yi in detail about the terrain of Longxi Commandery. As a local, Yang Yi provided everything he knew without reservation.
Han Sui was currently in the Guangzhong region. If he returned to reinforce Jincheng, the fastest route would be north from Hanyang County. Zhang Xin, meanwhile, would march north from Longxi.
With mountain ranges dividing Longxi and Hanyang, the two forces could pass one another without ever making contact.
"There's a chance," Zhang Xin murmured, his eyes lighting up as he calculated rapidly. "Two days. Jincheng must fall within two days—or we withdraw."
Having decided, he gathered his troops the following day. With Yang Yi guiding them, the army marched north toward the Yellow River. Before leaving Zuli, Zhang Xin seized a number of craftsmen to accompany the army—discipline be damned in a life-or-death situation.
Reaching the Yellow River, they turned west and advanced swiftly along its banks toward Jincheng. Along the way, they encountered Qiang tribes, defeating them and seizing cattle and sheep to sustain the army. He deliberately allowed survivors to escape—ensuring word of his movements would spread.
Fifty miles from Yuzhong, Zhang Xin ordered a halt. Soldiers were sent into the nearby hills to cut timber and construct siege equipment.
Only then did his generals begin to understand.
"Lord," one of them asked, puzzled, "weren't we meant to harass the enemy's rear? Why build siege weapons?"
"Are we… attacking a city?" another ventured.
Budugen added uneasily, "Nomadic cavalry aren't suited for siege warfare."
Zhang Xin smiled faintly. "Who said we must take the city? A siege is also a form of disruption. Han Sui is away—Jincheng is vulnerable. If he hears it is under attack, he will return."
Realization dawned.
"A feint…" the generals muttered, visibly relieved.
The next morning, the army advanced again, carrying the dismantled siege equipment on spare horses. By midday, they passed Yuzhong, whose defenders—caught completely off guard—hurriedly shut their gates at the sight of the approaching force.
Zhang Xin watched with satisfaction. If Yuzhong was so unprepared, Jincheng would be no better.
He immediately dispatched Zhang Liao and Cao Xing with 2,000 cavalry to hold Yuzhong.
"Let anyone leave to report the news," he ordered. "But if the garrison dares to sally out, stop them at all costs."
The main force pressed on.
By mid-afternoon, they reached Jincheng.
Nestled between mountains along the Yellow River, the city held immense strategic value. Yet even here, vigilance was lacking. Only when Zhang Xin's forces came within five miles did the defenders react, scrambling to shut the gates.
Zhang Xin halted three hundred paces away, unable to hide his regret.
If they had arrived just a little sooner…
But the horses were spent from a hard day's march—there would be no sudden charge.
He immediately ordered the assembly of scaling ladders.
As his men worked, the defenders rushed to man the walls in disarray—some without even carrying weapons.
"Faster!" Zhang Xin urged.
Three ladders were completed—barely enough, but time allowed no more.
He ordered the cavalry to advance and suppress the walls with arrows, while the Yellow Turban veterans dismounted to assault the city.
Zhao Yun rode forward. "My lord, allow me to lead."
Zhang Xin nodded. "I leave this to you."
Cavalry surged forward, loosing arrows to pin the defenders down, while infantry rushed the walls with ladders.
Arrows rained down in return, felling several riders—but the defenders lacked preparation. No stones, no logs—only scattered resistance.
Under covering fire, the attackers reached the walls.
"Cut down the ladders!" the defending commander shouted, personally striking down climbers as they emerged.
Zhao Yun's eyes burned with urgency.
He knew the stakes—failure here meant destruction.
Without hesitation, he dismounted and sprinted forward, climbing a ladder with astonishing speed. In moments, he reached the battlements.
The defending commander turned—
Too late.
A flash of steel.
A single thrust pierced his throat.
He collapsed without a sound.
Zhao Yun leapt onto the wall, cutting down enemies as he shouted, "Their commander is dead! Surrender, and you will be spared!"
The defenders faltered.
Seizing the moment, Zhao Yun fought with spear and sword, carving out space as more soldiers surged up behind him.
Seeing this, Zhang Xin immediately ordered Dian Wei forward.
With twin halberds in hand, Dian Wei joined Zhao Yun atop the walls. Together, they became an unstoppable force—one swift and precise, the other brutally overwhelming.
Within half an hour, resistance collapsed.
The gates were thrown open.
Zhang Xin led the cavalry into the city.
What followed was swift and brutal. The disorganized defenders were cut down or fled, and within an hour, the city was secured.
Soon, a report arrived:
The garrison had surrendered. The Prefectural Residence had fallen. Over twenty members of Han Sui's family had been captured.
Zhang Xin entered the city, stepping over blood-soaked streets and fallen bodies.
In the courtyard of the residence, the captives knelt—men, women, and children alike, trembling with fear.
"Are you Han Yue's family?" Zhang Xin asked calmly.
Han Sui's birth name was Han Yue—he had chosen the more imposing name later.
"Yes…" an old man replied shakily. "We beg for mercy, General…"
Zhang Xin's gaze moved across them—then stopped.
A young girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen, stood among them. Pale, delicate, her expression filled with fear and quiet sorrow.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"My daughter," a middle-aged woman answered quickly, forcing a smile. "If it pleases the General… she can serve you."
The girl's face fell further.
Zhang Xin studied her for a moment, then murmured,
"And Han Sui… a traitor… has a daughter like this?"