The Yellow Turban forces in Qi numbered close to two hundred thousand. Even after excluding the old, weak, sick, and disabled, there were still thirty to forty thousand able-bodied fighters.
By contrast, Zhang Xin had only four thousand infantry and fifteen hundred cavalry—
And yet, he took the offensive.
All of Qingzhou turned its gaze toward Xi'an City, waiting to see how this battle would unfold.
On the first day, Zhang Xin sent Gao Shun to challenge the Yellow Turban camp outside the city.
Zuo Bao led cavalry patrols to prevent any surprise attacks, while Zhang Xin himself remained in the rear with Zhang Niujiao.
Since the city could not hold all their forces, the Yellow Turbans had stationed twenty thousand troops in a camp outside the walls.
Gao Shun advanced with two thousand men and shouted for battle.
"Come out and fight to the death!"
The Han soldiers roared in unison.
Though few in number, their momentum was overwhelming.
Inside the camp, the Yellow Turban guards trembled—not from fear, but from the bitter cold.
Despite their plunder, they lacked sufficient winter clothing. Many still wore thin, tattered hemp garments.
In contrast, the Han army—supplied through naval transport—was well equipped, each soldier layered for warmth.
Looking at the disciplined, armored Han troops, then at their own ragged state—
The Yellow Turbans' morale collapsed.
Two thousand Han soldiers stood boldly before twenty thousand enemies.
At last, a hot-headed young Yellow Turban commander could not endure the provocation. He led three thousand men out to engage.
Gao Shun calmly ordered formation.
"The Blue Heaven is dead! The Yellow Heaven shall rise!"
The rebels shouted as they charged.
"Run!" their leader yelled. "Running will keep you warm!"
They surged forward.
"Bows!" Gao Shun commanded.
"Loose!"
Two hundred archers fired in rotating volleys.
Dozens of Yellow Turbans fell.
"Charge! Close the distance!" their leader shouted. "Once we reach them, they'll crumble!"
"The Blue Heaven is dead! The Yellow Heaven shall rise!"
They pressed on.
"Crossbows!"
"Fire!"
One hundred fifty crossbowmen unleashed another wave—more precise, more deadly.
Nearly two hundred men fell before the rebels finally reached the Han lines.
And then—
They crashed into a wall of iron.
"Shields up! Brace! Thrust!"
The Han formation held firm. Frontline soldiers absorbed the impact while those behind drove spears forward in relentless rhythm.
Arrows continued to rain down from the rear.
Frozen, disorganized, and ill-equipped, the Yellow Turbans could not break through.
Moments later, they collapsed into panic and scattered.
Gao Shun seized the moment and counterattacked, driving them back to their camp.
The gates slammed shut.
Not a single defender dared come out again.
After displaying his strength for nearly an hour, Gao Shun withdrew.
That night, Sima Ju convened all the junior commanders.
More than twenty gathered, their faces heavy with unease.
They had witnessed everything from the city walls.
Three thousand against two thousand—
Yet four to five hundred of their own had died.
The Han army had lost none.
Only a handful were wounded—and even those lightly, thanks to superior armor.
How could such an enemy be fought?
Sima Ju sighed.
"You all saw today's battle. The Han army is elite… we cannot match them."
The room fell silent.
At last, one young commander spoke.
"They may be strong, but they are few. We are many and have the city. If we avoid open battle and defend, we can hold out."
"The winter works in our favor. Their supply lines will falter. If we endure, they will withdraw."
Many nodded.
But Sima Ju shook his head.
"Marquis Xuanwei is no ordinary commander. With only two thousand men, he once destroyed an army of over one hundred thousand."
"Now he commands more. Do you truly believe we can hold?"
The room grew uneasy.
Then Sima Ju spoke plainly:
"I intend to surrender."
The hall erupted.
"With thirty thousand men and a city at our backs, why surrender to five thousand?" one shouted.
"The advantage is ours!" another insisted.
Sima Ju raised his hand.
"Even if we force them to retreat now, they will return. Will we hide behind walls forever?"
Silence.
The truth sank in.
The rebellion existed because the people had no land.
They had seized land to farm.
But if they remained in the city—
Who would cultivate it?
And when they did return to the fields, could they withstand Han cavalry sweeping across the plains?
Sima Ju pressed further.
"Now, while we still have strength, surrender may earn us official posts."
"But if we are defeated later—will you even survive?"
That struck deep.
Some began to waver.
"If we surrender… we can become officials?"
Sima Ju smiled faintly.
"To be honest, Marquis Xuanwei has already contacted me. Those who surrender will be appointed as Sima."
The room froze.
Their leader had already chosen.
What was left to discuss?
Better an official than a doomed rebel.
"Who agrees? Who objects?" Sima Ju asked.
Seven or eight men stood in defiance.
"We fought and bled for this—why give it all away?"
Sima Ju sighed.
"What a pity."
He smashed his cup to the ground.
At once, armed guards rushed in—
And cut them down.
The next morning, as rumors spread and tensions mounted—
The gates of Xi'an opened.
Sima Ju, leading more than ten officers,
Walked straight toward the Han camp to surrender.