The establishment of Luoyang as a capital began with Duke Zhou's construction of Luoyi.
Later, when King Ping of Zhou moved east, it officially became the capital.
During the revival of the Eastern Han under Emperor Guangwu, the Northern and Southern Palaces were built, only to be destroyed during the chaos of Dong Zhuo's rebellion.
After the establishment of the Cao Wei dynasty, Emperor Wen and Emperor Ming successively rebuilt Luoyang, constructing the Taiji and Zhaoyang Halls on the old site.
When the Sima family replaced the Wei, they still used Luoyang as their capital.
Luoyang wasn’t particularly large.
It stretched seven li from east to west and nine li from north to south, a size that had remained relatively unchanged since the Han dynasty.
Compared to the massive Luoyang of the Northern Wei, it was modest.
The city had twelve gates, including the Great Xia Gate, Xuanyang Gate, Kaiyang Gate, Shangdong Gate, and Pingchang Gate.
In the northwest corner of Luoyang stood the Jinyong City, built during the Cao Wei period.
It was divided into three interconnected sections, hence the name "Three Cities of Jinyong," also known as Yongchang Palace.
The purpose of building Jinyong City was to "prepare for the unexpected," a practice likely inspired by the Cao family's construction of the Bronze Sparrow Terrace in the northern section of Ye City's western wall.
Jinyong City's defenses were highly sophisticated, and together with the Hundred-Foot Tower in the northeast corner of Luoyang, it served as the city's highest vantage point.
However, at this time, it had become a place to detain deposed emperors, empresses, and disgraced members of the imperial family.
Outside the Han-Wei and Western Jin Luoyang, there were many other structures where a large number of commoners lived.
Even high-ranking officials and noble families resided here, such as the Grand Commandant's residence in the southern part of the city, and the mansions of the rulers of Wu and Shu in the eastern part.
In the southern area where Shao Xun and his group had just arrived, the most prominent landmarks were the Spirit Terrace, Bright Hall, Biyong, Imperial Academy, and National Academy.
They had taken up residence in the Biyong.
The Biyong was a place where the sons of nobles learned etiquette, music, dance, poetry, and archery.
It had since been closed, leaving it vacant.
To the north of the Biyong was the National Academy, to the south were residential areas, and to the west, across the Kaiyang Gate Street (running north-south), stood the Bright Hall.
This location wasn’t far from the Minister of Works' residence and was spacious enough to accommodate a large army.
The early arrivals from Pan Manor, along with their servants and maids, had gathered here, creating a chaotic scene.
To be honest, Shao Xun was slightly disappointed.
Clearly, Princess Pei hadn’t managed to get them into the city.
But upon reflection, it made sense.
Inside Luoyang were either imperial palaces, government offices, warehouses, military camps, or the mansions of the truly powerful and wealthy.
Ordinary homes did exist, but you had to be among the first residents when Luoyang was built during the Cao Wei period.
Without that historical advantage, it was difficult to live inside the city—especially without imperial permission.
How could a ragtag group of soldiers and commoners enter the city, particularly in such tense times when food supplies were a concern?
There was no other choice but to rely on themselves.
From the very first day of their arrival, Shao Xun began observing the nearby terrain, buildings, and roads.
Fortunately, he realized that if the enemy came, they could still engage in street fighting.
From a military perspective, being stationed outside the city allowed them to form a pincer with the troops inside, providing mutual support and making it difficult for the enemy to act freely.
They could even launch a coordinated attack from both sides.
Of course, this was assuming the troops inside the city would actually support them—would they? It was hard to say.
"There are three tasks at hand," Shao Xun said, looking at the five men gathered around him: Li Zhong, Huang Biao, Zhou Ying, Zhong Huan'er, and Wu Qian.
"First, we need to repair the outer walls of the Biyong. Second, we must stockpile military supplies and equipment. Third, we need to familiarize ourselves with the situation of our neighboring forces."
After speaking, he turned to Wu Qian.
"You’ll handle the wall repairs. Gather the necessary labor from nearby."
"Commander, many of the nearby residents are high-ranking officials and nobles. How can we possibly command them?" Wu Qian complained.
"I’ll discuss this with the battalion commander. You just need to be ready," Shao Xun replied.
"At this point, if they still put on airs, there’s nothing more to say."
"Understood," Wu Qian said, relieved.
As long as someone else took the lead, he was just following orders.
It wasn’t difficult.
As they spoke, the sound of hoofbeats echoed from Kaiyang Gate Street.
Everyone turned to look and saw several hundred cavalrymen galloping past like the wind.
"Riding warhorses at such speed—could there be urgent military news?" Li Zhong, a former imperial guard, said with a grave expression.
Generally, unless there was a compelling reason, riding warhorses at full speed was strictly prohibited in the military.
Those caught doing so would be flogged.
Horses had limited stamina and could only travel for about two hours a day.
The rest of the time, they needed to rest or eat to regain their strength.
If you rode a warhorse at full speed and suddenly encountered the enemy, your horse would be exhausted, drenched in sweat, and unable to fight effectively.
The enemy, on the other hand, would have fresh horses and could engage in prolonged combat.
The several hundred cavalrymen they saw clearly didn’t have spare riding horses—only warhorses.
Yet they were galloping at full speed, which could only mean there was urgent military news.
"It’s not that serious yet," Shao Xun reassured them.
"At most, it’s just some enemy scouts acting as vanguards. This cavalry unit is probably heading out to drive them away. Or perhaps the enemy hasn’t arrived yet, and they’re deploying to the outskirts. The real battle for Luoyang will likely be fought on the outskirts."
Li Zhong nodded silently.
"Just scouts? That’s not too bad."
"Scouts can still be dangerous. Are they Xianbei, Wuhuan, or Xiongnu?"
"It’s probably one of those three. The cavalry that just passed was most likely Xianbei, though they’re part of the imperial guard."
"Doesn’t the Prince of Chengdu have a lot of cavalry? What are we supposed to do about that?"
"We’ll just have to fight to the death. If we die, so be it."
The group chattered nervously, their fear of cavalry evident.
Shao Xun frowned.
This wasn’t a good sign, especially since they would eventually have to face overwhelming numbers of nomadic cavalry.
"Let me ask you this," Shao Xun said, turning to the group.
"If we’re marching and encounter enemy cavalry on open plains, how would we respond?"
The group fell silent.
"Commander, perhaps we could follow the example of Ma Xi Ping and use crossbows and a wagon formation?" Li Zhong, being a former imperial guard and well-versed in military tactics, was the first to suggest a solution.
"Why would that work?" Shao Xun asked.
"A wagon formation, with the wagons linked end to end, can block the enemy cavalry’s charge. The side of the wagon has a shield, and archers can stand on the wagons to shoot outward, calmly picking off the enemy," Li Zhong explained.
"Did you all hear that?" Shao Xun asked, looking at the group.
"Yes," they replied.
Shao Xun then knelt down and used a dagger to draw diagrams in the dirt, explaining the concept.
Essentially, the idea was to create obstacles to prevent cavalry from charging directly.
It didn’t have to be a specialized wagon formation—in emergencies, supply wagons or even portable wooden barriers carried by soldiers could be used.
This tactic had been employed before with good results.
Of course, the specialized wagon formation was the most effective.
The shields on one side could block enemy arrows, and the shooting holes allowed the infantry archers to fire without interference.
Considering that mounted archers were less stable, accurate, and had shorter range and slower firing rates compared to infantry archers, they were at a significant disadvantage in a shootout.
With the protection of the wagon formation, infantry could take turns resting, recovering their stamina and energy, allowing them to fight continuously.
In the end, the cavalry might end up more exhausted than the infantry.
Ma Long had used this tactic to achieve miraculous results.
"But this method has its flaws. Who can tell me what they are?" Shao Xun asked after finishing his diagram.
"Commander, if the enemy has brave and skilled infantry, the wagon formation could be in danger, right?" Huang Biao said after some thought.
"Correct," Shao Xun said, giving him an approving look.
"Huang Biao’s answer is good. Everyone, think again—what other flaws are there?"
"Couldn’t the enemy use fire arrows to attack us?" someone asked.
"No, fire prevention is easy to manage. Think again," Shao Xun said, shaking his head.
"Cutting off our supply lines would render the formation useless," someone else suggested.
"What if we brought enough supplies? Ma Long carried enough supplies for three years when he used this tactic," Shao Xun countered, encouraging them to think further.
"Destroying the roads."
"Filling in the roads is easy. That would only delay the wagon formation, not stop it."
"The most important thing is to select elite infantry. Ma Long’s 3,500 men were all skilled soldiers, proficient with various weapons. They were far from a ragtag group," Li Zhong said with a sigh.
"In reality, not everyone on the steppe has a horse. Warhorses are precious, and only the best are chosen to be cavalry. On the other hand, infantry are often given crude spears and sent into battle, easily panicking and fleeing, which can collapse the entire army’s morale."
"Excellent!" Shao Xun said, clapping Li Zhong on the shoulder.
"You’ve hit the nail on the head. A while back, I had everyone practice archery, and many of you didn’t take it seriously. Now you see the benefits, don’t you?"
The truth was, the barrier to entry for infantry was low—anyone could join.
Under the hereditary military system, most infantry were of poor quality and poorly trained.
Cavalry, on the other hand, had a natural barrier due to the value of horses.
Only the best were selected.
How many horses did a country have? During the Tang dynasty, there were over 700,000 horses in government pastures and relay stations combined.
The Liao dynasty had an excellent horse administration system, but the entire country only had a little over a million horses.
Raising horses wasn’t economical, and many herders didn’t even own horses—they were often slaves who rode their masters’ horses to tend livestock.
In the medieval period, the natural disparity in quality between cavalry and infantry led to many instances of cavalry defeating infantry.
However, if elite infantry of comparable quality to cavalry were encountered, the disadvantage would be significantly reduced.
"Archery is difficult. It takes years to become proficient," Li Zhong said thoughtfully.
"In fact, among the nomadic tribes, children start riding sheep and later horses, and they participate in group hunts every year. Their foundation in riding and archery is solid. Once they take over the Central Plains, they’ll become even harder to deal with."
At this point, the nomadic tribes’ combat effectiveness was still average.
But if they conquered the Central Plains, their equipment would improve significantly, and they could rely on the local population to support them, allowing at least some of their people to focus entirely on training.
Their combat effectiveness would gradually increase.
They already had a strong foundation in riding and archery, and with full-time training, they could refine their skills and improve their weaknesses, undergoing a complete transformation.
If the Central Plains dynasties continued to rely on conscripted farmer-soldiers to fight against fully trained nomadic cavalry, it would be a joke.
"So…" Shao Xun cleared his throat.
"Let me summarize. When encountering enemy cavalry during a march, first use wagons to block their charge. Second, the soldiers in the wagon formation must be elite and brave. Mediocre troops are absolutely unacceptable—they’ll only endanger everyone. Bringing civilians along during a march is also a major mistake and must be avoided. Do you all understand?"
"Yes," the group replied in unison.
"After you return, write down your thoughts. If you can’t write, dictate them to someone who can," Shao Xun added.
"Among three people, there must be a teacher. This method is excellent—we can all learn together, and the lessons will stick. When the time comes, we won’t be at a loss."
"Understood."
"One more thing," Shao Xun said.
"If we don’t have time to set up the wagon formation, or if we’re only halfway done when the enemy cavalry is upon us, how should we defend ourselves? Each of you must submit a strategy. That’s all for now. Dismissed."
"Understood."
The group dispersed, with Li Zhong lingering behind.
Before leaving, he couldn’t help but glance at Shao Xun a few more times.
This man didn’t seem like an ordinary hereditary soldier.
On the contrary, he appeared to come from a well-educated background and was highly experienced.
Using infantry to counter cavalry was inherently difficult, yet Shao Xun seemed confident, as if he had done it multiple times before.
In fact, Li Zhong strongly suspected that if Shao Xun were to lead cavalry, he would be an exceptional cavalry commander, adept at using tactics to crush infantry.
What a remarkable man.
Was he divinely gifted?
After everyone left, Shao Xun climbed onto the outer wall of the Biyong and looked down at Kaiyang Gate Street.
The buildings were densely packed, and the streets were narrow.
In such an environment, neither cavalry nor infantry could deploy in formation.
Any battle would devolve into chaotic melee combat.
Having more troops wouldn’t necessarily help, as only a small number of soldiers could engage at the front.
If one side had more troops but lacked quality, the front line could collapse, causing a rout and heavy casualties.
Thinking this way, Shao Xun suddenly felt more confident about defending Luoyang.
The imperial guards were likely of higher quality than the troops from Ye or Guanzhong.
Although, as Li Zhong had mentioned, there were many incompetent units within the imperial guard—understandable given the dynasty’s decline.
But overall, they should be decent.
As long as supplies were sufficient, Luoyang could hold.
But the question remained: were supplies truly sufficient? If the war dragged on, would they run out of food? Shao Xun didn’t know.
His rank was too low to access such critical information.
Even Princess Pei and the Prince of Donghai might not know.
The only ones with a clear picture were likely Prince Sima Yi of Changsha and the senior officials of the military command.
What a headache.
Regardless, he had to focus on what he could do: training his troops.
That was the only thing within his control.
(End of Chapter)