The Last Stand of a Doomed Regime
By late 23 CE, Wang Mang’s Xin dynasty was on the brink of collapse. The Gengshi Emperor Liu Xuan had dispatched Grand Duke Wang Kuang to attack Luoyang, while Generals Shen Tu Jian and Li Song marched on Wuguan Pass (in modern Danfeng, Shaanxi). Panic-stricken, Wang Mang realized his seasoned generals were still stationed on the northern frontier fighting the Xiongnu and could not return in time. His elite domestic forces had already been annihilated at Kunyang. Only Chang’an and Luoyang remained under his control – two isolated bastions in a sea of rebellion.
In desperation, he appointed new commanders and emptied the prisons, conscripting convicts into a makeshift army to resist the Han advance. But these soldiers had no loyalty to the usurper. Many deserted before even reaching the battlefield; those who stayed fought half-heartedly and quickly scattered after a token skirmish. The empire’s final defense crumbled without a true fight.
The March on Chang’an
Seeing Wang Mang’s waning authority, Hongnong Commandery Governor Wang Xian defected to the Han cause and declared himself a colonel. He rallied local magnates and warlords, all eager to claim credit for toppling the tyrant. By autumn 23 CE, tens of thousands converged on Chang’an. In their haste to seize the capital, some set fire to the outskirts. The blaze spread inward – soon engulfing the imperial Weiyang Palace.
Inside the burning palace, Wang Mang sat motionless in full imperial regalia, clutching a ceremonial dagger, guarding a hoard of 600,000 jin (over 300 metric tons) of gold and countless treasures. Surrounded by trembling ministers, he muttered, “Heaven is on my side – what can the Han do to me?” Others wept silently, praying only for survival. They spent a sleepless night in dread.
The Siege of the Gradual Terrace
As flames reached the front hall the next morning, Wang Mang was escorted to the Jian Tai (Gradual Terrace) – a pavilion in the center of the Taiye Lake, accessible only by a single bridge. A thousand loyalists accompanied him, believing the water would shield them from fire and assault.
Outside, Xin generals Wang Yi, Wang Lin, and Wang Xun fought desperately to hold back the rebels. Exhausted and outnumbered, their troops were decimated. When they learned Wang Mang was on the terrace, they rushed to defend him – but arrived as mere shadows of their former selves. All were swiftly cut down.
The terrace was soon encircled by layers of rebel soldiers. Archers on the platform held them off until their arrows ran out. Then, with a roar, the mob surged across the bridge, wielding spears, swords, hoes, and clubs. A brutal melee erupted. By sunset, the inner chamber was breached. Wang Mang’s last defenders fell. Someone struck the fatal blow. His head – hair and beard half-dyed black, half-white – was severed by a colonel and presented to Wang Xian as proof of victory.
The Usurper’s Usurper
Wang Xian seized the Imperial Seal, famously adorned with a single horned dragon, and immediately abandoned his rank. Declaring himself “Grand General of Han,” he absorbed the chaotic masses flooding into Chang’an – now leaderless and numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Flush with power, he moved into the palace, donned Wang Mang’s dragon robe and crown, adopted the Son of Heaven’s banners and chariots, and claimed the late emperor’s harem as his own. Blinded by ambition, he began dreaming of the throne.
But his reign lasted only two days. When Shen Tu Jian and Li Song arrived on Liu Xuan’s behalf, they demanded the seal. Wang Xian refused. Upon discovering his use of imperial regalia – a capital offense – they executed him on the spot and sent the seal to the Gengshi Emperor.
A Puppet Court and a Rising Star
With Wang Mang dead, Liu Xuan believed his rule secure. He planned to move the capital from tiny Wan county to Chang’an – but his eastern-born officers preferred Luoyang, recently captured by Wang Kuang (who had also killed the crippled Grand Tutor Wang Kuang of the same name). Indecisive as ever, Liu Xuan agreed to establish the court in Luoyang – though the city lay in ruins after battle.
Distrusting Liu Xiu’s growing prestige – and unwilling to let him win more military glory – Liu Xuan assigned him a seemingly mundane task: rebuild the palace as Colonel Director of Retainers (Sili Xiaowei). Liu Xiu accepted without protest.
In Luoyang, he maintained his cheerful public demeanor. Yet each night, he withdrew into solitude – except for one man: Feng Yi.
The Loyal Confidant
Feng Yi, a native of Fucheng (east of Baofeng, Henan), had once served as a Xin general overseeing five counties. When Liu Xiu attacked Fucheng, Feng Yi defended it fiercely. Captured during a patrol, he impressed Liu Xiu with his composure and strategic mind. Recognizing Liu Xiu’s extraordinary vision, Feng Yi pledged allegiance and became his chief secretary and closest advisor.
One evening, Feng Yi noticed Liu Xiu’s pillow soaked with tears. He understood: the young general was mourning his executed brother, Liu Yan. Feng Yi urged him not to grieve openly. Liu Xiu, alarmed, whispered, “Please – never speak of this to anyone!”
An Empire in Fragments
Though the Xin dynasty had fallen, peace remained elusive. Warlords across the land vied for dominance, claiming credit, seizing territory, and plunging the people into deeper misery. Liu Xuan, a puppet emperor with no real talent for governance, could not unify the realm. And Liu Xiu – still a subordinate with limited authority – seemed powerless to change the tide.
Yet at this moment of despair, a student from the Imperial Academy appeared before Liu Xiu, offering to help him “pacify the empire.” Who was this scholar? And did he truly possess the wisdom to turn chaos into order?
History would soon reveal that Liu Xiu’s quiet resilience, strategic patience, and gathering of loyal talents like Feng Yi – and soon, this mysterious scholar – were the first steps toward the restoration of the Han dynasty under a new light: the Eastern Han.
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