The Rise of Rival Warlords in Yuan China

The mid-14th century witnessed the collapse of Yuan Dynasty authority, as rebel factions carved out territories across China. Among these emerging powers, two figures stood poised for a climactic confrontation: Zhu Yuanzhang, the disciplined former monk leading rebel forces from Nanjing, and Chen Youliang, the ambitious naval commander who had seized control of the Red Turban-affiliated Tianwan regime after assassinating its leader Xu Shouhui.

Zhu’s strategic patience distinguished him from rival warlords. While others like Zhang Shicheng rushed to proclaim imperial titles, Zhu adhered to advisor Zhu Sheng’s famous three-pronged strategy: “Build high walls, stockpile grain, delay kingship.” This allowed him to consolidate control over the agriculturally rich Jiangnan region unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chen Youliang leveraged his superior naval forces – including massive multi-deck “tower ships” with intimidating names like “Dragon Churning the River” and “Mountain Toppler” – to dominate the Yangtze’s upper reaches from his base in Jiangxi.

The Path to Confrontation

Tensions escalated in 1359 when Zhu’s general Chang Yuchun captured Chizhou, then infamously executed 3,000 surrendered Chen soldiers. This provocation ignited Chen’s wrath, leading to his massive naval expedition down the Yangtze the following year. Chen’s forces achieved stunning early success, using their tall ships’ height advantage to scale and capture the fortified Taiping garrison in a daring amphibious assault that left defenders bewildered – “Did these soldiers grow wings?” one astonished guard reportedly exclaimed.

With Taiping fallen, Nanjing lay vulnerable. Most of Zhu’s advisors urged evacuation, arguing against facing Chen’s formidable fleet with their rag-tag collection of fishing boats. The crisis revealed the true mettle of Zhu’s leadership team. While veteran commanders wavered, the newly recruited strategist Liu Bowen (Liu Ji) delivered a thunderous rebuke: “Those advocating surrender or retreat deserve execution! The enemy may be strong but grows arrogant. Lure them inland and ambush them!” This intervention steeled Zhu’s resolve for a decisive stand.

The Trap at Longwan

Zhu’s brilliance shone in his multi-layered deception. First, he exploited Chen’s distrust of former subordinate Kang Maozei, now secretly loyal to Zhu. Kang fed Chen false intelligence suggesting he would sabotage a wooden bridge at Jiangdong to allow Chen’s fleet passage. Instead, Zhu replaced it with a stone bridge, creating Chen’s first moment of shocked realization – “We’re betrayed!”

Diverted from Jiangdong, Chen’s armada proceeded to Longwan, where Zhu had prepared his masterstroke. Five concealed army divisions waited silently as Chen’s forces disembarked into the tidal flats during low tide. The eerie pre-battle silence proved psychologically devastating – one chronicler described Chen’s troops feeling “like livestock watching the butcher’s gaze during New Year preparations.” When Zhu signaled the attack with yellow banners, his forces unleashed coordinated assaults from limestone hills while the receding tide stranded Chen’s ships.

The rout was catastrophic for Chen. Approximately 20,000 Han troops perished, with 7,000 captured. Zhu’s forces seized over 100 warships, dramatically reversing their naval disadvantage. Chen barely escaped upstream to Jiujiang on a small boat, his dreams of quick victory shattered. Meanwhile, the cautious Zhang Shicheng proved Zhu’s earlier assessment correct – the “short-sighted” rival warlord made only token gestures rather than capitalizing on Zhu’s engagement with Chen.

Cultural Echoes and Psychological Warfare

The conflict’s cultural dimensions surfaced in a revealing post-battle episode. Visiting a Buddhist temple incognito, Zhu engaged in philosophical debate with the abbot who dismissed him as an uneducated bandit. When the monk preached detachment – “When surroundings are forgotten, the mind extinguishes itself” – Zhu’s furious response exposed his warrior-philosopher duality. His sword at the abbot’s throat, he denounced passive contemplation during national crisis, later leaving a defiant poem on the temple walls:

“I’ve slaughtered Jiangnan’s million troops,
My sword still reeks of crimson hue.
The monk failed to recognize a hero,
Babbling questions – ‘Who are you?'”

This incident encapsulates Zhu’s complex identity – part military genius, part intellectual, wholly committed to reunifying China through both strategic brilliance and psychological dominance.

Legacy of the Longwan Campaign

The 1360 Battle of Longwan marked a pivotal shift in China’s 14th century power struggle. Zhu’s victory demonstrated:

1. Strategic Deception’s Power: The elaborate ruse involving Kang Maozei and the bridge replacement became legendary in Chinese military annals, studied for centuries as a masterpiece of misinformation.

2. Naval-Land Integration: While inferior in traditional naval combat, Zhu proved how coastal geography and tidal patterns could neutralize naval superiority – a lesson later applied during the Ming founding.

3. Psychological Warfare: From Chang Yuchun’s deliberate provocation to Zhu’s temple intimidation, the campaign highlighted psychological factors in medieval Chinese warfare.

4. Leadership Contrasts: Chen’s tactical impulsiveness (“fighting wherever the battle took him”) ultimately proved no match for Zhu’s calculated patience and intelligence network.

Historians regard Longwan as the beginning of Zhu’s path to establishing the Ming Dynasty. Within three years, he would finally crush Chen at the epic Battle of Poyang Lake (1363), then systematically eliminate Zhang Shicheng and other rivals. The battle’s lessons about concentration of force, intelligence utilization, and turning environmental factors into weapons would echo through Ming military doctrine for generations.

Perhaps most significantly, Longwan revealed Zhu Yuanzhang’s unique leadership alchemy – the ability to synthesize peasant pragmatism, scholarly strategic thought, and unshakable determination into what one Ming chronicler called “the Mandate of Heaven made manifest through human genius.”