The Collapse of the Longzhong Plan

The loss of Jingzhou in 223 AD marked a turning point for the Shu Han kingdom and shattered the core strategy outlined in Zhuge Liang’s famed Longzhong Dialogue. Originally, the plan envisioned a two-pronged offensive: one army advancing from Jingzhou in the east, and another from Hanzhong in the north, forming a pincer movement against the rival state of Cao Wei. However, with Jingzhou’s fall to Sun Quan’s Eastern Wu, Shu Han lost its eastern stronghold—its “right arm” for conquest. What remained was Hanzhong, the “left arm,” a remote and logistically challenging region that even Cao Cao had dismissed as a “chicken rib”—tasty but not substantial.

This left Zhuge Liang with an agonizing dilemma: without Jingzhou, Shu Han’s prospects for reunifying China under Liu Bei’s legacy grew dim. Yet, inaction was not an option. History had shown that Sichuan’s natural defenses—its encircling mountains and fertile basin—were a double-edged sword. While ideal for sustaining a defensive war, isolation bred stagnation. Kingdoms that relied solely on Sichuan’s geography, like the ancient state of Shu, had inevitably been absorbed by more expansionist powers.

Stabilizing a Fractured Realm

Before Zhuge Liang could contemplate northern campaigns, he faced immediate crises. Liu Bei’s death in 223 left Shu Han vulnerable. Eastern Wu, emboldened by its capture of Jingzhou, pressed its advantage, while restive regions in the southwest—such as Yizhou (modern Kunming) and Yuexi (modern Xichang)—threatened rebellion. Worse, the defection of Meng Da, a Shu general who defected to Wei, handed the enemy control of critical territories like Shangyong, severing another potential route for Shu Han’s expansion.

Zhuge Liang’s first task was diplomatic: he repaired relations with Eastern Wu, recognizing that Shu could not afford a two-front war. Meanwhile, he turned southward, launching a legendary campaign to pacify the Nanman tribes. His psychological warfare—capturing and releasing their leader, Meng Huo, seven times—secured the southern frontier and transformed the region into a vital grain supplier. By 227, with domestic stability restored, Zhuge Liang marched north to Hanzhong, ready to test his revised strategy.

The Five Roads to Guanzhong: A Tactical Puzzle

From Hanzhong, Zhuge Liang faced five possible invasion routes into Wei-held Guanzhong (the Wei River Valley), each with distinct challenges:

1. Ziwu Dao (子午道) – The most direct but treacherous path, prone to ambushes.
2. Tangluo Dao (傥骆道) – A narrow, decaying trail unsuitable for large armies.
3. Baoxie Dao (褒斜道) – A historic route, but heavily guarded after centuries of use.
4. Chencang Dao (陈仓道) – The “Old Road” used by Han founder Liu Bang, now well-defended.
5. Qishan Dao (祁山道) – A western detour through Longyou, longer but less expected.

The easternmost route—a waterway down the Han River—had been sealed after Meng Da’s betrayal. Zhuge Liang’s initial hope of exploiting Meng Da’s planned re-defection was dashed when Sima Yi executed a lightning march to crush the revolt. With eastern options closed, the Qishan route emerged as the wildcard: obscure enough to surprise Wei, yet logistically daunting.

The Northern Expeditions: Triumphs and Heartbreaks

Between 228 and 234, Zhuge Liang launched five major campaigns, each revealing the constraints of his revised strategy:
– First Expedition (228): A feint toward Qishan nearly succeeded, but Ma Su’s blunder at Jieting cost Shu a critical supply route.
– Chencang Siege (229): A direct assault failed against Wei’s fortified positions.
– Wuzhang Plains (234): Zhuge Liang’s final stand, where he died of illness, his army outmaneuvering Wei but unable to secure victory.

Despite tactical brilliance—such as the ingenious “wooden oxen” for transport—Shu’s campaigns strained its limited resources. Each expedition consumed men and grain without decisive gains, a stark contrast to the swift, coordinated strikes envisioned in the original Longzhong Dialogue.

Legacy: The Myth and the Reality

Zhuge Liang’s post-Jingzhou campaigns have been romanticized as a loyal minister’s dogged pursuit of an impossible dream. Yet historians debate their necessity: was he buying time for Shu’s survival, or clinging to an obsolete strategy? Culturally, his perseverance became a Confucian ideal of unwavering duty. Militarily, however, the expeditions underscored a harsh truth—without Jingzhou, Shu lacked the geographic leverage to challenge Wei.

Modern parallels abound. Zhuge Liang’s dilemma mirrors strategic pivots in business or politics when core assets are lost. His story endures not just as history, but as a lesson in adaptability—and the costs of refusing to abandon a failing plan.

In the end, the Northern Expeditions cemented Zhuge Liang’s legend, even as they sealed Shu Han’s eventual fate. The mountains of Sichuan, once a fortress, became a cage.