The Rise of Two Rivals in the Fall of Qin

The collapse of the Qin Dynasty (221–206 BCE) was a chaotic scramble for power, with two figures emerging as key contenders: the aristocratic warrior Xiang Yu and the cunning former peasant Liu Bang. Their rivalry would shape China’s future, but one of its darkest chapters unfolded at Xin’an, where Xiang Yu made a decision that would haunt his legacy.

After accepting the surrender of the Qin general Zhang Han at Julu, Xiang Yu absorbed 200,000 Qin troops into his coalition army. Though he enfeoffed Zhang Han as “King of Yong,” he kept him under close watch, replacing him with the more trusted Sima Xin. This move wasn’t driven by logistics—Xiang Yu had ample supplies—but by sheer urgency. His goal was clear: reach Xianyang, the Qin capital, before Liu Bang.

The March West: A Race Against Time

With 400,000–500,000 troops from allied warlords and the newly surrendered Qin soldiers, Xiang Yu’s army swelled to 600,000–700,000. They marched southwest from southern Hebei, crossing the Yellow River near modern Luoyang. Yet Xiang Yu bypassed the city entirely; his rival Liu Bang, meanwhile, was reportedly struggling to capture Changyi with a meager 20,000 men.

Unbeknownst to Xiang Yu, Liu Bang’s advisor Zhang Liang had fed him false intelligence. While Xiang Yu dismissed Liu Bang as an unworthy “street ruffian,” Liu Bang was already maneuvering westward, absorbing smaller forces like the bandit leader Peng Yue’s troops. His army, though smaller, was agile—a stark contrast to Xiang Yu’s lumbering host.

The Powder Keg of Xin’an

By the time Xiang Yu reached Xin’an (modern Henan), tensions between his original “eastern” (Guandong) troops and the surrendered Qin soldiers had reached a breaking point. The Qin conscripts, once the enforcers of Qin’s brutal labor projects, now faced abuse from their former victims. Whispers of rebellion spread:

“We were whipped building the Epang Palace—shouldn’t we settle scores?”
“They’ll turn on us once we reach the passes!”

Xiang Yu’s spies confirmed the Qin soldiers’ resentment. Fearing a revolt in enemy territory, he made a chilling calculation: preemptive annihilation. In a single night, his Guandong troops massacred all 200,000 surrendered Qin soldiers, burying them in mass graves south of Xin’an. The Records of the Grand Historian devotes just one line to the atrocity, but its horror echoes through history.

Liu Bang’s Pragmatic Alternative

While Xiang Yu relied on brute force, Liu Bang employed diplomacy. At Wan City, his advisor Zhang Liang devised a ruse: after feigning retreat, Liu Bang returned with altered banners, tricking the defenders into surrendering. The Qin governor was spared, incorporated into Liu Bang’s ranks—a stark contrast to Xiang Yu’s ruthlessness.

Liu Bang’s flexibility extended to talent. Despite his notorious disdain for Confucian scholars (he once urinated in a scholar’s hat), he recognized merit. The strategist Li Yiji and his brother Li Shang brought him key victories, while defectors like the Qin official Chen Hui were rewarded. This pragmatism swelled his ranks as he advanced.

Legacy of Blood and Betrayal

Xiang Yu’s massacre at Xin’an was militarily logical but politically disastrous. It cemented his reputation as a tyrant, alienating potential allies. Meanwhile, Liu Bang’s clemency at Wan won him support. By the time Xiang Yu learned Liu Bang had entered Guanzhong, it was too late—the seeds of his downfall were sown.

Historians debate whether the slaughter was necessary. Some argue it prevented a Qin resurgence; others see it as the act of a leader who trusted only violence. Either way, Xin’an became a symbol of the war’s brutality—and a lesson in how not to secure an empire.

The Modern Echoes

Xiang Yu’s story resonates today as a cautionary tale about unchecked ambition. His belief that “in war, you kill or are killed” contrasts sharply with Liu Bang’s adaptive leadership. In business or politics, Xin’an reminds us that short-term gains through brutality often lead to long-term ruin—while inclusivity, as Liu Bang showed, can build enduring power.

The race to Xianyang wasn’t just about speed; it was about vision. One man saw allies where the other saw only threats. Two millennia later, their choices still teach us the price of ruthlessness—and the value of mercy.