He now defended the border at Qingping Pass, which lay twenty-five li east to Guitong Rock, forty li west to Anbian City, thirty li south to Xingping City, and twenty-seven li north to Xiandao Pass – a fortress stronghold of Huan Prefecture.

But now, Western Xia general Renduo Han had led thirty thousand troops to attack this place, while Qingping Pass had only three thousand defenders.

A quarter-hour ago, he had led soldiers to repel the enemy’s first wave of attacks, but Di Yong knew that was merely probing.

Next time, the enemy would bare their sharp fangs and would no longer retreat so easily.

Hou Fangjie hurried up pressing his sword, grabbing Di Yong’s arm to pull him back while worrying extremely: “Sitao, this city wall isn’t high at all, yet you stand here. If a stray arrow comes, you’ll be finished immediately.”

Calling this place a city wall was generous – according to Hou Fangjie, this was just a small earthen mound, even lower than Qingfeng Tower.

Thinking of this made Hou Fangjie furious. You never knew until reaching the frontier how backward conditions were here. He had regretted impulsively following Di Yong, but as an inconspicuous illegitimate son in his family, if he wanted to distinguish himself, there truly was no place faster than battlefields for achieving merit.

Everything involved risk. Wanting greater rewards required psychological preparation to lose everything. So Hou Fangjie was philosophical – killing several more Western Xia people as companions before dying would make this life worthwhile.

But glancing at the expressionless Di Yong beside him, he silently lamented the pity.

This handsome young man famous throughout the Song Dynasty stood straight as a spear. Due to the previous slaughter, murderous aura surrounded him, half his armor stained red with enemy blood, even his handsome face spattered with bloodstains.

There was even a blood drop splashed at his eye corner, adding an indescribable demonic killing intent.

If those flower-throwing young ladies knew handsome Di would perish here, probably all Bianjing would be flooded with tears. Hou Fangjie’s mind wandered even during this critical moment of survival.

Then he heard Di Yong call his courtesy name “Jiesheng.” Hou Fangjie immediately grew serious – Di Yong rarely used his courtesy name, since usually only he talked while Di Yong never responded. Di Yong produced a pre-written memorial from his chest armor, saying gravely: “Jiesheng, take my memorial to Qing Prefecture for reinforcements.”

“You go! I’ll defend the city!” Hou Fangjie replied without thinking.

“You defend the city? Could you last until I return with reinforcements? Besides, how can a commander abandon his position?” Rare humor flickered in Di Yong’s elegant eyes. “Huanqing Circuit’s Qing Prefecture borders Huan Prefecture. If Huan Prefecture falls, Qing Prefecture is endangered. With Qingping Pass now besieged, Anbian City, Luogou Fort, Ayuan Fort, Zhutai Fort and other places have probably already fallen, so you must go straight to Qing Prefecture. Understand?”

Rarely hearing this fellow speak so much at once, Hou Fangjie frowned, not taking the memorial but arguing: “Why not seek aid from Tonggui Fort, Huiding Fort and other places? They’re much closer than Qing Prefecture.”

“How many soldiers could those places have? Would they abandon their own fortresses to rescue here?” Di Yong looked toward the distant Western Xia army. During this ceasefire interval, both sides’ soldiers tactfully refrained from attacking, collecting their fallen comrades’ bodies from the battlefield.

Di Yong inherited his father’s military training traditions, carefully drilling troops naturally superior to ordinary armies. But having arrived at Huan Prefecture only recently, these troops absolutely couldn’t fight one against ten.

Di Yong’s gaze was resolute, his tone stern: “Deputy General Hou, don’t waste time. Select twenty men and ride fast horses directly to Qing Prefecture.”

Hearing his friend change his form of address, Hou Fangjie pressed his lips together, knowing this mission was unavoidable.

Military orders were absolute – as Di Yong’s deputy, he couldn’t disobey.

Seeing Hou Fangjie accept the memorial, Di Yong untied a Qinzhou Nixing pottery tiger ornament from his waist, saying lightly: “Help me hold this first – I’m afraid it might break during the siege.”

Hou Fangjie carelessly accepted it, knowing his brother had worn this cheerful-looking pottery tiger since leaving the capital. He’d assumed some girl had given it and often teased him about it.

Seeing Di Yong still mindful of this item at such a moment, Hou Fangjie was more certain it was a gift from someone special. But he had no mood for teasing now, casually stuffing it into his chest armor and asking worriedly: “What about that backless coin? Are you wearing it properly?”

This had precedent – Face-Tattooed General Di Qing had distributed backless coins to subordinates. Hou Fangjie feared stubborn Di Yong might casually give away that treasure. Though its authenticity was questionable, it provided psychological comfort.

Di Yong pulled out a red string from his neck with a copper coin hanging at the end. Seeing it was indeed Imperial Song nine-fold seal script, Hou Fangjie felt relieved.

Battle opportunities were fleeting. He stopped talking, stepped forward to embrace Di Yong firmly – their armors clanging together – then gritted his teeth, turned and left to select soldiers for the breakout, preparing everything necessary.

Though they had argued about who should stay to defend, breaking out was extremely dangerous too. A twenty-man squad on the battlefield was essentially a group of ants, depending entirely on whether the enemy would turn a blind eye.

Di Yong stood on the wall in a momentary daze, then calmly summoned subordinates to arrange resistance against Western Xia’s next assault, primarily covering Hou Fangjie’s group’s breakout.

Speed was crucial. After quickly arranging everything, everyone waited inside the gate. Hou Fangjie adjusted his helmet on horseback and handed Di Yong a bronze demon mask.

“Heh, I found this in your luggage. This is Duke Wuxiang’s mask, right? Wear it – Duke Wuxiang’s reputation is widely known among Western Xia people, providing some advantage.” Hou Fangjie smiled cheerfully, showing no tension about facing imminent life and death, as casual as discussing breakfast places in Bianjing. He believed life and death were predetermined – excessive worry was useless emotion. Giving his utmost effort without regret was worthwhile.

Even Di Yong had to admire his friend’s calm composure. He silently accepted the mask, covering his face and hiding his expression behind it.

Thunderous war drums sounded outside the walls.

“Kill!” With a fierce shout, the gate half-opened and Di Yong charged out first.

Yellow sand mixed with burning black smoke, the air they breathed contained blood foam, their ears filled with battle cries and death screams – like an inescapable nightmare.

“Hah…” Di Yong felt his lungs about to explode. How long since he’d drunk water? Three hours? Five hours?

The sun was hidden by clouds then emerged again. Di Yong was dazzled by blinding sunlight reflecting off blade edges, involuntarily squinting. Immediately sensing piercing blade wind at his ear, he instinctively dodged sideways, his right hand swinging the sword forcefully.

With the sensation of a blade piercing flesh, his opponent grunted. Di Yong kicked out powerfully, sending the man tumbling from the wall.

“Hah…” He didn’t want to open his eyes, just wanted to fall into darkness. How long since he’d slept? One day? Two days?

A feathered arrow whistled up from below the wall. Di Yong slightly turned his head, letting the arrow pass, struggling to open his eyes. The arrow struck the hay bales behind him. A soldier immediately pulled it out, nocked it to his bowstring, and shot it back viciously.

Their weapons were exhausted – only this method could continue fighting. Using Western Xia swords and arrows, as long as they could still fight, they wouldn’t easily fall.

Qingping Pass’s walls were already broken and battered. Soldiers with strength to stand were all fighting bloodily with Western Xia climbers.

Di Yong couldn’t remember how many times they’d repelled Western Xia attacks. These Western Xia troops were like inexhaustible locusts – after killing one batch, another endlessly replaced them.

The mask he’d worn had long since been knocked off by enemies, who’d even left a sword cut on his cheek.

Apparently he’d truly disgraced his father’s reputation, unable even to protect a mask.

But why use masks anyway? On battlefields, there was no time to notice opponents’ appearances. You didn’t know who you killed, or who might kill you.

“Hah…” Di Yong again cut down a Western Xia soldier, nearly being dragged off the wall himself. His arms felt numb and no longer his own, sword wounds covering his body, sustained only by sheer will.

His sword blade was already nicked. He bent to pick up a Western Xia curved sword, looking around at the situation.

Of his three thousand subordinates, barely over a hundred could still stand on the walls.

Di Yong deeply exhaled. He’d long known the battle would develop thus, so wasn’t particularly moved. Fortunately, Hou Fangjie had successfully broken out, relieving his mind. If his friend were cleverer, he couldn’t have deceived him so smoothly.

Qing Prefecture was over two hundred li from Huan Prefecture. When Hou Fangjie left, each man brought two horses for switching. If successful, they could reach Qing Prefecture in half a day.

But the difficulty was whether Qing Prefecture would send reinforcements. Moreover, with Huan Prefecture’s numerous fortresses and strongholds successively fallen, small reinforcements would be pure suicide. But sending large reinforcements risked falling for the enemy’s “lure the tiger from the mountain” strategy…

Unlike border Huan Prefecture, Qing Prefecture was a crucial border town. Once lost, Western Xia armies could follow Huanqing Circuit straight to Bianjing, endangering the Song Dynasty.

So from discovering Western Xia troops, Di Yong knew he faced a fight to the death.

Ordering Hou Fangjie to break out immediately wasn’t merely personal desire to preserve his friend’s life. More importantly, it gave subordinate soldiers hopeful faith. They’d sought aid – perhaps reinforcements would rescue them next moment, so if they just persisted a little longer…

Everyone held such beautiful hope. Di Yong felt no guilt about deceiving subordinates.

Either way meant death – choose fighting to the last moment or kneeling in surrender? Why not die meaningfully?

Why didn’t anyone realize how dangerous the Song Dynasty’s situation was? Why didn’t anyone notice surrounding wolves eyeing them covetously? Why didn’t anyone know they sat on a dangerous, leaking painted boat slowly sinking while people above carelessly drank and celebrated?

Chest full of fury, Di Yong again slashed down a Western Xia soldier climbing the wall. He no longer resembled the Song Dynasty’s most beautiful man, blood-covered like a fierce ghost crawled from hell.

His body followed instinct, chopping stroke by stroke, while his mind recalled that discourse that had long troubled him.

Buying peace with money… He didn’t disagree with that person’s viewpoint. Everyone saw problems differently – perhaps that person had lived too long in peaceful prosperity, forgetting turbulent undercurrents beneath calm surfaces.

Not just that person – many in Bianjing thought the world peaceful and prosperous. Birds sang sweetly in the sky, playing freely in forests, unaware of wolf packs below fighting generational battles for territory.

When forests changed hands, good birds could choose new trees, but bloodied homeless wolves would never live in degraded survival!

He must defend Song territory! Otherwise, continuing this way, Song territory would shrink until final destruction…

Ah… Buddha… I sacrifice my life to you… If you hear my prayer… may that day not come so soon…

The red string snapped. The Imperial Song nine-fold seal script coin at Di Yong’s neck traced a beautiful arc through the air, falling from the wall to the mud, bouncing twice before lying still in the blood pool.

Noon sunlight shone on the copper coin, showing no seal script characters. It was the reverse side.

Wind rose, bringing overwhelming yellow sand, finally burying that copper coin bit by bit…

Third year of Zhiping reign, ninth month, day Renwu: Western Xia general Renduo Han led thirty thousand elite troops invading Huan Prefecture, unable to capture it after prolonged siege. Duke Wuxiang’s son Di Yong fought bloodily for three days. Three thousand men killed over ten thousand enemies, finally defeated when walls collapsed. All three thousand died for country, none surrendering. Such unprecedented bloody battle in over a century shocked the entire nation.

Di Yong’s final memorial reached Bianjing, written in blood with nine characters. Though quoting a famous Han Dynasty saying, it still rang powerfully: “Those who violate our Great Song, however distant, must be punished!”

Epilogue

Decades later, aged Hou Fangjie rested in a courtyard chair when his five-year-old grandson ran over laughing, holding up an object like treasure.

“Grandpa! Grandpa! Look! This pottery tiger actually has a copper coin inside!” Remembering this tiger was grandfather’s most treasured possession, the child quickly explained: “It was little brother’s accident – when he took it from the box he didn’t hold it steady and dropped it…”

The child stopped speaking because grandfather had already snatched the pottery tiger, staring blankly at the copper coin broken in half inside the cracked tiger.

After the child cried briefly, finding his most loving grandfather wouldn’t acknowledge him this time, he toddled off to find his parents.

Autumn sunlight wasn’t fierce, but Hou Fangjie was drenched in cold sweat. Only now did he understand why during his breakout years ago, though feeling struck by blades, after desperate fighting he’d emerged unharmed.

So that’s how it was… he’d already harbored a heart ready to die for country…

“Sitao…” When the child returned with adults seeking the pottery tiger, they found grandfather had forever closed his eyes, the broken copper coin clutched tightly in his palm.

No one could pry it out.