He had already steeled himself for it — yet the moment the Black Wu catapults rose into position, Li Chi still couldn’t stop himself from cursing inwardly: *What in the—*

Large. Genuinely, unimaginably large.

The timber from the coldest reaches of Black Wu territory was unparalleled in quality — what might take twenty years to grow to that girth in a temperate climate could take over a hundred years in those frozen wastes. That exceptional natural advantage allowed the Black Wu to construct war machines of extraordinary scale.

Without question, sheer size alone couldn’t dramatically increase the weight of the stones being hurled — but it absolutely could increase the range dramatically.

Watching the boulders arcing toward them, Li Chi immediately shouted: “Get down!”

The first boulder came crashing into the wall. Fortunately, the hanging timber absorbed the blow — with a deep, muffled boom, the stone split the wood in two.

Everyone on the wall felt the tremor, as if some enormous invisible beast had slammed headlong into the ramparts.

The second boulder followed quickly. This time the timber held — the stone careened off and tumbled down.

“Everyone stay sharp!”

Li Chi raised his head and called out — and in doing so spotted the third boulder coming. This time the Black Wu had adjusted their angle. The stone cleared the top of the wall and struck the battlements, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

The soldiers had lookouts posted, however, so they’d dodged in time — no one was crushed. But the stone’s tremendous momentum carried it rolling forward, slamming into the inner parapet and smashing a section of the battlement to pieces.

Out in the Black Wu lines, Ye Fulie held his spyglass and watched. The tension finally left his face.

The power of these catapults had even exceeded his own expectations.

He found himself thinking that there might not even be a need for a direct assault. They could simply keep hurling stones — and even if they couldn’t bring the walls down entirely, they’d build up a stone ramp on the far side.

“No rush to advance — keep hammering.”

Ye Fulie gave the order.

On the wall, Li Chi leaned against the battlement and suddenly laughed: “I wonder if they’ve solved the problem of the catapults destroying themselves while they work.”

Xiahou Zuo heard this and smiled too. Both men were making an effort to appear relaxed — that way the soldiers wouldn’t be so tense.

It had to be said — the quality of the timber determined the lifespan of a catapult.

It also had to be said — the Black Wu had underestimated the durability of walls built by the Central Plains people.

This was perhaps one of the greatest inventions produced by a people who had been battered for over a thousand years — built to protect themselves.

Few would think of it as an invention. And even those who did might feel a pang of something bittersweet.

For a thousand years, the Central Plains people had continuously studied how to make their walls stronger, discovering method after method. The border fortifications were the most direct testament to that thousand years of evolution and refinement.

It had all begun from earthen walls — yet throughout all that time, city walls had held an indelible place in the hearts of the Central Plains people.

The Black Wu, by contrast, had almost nothing of the sort. In many parts of the Central Plains, even villages had their own palisades and enclosures. But in Black Wu territory, no outside enemy had set foot there for several hundred years — so their settlements were scattered, and most households didn’t even have surrounding walls.

The Black Wu had never had to contemplate being forced to build fortified walls.

Their large towns, by Black Wu standards, could rival Central Plains county seats in scale — or even surpass them — yet still had no walls. Just an expanse of buildings accessible from virtually any direction.

The Black Wu had wanted the Ning Army to get a taste of their catapults’ power right away, so this intense bombardment went on for a considerable length of time.

Until they saw it themselves — one of the catapults, when its throwing arm released, had the arm snap apart. The stone didn’t travel far before crashing down into their own ranks.

When Ye Fulie received the report he frowned, and after a brief pause ordered: “Keep firing. Don’t stop until our assault teams are at the walls.”

The horn calls rang out again. Over in the Black Wu formation, squad after squad began to advance, picking up pace.

As they broke into a run the tight formations dissolved into a broad, surging dark mass.

Li Chi and the others could see that among the Black Wu ranks, many men were carrying strange contraptions as they ran — like smaller versions of a mounted crossbow. Two men could carry one and still sprint freely. Clearly stripped of weight, these were evidently another new weapon the Black Wu had devised for this southern campaign.

Once they entered range, the Ning Army’s mounted crossbows and archers opened up — this sort of engagement was nothing new to the border soldiers.

Those carrying the smaller crossbows pushed through the hail of fire to get within their own effective range, then began shooting toward the wall.

Their bolts carried thick ropes — and the arrowheads were clearly no ordinary tips.

As the bolts were loosed, many struck the wooden hangings along the walls, the timbered sections — and held fast. The lines dropped down the outside face of the wall.

Black Wu soldiers who had already reached the base were either raising scaling ladders against the walls or grabbing the ropes and hauling themselves up.

Ning Army soldiers hacked furiously at the ropes — but the defenders leaning out to cut them were often picked off by Black Wu arrows in return.

This battle had been merciless from the very first moment.

The Black Wu’s overwhelming numbers meant their arrow volleys put unbearable pressure on the Ning Army defenders.

“Cut the ropes! Cut them!”

Xiahou Zuo sprinted along the wall, shouting as he went.

The soldiers slashed through the ropes attached to the timber. The logs plummeted and crushed many Black Wu soldiers below.

With the battle reaching this pitch, the Black Wu catapults ceased firing — direct assault was now underway, and the fighting grew more savage.

Then a strange horn call sounded. Out in the Black Wu formation, several massive shapes began grinding slowly forward.

Siege towers.

Enormous siege towers, moved only by laying rollers beneath them, each one likely requiring over a thousand men to push and haul. Yet once such a thing drew close to the walls, its suppressive effect on the defenders would be overwhelming.

The towers were actually taller than the walls themselves. Each one was even fitted with mounted crossbows.

Xiahou Zuo watched the towers advance, his expression darkening.

“The last few times the Black Wu came south and we held them back — they’ve learned. This time they actually studied what kind of fortress they were attacking before moving.”

In previous assaults, the Black Wu generals had relied on tactics unchanged for hundreds of years.

But Ye Fulie was different. His redeployment was the single greatest preparation Black Wu had made for this southern campaign.

“Adjust our crossbows — aim for the men pushing those towers!”

Xiahou Zuo shouted, his voice already going hoarse without him having noticed.

In the old days, when Chu’s border forces had held Beishan Pass and things reached this point, the defenders might already have begun to feel hopeless.

But this was different now. Li Chi had worked himself to exhaustion scraping together money for these border soldiers — precisely so that this pass would become an armory.

He hadn’t just armed the soldiers to the teeth. He had armed the city itself to the teeth.

The mounted crossbows on the wall turned toward the men pushing the towers and opened fire. A single heavy bolt loosed at range would drop a whole line of men.

Even those carrying shields among the Black Wu couldn’t fully stop a heavy crossbow bolt — they could only say it somewhat reduced the damage.

Around those massive towers, the soldiers pushing and pulling them fell in layers, and new layers surged forward to replace them.

On a battlefield, human lives were like grass before a scythe.

The Black Wu knew well — the moment those towers reached the wall, their victory would begin.

These towers had been built to unusual specifications. Their great size meant they’d been fitted with drawbridges. Once a tower drew alongside the wall, Black Wu soldiers could cross the bridge and pour directly onto the battlements — and because the towers stood higher than the walls, they could charge downhill.

“Wrap oil cloth on the bolts!”

Xiahou Zuo shouted again.

Soldiers wrapped oil cloth around the heavy crossbow bolts, set them alight, and fired.

Streaks of fire blazed across the sky — so many they became a torrent of meteors. Not a meteor shower — a meteor cascade.

But the Black Wu had clearly anticipated fire attacks. In past sieges, no soldiers would be loaded onto towers before they reached the walls — extra weight slowed them further. This time they’d put soldiers on the towers in advance, and given how enormous the towers were, they’d been built in three levels, each packed with men.

There was no denying it — something this massive moved with agonizing slowness. Everything had its costs and its advantages; it all came down to how they were used.

Black Wu soldiers on the towers rushed to smother each flaming bolt as it struck. And with targets that massive, trying to set them alight with such scattered sparks was no easy matter.

The towers kept advancing, agonizingly slow. The Ning Army’s heavy crossbows kept firing without pause, their torrent of blazing bolts unceasing.

Both commanders watched and waited. Whoever could hold out longer would gain the upper hand.

Ye Fulie simply hadn’t anticipated that the defenses atop Beishan Pass would be this well stocked, this powerful.

When the towers had ground to within a certain distance, the weapons that came to bear were the ranked crossbows — one release per row sent a dozen bolts flying simultaneously.

The Ning Army had also shifted their aim, targeting the Black Wu soldiers standing atop the towers.

However large the towers were, the space on top was limited — and those platforms were densely packed with men. This kind of attack could only be called a slaughter.

Ye Fulie’s expression grew grave. He turned and ordered: “Double the number of archers advancing. No matter the cost — suppress the Ning Army archers on that wall.”

His command passed down, and another Black Wu formation began to press forward.

Reinforcements also began climbing onto the towers — one wave cut down, another sent up — just to ensure the towers wouldn’t be burned.

Before the forces had even come to close quarters, both sides had already taken casualties that made their commanders’ hearts ache.

But there was no choice. Once you begin, you cannot simply stop.

Especially for the attacking side — stopping now would mean every man who had already died, died for nothing.

The towers kept coming. The enemy was falling in tremendous numbers, yet their will to press forward never wavered.

Li Chi kept loosing arrows without pause. Both arms had gone numb and aching, and he’d long since lost count of how many bolts he’d sent.

And then — one of the towers suddenly collapsed.

No fire had touched it. Without any warning whatsoever, it simply came apart. Men tumbled from every level, and many were crushed beneath the falling structure.

The sight left Li Chi and his soldiers stunned — and Ye Fulie just as baffled.

Those towers had been built with tremendous care. There was no reason one should simply fall on its own.

Then the second tower collapsed with a thunderous crash. Then the third. The fourth. From the moment the first tower went down to the last one scattering across the ground, barely half a two-hour watch had passed.

“This…”

Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Chi, his eyes wide with shock.

His throat bobbed. Then, in a voice gone hoarse, he asked:

“Did you cast a spell?”

Li Chi: “It wasn’t me…”

—