The long wind howled, carrying the scent of blood on its gusts. Early the next morning, the leader of the Nannu Chili tribe, Amutu, led his troops in the first assault on Loulan City.
In the midst of the clashing sounds, shouts of battle echoed everywhere. Soldiers ran back and forth along the city walls, constantly wielding their war blades to cut the grappling hooks thrown up onto the walls, using sharp arrows to retaliate against those below.
The city walls were filled with the forms of Chu army soldiers. Their jet-black battle armor gleamed with a bone-chilling, menacing light that made the Xiongnu people below even more certain of their enemies’ identity. The Nannu Chili, being a tribe that had suffered massacre without Qing Xia’s knowledge, harbored bone-deep hatred for the Chu army. Amutu, a fierce and valiant man, charged forward at the head of his group of Xiongnu warriors, mounted on horseback and howling as they fought their way forward.
The city walls towered several zhang high, so they used grappling hooks and scaling ladders to throw up onto the walls, climbing upward with fearless determination. Behind them, large groups of archers ran back and forth, shooting arrows upward to provide cover. However, under the barrage of boiling oil, scalding water, and sharp arrows from the Chu army, they were still suppressed and unable to raise their heads. Vast amounts of fresh blood and severed heads fell like wheat being harvested, scattered across the yellow sand mixed with bloody mud.
Qing Xia stood atop the wall, commanding the troops in an orderly counterattack. The Nannu Chili were grassland people, skilled in mounted warfare but not proficient in siege warfare. Their methods were quite clumsy, and their numbers were insufficient. After Huang Biao’s previous surprise attack on the grasslands, the Xiongnu army no longer dared to commit all their forces when going to war. Qing Xia knew the real battle had not yet begun, so she wasn’t exerting her full strength either.
The day of siege warfare passed slowly in this manner of much thunder but little rain. Casualties on both sides were minimal, but at dusk, a piercing horn suddenly sounded from the northwest. Upon hearing it, Qing Xia felt her spine turn cold instantly. She knew that Guli A’shu had finally grown impatient with waiting and was about to launch his attack on her. The reinforcements from Chu Li that she had mentioned to comfort her soldiers would never come. For a moment, she didn’t even know how she could hold on.
Below the city walls, densely packed Xiongnu soldiers slowly covered the ground like a dark cloud. Their oil-soaked leather armor had been hardened by fire, making clanging sounds as they moved. Snow-bright war blades gleamed with bloodthirsty cold light, and combined with the muscular arms exposed outside their armor, an increasingly heavy aura of killing intent surged toward them.
Such fierce soldiers, if encountered on level ground, could probably tear through the Chu army’s defensive line in just three rounds. Qing Xia’s victory lay in the fact that she had arrived at Loulan after the Xichuan people but before the Xiongnu. Yan Hui’s massacre of the entire population of Loulan had been intended to enrage the Xiongnu and watch them go to war with Southern Chu, but he hadn’t expected Qing Xia to interfere, not only disrupting his plan but also occupying Loulan’s advantageous terrain, making the current siege much more troublesome. Moreover, what was most infuriating was that even now, he couldn’t determine who the general inside the city actually was. The retreat of most Xiongnu forces had caused him to lose track of Chu Li’s whereabouts, and assuming that Zhuang Qing Xia was still entangled with Long Ya, Hua Rongyue, and Lu Huayang, his suspicions about the identity of the person in the city made him increasingly cautious.
The Xiongnu avoided the main city, splitting into two flanks to storm the walls with scaling ladders. The Xiongnu under Guli A’shu’s command were far superior to what the Nannu Chili could compare with. Those bare-chested warriors held wolf knives in their mouths and gripped a dagger in each hand, stabbing into the city wall and climbing up one step at a time. When they stopped, they found rough footholds, grabbed the bows and arrows from behind them, and shot upward, clinging to the city wall like geckos.
Bucket after bucket of boiling water was poured down, but in the cold night wind, by the time the water reached the Xiongnu, it was no longer scalding, and fewer and fewer fell. Only now did Qing Xia understand why Guli A’shu had chosen this time to attack, and by now, there was no more boiling oil left in the city.
The neighing of war horses, the screams of men, arrows filling the sky—all these sounds seemed to come from another world. Qing Xia stood atop the city wall in white battle armor, with a black cloak fluttering behind her in the fierce wind. She didn’t charge to the very front but stood firmly on the wall where all the Chu soldiers could see her, see their commander. She only wanted them to know that even in such a critical situation, she was still with them, stubbornly holding their ground for Southern Chu, for their homeland, for their individual beliefs.
The thunderous war drums began to boom, and the earth beneath their feet seemed to beat along with everyone’s hearts. The Chu army roared like madmen, fighting desperately against enemies that outnumbered them dozens of times, defending this sole barrier to the death.
War was not assassination; individual strength seemed so insignificant at this moment. Qing Xia looked at the densely packed enemy forces like a swarm of locusts and gripped the long spear at her waist firmly, her spine straight like an upright monument.
She had always known that if such a day truly came, she would die for Chu Li without hesitation. Previously, she had only felt she owed him something and wanted to repay it through other means, but at this moment, she suddenly felt an inexplicable joy. She was happy to think that she had saved him, that he could live, that he could return safely to Southern Chu. She was using her life to protect his kingdom, and from now on, there would be no more unspeakable matters blocking the path between them. Her blood and flesh scattered across this turbulent desert would forge his iron-solid, thousand-li territory, forever protecting his people. Would such devotion count as a special kind of love?
For eight years, they had entangled with each other, hurt each other, yet always stood up for one another without hesitation in critical moments. His coldness, his domineering nature, his schemes, his deceptions, his stubbornness and obstinacy, his injuries and disappointments, and all those years they had walked together, all those past events—finally, they could openly echo in her mind without feeling, as before, that even thinking of them was a desecration of that person.
Perhaps from beginning to end, she had always loved him. Because of love, there was hatred, disappointment, unwillingness, and more so, worry, fear, concern, guilt, and reluctance. Every time danger struck, the first face that echoed in her mind was always his, always his appearance in black armor with sword-like eyebrows and starry eyes. His love was too heavy, too intense—she couldn’t reciprocate it, much less speak it aloud. Then let her die for him, using this method to repay that bone-deep affection that could never be uttered from her lips.
Fate had made her fall in love with two people, one after another, destining her to travel to the ends of the earth for one and journey to the underworld for the other.
Rolling stones, logs, lime, boiling water—everything was put to use. The Xiongnu literally paved a path with human lives. Several breaches in the city wall were suddenly opened simultaneously. Xiongnu warriors with wolf knives in their mouths and bare chests climbed onto the city wall. The Chu army couldn’t resist, and several men instantly lost their lives. Cries of alarm immediately rang out, and the Xiongnu below cheered in unison. Qing Xia raised her eyebrows, her form instantly transforming into a whirlwind. Her long spear moved like a dragon, thrusting, stabbing, and slashing with seemingly demonic fury. There were no fancy techniques—all were the most direct and practical methods, each spear thrust penetrating the enemy’s vital points. Blood spurted forth, the stench overwhelming. Person and spear became one; spear and person united. Her strikes were swift as miracles, thrusting a hundred times in the blink of an eye, slaying a hundred men. The white-armored general planted her spear in the ground, the whirlwind subsided, and she looked ahead with a cold expression. Blood slowly trickled down from between her eyebrows, but her face showed not a trace of emotion.
The Chu army was stunned. This was the first time any of them had truly seen Qing Xia in combat. None of them had imagined that this seemingly delicate Grand Marshal, who was so brilliant in strategy and decision-making, was also a master of martial arts. After a brief silence, tremendous cheers suddenly erupted. The soldiers of Southern Chu seemed to have taken stimulants, quickly returning to their respective battles with renewed vigor. The Xiongnu immediately found themselves in dire straits.
Yan Hui lowered his telescope, the corner of his mouth lifting as he turned and said with a light smile, “Indeed, it’s her. Nan’er, you have a worthy opponent.”
Young General Zhaonan’s expression remained calm. He silently put on his helmet, donned his armor, and after taking two steps, suddenly turned back to say, “Adoptive father, swords and blades have no eyes—please don’t approach the battlefield.”
Yan Hui nodded with a smile, “Even if you asked me to go, I wouldn’t. No point in getting my new robes dirty.”
The piercing war drums suddenly sounded. Before the Xiongnu had completely withdrawn from the battlefield, Xichuan’s army came howling forward. General Meng Jiao, seated beside Qi Yan, respectfully said to Qi An, “Crown Prince, Mo Zhaonan is deploying his troops. Shall we advance?”
Qi An sat on his horse and slowly shook his head, saying, “Don’t rush. We’ll advance after Xichuan retreats.” With that, the Crown Prince of Eastern Qi smiled coldly and maliciously, stroking the telescope beside him and sighing softly, “I didn’t expect it would really be you. You truly are devoted to him unto death. I just wonder, with us conducting round after round of these wheel tactics, how long can you hold out?”
For three full days, Qing Xia hadn’t closed her eyes once. Chu army casualties weren’t severe—in fact, the enemy attacks weren’t particularly fierce—but they never ceased for a moment. They seemed to have coordinated their efforts, taking turns in round after round of wheel tactics, giving the Chu army not a moment’s rest, not even time to eat, only endless entanglement, as if waiting for something.
Qing Xia certainly knew what they were waiting for. If not for Young Master Liang somehow managing to quietly leave the camp, she might have already left the city to fight the enemy to the death.
They were waiting—waiting for Chu Li to come charging in to rescue her. And she too was waiting—waiting for Chu Li to move far from the desert, buying him time to escape.
The sky gradually darkened, and the attacking soldiers slowly withdrew, their momentum diminishing. Qing Xia’s silver-white armor had become completely stained with blood. Three days without a drop of water had severely depleted her strength. She divided her forces into three teams, taking turns in rotation. Each team had only three thousand men, making defense quite difficult, but this was better than endless confrontation with the enemy.
The mess cooks brought up several large pots. Fortunately, Loulan was prosperous—though the people were dead, their possessions remained, so they wouldn’t face starvation.