This time, the Sang forces held nothing back. This small city had blocked them long enough. If they did not reach the border pass to link up with the Bohai army soon, the entire plan would unravel — and the wrath of His Majesty the Black Wu Emperor would shatter their dream of claiming a share of the Central Plains.

The Sang naval forces, now down to fewer than seventy thousand men, entertained any hope of making waves across the vast Central Plains — it was the delusion of a madman.

Without the Bohai army entering through the passes, the most their numbers could accomplish was to plunder and burn before withdrawing.

But that had never been the plan.

Under the three-way alliance between the Black Wu, Bohai, and Sang, if the Central Plains were taken this time, the Black Wu would cede Yanzhou to Bohai and Qingzhou to Sang.

Qingzhou alone was larger than all of Sang’s homeland combined. How could the Sang people not be tempted?

Chunbian Chili was also well aware that if they continued to fail, the patience of Black Wu Prince Kuokedi Wulianliang would soon run out.

He could already foresee the next step: the Black Wu would cast the Sang forces aside and play the game with only the Bohai. And the Sang would have no right of refusal.

Within the Sang’s grand plan, they had already charted a fifty-year course.

After helping the Black Wu take the Central Plains and receiving Qingzhou in return, they would spend the next twenty years developing their strength.

Twenty years later, they would begin incrementally devouring Bohai’s territory — at which point, the Black Wu would no longer care about Bohai’s fate.

Over the following ten years, they would steadily seize Yanzhou and Bohai’s homeland. By then, Sang would have the power to challenge the Black Wu for the Central Plains.

And in fact, one component of this fifty-year plan involved devising every possible means to seduce the Black Wu into indulging in luxury and neglecting military affairs once they had obtained the Central Plains.

In the craft of scheming and planning, the Sang’s abilities were not to be underestimated.

From the very outset of this venture, the entire plan had already been laid out in full — even down to the particulars of how they would later stir up conflict to nibble away at Bohai’s territory, how they would lure the Black Wu imperial clan in the Central Plains into decadence, and how they would gradually sap the fighting strength of the Black Wu army.

Yet now, this single small county seat had blocked the Sang’s entire plan. It had to be said — there was something almost darkly humorous about it.

“Moshanghe!”

Chunbian Chili bellowed an order: “You will lead the main assault. If Tuoshan County is not taken before sunset, you will answer for it with your life before me.”

Moshanghe’s heart lurched, but he dared not refuse.

After all, had his planning not been so flawed, Sang forces would already have taken Daisheng Pass, marched northeast, and by now would have long since linked up with the Bohai King’s six hundred thousand troops.

He understood that this was also his only chance at redemption. Otherwise, even if Grand Commander Chunbian Chili did not execute him now, the blame would be laid at his feet in the end.

Shedding his armor and stripping off his upper garment, Moshanghe stood bare-chested, seized his Sang blade, let out a roar, and charged at Tuoshan County.

The Sang forces surged forward, hauling siege ladders, a dense black tide.

On the wall, Guan Chongsheng slowly exhaled, then walked with measured steps to stand beneath the blazing crimson battle flag.

“If I fall, Ding Feng takes my place. If Ding Feng falls, he’ll find someone to replace him. The flag must not fall before every last man has fallen.”

He finished speaking, then turned and asked, “How many arrows do we have left?”

Ding Feng answered, “Less than a thousand.”

A thousand arrows. One volley and they were gone.

“Every archer with any arrows left — to that breach over there!”

He stretched out his hand and pointed.

This was an old and worn-out small city. The breach had not been made by the Sang forces — it had always been there. During the intervals between assaults, they had patched it as best they could, but in November’s weather in Yanzhou, the earth would freeze but not hold firm. The patches crumbled at the first impact.

Every time the Sang forces attacked, this spot claimed more of their lives than any other.

“Wait until the enemy reaches the base of the wall, then give them a proper welcome with stones!”

Guan Chongsheng finished giving his orders, then drew one more deep breath.

He told himself inwardly… this was surely the finest ending a border soldier could hope for. From the day he first put on this uniform, had he not already made his peace with it?

He had never made his name in the histories — and yet his heart held no regret.

Come on, then.

The Sang forces came surging forward in a dark tide. Knowing the defenders were nearly out of arrows, they ran with something almost like swagger.

Ding Feng’s eyes instinctively went to the general. The general’s face was utterly calm.

Ding Feng’s eyes then went instinctively to that suit of iron armor, battered and encrusted with blood. He thought: if the general falls, let the armor stay on him.

That was the general’s armor, bound to the general in life and in death — it was both his rank and his honor.

So — he would die before the general.

“Here they come!”

Guan Chongsheng shouted: “Strike the enemy!”

At his command, the defenders on the wall heaved up stones and brought them crashing down on the forces below.

The Sang forces below were so densely packed that a single stone could strike more than one. Yet it was precisely because of those numbers that the siege ladders went up quickly.

At that moment, many seemed to glimpse their own end.

The city was too small. The walls too low. Fight to the death on this wall as they might, they could not stop every Sang soldier from scaling it.

Everyone knew clearly: this was a battle to the death.

But then — it was not.

Just as the Sang assault began, across the open ground to one side, a sea of red appeared.

A sea of red that no words could describe — like a great conflagration capable of burning away every shadow and stain from the world.

Were the Sang forces numerous? Many times the size of the defenders.

Yet when that sea of red appeared, the Sang formations suddenly seemed not so vast.

Guan Chongsheng, who had already prepared himself for death, looked upon that sea of red — and in that instant, the light that blazed in his eyes seemed to mirror all the radiance of that crimson expanse.

“HAHAHAHA!”

Guan Chongsheng threw back his head and laughed.

On one flank of the Sang army, a tide of red flags came surging across the land.

At the center of the Ning Army’s formation, Jizhou Military Commissioner Xu Ji wore an expression of fury. Was this Central Plains earth — a place that any small-time villain could come to defile?

“Destroy them.”

Xu Ji pointed one hand forward.

A hundred thousand Jizhou Ning Army soldiers swept forward like a sky-blotting flood.

These were the new recruits Xu Ji had trained for Prince Ning Li Chi’s campaign to contest the realm. This was also the first time these hundred thousand new soldiers had ever set foot on a battlefield.

Yet the rigorous training they had endured had been designed for precisely this — so that the very first time they stepped onto a battlefield, they would be better than the enemy.

Xu Ji was a man who was arrogant, and even somewhat morally questionable in his motivations. But no one could doubt his ability.

In the two years since Li Chi had appointed him as the chief official of Jizhou, he understood clearly what he needed to do to restore himself to the place of importance he had once held in Prince Ning’s esteem.

Over those two years, this hundred-thousand-strong Ning Army had received the full measure of his dedication and toil.

If he were being privately honest — this army was his greatest asset in securing a future title as a Duke of the Realm.

The mountains and rivers stretched scarlet to the horizon.

The first red was the battle flags, burning bright. The second red would be the blood of the enemy.

If Xu Ji had waited for Li Chi’s orders before leading his forces to Yanzhou, he would certainly never have arrived in time.

And herein lay what set Xu Ji apart from ordinary men: he knew that Prince Ning had no patience for people who waited to be told what to do. Those were mediocrities.

On the battlefield, everything could change in an instant. Waiting for orders from Prince Ning to be sent back from Yuzhou — or even from Jingzhou — could mean losing the whole of Yanzhou before the word arrived.

So shortly after dispatching his emergency military report to the Prince, he had made a decisive judgment: he had to move early. He could not wait.

The officials of Jizhou also agreed that early action was warranted — but every last one of them argued that the direction should be the northern frontier, since the greatest threat was the Black Wu.

But Xu Ji overruled them all. His analysis was this: the Black Wu were waiting.

Without the Bohai and Sang alliance forces inside Jizhou, the Black Wu main army would not rashly attack the northern frontier.

Therefore, stopping the Bohai forces from taking Yanzhou was the key to preventing this entire invasion.

Before departing Jizhou City, Xu Ji dispatched a message to Grand Councilor Lian Xiwu in the northwest, ordering him to take all of his forces, all provisions and supplies, abandon construction of Chang’an, and rush to reinforce the northern frontier.

In that letter to Lian Xiwu, Xu Ji wrote: halt construction of Chang’an. If problems arise from this decision, I will bear the consequences.

So Lian Xiwu had not waited for Li Chi’s orders either. Upon receiving Xu Ji’s letter, he immediately led every unit at Chang’an — including great numbers of conscripted laborers — and all available supplies in a march toward the northern frontier.

After Xu Ji led his forces to Dragon’s Head Pass, he learned that the pass had not come under attack.

His subordinates felt something had gone wrong, and urged Xu Ji to turn north toward what might be the real main attack.

Others argued that even if Yanzhou fell, as long as Dragon’s Head Pass held firm and Jizhou was secured, there would be no way for the Black Wu to push south.

Still others counseled that holding Dragon’s Head Pass with a hundred thousand troops was an unambiguous course of action, whereas going into Yanzhou risked destroying the whole force.

Xu Ji overruled them all once again. He ordered the army out through the pass — and said the same thing he always said: if something goes wrong, it falls on me. It has nothing to do with any of you.

That kind of unilateral authority, in extraordinary times, was in fact the most effective approach possible.

When people kept arguing back and forth, and the one in command kept wavering — that was when things truly went wrong, or went worst of all.

Xu Ji led his forces all the way to Daisheng Pass and learned that the Sang forces had redirected their attack to Tuoshan County. He ordered the army to move without rest, marching through the night.

What had arrived here was no miracle from heaven, nor was it fortune favoring Guan Chongsheng — it was Xu Ji’s judgment, proven correct.

When he gave that single word of command, he let out a long, slow breath himself.

A hundred thousand troops — whoever commanded an engagement of this scale could be proud of it, for these were the Ning Army’s combat soldiers!

When the crimson tide crashed into the Sang formations, all suspense evaporated.

On land, against the Ning Army?

This was a rout from the very first moment. Not gradually — from the very start.

The sudden appearance of so many Ning soldiers had already shattered the Sang forces’ courage before a single blow was landed.

Their morale had already been ground down through all those long days of siege. This final attack on Tuoshan County had been the last surge of that diminished spirit.

When they saw the Ning Army coming from every direction, what spirit remained simply vanished.

A single touch and they collapsed.

From his vantage point above, Black Wu Prince Kuokedi Wulianliang surveyed the battlefield through his far-seeing glass. He had come to watch the Sang forces storm the county city.

What he saw instead was that force of soldiers, their blazing crimson flags like boiling water dissolving snow, wiping out the Sang formations as though they were nothing.

“Where… where did that army come from?”

The color had drained from Kuokedi Wulianliang’s face.

“Are they Dachu府兵府兵府兵 regulars?!”

Wulianliang demanded loudly.

“They are the Ning Army…”

His subordinate Lüye Yanwan’s face was even paler.

“Your Highness, we must go — now.”

Lüye Yanwan said urgently. “Those are the troops of Prince Ning Li Chi. The Black Wu Empire’s armies have marched south numerous times and been halted by the Ning Army each time. The Sang forces are no match for them.”

Kuokedi Wulianliang hesitated for only a moment before turning and running for the ships at the shore.

He did not need Lüye Yanwan to urge him. He had seen it with his own eyes.

Before this moment, he had never witnessed a Central Plains army like this.

Chasing the Sang soldiers down and killing them, then yanking up their heads by the hair after they fell — a single precise and brutal stroke. Never a second blow needed to sever the head.

Once severed, those men casually tucked the head by its hair into their waistbands and kept on running.

These soldiers — they were from the Central Plains?

They did not even look like soldiers of the mortal world.

What are tigers and wolves?

This is what tigers and wolves are.

—