The relentless fighting stretched from the sixth month into the seventh.

Whether it was Northern Mountain Pass or the Chler garrison at Unnamed Mountain, both seemed to be pushed to the very limit of what they could endure.

Since the fighting began, not a single reinforcement had come from the Yanzhou front — which could only mean the Bohai people had also gone mad in Yanzhou.

Perhaps the Black Warrior King, Shi Zaikun, had given the Bohai forces a direct order: hold down the Ning army’s reinforcements at all costs.

Liangzhou could also send no troops. Grand General Dantai Qi knew those Western Regions peoples would not dare launch a reckless offensive, yet he did not dare recklessly divide his own forces either.

On a battlefield, nothing ever stayed the same.

In this deadlock, Northern Mountain Pass had no shortage of food and supplies — Jizhou’s various regions were still sending provisions without stopping — but the Ning army’s losses had reached a level of terrible devastation.

Even in a defensive siege, the Black Warriors had catapults and an overwhelmingly vast army. Holding a loss ratio of one Ning soldier to three Black Warriors was already proof that the Ning forces were among the finest fighters of the age.

These were the Black Warriors’ best troops — the Southern Court soldiers, the most battle-hardened among their already formidable army.

In a comparable defensive siege, if it had been Li Xionghu’s rebel forces attacking Northern Mountain Pass instead, the ratio might have been one Ning soldier for every fifteen, or even higher.

One to three was brutal.

The Ning army at Northern Mountain Pass had started with well over a hundred thousand soldiers. Those still capable of active combat might not even reach fifteen thousand now.

Over fifty thousand Ning soldiers had fallen. Tens of thousands more were wounded. This was the most devastating single engagement the Ning army had suffered since its founding.

Though the Black Warriors’ total casualties exceeded two hundred and fifty thousand, they still had forces they could move.

After several more days of fierce fighting, the situation grew ever more critical.

“Raise recruits.”

Xiahou Zuo looked toward Li Chi.

Li Chi nodded.

He had initially been unwilling to send civilians into the fighting — but it was now the most urgent moment, and raising recruits was an unavoidable necessity.

Seeing Li Chi nod, Xiahou Zuo turned and descended the wall.

Inside Northern Mountain Pass, a great many volunteer fighters who had come to offer their support had actually been waiting — Prince Ning had consistently refused to let them onto the battlefield.

But most of these volunteers had not left. If they could not fight, they would work in the rear — hauling supplies, maintaining order.

The moment Xiahou Zuo appeared at the volunteers’ camp, people began gathering around him.

“I truly did not want to have to say this.”

Xiahou Zuo let out a heavy breath, and the weight pressing on him lifted only the slightest fraction.

He said, “Our fighting strength is no longer enough.”

“Grand General!”

A man from Jizhou called out. “Prince Ning would not let us fight because he worried we would get hurt, that we would die — but we are men too, and we each have only one life!”

“Grand General, give the order!”

“Yes, Grand General — give the order!”

The men shouted it together, and their cries made Xiahou Zuo’s eyes quietly grow damp.

“All right!”

Xiahou Zuo raised his head and called out in a clear voice, “Those who are not their family’s only son — come with me up to the wall for defense first!”

“I am not an only son!”

“Neither am I!”

“Grand General, I’m with you!”

They shouted and grabbed whatever lay at hand — carrying poles, wooden staves, sickles, anything that could serve as a weapon.

The volunteer force became the reserve. They mustered at the base of the wall, waiting for the moment when they would climb up and become soldiers.

A middle-aged man lit his pipe and drew on it deeply, glancing over at a young man beside him whose face had gone slightly pale.

He held the pipe out to the young man. The young man shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

The middle-aged man smiled. “Scared?”

The young man shook his head again, then paused and nodded. “A little, yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Married?”

“Yes… my daughter is three years old.”

The young man asked, “What about you, older brother?”

The middle-aged man said, “I was married — but now it’s just me again.”

The young man froze. He did not dare ask further. He was afraid of hearing that kind of story — but the old Jizhou had been full of stories like that, wherever you went.

“Just me left now… what do I have to be afraid of.”

The middle-aged man drew hard on the pipe again and let out a thick cloud of smoke.

“That year, the great Qingzhou bandit Gan Daode led his army into Jizhou — burning and looting the whole way. Our village was unlucky enough to be right in their path… they all died. My wife. My daughter.”

He pulled open his collar. Below his neck was a long scar. “I should have died too. But I didn’t… Last night I dreamed of my daughter again. She asked me: Father, it’s been so long now. Why haven’t you come to see me?”

The middle-aged man drew on the pipe, and the smoke stung his eyes.

“Is your daughter pretty?”

he asked.

The young man nodded. “Very pretty. Big eyes — full of life, like they could talk.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

The middle-aged man smiled. “Of course she is. You’re a good-looking man, your daughter’s bound to be beautiful. They say daughters take after their fathers.”

He asked, “Your daughter’s still so small. How did you end up coming here?”

The young man said, “I have a younger brother — only sixteen, hasn’t started a family yet. He snuck here on his own. I hauled him back home… I’m the eldest son, I’m the big brother. I had come to deliver grain anyway, and should have gone back after. But I kept thinking — if I went back, and the people in the village asked me how the soldiers were doing, I was afraid… I was afraid of what I’d have to say. They’d ask: how bad is it? Is it hard?”

The young man drew a long breath and smiled. “Actually, it’s nothing to be afraid of. My younger brother will look after my family. My parents will be cared for.”

As they were talking, a Ning army company commander came running down the ramp from the wall, bloodied from head to toe, shouting as he ran, “Five hundred up! Count off — go in order!”

The volunteers at the front began running up. They counted off as they climbed.

When it reached the young man’s turn, he was exactly the five hundredth in line.

He had just gotten to his feet when the middle-aged man reached out and grabbed him. The young man tried to pull free. The middle-aged man gave a smile, and in his eyes there was not a trace of fear. He said, “Give me this chance. My daughter is waiting for me.”

Then he strode forward, up the ramp.

The young man stood there, stunned, unable to find words for a moment.

The blood-soaked company commander glanced at him — his look saying: being a little later to go up isn’t a bad thing. It’s dangerous up there.

When the company commander turned and ran back up to the wall, every step he took left a bloody print behind him. Everyone watching silently hoped: please don’t let that be his blood.

About an hour later, a battalion commander came running down from the wall — equally drenched in blood.

“We need five hundred more up! Go in order. Count off.”

The young man immediately jumped to his feet and pushed to the front. This time he was at the very head of the five hundred. As he passed by the battalion commander, he reflexively asked, “What happened to the company commander just now?”

The young battalion commander was silent for a breath, then answered, “I am the company commander now.”

They were probably about the same age, but in that battalion commander’s eyes there was far more weathering.

Five hundred men climbed up again, and the battalion commander ran up with them.

The young man reached the top of the wall. Weapons were stacked nearby — as they passed, they threw down their wooden staves and grabbed broadswords.

The former owners of those broadswords… had all left their lives on this wall.

There were many weapons — piled in heaps against the walls. The broadsword the young man grabbed was still sticky, and he could feel the warmth of the blood on it.

He kept his head down as he ran forward. Arrows flew above him, densely packed.

He ran on for perhaps another ten-odd zhang and saw the middle-aged man — sitting against the back wall, a field medic kneeling beside him, stitching up his wounds.

His shoulder had a massive gash, blood flowing without stop. Several arrows remained in his body as well, and the medic had not dared to remove them.

“Brother.”

The middle-aged man saw the young man and struggled to push out a smile. “Don’t be scared. It’s really nothing, honestly. Remember — my daughter is waiting for me, and your daughter is waiting for you. You and I… we’re different… cough, cough. Different.”

The young man gave a hard nod, let out a shout, and charged toward the Black Warriors who had climbed onto the wall.

The middle-aged man looked at the medic and gave a faint shake of his head. “No need… thank you.”

With his last strength, he unhooked his pipe and placed it in the medic’s hand. “This is for you — it’s all I have left.”

He let out one breath, and slowly closed his eyes. The smile at the corners of his mouth was still there.

The medic wept.

Night fell. The Black Warriors’ assault was driven back once more. In the distance came the sound of their retreat horns.

The wall was soaked in blood everywhere. Anyone walking across it felt as if their soles were sticking to the ground with every step, and the sound of it sent a numbing feeling crawling through the ears.

The young man slumped against the wall and gulped for air in great heaving breaths.

He still held that broadsword. It seemed as though the blood had fused his hand and the hilt into a single thing.

“Here.”

Someone placed three warm steamed buns in his arms.

He looked up instinctively — and immediately sat up straight. “Prince Ning.”

Li Chi leaned against the wall beside him, not minding the blood on his hands or the blood that got on the buns, and ate in large bites.

“Eat up — then go down.”

Li Chi mumbled, his mouth stuffed full.

The young man shook his head. “I’m all right — I don’t need to go down. I still have strength…”

“Even if you have strength, go down.”

Li Chi turned his head and looked at him — a look of exhaustion worn to the bone — then leaned back against the wall.

“Men in uniform — they don’t go down unless they can’t fight anymore, or they’re dead. But you are different.”

Li Chi said, “You came up once and didn’t die — that means you were lucky. But consider it the same as having died once already… How many times in a person’s life, when it comes to life and death, can luck hold? Eat your fill, take your pay, and go home.”

The young man felt a surge of blood rise within him. “Give me a uniform!”

Li Chi looked at him and shook his head.

The young man raised his voice. “Why not!”

Li Chi took a bite of steamed bun, chewed, and said, “When you were killing enemies just now, you kept shouting — daughter, your father is not afraid… I heard all of it. That drive of yours — it’s your daughter holding you up.”

The young man said, “Many people died here today — many of them had children. Those frontier soldiers were the same — there are people at home waiting for all of them, yet none of them get to go down!”

Li Chi picked up a water jug and drank a long pull, then said, “That’s because before we came here, we were already wearing the uniform.”

He asked, “Is your daughter pretty?”

The young man instinctively nodded. “Very pretty. Big eyes — full of life, like they could talk.”

Li Chi smiled, reached over and patted the young man on the shoulder. “If I were you, I’d be even prouder than you are. They say daughters take after their fathers… don’t make her wait for someone who never comes back.”

Having said this, Li Chi swallowed his last bite of bun, grabbed his Minghong Blade, and walked toward the far end of the wall.

The young man called after Li Chi’s retreating figure, “But you only have one life too!”

Li Chi turned and looked at him, smiling. “We live exactly for this.”