The next morning, the young man reluctantly left the city wall. Prince Ning had said that if possible, the volunteer militia brothers should try to ensure each person only came up once.

As he descended the city wall, he saw a soldier of the Ning Army, roughly eighteen or nineteen years old, solemnly placing a company commander’s helmet on his head.

This soldier hadn’t had time to change into a company commander’s leather armor, nor did he have time to do so — that helmet was all he could inherit.

Yes, that was the mark of a company commander; everything passed down was right there.

The young man noticed the helmet — it had a notch in it. He recognized it: the company commander who had come down from the wall yesterday to call for them had also had a notch just like that on his helmet.

He wasn’t certain it was the same helmet, and he didn’t dare ask.

As he walked down from the city wall, the feeling beneath his feet told him that every inch of this ground had been soaked in the blood of Ning Army soldiers.

He looked back once more at the top of the city wall, seeing figures moving swiftly, and the blazing crimson battle flag still unfurling in the wind.

His steps were slow and heavy. He could go home now — his daughter and wife were waiting for him, and so were his father and mother — yet he had no desire to leave.

“Enemy attack!”

A shout from a Ning Army soldier rang out from the city wall, followed immediately by the sound of horns.

“Get down quickly!”

The new company commander ran past him: “I’ve seen you — you were on the city wall yesterday. Get down and rest, or go home.”

The young company commander ran past him and snatched up a bow.

The Black Wu forces came up fast, as always — and faster than the Black Wu soldiers came their catapulted boulders.

Muffled thuds rang out across the city wall one after another, occasionally mixed with cries of pain.

The young man walked to the base of the wall. He didn’t go to rest, nor did he go home. Instead, he sat down again among the volunteer militia waiting to go up.

“Brother, you can go home now.”

The person behind him said.

The young man shook his head. “I can go up one more time.”

The waiting felt so long. The shouts of battle drifting down from the city wall told them that the Black Wu forces had likely launched yet another assault.

Just then, the young company commander came running down. His left arm was half gone, severed at the elbow — the lower half was nowhere to be seen.

The stump of his arm was still bleeding, yet he seemed completely oblivious to it.

“Volunteer militia brothers — five hundred men, count off!”

The young man moved to go up, but the person behind him grabbed him by the arm — exactly like yesterday, when that middle-aged man had pulled him back at just the same moment.

A man charged past him. The young man tried to follow, but was pulled again, and stumbled and fell to the ground.

The volunteer militia brothers went past him one by one. Every time he tried to get up, someone pushed him back down.

“It’s our turn.”

Someone said.

He watched those men — strangers, yet worthy of being called comrades and brothers — go up one by one, and the tears he had been holding back finally fell.

When he tried to rise once more, a hand pressed down on his shoulder again — a powerful hand.

“I’m sorry.”

The person beside him murmured those three words, then rushed forward.

The young man froze. Why would he say sorry?

Then he saw it. The figure’s retreating back looked so familiar.

“Little brother!”

The young man let out a hoarse cry.

The boy, barely sixteen years old, looked back at him and called out: “Sorry, big brother — go home and take good care of Father and Mother, take good care of sister-in-law and my little niece. From now on, our family depends on you.”

Then he charged up.

—

The Black Wu forces held an overwhelming numerical advantage. While launching yet another assault on Beishan Pass, they simultaneously attacked Unnamed Mountain.

Wave after wave of soldiers climbed up the slope. No one could say how many times this had been now. Dark reddish-brown stains of dried blood were visible all across the hillside.

Ever since the last time their great warrior Bulegdi had charged down with his cavalry and both father and son were slain by the Tiehu cavalry, the Chile people — in order to hold their stockade — had no choice but to send their cavalry charging again and again to suppress the Black Wu forces.

Beyond that, they had nothing else left. The arrows the Ning Army had given them were all spent.

Hold out as long as they could — that was all. As long as the cavalry remained, even if only a few hundred were left, even if they could manage only one final charge, they would do it.

Because behind the wooden stockade walls were their elders and children, their wives and sisters.

Unless every man fell in battle, the Black Wu forces would not break through that wooden wall.

They hurled stones, timber, anything that could be thrown, to keep the Black Wu forces from closing in.

Yet the tide the Black Wu forces formed kept surging toward them like waves cresting a levee, drawing closer and closer.

“Diebu!”

Shuyang Chuan looked at a young man.

Diebu immediately responded and ran before Shuyang Chuan.

“Great Khan.”

He asked: “Do you want me to lead the cavalry in another charge?”

Shuyang Chuan shook his head. “Not you — me. When the Khan passed the throne to me, he said the Chile people’s future rests with you. Now it is my turn to go and die for our people. I am passing the throne to you.”

He placed a hand on Diebu’s shoulder.

Diebu was the same young general who, during Bulegdi’s last charge, had been ordered to bring the troops back.

Last time, he had watched helplessly as the old Khan charged into the Tiehu cavalry. This time, he absolutely could not watch the Khan charge into the enemy lines again.

“Great Khan, let me go!”

He stepped in front of Shuyang Chuan.

Shuyang Chuan said: “After I die, you are next. If the moment comes when you must do the same, choose someone to succeed you and tell him: after you, it is his turn.”

With that, Shuyang Chuan led the cavalry charging down the slope.

After months of bloody fighting, the Chile cavalry had been whittled down from tens of thousands to fewer than eight thousand.

Shuyang Chuan could not bring all the cavalry down the mountain — he had to leave some behind. So when several thousand Chile horsemen charged, the sight was one of heartbreaking, doomed valor.

Shuyang Chuan rode at the vanguard, his curved saber cleaving through the wind.

Those Chile warriors, watching their Great Khan charge at the front, saw in that figure’s back a perfect echo of the old Khan Bulegdi, who had already fallen in battle.

And the Chile people who remained on the mountain, watching the cavalry charge down, saw in each rider’s back the same image as those brave warriors who had already died.

The Black Wu forces had done it deliberately. The Chile people had fallen into a trap.

When the Chile cavalry charged down, the Black Wu forces had been prepared all along. They withdrew at full speed down the slope and split to both sides.

The Chile cavalry charging downhill with momentum had no chance of stopping.

They swept off the mountain — and at the foot, the Tiehu cavalry had long been waiting for them.

The Tiehu special commander Wu’erwa could not hold back a great laugh, pointing his riding crop at those several thousand Chile horsemen.

“In their day, these Chile people swaggered across the whole world. Look at them now — they have no choice but to throw their lives away.”

He drew his curved saber.

“Tiehu!”

The densely packed Tiehu cavalry drew their curved sabers and raised them toward the sky — viewed from a distance, it was a forest of blades.

“Annihilate them.”

Wu’erwa gave the command.

The Tiehu cavalry began to advance. The mass of horses built speed gradually, then surged into a charging wave.

Shuyang Chuan’s eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Tiehu cavalry’s main command banner. Last time, the one who had stared at that banner with such intensity was Sasang.

“Sasang, my brother — I am coming!”

Shuyang Chuan cried out.

Thousands of horsemen — every one of them knowing they would never return — in this moment, dying to defend their honor was everything.

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

Both sides roared at once.

From a high vantage point in the Black Wu camp, Yefulie held a spyglass trained on the cavalry battle, then could not help but smile.

The Chile people were finished. No matter how long they had held out, they were finished.

After this, what little remained of the Chile cavalry would be negligible. It would not be long before Black Wu soldiers stormed Unnamed Mountain and killed everyone on it.

“Truly overestimating themselves.”

A Black Wu general said with a laugh.

Another Black Wu general also laughed: “It seems today we’ll have two pieces of good news.”

He pointed in the direction of Beishan Pass. Everyone shifted their spyglasses that way, looking toward the pass.

The number of Black Wu soldiers who had climbed onto the city wall was growing. The Ning Army, which had resisted them for months, appeared to have run out of strength.

“Indeed, after all these months.”

Yefulie said with a smile: “To have two pieces of good news on the same day — all the hardship of these past months becomes nothing.”

He turned to his subordinates and gave the order: “Make preparations — soon we will be able to enter the city. Bring our finest wine. I want to drink with the soldiers inside Beishan Pass.”

Yefulie raised his head and looked toward Beishan Pass. Already, a Black Wu battle flag had been planted on the city wall.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind swept up, lifting the dust from the ground. The wind came fierce, blowing grit into many eyes.

Yefulie cursed this wretched wind, raised his hand to rub his eyes, and looked again toward Beishan Pass.

The Black Wu battle flag that had just been planted — was gone.

He furrowed his brow.

—

At Beishan Pass, Li Chi was surrounded by dozens of Black Wu soldiers. His Minghong blade swept up and down — those who drew near died.

But once the city wall was breached, more and more Black Wu forces poured up, and Li Chi was already entirely surrounded by enemies. The corpses covering the ground were all the enemy’s.

He killed in silence. One cut, one cut, one cut…

A sudden gust of wind arose, making the bloodred battle flags on the city wall snap and crack.

“Kill!”

A hoarse battle cry rang out not far away — the voice of a woman.

General Shen Shanhu, leading her forces, charged up along the city wall’s sloped approach. Behind her, battle flags flew one after another — vivid, blazing red.

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

“Kill!”

Those warriors who had come all this way from Yanzhou were like a pack of tigers sweeping in from the northeast, driving the Black Wu forces who had taken the wall straight back.

In the distance, at the horizon —

A massive wave appeared.

Behind the Tiehu cavalry, that wave thundered across the ground with a deep, rolling sound like muffled thunder.

Amid the red battle flags, wolf banners were interspersed throughout.

Nalan Khan Borjigit pulled down his visor and raised his saber toward the Tiehu forces.

“Let them know who the true king of the steppe is!”

—