The small city had no heavy defensive siege weapons. By all logic, it should have been impossible to hold off an army of four hundred thousand.

But the Ning Army had them.

The weapons and equipment of the Ning Army now were incomparable to what they had been at the start — and even at the start, their equipment had far surpassed the enemy’s.

Li Chi had racked his brain scheming for money for one reason: to give his army superior arms. The string of victories achieved against overwhelming odds owed everything to the elite-force strategy he had always pursued.

To put it plainly — by the time Li Chi had already seized Jingzhou, if he had wanted sheer numbers, he could have conscripted a million soldiers in short order. But Li Chi had never wanted that kind of army. He believed it would be an act of irresponsibility not only toward war itself, but toward human life.

The Ning Army’s crossbow carriages could be loaded onto wagons for transport, while the lighter, smaller repeating crossbows were mounted on two wooden wheels and could simply be hitched to a horse and dragged away. After arriving at the small city of Xianlai County, Li Chi ordered the wheels stripped from the repeating crossbows and as many as possible hauled up onto the city walls.

As for the bed crossbows — they were too heavy, and the ramp on the wall was too narrow to get them up. Beyond that, the enemy’s forces were so vast that they would reach the base of the wall quickly. Better to install more repeating crossbows than to waste space on heavy bolts with limited kill zones. At this range, in an attack-defense engagement, the repeating crossbow’s lethality against an advancing force far exceeded that of the bed crossbow.

Li Chi ordered the city gates sealed completely — stuffed with sandbags and stones packed solid from one end to the other.

This meant the Yongzhou Army, if it wanted to breach the city, would have no choice but to assault the walls.

“Brother Zhuang.”

Li Chi turned to Zhuang Wudi. “Take some men and make rope ladders. Hang them in good numbers on the inner face of the wall. Our reserves need a way to climb up, and there’s only one ramp — reinforcement will be slow.”

Zhuang Wudi acknowledged at once and took men off to fell trees for the ladders. The army had brought plenty of rope; it all found use now.

With rope ladders on the inner wall, the reserves inside the city could climb up to support the defense in the shortest possible time if pressure became too great.

“Ninth Sister.”

Li Chi called Yu Jiuling over.

Yu Jiuling hurried up. “Boss, what do you need from me?”

Li Chi pointed toward the higher ground of the small city — on the slopes of this tiger-shaped hill, bamboo groves grew dense and thick. Most of the stalks were wide, tall, and straight.

“Take some men up there and use that bamboo to build traction trebuchets. You understand what I mean?”

Yu Jiuling was sharp. He understood immediately and nodded. “Got it.”

“There are plenty of stones on the hill,” Li Chi said. “Gather them as reserve. It won’t cause the enemy massive casualties, but every one we kill counts.”

Yu Jiuling acknowledged and headed up the slope with his men.

Li Chi then looked to Gao Xining. “Go organize the city’s civilians to boil water. If the enemy packs in too tightly below, we can pour it down on them.”

Gao Xining turned and ran off at once.

By now, the Yongzhou Army had appeared on the horizon — a black tide spreading across the earth, advancing to swallow the land.

They had arrived less than half a day behind the Ning Army. Had Li Chi’s column moved even slightly slower, they might have been caught and surrounded outside the city walls.

On the surface, this tiny county seat seemed of little use. But in practice, once the fighting started, having this city or not made an enormous difference.

“When the enemy attacks, once every man has emptied his quiver, fall back immediately and make room for the comrades behind you.”

Li Chi walked along the wall, calling out reminders as he went.

“Behind you are the bamboo poles we just hauled up. The moment the enemy tries to scale the wall with ladders, use those poles to push their ladders down.”

“Bows first, then repeating crossbows. Don’t waste shots. Aim to kill with every arrow.”

The soldiers prepared and listened, answering here and there.

“My lord!”

A centurion shouted toward Li Chi. “Don’t worry about us — we’ve fought this kind of battle more than once or twice.”

“Right, haven’t we done this all the time before? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“If they dare advance, we’ll make them regret it.”

Laughter rippled through the ranks. The situation prompted little fear. These were the Ning Army’s battle-hardened veterans — warriors who had never once yielded, heroes who had always fought outnumbered and never lost.

The wall defenses fell into place with the speed and precision of a fully drilled routine. The Ning Army moved fast and steady.

The Yongzhou Army, for their part, could not attack the moment they arrived — they had not converged from a single direction. Forces closing in from all sides needed time to regroup, and the generals had to ride to report to Han Feibao and await his orders.

So although the Yongzhou Army was already visible, there would be no battle today.

Besides, the sight of Li Chi holding a small city with his force had surely caught the Yongzhou command off guard. Encircling and crushing an enemy in open country with superior numbers, and besieging a city, were two entirely different propositions.

Even with a tenfold numerical advantage, the effects were worlds apart. In an open encirclement, the full weight of that superiority could be brought to bear. But in a siege, the number of troops that could actually attack at any moment was capped — you couldn’t storm a city with all four hundred thousand at once.

“Adviser Yuan.”

Han Feibao studied the city through his spyglass for a while, then turned to Yuan Zhen. “Given the situation, should we not rush to attack — and instead take more time to prepare?”

They hadn’t brought scaling ladders. If they wanted to take the city, brute-forcing the gate was the only option.

But from what he could see, the gate was surely sealed.

“There’s bamboo everywhere here,” Yuan Zhen said. “Send men to cut bamboo — it’s faster than felling trees for ladders. Look at the city walls, General: they aren’t tall. The difficulty isn’t climbing the wall itself — it’s the slope you have to climb to reach it. Bamboo ladders will be enough.”

He looked at Han Feibao. “Also — deploy the rattan shield infantry.”

Han Feibao nodded. “As the adviser says.”

He ordered his subordinates to take men out and cut bamboo, fashioning a batch of bamboo ladders with all possible speed.

And so both sides prepared. Yet even in the act of preparing, the weight of what was coming pressed down on everyone like a stone.

Two days later, the Yongzhou Army had completed all their preparations. Han Feibao ordered the assault.

“Li Jin!”

Han Feibao called out. The general Li Jin standing below stepped forward and clasped his fist. “At your command.”

Han Feibao pointed at Xianlai County. “You lead the attack. Take the city in a single push.”

Li Jin acknowledged, and led his personal troops forward.

At first the Yongzhou Army advanced in neat rectangular formations, their ranks immaculate. Once they reached the base of the slope, the assault columns opened up and the soldiers began charging forward, rattan shields raised.

Xianlai County was built into the hillside, conforming to the terrain. There was one main road into the city, but it was not wide.

Watching the dark mass of rattan shield infantry surge forward, Li Chi raised his hand, tracking the enemy’s distance.

“Fire arrows!”

Li Chi gave the order. “Loose!”

As his command fell, a sheet of fire streaked skyward — like the Milky Way poured down to earth. Like a vast cascade of flame that had suddenly materialized in midair.

Back when he first crossed swords with the Yongzhou Army, Li Chi had already worked out the counter to their rattan shields.

Rattan shields were tough because they had been soaked repeatedly in hemp oil and dried in the sun, over and over. A sword blow only left a shallow mark. But fire was their weakness.

The fire arrows rained down. The Yongzhou soldiers instinctively raised their shields to cover themselves. Arrows thudded in thick and fast; in moments the front ranks had bristling pincushions for shields.

And then — in an instant — the shields caught.

Once rattan ignites, the flames spread with breathtaking speed.

Before long, soldiers were flinging their burning shields aside, and the first wave of the assault collapsed in short order.

Han Feibao watched from the high ground, his expression darkening.

His army carried only rattan shields. Without them, the Ning Army’s archers would tear his men apart during any advance — the casualties would be catastrophic.

“Have the soldiers go to the riverbed behind us and fetch water,” Yuan Zhen said. “Find cloth — or just have them pull off their own outer garments, soak them through, and wrap the rattan shields.”

Han Feibao immediately had it done. The good news for the Yongzhou Army was that the river was not far — three or four *li* at most. Men carried water back on shoulder poles and in their arms, stripped their outer layers and soaked them, then wrapped the shields.

But this cost them considerable time, and by now the sky was beginning to darken.

“Adviser Yuan — a night attack?”

Han Feibao asked.

Yuan Zhen shook his head. “The assault corridor is narrow. A night attack still places our men under the Ning archers’ field of fire, and our own archers won’t be able to see the defenders on the walls.”

At this point Han Feibao deferred to Yuan Zhen in all things, so he ordered his soldiers to continue hauling water, and to wait until dawn to attack.

The night passed quickly. At first light, the Yongzhou soldiers — shields now wrapped in soaked cloth — charged again in a surging black wave.

Up on the slope, the moment Yu Jiuling spotted the enemy coming, he gave the order.

His soldiers grabbed two neighboring bamboo stalks and bent them down together. The stalks were connected at the top like a slingshot; when the soldiers released them simultaneously, the bamboo snapped back, hurling the stones into the air.

These stones were no match for proper trebuchet boulders in size, but they could still inflict some damage on the enemy.

“Let them taste our armor-piercing arrows,” Li Chi said, turning to Zhuang Wudi. “Change arrows!”

Zhuang Wudi, commanding the archers, relayed the order immediately. The soldiers swapped their standard arrows for the armor-piercing bolts that only the Ning Army fielded.

Li Chi had devised these together with his sworn brothers from the Hanging Blade Sect — the penetrating power of the spiral-tipped armor-piercing arrows was extreme.

To counter the Yongzhou rattan shield troops, he hadn’t just prepared fire; he’d prepared armor-piercing rounds as well.

The arrows spiraled out with fierce rotation — this being their first real field test, the initial results looked promising. But Li Chi quickly noticed that the wet cloth wrapped around the rattan shields was blunting the armor-piercing arrows as well.

Such a simple measure — and it had neutered both fire and the armor-piercing arrows at once.

Taking advantage of that lull, the Yongzhou Army surged forward in force.

Fortunately for the defenders, the attackers were climbing uphill, which slowed their advance.

At this range, the repeating crossbows came fully into their own — both in lethality and in the sheer psychological terror they inflicted.

A single volley from a repeating crossbow loosed over a hundred bolts. There were always gaps in shield coverage. The front ranks of the Yongzhou Army began to go down in numbers, the wounds almost invariably in the lower body.

And once a man was down, without a shield to cover him, the archers finished the work.

Moreover, the slope itself worked against the attackers — fallen men became obstacles for those climbing behind them.

Li Chi watched the battle, his brow furrowed.

The repeating crossbow bolts were not the same as regular arrows. They were not carrying enough in reserve to keep this up for long.

“At this rate, our stockpile…” Zhuang Wudi said, a note of worry in his voice.

Li Chi was silent for a moment, then suddenly said: “Pour water. Keep pouring it down — don’t stop.”

Zhuang Wudi didn’t understand at first, but passed the order without hesitation.

The soldiers on the wall split into two groups — one kept loosing arrows, the other started hauling water over the edge, pouring without pause.

From morning to afternoon, the relentless deluge turned the slope into a quagmire.

The Yongzhou Army’s advance slowed again. Men slipped and fell as they climbed, scrambling on all fours.

—