——————————————

Many people would find no sleep that night — among them Pei Xuecheng, standing on the walls of Mei City, and Pei Qi, sitting in the Imperial Palace within.

The former was trying to figure out how to make the Emperor pretend he hadn’t seen any of it. The latter was trying to figure out how to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

To bring it up openly would humiliate them both.

Of course it wasn’t only the two of them. There were also the Shu Province soldiers dancing around the bonfires in the Ning camp — including five hundred men from the staff camp who had once carried themselves with great pride. Their dignity had been shattered by their own footwork.

The dance was taught by Yu Jiuling.

Everyone learned it quickly enough. Those who were reluctant or who pretended not to catch on were, at that point, lying on the ground.

Yu Jiuling stood to the side offering artistic direction, looking for all the world like a deeply dedicated instructor.

“Good — now follow my count. One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four. Now turn the other way — go, keep the beat, one-two-three-four… Good, now back again, and kick on the return, yes, just like that.”

Director Yu moved back and forth through the ranks, ensuring every group felt his personal attention and guidance.

The long night finally gave way to dawn. Pei Xuecheng assumed his captured men would probably be executed — a humiliating night, at least mercifully over.

But the Ning army had no intention of ending it there.

At first light, the thousand-plus Shu prisoners were marched to a position roughly two or three li outside Mei City.

Ning soldiers carried out tables and chairs and benches, arranged them neatly, and seated the Shu prisoners around them.

Then they began serving food.

Pei Xuecheng didn’t want to watch — yet couldn’t help himself. He had to see what new trick the Ning army had cooked up.

So he watched as Ning soldiers arranged his men ten to a table, with eight dishes and a bowl of soup at each.

That was not a bad spread, all things considered.

Under the gaze of every pair of eyes on Mei City’s walls, the captured Shu Province soldiers ate a lavish breakfast — with meat and fish.

When Pei Xuecheng saw the Ning soldiers clearing away the tables and chairs after the meal, he thought it was finally over.

It was not.

He watched as Ning soldiers produced a collection of musical instruments from somewhere — he had no idea where they had come from.

Then they gave one to each prisoner and organized them to learn how to play.

At that moment, Pei Xuecheng spotted the King of Ning’s banner.

Yes — the King of Ning had personally come to give the prisoners a music lesson.

A cacophony rose from outside the city walls. Forget about melody — these men were turning instruments capable of pleasant sound into instruments capable of none.

Yet the King of Ning was gracious.

He even personally stepped in to demonstrate, like a venerable elder full of patient wisdom.

Pei Xuecheng was so furious smoke practically streamed from his nostrils. He ordered the heavy crossbow carriages on the walls to open fire in that direction.

Dozens of powerful bolts launched toward the scene — startling the prisoners into a fright.

Then… the Ning army identified the positions of the remaining functioning wall-mounted heavy crossbows. Immediately, boulders began arcing up onto the walls.

The captured Shu Province soldiers sat and watched. They watched the stones fly overhead. They watched the boulders smash into the walls. They watched their former comrades scrambling for cover.

At least they themselves no longer had to worry about being hit. That was the only silver lining.

The days that followed brought double humiliation to Pei Qi’s men — every single day.

The prisoners arrived at their designated spot outside the city on schedule. Their music instructors arrived on schedule as well.

Whether they played well mattered little — as long as sound came out, it would serve as accompaniment to the Ning trebuchets’ bombardment.

On the Ning side, Yu Jiuling stood watching the prisoners, who had grown visibly numb, and sighed.

“They were lively men once. Think about it — the time they spent dancing around the bonfires feels like it wasn’t so long ago. Like it was just days past.”

Xiahou Zhuo said: “If you’d said that two days ago, you could’ve said ‘just yesterday.'”

Yu Jiuling: “I only just thought of it.”

He turned to Xiahou Zhuo: “There’s a wonderful piece for ensemble — I believe it’s called ‘Golden Serpent Dance.’ I wonder if I could teach it to them.”

Xiahou Zhuo: “What you’d be teaching would not be ‘Golden Serpent Dance.’ What you’d be teaching is ‘Frogs Screaming in Chaos.'”

Yu Jiuling, with great solemnity: “You may insult me. You may also insult my musical ability. Insult me however you like — whatever makes you happy.”

Xiahou Zhuo kicked him: “How can you be so shameless!”

By now, counting from the start — excluding the few days the trebuchets had been swapped out — the Ning army had been battering Mei City’s walls for over fifteen days.

Xiahou Zhuo’s initial plan had been carried out, but the breach had not yet reached a size suitable for an assault.

He decided to hammer it for three more days, focusing everything on that breach.

Half a day into the resumed bombardment, Yu Jiuling sat watching and started laughing. He pointed at the breach: “Brother, at this rate you’re basically patching it back up for them.”

Xiahou Zhuo: “Shut up!”

Three days later, the breach had collapsed so severely that the people inside the city were sick with dread. The bottom edge of the gap was now only about half a zhang from the ground.

Even that half-zhang was academic — there was already a considerable pile of rubble heaped below it.

Up on the walls, Pei Xuecheng had assembled a crew of craftsmen and soldiers attempting to repair the damage. But by this point the Ning tower wagons had begun rolling forward, and the soldiers manning them used their fixed heavy crossbows to shoot at anyone working on the breach.

Anyone who showed their face got shot. Anyone who appeared got knocked down.

Pei Xuecheng crouched to the side, watching the breach that could no longer be repaired, and muttered: “At least the rubble down there will make rough footing for the enemy when they attack.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the Ning trebuchets resumed firing — but the ammunition had changed. Instead of boulders, they were now launching packed earth sacks.

The sacks burst on impact, the dirt filling in the gaps between the rubble.

Pei Xuecheng actually found himself wondering whether the Ning army had somehow overheard him grumbling just now.

The switch to earth sacks meant that the real assault couldn’t be far off.

That night, in the Ning army camp.

“Commander!” Gao Zhen stepped forward from the assembled officers and clasped his fists toward Xiahou Zhuo: “A soldier is trained for a thousand days to be used in one moment. The Wolf-Ape Battalion is ready to attack. I ask the Commander to entrust the main assault to the Wolf-Ape Battalion!”

Xiahou Zhuo glanced at Li Chi, who was seated to the side. Li Chi said: “Why are you looking at me? I just told them — military operations are yours to decide.”

Xiahou Zhuo gave a casual nod and turned to Gao Zhen: “The breach in Mei City’s wall is now viable for exploitation. Since you’re requesting the Wolf-Ape Battalion for this, I’ll give you the honor of breaching the city.”

Gao Zhen bowed deeply: “Thank you, Commander, for this honor!”

Xiahou Zhuo said: “Every soldier in the Wolf-Ape Battalion is elite among elites. Remember — do not overreach out of greed for glory. Do not act rashly out of impatience. If your soldiers suffer needless casualties through poor command, I will have your head by military law.”

Gao Zhen stood at rigid attention: “The Commander need not worry!”

Xiahou Zhuo: “Go and prepare. We attack tonight.”

Gao Zhen received his orders, turned, and sprinted out.

The assault strategy had long since been worked out by Li Chi, and all necessary preparations were already in place.

Without the Wolf-Ape Battalion, a night assault on Mei City would never have been considered. In the dark, the enemy couldn’t see them clearly — but neither could they see the enemy. And even if a small force broke through at night, the follow-up troops might not arrive in time, leaving the vanguard to be wiped out.

Xiahou Zhuo walked to the tent entrance and looked up at the sky. The weather was overcast — not great visibility.

He nodded: “Waited a few days for it. Finally, good weather.”

Overcast. Good weather.

When full darkness fell, the Wolf-Ape Battalion began moving toward Mei City. They had waited too long for this day.

The battalion had been formed precisely to operate in the complex terrain of Shu Province. Yet in nearly two years since entering Shu, the Wolf-Ape Battalion had not seen a single true battle.

Before they set out, Gao Zhen said only one thing to his men.

“Tonight we show everyone — the Wolf-Apes are undefeatable.”

As they moved out, each man was issued a rough hempen cloak — earth-colored, dripping wet, soaked completely through.

Their elbows and knees were wrapped in layers of thick cloth or leather.

Because from two li out, they could no longer walk. They had to crawl.

Two li of crawling. Easy to say — but anyone who has actually done it knows how exhausting it truly is.

The clouds overhead were patchy, not thick. The moon flickered in and out from behind them.

These were men who, as boys, might have shouted boasts about wearing sacks and pots on their heads. Now they were genuinely crawling toward the enemy in those very sacks.

In the darkness, they moved low across the ground. The earth-colored hemp cloaks made them nearly impossible to spot from the walls.

The Shu Province garrison had almost certainly not anticipated an approach like this.

Gao Zhen crawled at the front of the formation, keeping the pace deliberate — they had to minimize any sound.

On the walls.

The Shu Province officer on duty tonight, Yao Shenru, led a squad of personal guards bearing torches on a patrol circuit of the walls.

He stopped at the breach and looked out.

“The Ning army hasn’t used the trebuchets at night for five or six days. That tells us they may be planning a night raid at any time.”

Yao Shenru scanned the men around him: “Stay sharp. If the Ning army attacks, this breach is where they’ll come.”

Every soldier on the wall acknowledged him.

At the breach itself, craftsmen and soldiers worked by torchlight attempting repairs. But the results were poor — they patched at night, and the Ning army smashed it down again during the day. The stone and mortar couldn’t set before being destroyed.

Yao Shenru studied the repair crew in silence, then raised his hand and pointed outward.

“Fire arrows.”

At his command, a volley of fire arrows launched outward. They landed on the ground in the distance like falling stars. Yao Shenru studied the area carefully. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Out on that patch of earth, the Wolf-Ape soldiers who had been hit endured the pain and the burning, lying absolutely still.

They had anticipated this — every cloak had been soaked through in advance to guard against exactly this kind of illumination fire arrow.

But the men who had been hit still had to endure the searing pain.

Gao Zhen breathed steadily. The soldier beside him had taken an arrow — yet that young man hadn’t made a single sound.

“We will win,” Gao Zhen murmured, barely audible, to himself.