The naval battle for Guangzhou had begun.
King Ale personally led the attack. Though he prided himself on his fierce cavalry that none could match on land, and believed the Southern Barbarians’ fighting power was beyond Great Wei’s ability to defeat, on water, his troops’ usual mounted archery skills were diminished, their warriors unaccustomed to naval combat.
This gave Guangzhou a fighting chance.
But how could King Ale be considered ordinary?
Having led armies for years with strict military discipline, when his subordinates proved inept at naval warfare, he had them train. Those who fell ill from the adjustment were discarded; if they truly couldn’t succeed in their attacks, they would trade lives for victory.
However, after initiating the naval campaign, King Ale began to regret his decision.
His original intention had been to capture Great Wei’s Princess Imperial Dan Yang of Guangzhou before they could react, then use her to force Yan Shang to withdraw his troops from Jiannan. If Yan Shang refused to retreat, King Ale planned to threaten Mu Wanyao’s life. But upon reaching Guangzhou, he found the situation different from what he had imagined.
First, they were poor at naval warfare; second, Mu Wanyao and Guangzhou had been well-prepared.
Guangzhou could not be taken quickly.
But having come this far, King Ale couldn’t turn back. Beyond becoming a laughingstock, the massive losses in provisions and troops sustained during the march couldn’t be compensated without the Great Wei army paying the price. This enormous waste was something King Ale couldn’t bear.
King Ale now realized this year’s war with Great Wei wouldn’t be as easy as he had initially envisioned. He had planned Guangzhou as a short-term strike, but in reality, Guangzhou had become like quicksand, bogging him down.
The Battle of Guangzhou had become a war of attrition.
King Ale reorganized his forces and adjusted his strategy—having come this far, no matter how difficult, he would execute his original plan to capture Mu Wanyao.
As long as he could take Guangzhou, or even just capture Mu Wanyao, the Southern Barbarians’ losses in this campaign could be recovered!
Meanwhile, upon discovering that King Ale refused to retreat after failing to take the city, Mu Wanyao had to consider other scenarios. Naval warfare was viable, but their troops were inferior to the Southern Barbarians’. After observing the battles for several days, she realized that if King Ale continued his life-for-life tactics, Guangzhou would soon fall.
She needed to consider more options.
For instance, how to defend the city after the waterways were breached. Guangzhou didn’t need to be invincible; it only needed to tie down the Southern Barbarians to give the other two main fighting forces time to buffer.
Mu Wanyao began instructing the construction of city walls.
While soldiers fought outside the city, all civilians were mobilized to add a protective parapet outside the original city walls. The parapet’s construction employed a “twisted entrance” design.
This meant the inner and outer city gates weren’t directly aligned. Even if enemy forces breached the outer gate, they would need to circle to find the corresponding inner gate before continuing their assault. This asymmetrical arrangement of inner and outer gates prevented direct arrow attacks and increased the difficulty of siege warfare.
Simultaneously, while studying terrain maps with her generals, Mu Wanyao discovered the city had both land gates and water gates for cargo transport. Usually, gates leading to the mainland were heavily guarded and difficult for enemies to attack. Although the water gates had iron barriers to prevent enemy infiltration, they remained weak points in the defenses.
Mu Wanyao ordered, “Block all six water gates with stones.”
The general exclaimed, “What?”
Mu Wanyao explained, “Since these areas are inherently weak in defenses, rather than maintain them, we’ll abandon their use. Block these six gates and redirect the troops to more crucial positions.”
After a month of naval warfare, the generals had developed a clear understanding of this resolute princess. Mu Wanyao’s beauty was captivating, but her heart was cold and ruthless.
If not for her rigorous supervision of war preparations and relentless drilling of troops day and night, how could Guangzhou have resisted the fierce Southern Barbarian forces? No one dared underestimate the princess now; the generals treated Mu Wanyao as their backbone, consulting her on everything. A nation’s princess defending a city should indeed be its leader.
During this time, Mu Wanyao maintained a constant correspondence with her husband Yan Shang in Jiannan, exchanging information about their respective battle situations—
Yan Shang was extremely worried about Guangzhou’s ability to defend itself, but Mu Wanyao remained confident, telling him not to worry.
Instead, Mu Wanyao felt Yan Shang’s situation was more difficult: “The Southern Barbarians’ cavalry is strong, Great Wei’s forces are weak. Their poverty leaves them no room for retreat, making them more determined to press forward. Even with you and Yang San, the Jiannan battlefield will be challenging. Moreover, Meng Zaishi’s military talent is extraordinary, and he is both crafty and ambitious—you must be careful.”
Yan Shang cautioned, “Guangzhou was never meant to be a battlefield. If you encounter difficulties, you must inform me. I’ve heard King Ale is a Southern Barbarian hero whose military leadership even Meng Zaishi respects. You must be extremely careful…”
Mu Wanyao replied casually, “My husband, you’re mistaken. War and city defense are different matters. Even if they take the waterways, it doesn’t mean they can capture Guangzhou. Warfare requires military strength, but for city defense, having people is enough.”
Yan Shang wrote again: “With you defending the city, I can rest assured. Based on my observations of the Jiannan campaign, I must warn you about two aspects. Once the enemy occupies a city, their first action is to set fires; their second is to violate women. Women suffer the most abuse during city battles—you must protect them.”
Mu Wanyao responded, “I understand. Thank you for warning me, Second Brother. I had only feared the emergence of cannibalism. Has your situation become so severe? You must be very distressed.”
Yan Shang’s next letter didn’t address whether he was distressed: “No matter what…”
Mu Wanyao replied: “No matter what, troops must establish authority, and battle means fighting to the death.”
Once war begins, there’s no turning back, no room for defeatism. Battle means fighting to the death, with no hope for luck—
Two months into Guangzhou’s war, the Southern Barbarians focused on capturing the waterways.
On the Jiannan battlefield, both sides’ forces were deadlocked. As Mu Wanyao had predicted, after King Ale’s departure and Meng Zaishi’s full assumption of command, the Southern Barbarians’ forces strengthened without their leader. Naturally, after half a year of familiarization between Yang Si and his troops, their coordination had improved, and Great Wei’s forces had also grown stronger.
Both Great Wei and the Southern Barbarians had entered their most powerful period.
Meng Zaishi didn’t necessarily need to defeat Great Wei; his ultimate goal remained killing King Ale and negotiating peace with Great Wei. But regardless of his final plans, Meng Zaishi knew he must win at least on the Jiannan battlefield.
To negotiate, one needs the strength to bargain. He cared neither about King Ale’s fate nor the situation in Hexi. In Jiannan, Meng Zaishi was determined to kill Yang Si to establish his authority. Yang Si, a commander still growing in capability, was and would continue to be a threat to him.
He wanted to eliminate this threat before it fully matured.
Coincidentally, Yang Si thought similarly. Even if Great Wei wanted to negotiate peace with the Southern Barbarians, their leader should not be someone like Meng Zaishi.
That year during the New Year period, with Great Wei engulfed in war, no one had the spirit to celebrate. The common people could only pray for the war’s end in the coming year.
Even in Chang’an, with Hexi above and Jiannan below, the capital sandwiched in between, the Emperor constantly felt the threat of imminent danger. Particularly as court officials and palace eunuchs continuously fought for influence over war-related matters, the Emperor couldn’t mediate, leaving himself exhausted.
Thus, the Emperor kept pressing about when the war could end.
Yan Shang alone shielded Jiannan from the Emperor’s pressure. Daily, the Emperor meddled and overstepped, questioning why they hadn’t attacked yet, why the war hadn’t ended, whether Yan Shang had other motives, and why the Jiannan battlefield showed no progress.
The pressure from the central government was stifling.
But because Yan Shang acted as a buffer, Jiannan’s soldiers could focus solely on fighting without having to deal with court politics.
Compared to Jiannan, Hexi wasn’t so fortunate. After all, Hexi was too close to Chang’an, while Jiannan’s terrain was treacherous—if the Southern Barbarians hadn’t insisted on taking Jiannan, it wouldn’t have been a good battlefield. Hexi’s open terrain made it an ideal battlefield for the Southern Barbarians.
Great Wei’s Hexi battlefield had been in a stalemate with the Southern Barbarians, but after Minister Liu’s arrival, they received central government support and gained more confidence in fighting this war.
However, following the Emperor’s unauthorized command of Hexi, the battlefield began to fall into chaos.
Liu Wenji continuously relayed the Emperor’s orders to Hexi: “His Majesty asks why you haven’t engaged in battle after several days of rest?”
Minister Liu replied that snow had fallen and the troops needed rest.
Liu Wenji responded, “If the snow in Hexi makes it difficult for you, it’s equally difficult for the attacking Southern Barbarians. Since it’s difficult for both sides, you just need to be stronger than them. His Majesty orders you to engage in battle.”
Minister Liu’s face turned ashen: “This is not the right time for battle!”
The court envoy sent by Liu Wenji smiled: “It was His Majesty who wanted peace negotiations, while you insisted on fighting. His Majesty, touched by your heroic spirit and patriotism, agreed to this war. His Majesty is supporting you with the nation’s full resources, with no shortage of provisions or military pay, not for you to sit here drinking in the open.”
The general behind Minister Liu looked displeased: “What do you mean by that, Sir? Even drinking is to boost the soldiers’ morale.”
The envoy sneered: “Boosting morale would be worthwhile after victory. What’s there to boost without winning? In any case, His Majesty urges you to deploy troops. If you won’t deploy, His Majesty will replace you with commanders who will.”
Minister Liu: “Changing commanders at the frontline is a grave taboo!”
The envoy: “His Majesty has no choice. He lies awake all night, worried about the war… When the ruler worries, his officials should feel shame—doesn’t the Minister understand this principle? As a loyal official, you should help ease your ruler’s concerns. Minister, deploy for battle.”
Minister Liu forced out words through gritted teeth: “The time isn’t right.”
This unyielding response was transmitted back to the central government. The Emperor’s expression remained unchanged as he continued issuing urgent military summons. Seeing the Emperor so anxious, Liu Wenji was spared from playing the villain and could simply observe coldly.
Liu Wenji had already anticipated—
With His Majesty urging battle daily, even if Minister Liu remained firm, could those Hexi soldiers be equally steadfast in withstanding pressure from the central government?
Hexi would soon deploy troops.
And according to Liu Wenji’s secret intelligence exchanges with the Southern Barbarians and correspondence with Longyou… Minister Liu’s battle would be very difficult. If Hexi lost and Great Wei ceded territory, wouldn’t the effect be similar to what the Southern Barbarians wanted?
By then, Liu Wenji would have resolved his vulnerability to the Southern Barbarians’ blackmail and could truly secure his position—
It was laughable how personal desires could influence matters of state, but Longyou still deployed troops.
Liangzhou in Longyou was currently relatively peaceful. After Hexi entered the war, most civilians moved to Liangzhou. Longyou’s forces were stationed outside Liangzhou, guarding Longyou’s final defense line.
Liu Ruozhu and her husband Lin Dao were also in Liangzhou City. Since her grandfather’s arrival in Longyou, the grandparent and grandchild had finally met. Minister Liu felt relieved, and Liu Ruozhu was also reassured seeing her grandfather personally come to defend. With her grandfather present, he surely wouldn’t abandon Hexi.
However, just after the New Year, Longyou’s situation became tense due to pressure from the central government.
That night, after the nursemaid had put the young child to sleep, Liu Ruozhu and Lin Dao shared some worried conversation about the war before retiring. They hadn’t slept long before being awakened by the outside commotion, though Longyou had been at war for half a year, and such midnight emergencies were no longer unprecedented.
Liu Ruozhu and Lin Dao hurriedly left their residence to see frequent troop movements in the city and civilians fleeing.
Just as she was about to send someone to inquire about the situation, a soldier rushed over, and upon seeing the lady, grabbed her: “My Lady, Lord! The Minister says we’ve fallen into a trap, someone leaked intelligence, the Southern Barbarians are attacking the city at midnight, our forces can’t hold, and we’re retreating.
“The Minister asks Lord Lin and Lady to lead all city residents to retreat inside the pass!”
After delivering Minister Liu’s message, the soldier turned to find others, but Liu Ruozhu grabbed him: “What about my grandfather? My grandfather is so old, isn’t he coming with us?”
The soldier replied: “The Minister said he came to supervise the battle, how could he abandon his troops and leave? The Minister asks you to retreat first, their forces will guard the rear, preventing the Southern Barbarian savages from harming the civilians.”
In such an urgent moment, there was no time for more words.
Liu Ruozhu suppressed her worry and exchanged glances with Lin Dao. He immediately left to organize the civilians’ orderly evacuation, preventing trampling deaths and casualties among their people. Liu Ruozhu first had the nursemaid take their child to evacuate with the civilians, then began organizing the books left in their residence.
After Lin Dao returned, they loaded the books and classics onto carts, took inventory, and began evacuating with the civilians.
Liangzhou’s residents were more accustomed to war than those in Guanzhong. Even being roused at midnight, with officials directing them and knowing the Minister’s granddaughter was among them sharing their flight, what was there to fear?
The civilians retreated first, with the army covering the rear, while over a hundred thousand Southern Barbarian troops attacked from behind—a bloody battle engulfing the city.
Someone had leaked intelligence, revealing Liangzhou’s military arrangements in advance. Great Wei, caught in a sudden attack, had no time for extensive planning. The Emperor had pressed them day and night to fight, and under this pressure, on this night, they were forced into battle.
Snow several feet deep hindered both sides’ movements.
This shouldn’t have been good timing for battle, but the Southern Barbarians couldn’t wait, and Great Wei couldn’t retreat.
As the civilians evacuated first, Minister Liu, despite his advanced age, still rode horseback wielding a sword alongside his soldiers. Horses struggled in the deep snow while soldiers faced both nature’s challenges and the cruel pursuing army.
Minister Liu’s voice thundered like lightning as he continuously encouraged everyone: “Once we reach the next city, all will be well! We can reorganize our forces and cooperate with the next city to drive back the barbarians! This is our territory—they cannot win!”
It was the Minister’s example that prevented the army from collapsing after the midnight attack, allowing them to persist until now.
From midnight until dawn, they fought and fled exhaustedly. As they drew closer to the next walled city, the soldiers saw hope and fought with renewed vigor. However, those at the front encountered difficulties. When Minister Liu sent someone to enter the city, they discovered the advance was stalled with no progress.
Upon hearing his subordinate’s report, Minister Liu’s expression changed drastically. Not daring to let the soldiers know the news, he rode to the city walls.
He saw civilians who had fled there before them clustered like ants before the city gates, packed densely together, but the gates remained sealed, with not a single civilian allowed inside.
Minister Liu became furious upon seeing soldiers’ shadows on the wall. He had someone relay his message: “I am here, bearing the Prime Minister’s seal! Will you not open the gates to receive the civilians and join us in fighting to resist the enemy?”
Shortly after, a rope was lowered from the tower with a bamboo basket containing a soldier. This young soldier, head bowed, passed through the crowd of civilians shouting for the gates to open and came to answer the Minister: “Our Military Commissioner says your forces were defeated too quickly—there must be spies. We dare not let you in, fearing spies might harm everyone in the city.”
Minister Liu’s beard quivered with anger: “Preposterous!”
Containing his fury, he continued: “If you dare not let the soldiers in, you should at least open the gates for the civilians! Isn’t it an official’s duty to protect the common people?”
The messenger soldier, knowing he would be scolded, blushed with shame but kept his head down: “Our Military Commissioner says these refugees aren’t civilians under his jurisdiction—they’re not his concern. He only needs to defend this city; the rest are not our responsibility.”
Minister Liu was momentarily stunned upon hearing this.
The general accompanying Minister Liu cursed loudly upon hearing this, never expecting the enemy’s fire to come from their side. They fought for their country, yet now were locked outside, unable even to enter the city gates.
A soldier came running, breathless: “General, Minister! The enemy is less than ten li away!”
The cavalry advanced southward with unstoppable momentum.
Minister Liu looked at the dense crowd of civilians unable to enter the city, then raised his head to view the blazing torches on the city walls. He turned back to look at the troops following him, noting the blood staining the soldiers’ bodies and the anxiety and hope on their faces.
Even the Emperor’s daily urgings to fight hadn’t made him as desperate as this night.
The Emperor’s pressure could be anticipated, but the darkness in people’s hearts was unpredictable.
The general asked in anguish: “Minister, what should we do?”
Minister Liu’s face turned ashen: “Go to those civilians, find my granddaughter and her husband, tell them this city won’t let civilians in. Tell them not to hold out hope—lead the civilians and continue fleeing toward Guanzhong.”
The general acknowledged.
Seeing Minister Liu so composed, he too gained confidence. Wiping blood from his face, the general stared intently at the elderly but still vigorous man: “What about us?”
Minister Liu countered: “General Guo, do you fear death?”
The general was stunned.
Minister Liu raised his head, gazing at the endless sky as he murmured: “I was born to a noble family, entered court service through recommendation at just sixteen, and now I’m seventy-six… Since I first bound my hair and received an education, for sixty full years, I’ve served in court. Serving the emperor, loyal to his wishes.
“I’ve witnessed the great house tilting, the wild geese flying south, the bloody setting sun… In my old age, everything, every single thing, has been in vain.
“I thought my strength would be spent waiting for retirement to enjoy peace. The future of Great Wei, the sun and moon of the court—what could I do… But now… this is good too!”
The wilderness was desolate, silent as death.
The general stared at him, the flames illuminating the old man’s clear eyes brimming with tears. The general didn’t know what to say as the old man walked past him toward the soldiers, shouting: “Order the army—tonight we fight to the death! Any who flee will be executed immediately!”
Liu Ruozhu and her husband received Minister Liu’s message and knew something was wrong. As they helped evacuate the civilians, people began to realize the situation. Discovering the officials wouldn’t let them into the city, they started to panic, shouting: “The court has abandoned us! The army is withdrawing! We’re going to die!
“Hexi will be lost, we’ll all die here—everyone run!”
Liu Ruozhu shouted: “No! The court hasn’t abandoned us, don’t panic…”
But her voice, however loud, was drowned in the crowd like ripples in a flood. No one listened, no one believed her. The civilians descended into chaos—some crying and beating on the city walls begging to enter, others turning to flee desperately into the distance, some even going the wrong way into areas vulnerable to enemy arrows…
Seeing them flee in panic, Liu Ruozhu desperately wanted to show them how to escape properly. But with thousands of civilians in chaos, even shouting until her voice was hoarse couldn’t make them listen.
Lin Dao gripped her shoulder: “Ruozhu, let it be… we’ve done what we could, we must flee too… We’ve warned the civilians to escape, but we can’t lose our lives here. We have books to protect, and our child… Ruozhu, let’s go.”
Liu Ruozhu’s heart ached, but she could only nod, steeling herself as she and her husband escorted their carts of books toward the inner passes under the protection of their household guards—
The sky began to lighten with dawn’s first gray, after a night of terror.
As light appeared, Liu Ruozhu and Lin Dao stood on a high dune, watching civilians scatter like mud in all directions. They looked back toward the city they had fled from. The flames of war blazed there, burning all night without cease.
Liu Ruozhu stared, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
She knew in her heart her grandfather would die there—he wouldn’t retreat. Her grandfather was the current Prime Minister, having served two emperors, should have retired, should have been enjoying his old age! And yet, and yet…
Looking again at the scattered civilians, she saw enemy forces catching up, arrows flying in volleys, and iron hooves trampling. She and Lin Dao walked along the safe route opened by officials, while those civilians scattered in panic, hunted down by cruel enemies…
All this left her body cold.
Lin Dao gripped her trembling hand: “Don’t look anymore, Ruozhu, let’s go.”
Liu Ruozhu suddenly covered her face and wept, choking: “This can’t be… this can’t be!
“We can’t let everyone die so meaninglessly, can’t knowingly let them die while I escape alone. If all the civilians die while we flee to safety, what meaning would there be?”
Liu Ruozhu raised her eyes, tears rolling down her face as she looked through them at the books she and her husband had protected all this way. For these books, they had traveled from Chang’an to Hexi, from Hexi to Liangzhou, from Liangzhou to here… years, thousands of days and nights, all to protect these books!
And yet, and yet!
Liu Ruozhu suddenly grabbed a torch from a nearby soldier’s hand and walked toward the cart of books. Her hand holding the torch trembled, but she still let go, pouring fire down to ignite the books.
Lin Dao’s eyes bulged as he lunged for the books, but Liu Ruozhu grabbed him: “Husband! We can’t keep these books anymore!”
Through tears, she continued: “My grandfather may already be dead, civilians are being killed before our eyes—we must save the people! We must burn the books, use such a large fire to draw the enemy’s attention, and draw them away from the innocent civilians! We can escape, but we must give others a chance to live!”
Lin Dao stared at her, voice hoarse: “These are thousands of years of our ancestors’ wisdom…”
Liu Ruozhu cried out: “But they’re worth less than human lives! Less than human lives!”
Holding the torch, she looked at the exhausted guards around her, and through the flames seemed to see her grandfather dying in the inferno of battle, then looked again at the scattered civilians… Liu Ruozhu threw her torch completely into the sea of books.
She ignited these books, the wooden materials creating a massive blaze that shot skyward, illuminating the land around them.
She fell to the ground sobbing as she watched thousands of days and nights destroyed by her own hands, saw all the hope she had strived to protect since her teens burned by her action… The desert, fierce flames, and daylight illuminated her thin, trembling body.
She wept bitterly but forced herself to rise and lead people forward. Longyou had fallen, Liangzhou had fallen. Her hope could be destroyed, and her decades of dedication could be abandoned… but the civilians must live.
People must survive.
Lin Dao’s eyes also filled with tears as he knelt beside her, watching their ancestors’ wisdom destroyed by their own hands.
Heaven and earth grieved—what could mortals do?
In Guangzhou, the naval battle ended as King Ale sacrificed many soldiers to lead his forces ashore.
Mu Wanyao led her soldiers in observing the battle, and seeing the enemy finally landing with no hope of turning the tide, she immediately withdrew without prolonging the fight. Protected by soldiers, Mu Wanyao returned to the city, instructing: “From now on, we begin scorched earth tactics. Close the gates—the siege defense begins!
“From today forward, no one is permitted to step one foot outside the city gates!”
Scorched earth meant all civilians outside the city must return, with no one allowed to leave. Guangzhou would begin its siege defense, closing its gates. The true siege battle was only now beginning.
The soldiers transmitted the princess’s orders and hurriedly returned to the city as the enemy, just landed, eagerly attacked them. While the main enemy force was still adjusting to being ashore, King Ale had already dispatched advance troops to harass the retreating Great Wei soldiers, using them like assassins.
Mu Wanyao was being escorted back to the city—as a princess who had been giving orders, she was an obvious target. In the darkness, several men suddenly sprang from hiding, charging toward her.
These barbarians coordinated well—several attacked the soldiers protecting Mu Wanyao while one, holding a blade, lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and raising his weapon. As he swung down, a bright flash shot upward from below. With a clear clash, weapons collided!
The barbarian’s eyes blazed with fury as he saw the beautiful princess he had pinned beneath him holding a dagger. Her strength was no match for his—as the enemy pressed down his weapon, Mu Wanyao’s dagger cut her flesh, blood flowing down her palm.
But because she had maintained her grip on the dagger, she had blocked a fatal strike.
The barbarian raged, cursing in his language.
Pinned beneath him, Mu Wanyao’s gaze remained bright and cold, showing no trace of panic.
The barbarian grabbed her wrist, trying to wrench the dagger from the fragile lady’s hand. Mu Wanyao struggled desperately, blood flowing freely, but refused to let go.
At this crucial moment, Fang Tong, having dealt with the other attackers, turned to see the princess pinned down. His blood instantly surged in rage as he roared, leaping forward with a chopping palm strike: “You dare harm Her Highness, villain—!”
They helped the coughing Mu Wanyao up from the ground, easily dispatching the attackers before gathering to check on her.
Mu Wanyao, still coughing, gripped her injured palm as she caught her breath: “Don’t mind them now, get into the city.”
She couldn’t understand why the enemy would attempt such a dangerous move—they couldn’t possibly have hurt her under everyone’s watch… These Southern Barbarians were truly simple-minded, laughably so.