In the pale, ghastly light of dawn, the outskirts of Bianliang were sunk in slaughter.

Xue Changgong spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, feeling as though his entire head were buzzing. He pushed away the physician beside him who was bandaging his forehead, and when he picked up his blade and stood, his body still swayed unsteadily.

“Get away! I’m fine! Fine! How’s the wall holding? How is it?”

He pushed his way out the door, light pouring down on him, and the sounds of slaughter instantly grew fiercer. Ahead stood the tall walls near the New Suanzao Gate, where the roar of battle was spreading along the ramparts. Then his personal guard came rushing over. “Brother-in-law, brother-in-law, are you all right?”

“How dare you come down here!” Xue Changgong grabbed his young brother-in-law by the collar. “Get back up there! Up!”

“Brother-in-law, you fell from the wall! You fell off the wall! Are you all right, brother-in-law?”

Xue Changgong blinked for a moment. “I’m fine, damn it!”

Since the morning of the third day of the ninth month, the Jurchens had launched a massive assault on the city of Bianliang, concentrating their attacks on three points: Chenqiao Gate, New Suanzao Gate, and New Fengqiu Gate, with the fiercest fighting occurring at New Suanzao Gate. Xue Changgong was a junior officer in the Pengri Army, commanding over four hundred men. Not long before, the siege force led by Zongwang’s general Sai La had already crossed the moat and raised ladders against the wall. As Xue Changgong led his men in defense, he clashed with a group of Jurchen soldiers who had charged up onto the wall, and he shoved a Jurchen officer off the ramparts.

The wall was seven or eight zhang high, and the two of them fell together, landing on the canopy roof of a large cart—the Jurchen officer cushioning his fall. When he regained consciousness after a spell of unconsciousness, he found himself unharmed, which, thinking back on it now, was sheer luck.

But this was no time to dwell on his good fortune. He was practically dragging his brother-in-law along as he rushed back toward the wall. Though the Pengri Army was among the most elite forces in the Wu Dynasty, drawing the best pay and receiving the best training, this young brother-in-law was the younger brother of his late wife—he had only recently joined, and his swordsmanship had been personally taught by Xue Changgong himself, though in truth he had seen little real bloodshed. And precisely because of this, Xue Changgong was all the more determined not to let him fall back.

Atop the wall, men were pouring boiling oil down over the ramparts; arrows flew through the air as flames roared up. Xue Changgong strode in among his men and shouted at the top of his voice: “Grandpa’s back! I fell off the wall and came out without a scratch! You see that? That Jurchen bastard’s already been turned to mincemeat! I even took a couple bites! Rocks, oil—throw them down, burn them, cook them alive!”

Arrows flew past over the parapet and fell into the city. He walked along the wall almost without flinching from the danger, and the soldiers around him, seeing their commander’s ferocity, took up their defensive tools and hurled them down all the more fiercely. Not far off, a ladder had survived the fierce defense, and elite Jurchen troops came surging up it. Xue Changgong hefted his broadsword and shouted for his brother-in-law and the others to charge over.

Close combat erupted suddenly atop the wall. Xue Changgong, wielding his family’s inherited swordsmanship, traded two blows with a tall, burly Jurchen man and cut him down with a single stroke. The guards around him were locked in fierce close combat with the Jurchens as well. His brother-in-law feinted a strike, dodging aside as a Jurchen swung his blade at him, then let out a roar and drove his steel blade straight into the man’s belly, eyes reddening as he shoved the Jurchen backward.

Xue Changgong charged forward abruptly, blocking the blade of another Jurchen soldier. The man whose belly had been pierced was still stumbling backward, his long blade already swinging down toward his brother-in-law’s head—until it was knocked aside with a clang by Xue Changgong’s blade. At the same moment, he kicked the Jurchen soldier flying, then grabbed his brother-in-law by the collar and pulled him aside, dodging the attacks of the other two enemies.

Rolling across the wall, he slapped his brother-in-law hard across the face. Amid the roar of battle all around, he shouted at the young man’s feverish face: “Twist it! I told you—when you stab, twist the blade! You want to die?!” With that shout finished, he let out a roar and charged out, driving his blade into a Jurchen’s belly, then twisted it violently with a scream before yanking it free and stepping back.

All around was the stench of blood and scorched flesh. He had no time to check on his brother-in-law’s condition, because more Jurchens were charging up. Blood splattered across his face—one of his men’s throats had been slashed, and the body dropped. He charged forward with a roar, blades clashing fiercely, sparks flying, screams and blood spraying everywhere. Just as an iron spear crashed down toward his head, he saw his brother-in-law lunge in from the side.

After that, he vaguely heard someone shouting: “Hold! Hold the line! Chancellor Li is here! Chancellor Li has brought troops…”

…

After the Jin army arrived at Bianliang, the first thing they seized was Moutuo Ridge, northwest of the city—originally the site of the Tiansi Bureau, where the Wu Dynasty had bred its war horses, surrounded by water on three sides and easy to defend but hard to attack. That they could locate such a strategic position so precisely was naturally due to Guo Yaoshi, who had once served in the capital and knew the area around Bianliang well. On the twenty-eighth of the eighth month, the Jin forces launched an assault on Bianliang’s western water gate via the waterways, but this probing attack was repelled that same night by Li Gang, who had prepared for it in advance.

The main assault on Bianliang’s three gates on the third of the ninth month was the real offensive. The fighting at Chenqiao Gate and New Fengqiu Gate was relatively simple, with most Jurchens halted at the moat; only the battle at New Suanzao Gate was extraordinarily fierce, with the Jin forces briefly mounting the wall. In the end, Li Gang gathered over a thousand archers from the palace guards and rushed more than twenty li into the city to reinforce the defense, finally driving back the Jin forces—though the imperial guards responsible for defending the wall also suffered over a thousand casualties.

When Xue Changgong regained consciousness, it was already evening. All around him were cries of agony, the thick smell of medicine mixed with the stench of blood.

This was a field hospital set up by the army, where the great numbers of wounded from the wall fighting had been gathered. Wounds from the battlefield were unlike ordinary injuries—severed hands and feet, lost eyes, all commonplace—and some let out dying groans or screams of agony during treatment. Beside Xue Changgong lay a wounded man with a broken leg, staring blankly upward, making meaningless sounds. Xue Changgong sat up in a daze after a while, and then a guard came over. “Boss…”

Xue Changgong grabbed him by the arm. “How did it go? Did we win?”

“We won, we won! Chancellor Li brought troops and drove all the Jurchen dogs back.”

“Good.” Xue Changgong lowered his hand, then suddenly raised his head again. “Where’s Hou Jing? Where’d he go! Why isn’t he here?”

Hou Jing was his brother-in-law’s name.

Though his memory of his wife—who had fallen gravely ill and died not long after marrying into the family—had long since grown hazy, Xue Changgong still felt a sense of responsibility toward this brother-in-law he had brought into the army.

The guard hesitated. “Hou Jing… he was wounded…”

“Wounded! How bad? Where is he, take me to him!” Xue Changgong froze for a moment, then abruptly rolled off the bed. His body swayed, but he steadied himself with a hand on the guard’s shoulder, patted his head, and decided he was fine. He strode forward quickly, past countless wounded men in scenes straight out of hell—the thick stench, blood crusted into scabs. Cries and groans everywhere, the despair of those who had lost hands or feet for the rest of their lives; someone wept and shouted, “I can’t see, I can’t see…” The physicians’ faces were all pale as well. As he walked out of the barracks, he saw one physician bent over, vomiting on the ground.

Fortunately, his brother-in-law’s wound wasn’t serious; he was staying in the lightly-wounded barracks not far off. When Xue Changgong found him and saw him there, he finally relaxed—Hou Jing was already getting up from his bed, preparing to leave. Seeing Xue Changgong approach, he said, “Brother-in-law, brother-in-law, I killed three of them! I killed three!”

Xue Changgong looked him over, then patted his shoulder, his gaze turning cold. “You lucky bastard. I told you—when you stab, twist the blade immediately. Otherwise you’re the one who dies.”

“I know, I know, brother-in-law. Are you all right? You’re really fine?”

“I’m fine.” Xue Changgong nodded.

That night, the whole city was in a festive mood. Xue Changgong returned to his unit, where his superiors were discussing rewards. His unit had lost over a hundred men, which marked them as a unit of great merit, and Left Chancellor Li Gang had sent down a large sum of silver.

The next day, the money arrived. After deducting compensation for the dead and tribute for the officers above him, the soldiers under Xue Changgong each received between five and ten taels of silver, while he himself was left with over eighty taels. The court had been extremely generous this time—a considerable sum. Those lightly wounded in the battle were also given two days’ leave to take their silver home, and during this time, the lightly wounded were also tasked with delivering compensation money to the families of the dead—though of course, should fighting resume, they would have to return at once.

No one knew exactly who had issued this order, but it made a good deal of sense. Delivering compensation money to the families of fallen soldiers was never a pleasant task, but if the wounded delivered it themselves, they were less likely to face resentment, and these men bringing silver home could also bolster the resolve of others in the city to defend it. So the next day, Xue Changgong and his brother-in-law Hou Jing went around to the homes of several brothers-in-arms—an exhausting task—but once it was done, his brother-in-law’s mind began to wander. “Brother-in-law, brother-in-law, let’s go somewhere fun. Take me to see the Fan Tower.”

As Xue Changgong’s personal guard, Hou Jing had received thirteen taels and two qian of silver—a considerable sum for a soldier at this time.

Though soldiers of the Wu Dynasty weren’t held in particularly high regard, as a junior officer in the Pengri Army, Xue Changgong had occasionally visited a place like the Fan Tower. Since the death of his first wife, he had naturally remarried, but his second wife had also fallen ill and died not long after their marriage. Since his parents had died young as well, people said he had “hard fate” that brought misfortune upon his family. Though he had once considered taking a third wife, the matter eventually came to nothing. Being a martial man with vigorous blood, he ended up spending most of the money he later earned in the pleasure quarters.

In truth, in his heart, he rather felt that the women of the pleasure quarters were actually more interesting than a wife brought home to stay. Without family constraints hanging over him, he found he didn’t much mind carrying on this way indefinitely.

It was just that when his brother-in-law brought up the idea, things got a bit out of hand.

Xue Changgong looked at his brother-in-law. “Ten-odd taels of silver is a good sum to keep at home. Spending it at a place like the Fan Tower is throwing it away for nothing. Keep it at home—once the war’s over, it can go toward getting you a wife.”

His brother-in-law’s eyes shifted evasively, and he pouted. “Brother-in-law, you said it yourself—ten-odd taels is a lot out in the countryside, but here in the capital, what kind of good family could it possibly marry into? Besides, brother-in-law, look at how things have been these past few days—fighting like that—I take this money and… who knows if I’ll even live to spend it…”

This made Xue Changgong’s expression turn stern. Hou Jing paused, then continued, “Actually, a while back, I went to eat at Zhuji Restaurant once, and I saw Miss Shishi perform. Brother-in-law, if… if I could see her again, I’d… have no regrets…”

Xue Changgong smacked him on the head. After a moment, though, his expression softened somewhat. “You want to see Li Shishi with your measly ten-odd taels? And what’s so great about seeing an old woman like that anyway!” He drew a breath, then continued, “Fine. To celebrate driving back the Jurchens, the Fan Tower isn’t charging soldiers these past two days. But Li Shishi isn’t so easy to see either—with my army token, we might manage a glimpse. Come with me tonight and try your luck. Take this silver back quick! Give it to your parents to keep, so they can find you a wife!”

Hou Jing agreed readily, nodding again and again, growing excited. That evening, the two of them headed toward the Fan Tower. Both still bore bandages, but such wounds were, at this moment, truly the most welcome passport in all of Bianliang. On the way, Hou Jing talked about how Li Gang had led troops to drive back the Jurchens, preparing to boast about it to others at the Fan Tower, then went on about how impressive a man Li Gang really was.

“…A few days ago, when the Jin dogs made a surprise attack on the West Water Gate, they never expected that Chancellor Li had already prepared for it—driving stakes into the water and blocking the channel with huge stones, so the Jin dogs couldn’t get up onto the wall at all…”

“That’s not hard to guess. Wherever the Jin come through, whatever waterway leads out of the city, of course it’s been blocked like that—it’s not like they only blocked the west side.”

“Hm, that’s true too.” Hou Jing nodded, then lowered his voice. “But I heard from everyone that to block the waterway, Chancellor Li sent men straight to Grand Preceptor Cai’s mansion before the battle and had the garden torn apart, throwing all those Lake Tai rocks into the water. Brother-in-law, I got to thinking—if you need stones to block a waterway, there are plenty of stones elsewhere. Why did Chancellor Li specifically tear up Grand Preceptor Cai’s garden? You think that’s…”

“Shut your mouth.” Xue Changgong cut him off sharply, glaring at him. “Keep talk like that to yourself from now on… the affairs of those up above—how could the likes of you and me possibly guess at them…”

After a moment, he added, “And whether you can guess or not isn’t something you get to talk about either!”

“Oh.” Hou Jing nodded.

Before long the two of them arrived at the Fan Tower, just as the lanterns were being lit and the fragrance of food filled the air—the Fan Tower decked out in festive lights. Once Xue Changgong revealed his identity, he learned that the Fan Tower was hosting soldiers free of charge these two days, and that seeing celebrated beauties like Li Shishi wasn’t so difficult after all—though of course not one-on-one. Several senior military officers were already in Shishi’s courtyard, but upon seeing Xue Changgong’s wounds and his unit designation, Li Yun personally came out to welcome him in.

In Li Shishi’s chamber, guests were being entertained around a round table; six or seven military officials were already present, most of higher rank than Xue Changgong. Yet upon hearing his unit designation, they all raised their thumbs in praise, calling him a hero. In the room, Shishi and her two lovely maids took turns pouring wine for everyone, asking about the state of the war, offering their thanks—and naturally, a performance followed as well, as expected. Hou Jing, though merely Xue Changgong’s attendant, was allowed to sit and watch the performance on account of his injury, even receiving questions from Li Shishi and the others, and the young man, not having had any wine yet, still turned bright red in the face.

Although Li Shishi was no longer the most sought-after beauty in present-day Bianliang, her reputation remained excellent, to say nothing of her singing and dancing, which had reached the pinnacle of the art. When the lamps in the room dimmed and Miss Shishi rose from her seat and returned, a simple dance performance truly stirred the hearts of all present. Yet Xue Changgong, having just come off the battlefield, out of that place of severed limbs, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. After a while, he made an excuse and left, leaving his brother-in-law behind.

As he left the room, Li Shishi was inside asking the others about the scorched-earth policy outside the city. One officer said, “Right now outside the city, armies from every direction—hundreds of thousands of them—are marching toward Bianliang. The survival of the entire nation rests on this battle. Once the fighting starts, the several million people in the surrounding area will naturally flee on their own—no one even mentions scorched earth anymore.”

Another officer said, “I don’t know why Miss Shishi is asking about this. Scorched earth was always a half-baked idea to begin with. Victory or defeat against the Jin will still be decided on the battlefield…”

Xue Changgong knew nothing of these matters. After leaving that courtyard, he asked around in the bustling Fan Tower for the whereabouts of a woman named He Leier. At this time, the Fan Tower housed over a hundred women, some who sold themselves and some who didn’t. He Leier had originally been a maid to one of the courtesans, and was now herself just a minor, unknown red-chamber girl. When Xue Changgong found her, there were several men and women in the room, eating and drinking. The men were all soldiers. Xue Changgong pretended to be drunk, flashed his identity, and naturally sat down beside He Leier, chatting with the others.

Those men were all minor military officers, and seeing that Xue Changgong was an officer of the Pengri Army who had been wounded, they didn’t dare slight him. Before long, everyone was chatting warmly. After a while, he collapsed into He Leier’s arms and fell fast asleep, though he still had an ingot of silver in his hand, which he set down on the table.

When he woke the next day, the woman lay beside him, completely undressed. Xue Changgong, on his usual visits to the Fan Tower, never had money to spare for the famous courtesans, but he and this He Leier had spent some time carrying on together. After she helped him dress, get up, and wash, the woman asked hesitantly, “General, will you come again?”

Xue Changgong said, “If I’m not dead, probably.”

After a moment, she asked again, “So… general, do you think the city can hold?”

“This is the capital. Hundreds of thousands of troops from every direction are converging here. Of course it’ll hold.”

“Oh.” He Leier nodded.

After a while longer, she said hesitantly, “General, no one can leave the city now, but I heard that if things really get dangerous, there’s some kind of order that lets people leave through the south gate. General, if you had such an order, I mean… if… if… could you take me with you?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.” A wave of distaste rose in Xue Changgong’s chest, and his words came out a little rough. The woman must have sensed his mood, for after a moment her voice grew choked.

“General… Leier, Leier didn’t mean it that way. Leier just… I heard that the women who fall into the hands of those Jurchens suffer a fate worse than death. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to fall into their hands either…”

She finished speaking in a voice nearly breaking into tears, and Xue Changgong’s heart softened somewhat. He sighed. “If such a thing exists, I’ll tell you. You… well, don’t worry…”

In truth, no one had any confidence about what would become of this city.

Having said this, the woman said no more on the matter, and naturally more flattery and pleasing followed, but Xue Changgong’s mood had already soured, and before long he left the Fan Tower.

As Xue Changgong left, Li Shishi was upstairs looking out at the morning crowds in the street. The city, under nighttime curfew, always carried an anxious air even in daytime. As the reigning beauty of the Fan Tower, though she couldn’t know the mood on the battlefield itself, she understood the overall situation better than most ordinary people.

The Jurchens’ arrival had sent over a million people around Bianliang fleeing in every direction, while several hundred thousand troops mustered to the emperor’s aid were converging. Wanyan Zonghan’s western route army had been pinned down near Taiyuan; She Kequ and Liu Guangshi were leading forty thousand western troops to relieve the siege; small-scale skirmishes and pillaging were erupting constantly in various places. The Jin assault could shake Bianliang’s defenses at any moment, and within the court, amid the endless bickering, voices calling for peace negotiations had already begun to emerge.

No one could see clearly through this tautly strung situation. What came to Shishi’s mind, though, was something Ning Yi had said to her a month earlier, when he left: “If you can manage it, leave Bianliang and head south.” Shishi had been startled by the implication in his words, yet she had gritted her teeth and chosen not to leave. But now, in her heart, she found herself afraid.

Now, all that separated the Jurchens from the million-plus people inside the city was a thick city wall—yet at the same time it felt like nothing more than a thin paper screen over a window. When the Jurchens truly came charging up to Bianliang’s walls, no one knew when they might break through, and when that nightmare descended, no one could imagine what would become of the men and women within the city.

Whatever she had felt when she decided to stay, at this moment, she knew that she was still afraid.

And for her part, she had no idea what had become of Ning Yi. Some time ago the city had been in an uproar over the scorched-earth policy, with fierce debate at court as well; then, once Wanyan Zongwang broke through and crossed the Yellow River, all the arguing came to an abrupt stop. Shishi knew vaguely that he had originally gone to find Chancellor Qin’s second son, Qin Shaoqian, but Qin Shaoqian’s Wurui Army had been routed head-on by Zongwang’s forces at Shouzhang County, and there were still, it was said, voices at court calling for his impeachment.

How was he faring, in the midst of all this?

She found herself wondering this again and again…

…

The convoy of carts jolted onward, and Ning Yi busied himself within it processing gathered reports.

Toward evening, the convoy reached the banks of the Yellow River, where army after army had made camp—military camps covering the hills and fields as far as the eye could see, gradually crossing the river.

The already-consolidated Wurui Army was the first to arrive, followed by the Wusheng Army from Daming Prefecture, led by Regional Commander Chen Yanshu, joining forces with the Wurui Army—nearly a hundred thousand troops gathered together—yet the ferry boats on the river were pitifully few, and not a single pontoon bridge had been erected. When Ning Yi entered the Wurui Army’s central command tent, Qin Shaoqian was coughing while cursing someone out. He reeked of medicine, his head still wrapped in bandages, his left eye bound as well. During the Battle of Shouzhang, a fire arrow had grazed his cheek, affecting his eye—his left eye could very possibly no longer see anything now.

Seeing Ning Yi approach, Qin Shaoqian waved off the several officers in the tent and sat back down in his chair.

“When the Jin crossed the river, there were over one hundred and forty thousand troops stationed south of the Yellow River,” Qin Shaoqian said. “They didn’t engage. I heard the Jurchens found some sheep, tied them to drums, and had them beat the drums for a day and a night straight. The troops on the south bank all shrank back into Bianliang. They sailed off with every large ship they had, so when the Jurchens crossed, all they could find were small boats—they ferried people across a few at a time, over several days. So now we’ve only got a few small boats too; the large ones won’t arrive for another day or two.”

“I heard about that,” Ning Yi nodded. “I’d always thought tying sheep to drums was something the good guys did.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Ning Yi smiled. “Your eye.”

“Can’t see out of the left one anymore, but it’s fine—that telescope thing you gave me only needs one eye anyway.” Qin Shaoqian pressed his lips together, then a faint smile crossed his face. “Oh, Taiyuan’s holding on. The capital’s sent orders—She Kequ and Liu Guangshi are each leading twenty thousand men to relieve the siege. The western army has real fighting strength; it might ease things at Taiyuan a bit.”

Ning Yi nodded, then after a moment said, “I need a boat—to send a few people across first.”

“I’ll give you a small one. If it’s urgent, it can leave right away.”

“Not urgent, actually,” Ning Yi said. “Bianliang’s already under siege. Some of the civilians nearby who didn’t manage to get into the city in time are fleeing, others are staying put, unwilling to leave. I’ve stationed a lot of Bamboo Chronicle people out there, but the Jurchens came south so fast that their coordination with local officials probably isn’t great. I need to send some orders over—some of them need to go into Bianliang itself.”

Qin Shaoqian looked at him, hesitating for a moment. “Given the situation now, hundreds of thousands of men are about to cross the river, and the battle’s about to break out. Win or lose, it shouldn’t drag on too long. Once the area around Bianliang becomes a battlefield, whoever’s going to leave will leave. Liheng, do you think there’s still any need for scorched earth?”

“An orderly, purposeful evacuation should save quite a few more lives. And those who’ve gone into the hills, thinking they can luck their way out of the battle zone—the grain they’re carrying with them would be more than enough to feed the Jurchens camped around Bianliang. I don’t know how this battle will turn out, but I want to get as many of them out as I can,” Ning Yi said with a smile. “That’s probably all I can do at this point.”

Qin Shaoqian looked at him, pausing. “You want to evacuate every last one of them?”

“…As many as I can.”

The room fell quiet. Qin Shaoqian clenched his fist for a moment, then nodded. “All right. I’ll arrange a boat for you right away. Oh, and something else has arrived—Liheng, come take a look with me.”

He waved Ning Yi along, leaving the command tent. After instructing his guards to provide the Bamboo Chronicle with a boat, he led Ning Yi to the rear of the camp, where a stack of supplies sat in wooden crates—somewhere around sixty or seventy of them. When Qin Shaoqian opened the crates, inside were elm-wood cannons, along with some shells and gunpowder.

“These are the cannons you designed, Liheng—made by the Fire Weapons Bureau. Every army got a few, but hardly anyone wants to use them. I had Wusheng Army’s share brought over here, and I’ve got people reaching out to Wuwei’s as well…” Qin Shaoqian patted the elm-wood cannons, speaking to Ning Yi. “I didn’t use these at Shouzhang either.”

“Why not?” Ning Yi frowned. “Though of course I know the Fire Weapons Bureau made them somewhat carelessly.”

“That’s part of it,” Qin Shaoqian said. “I’ve tested them—fire a few rounds and the barrel tends to burst, hurting our own men, so no one dares use them. And the bang is bigger than the actual damage. But I remember you telling me, Liheng, that used well, these things can spook horses at night—the Jurchens’ best fighters are all cavalry, and they’ve never encountered anything like this before. I know you’ve got people under you—I want to gather up all the elm-wood cannons collected here at Bianliang and see if you can round up those craftsmen to repair them properly. If the chance comes, I want to use them all at once, at the critical moment.”

“All right.” Ning Yi looked at the cannons and nodded. “The craftsmen from the compound didn’t retreat far—once they cross the Yellow River, I’ll gather them. I’ve also got a better batch up north; if we really need them, I’ll have people bring them down.”

“I’ll leave it to you.”

Ning Yi hesitated a moment, then added, “Second Young Master, as you yourself said—these things are, after all, more bang than actual power. Against armies already prone to bluffing, they might win the fight in one stroke, but against the Jurchens, you mustn’t blindly stake your chance of victory on them. Bear that in mind.”

Qin Shaoqian nodded, thinking it over. “Mm. Understood.”

Not long after, the massive army crossed the Yellow River, its vast military might surrounding Bianliang, seeming to squeeze all the air out of the war zone entirely. Over a hundred thousand troops faced off against Wanyan Zongwang’s eastern route army on the plains outside Bianliang, with countless scout skirmishes and clashes between small units erupting continuously through early September. And the casualty count among civilians who hadn’t managed to evacuate in time, or who had clung to false hope, kept climbing higher and higher amid this atmosphere of standoff—by the time the main battle broke out in October, the blood of civilians who died in this standoff alone could already have dyed every river around Bianliang red…