The snow had finally stopped, and the atmosphere in the valley at Xia Village had grown livelier as a result.

Even in the heavy snow, the army had not entirely halted its training — those with stronger constitutions crawled and rolled through the snow, while those somewhat weaker practiced charging drills. With so many people gathered in the valley to begin with, teams took turns clearing snow without pause, using labor in place of drilling whenever necessary. Only those whose health genuinely could not bear it were pulled back to rest.

In this era, physical condition remained a real limitation for any army. Most men had never lived comfortably to begin with — a soldier who barely got to eat meat more than a few times a month tended to have a rather frail build. But on the other hand, men who had come up through hard times tended to withstand hardship better as well, and so the number of soldiers who truly could not endure the bitter cold turned out to be smaller than one might expect.

To sustain the livelihoods of these ten-thousand-plus men, Ning Yi had called upon a great many of his connections — not only the logistics network of the right chancellor’s household, but also the good relationships he had built with landowners and wealthy gentry across various regions during the disaster relief effort. The first time, it had been to save lives, while also giving people a chance to profit; this time, it was for the sake of the war. Ning Yi, drawing on the credibility of the government, issued promissory notes, drawing in advance on the food stockpiled by these wealthy gentry to fill the gaps in the army’s grain supply, with the state to repay them once the war was over.

To avoid the valley at Xia Village being caught off guard by a sudden Jurchen attack and forced into a collapse and relocation, this grain was temporarily stockpiled on the northern bank of the Yellow River, transported across every few days, with further supplies to be shipped in gradually over time. Though troublesome — and complicated further by the fact that the scorched-earth strategy had affected the northern bank of the Yellow River as well — after considerable effort, the grain supply for the army could still be maintained. With the original network of Bamboo Notes behind him, Ning Yi could occasionally add preserved, easily stored vegetables and meat into the mix as well; the food, which still seemed reasonably good for the time being, was, beyond the propaganda efforts, a key factor in keeping the valley running smoothly.

The snow was cleared, bit by bit, day after day, and once the heavy snowfall stopped, the valley was quickly cleared of all accumulated snow. Large mounds of snow were piled up around the outer edges of the valley, rising like small hills — should Jurchen cavalry come charging in, they would serve, at least, as something of an obstacle.

Snow mounds, five continuous rows of anti-cavalry barricades, and trenches running between the barricades — these formed the outermost line of defense for the valley at Xia Village. Further up the mountainside, watchtowers and wooden palisade walls were still being built, one section at a time. The elm-wood cannons brought from the Lüliang Mountains had already been placed, one by one, in key positions — as many as eighty of them, along with several iron cannons, carefully positioned in an effort to create overlapping fields of fire in front of the valley.

The power of the elm-wood cannons was, of course, nowhere near that of the iron cannons of later ages; on a large battlefield, or in an open space like the walls of Bian Liang, they could not achieve much of an effect. But in the relatively narrow terrain in front of and around the valley, eighty-some points of fire were enough to give Ning Yi at least some measure of reassurance. Of course, for everyone else, not yet fully understanding how effective the elm-wood cannons truly were, that reassurance was cut roughly in half.

“If ten or twenty thousand men came charging in, the whole mountainside would be covered in people…”

Walking alongside Qin Shaoqian near the defensive works, saying this, the sense of security in his chest immediately felt somewhat less solid than it had a moment before.

Though the mouth of the valley was narrow, the terrain on either side was not, in truth, especially steep; if a large army truly came charging through, they might not be limited to a single front, but could well come from three directions at once.

Eighty-some cannons could hold them off for a time, but not forever. Especially since the elm-wood cannons still had quality issues — though the batch brought from the Lüliang Mountains had been improved and reinforced, on average, each cannon could probably fire no more than about ten rounds before reaching the end of its usable life, and there had to be a fairly long interval between each shot. The iron cannons were naturally somewhat better, but at this stage, they still carried a significant risk of bursting, much like the elm-wood ones.

This was… honestly, exactly like playing a tower-defense game.

Standing on the wooden defensive structure, Ning Yi thought to himself. Around him stood Qin Shaoqian, Hongti, Han Jing, and others, with scenes of activity filling both the interior and exterior of the valley. Beyond the defensive wall, a great many trees had already been cut down, leaving behind an open space dotted with short stumps, where a number of people were practicing archery; Yuzhi Feidu was among the ranks not far off, shooting arrows at trees still further beyond.

A young man carrying supplies passed by after finishing his task. This boy, somewhat dark-skinned, was a young man from the Lüliang Mountains named Xiao Hei — in a certain sense, something of an unofficial disciple of Hongti’s; the two of them had shared a period of friendship back in the Lüliang Mountains.

Yuzhi Feidu’s arrow flew accurately toward a distant tree, and he turned his head. “Well?”

“…Cripple.”

Xiao Hei dragged his foot forward as he walked.

Yuzhi Feidu drew in a breath, looking skyward. “How am I supposed to put up with you? Catch this!”

He snatched up a stone and hurled it toward Xiao Hei, who caught it neatly with a slap of his hand — but by then Yuzhi Feidu had already charged over. One of his feet was indeed somewhat impaired now, having taken some damage to his lower-body technique, but a limp was not the same as a broken leg; though somewhat hampered, much of his skill remained intact. The two of them quickly fell into a fight, their fists clashing, exceptionally fierce and forceful.

Ning Yi, Hongti, and the others watching all smiled at this — but then Qin Shaoqian’s expression turned grave, and he pointed toward a direction off to the side. At the far end of the valley, a cavalry column was approaching; the several riders atop the horses were all dressed in white close-fitting garments, and had they not been mounted, they would have been almost impossible to make out amid the sweeping snow.

The column entered the valley, and its leader came straight toward them. Once atop the wooden fortifications, he reported the latest developments to Ning Yi and the others in a low voice, and their expressions, too, turned grave. Once the leader had left, Ning Yi rested both hands on the edge of the wall, gazing outward for a long while, before finally turning back to continue his conversation with Qin Shaoqian and the others.

Their voices remained low.

“…The bait’s already been thrown out — whether they’ll take it is hard to say…”

“…In a matter like this, better to assume it’s real than assume it isn’t. Once the spring flood begins, the embankment will breach, and after that, no matter what, the Jurchen will have to take this seriously… let’s just hope Bian Liang can hold…”

“That’s not something for us to worry about. Burn the boats, break the cauldrons — a desperate army fights hardest. Bian Liang is the imperial capital; if it falls, the nation is finished, and so are all our families. The chancellor and the others in the city understand this well enough. All we can do now is trust that they can hold it…”

“No matter how good the plan looks on paper, if it really comes down to fighting here, we’re in a tough spot too. Whether we can hold on or not is a real question…”

“A month and some of effort — expecting to have forged battle-hardened elite troops out of that is a fool’s dream. Being able to fight one battle on ground of our own choosing, fully prepared, is already the greatest advantage small-time schemers like us could possibly hope to secure. If we can’t hold, all that’s left is death — there’s nothing more to say about it…”

“Taiyuan’s been under siege for so long now, and even though no word has gotten out, hasn’t it held on all this time…”

“We already have a considerable advantage over them… nowhere near as hard as Taiyuan…”

Ever since Nianhan had marched south and begun his assault, Taiyuan had held firm, planted immovably in the path of the Jurchen’s western army — its commanding officer was none other than Qin Shaoqian’s own elder brother, Qin Shaohe. At first, some word had still made it out, but after the failure of the western army’s relief effort, Nianhan’s forces had swept through and completely sealed off that entire region. Following the same logic as Zongwang, Nianhan too meant to use a fortified city as an opportunity to train his troops in siege warfare. Once Taiyuan became a blind spot for information, all that could be inferred from the fragmentary news that occasionally leaked out was that the fighting over the city’s defense there had turned extremely brutal.

The Jurchen’s western army had not waited long outside the city walls — unlike the eastern army, they had no need to deal with as many relief forces converging on Bian Liang, and Nianhan, too, was anxious about the situation to the south. They had launched a large-scale assault on Taiyuan, and yet the ferocity of the city’s resistance had far exceeded even their own expectations.

This was, however, only information that could be inferred. After the Wu Rui Camp’s crushing defeat, there had simply been too much that needed doing in its aftermath, and the situation outside Bian Liang had become far too urgent for anyone to spare much attention toward the north. And after the events of the twenty-fifth of the ninth month — that near-coercion of the emperor — Zhou Zhe had, with an air of silent, passive resignation, handed the entire defense of Bian Liang over to Li Gang, Zhong Shidao, and Qin Siyuan.

This silence was a dangerous sign — it did not mean he trusted these men; the emperor was, in truth, furious at everyone. And as men with access to information at the higher levels, Ning Yi, Qin Shaoqian, and the others could sense that the emperor was by no means entirely blind to the role the right chancellor’s household had played that night — even if he could not be entirely certain of it, he surely harbored no small measure of suspicion and resentment over it. The direct consequence of this was that Taiyuan, for the foreseeable future, stood almost no chance of receiving any relief at all.

No one knew how long Taiyuan, isolated as it was in that stretch of territory, could continue to hold out. But there was one thing that could be believed: if Taiyuan could hold on this long, then Bian Liang, too, might have that same chance. Everything Ning Yi and the others were gambling on was built upon this single premise.

If Bian Liang fell, everything would be finished. And even if Bian Liang managed to hold, Ning Yi, Hongti, Qin Shaoqian, and the rest here would still need to give a thousand percent of their effort, right to the very end, just to have any chance of seizing that one percent of hope.

But without question, a great many people were going to die.

Though the fighting strength of the Wu dynasty’s armies was weak, its military supplies remained relatively advanced. The position Ning Yi occupied had already had a steady stream of bows, arrows, gunpowder, and various weapons brought in — and yet, comparing the ten-thousand-plus men currently in the valley against the Jurchen, what level, exactly, was their combat strength really at? Even factoring in their defenses, whether they could achieve even a one-for-one exchange remained a genuine source of doubt in everyone’s mind. Ning Yi himself held no illusions of optimism either.

However one looked at it, their own side was a ragtag force, scattered troops only barely reorganized over less than two months — while the enemy they faced was, at this moment, the strongest army in the entire realm.

The sky, after the snow stopped, held a rare clarity — clear and vast, the air cold and crisp. Ning Yi looked toward the direction where Bian Liang lay, drawing a deep breath. Whatever happened — whether or not Zongwang would take the bait exactly as they hoped — Ning Yi knew that the letter they had sent would become the very spark that lit the true fuse.

And so he understood: the fuse was already burning, and it was they themselves who had lit it, with their own hands. But exactly when it would burn down to the end remained, for now, unknown.

In Bian Liang, once the snow stopped, every household came out into the streets to clear it away; day after day, the city’s defenses had shown no sign of slackening. But even with a certain degree of mental preparation, no one could have known that the most brutal test of all was still to come, only a few days away.

Before that moment arrived, a few small, simple episodes were already beginning to unfold, beneath this same sky…