The air was thick with the stench of blood and the chill of slaughter. Outside the tent, the cold wind howled, mixed with the sound of footsteps as people ran back and forth through the camp. Inside the great tent, several Jurchen generals led by Wanyan Zongwang were discussing the battle. Below them, the fierce general Sala, who had led the army in the assault on the city, still had blood on his body that had not yet washed away. Not long before, he had personally led elite troops in a charge up the city wall, but the fighting had not lasted long before he was forced back down by the swarming reinforcements of the Wu Dynasty.
After a scout came to report on the situation outside the siege of Bianliang, the tent fell silent for a moment. Zongwang frowned at the front, and after a long while, finally waved his hand.
“So you’re telling me the Wu Dynasty has produced someone capable of fighting? Xia Village… why did they suffer such a crushing defeat before?”
The barely restrained anger in his voice made others reluctant to speak up. After a pause, it was Shemu, who had just rushed over from Moutuogang not long ago, who finally spoke: “In my view, it’s possible the Wu Dynasty gathered the elite from among all their scattered defeated troops, intending to stake everything on one desperate gamble.”
“The Wu Dynasty’s elites are only found around each of their generals. Among more than three hundred thousand routed troops, even if they could gather them together, how could they possibly make use of them… But it’s said that the general in that valley is the son of the Wu Dynasty’s Right Chancellor who resides in the city. If that’s the case, then it’s not impossible.” Zongwang’s face darkened as he stared at the battle map in the center of the tent. “Bianliang holds firm to force us into a quick battle, they’ve scorched the earth to cut off our supply lines, and they’ll break the Yellow River’s dikes in the spring floods. I always suspected there was a scheme behind all this, and now it seems I wasn’t wrong. And then there are those firearms…”
When he’d received that letter earlier, he had guessed that the person behind it had a great connection to the scorched-earth campaign that had been ongoing. Guo Yaoshi had directed suspicion toward the Western Army, but secretly, the many threads of the scorched-earth strategy should be connected to this Xia Village. Of course, as the commanding general, Zongwang only kept an impression of this matter in his mind; he wasn’t one to dwell too much on it. But when more than two hundred thousand Wu Dynasty troops had been routed in the early morning of the twenty-fifth of the ninth month, the Wu Rui Camp had detonated more than twenty carts, which had drawn considerable attention from the generals attacking in that direction.
The Jurchens had risen from a wild and untamed land, yet in the span of just a few years they had risen to found a nation. This first generation of generals did not cling to old customs, and were remarkably sharp in their perception of all manner of things on the battlefield. This included siege equipment and included the Wu Dynasty’s firearms — though compared to most siege equipment, the Wu Dynasty’s firearms were, for now, still largely flashy but impractical things. That night, although there had been an explosion, it ultimately hadn’t caused their side much in the way of casualties, and so the matter hadn’t been pursued further at the time. But what had happened this time at Xia Village seemed somewhat different.
“Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren have been defeated — Guo Yaoshi must already know of it. This is his affair; let him be the one to break through there. What concerns this commander is Bianliang alone!” Zongwang said, his fist striking the table. “We’ve been besieging the city for days, and our army’s casualties are already close to ten thousand, while the Wu Dynasty’s casualties exceed ours more than fivefold. Their fighting strength is this weak, and our army has broken through their defenses several times over — yet in the end, this city still cannot be taken? Have any of you ever encountered such a thing before?!”
Zongwang’s gaze was stern, and everyone present lowered their heads. This ongoing siege was, for them as well, something difficult to comprehend. It wasn’t that the Wu Dynasty’s army lacked elite troops, but as Zongwang had said, most of them lacked real combat awareness or skill. Over these past few days, whenever the elite Jurchen troops combined with siege engines to press their assault, they invariably achieved results — in a direct clash, even if the enemy mustered their resolve, they were never a match for the elite Jurchen soldiers, to say nothing of the fact that many Wu Dynasty soldiers didn’t even have that resolve to begin with. Whenever a localized rout occurred, there had been several instances of Jurchen soldiers cutting men down as easily as slicing melons and vegetables.
And yet, somehow, such situations could never be expanded upon. On a battlefield, when the front line collapses, it usually drags the rear troops along in an avalanche-like retreat — the Jurchen troops were no strangers to this. But this time, localized routs remained confined, always, to a small scale.
On the walls of Bianliang, after each small-scale rout and slaughter, more Wu Dynasty soldiers and civilians would swarm forward as reinforcements. They would surge in, and under the ferocious assault of the Jurchens, they too would meet with nothing but defeat. And yet a third wave, a fourth wave, would still come pouring in — the reinforcements from behind seemed as vast as the ocean, and in the end, this began to weigh on the psychology of the Jurchen soldiers themselves.
What sustained these men couldn’t possibly be true valor. They had never experienced this kind of high-intensity slaughter before; even if driven forward by a rush of bloodlust, once they came face to face with blood and corpses, their reactions would slow, their field of vision would narrow, their hearts would race — and their tolerance for pain was certainly nowhere near that of the Jurchen soldiers. A true Jurchen elite, even with his belly slit open or his leg severed, would still roar and land one more blow on the enemy; ordinary minor wounds wouldn’t even affect their combat ability. But these men — take one hit and they might simply collapse to the ground, waiting to be slaughtered. Even in a direct clash, it would take five or six of them to trade for the life of a single Jurchen soldier. Such a defense should, by rights, have crumbled at the first blow.
And yet, even now, the Jurchen army’s death toll had already exceeded five thousand, and counting those whose combat ability had been compromised by injury, casualties had already surpassed ten thousand. As for the city of Bianliang before them, there was no telling how many had already died within it — their defenses had been smashed through in several places, blood had been spilled over and over across the ground, only to be scorched black again and again by flame. Amid the heavy snow, the soldiers atop the walls were cowardly and afraid, yet even the Jurchen generals present had no idea, in their hearts, when this city might finally fall.
It could certainly be broken — that much was certain. But… would they really have to throw all the soldiers under their command into it? Where exactly was the line these people held to, what exactly was it that drove them to mount such a desperate defense — it was baffling even to contemplate. And the news arriving now from the battle at Xia Village only made hearts grow heavier still.
“As the capital of a nation, I admit I underestimated it before, in thinking we could take it quickly. But the Wu Dynasty is using the city’s own residents as its defenders — a moment’s bloodlust might serve for a while, but given enough time, panic will inevitably take root within the city. If it truly comes to that, I will raze this city to the ground! No sheathing of swords for ten days!”
Bianliang held a population in the millions. If it truly came down to grinding down the will of everyone inside through this kind of slaughter, the number that would have to die atop these walls might well exceed two hundred thousand. And one could well imagine that, pushed to such an extreme, his own army beneath him would also have suffered devastating losses. But no matter what, the city before them had now become a place that absolutely had to be taken! Zongwang’s fist pressed against the table; a moment later, he struck it once, and made his decision…
…
Just as Zongwang and the others found themselves puzzled by the stubbornness of this city, within Bianliang, there were those who felt the same astonishment over the very same matter. In truth, neither those directly involved nor those on the outside had ever anticipated how these past days would unfold.
Zhou Zhe had already prepared to flee several times over. News that the city’s defenses had been breached kept arriving again and again, and news that the Jurchens had been driven back out kept arriving again and again as well. He had stopped paying attention to matters of the city’s defense — the way things in this world work is strange indeed; once he had already steeled himself for Bianliang’s fall, there were times he even felt a strange sense of surprise and disappointment upon hearing “it held again.” And yet, under this all-out Jurchen assault, that the walls could hold for this long also stirred in him a faint sense of exhilaration.
So it turns out the people of this city are this loyal — if the Emperor’s civilizing influence weren’t so vast and far-reaching, how could the hearts of the people prove so useful?
Over these past two days, as he read the reports of loyal subjects bravely defending the city, dying alongside the Jurchen wolves, he too would feel his blood stir faintly within him.
—So we’re not entirely incapable of fighting after all!
His state of mind now was, more or less, the same as that of many residents within the city. At least, in the propaganda put out by the organs of public opinion, over these days of continuous fighting, everyone had seen that the Jurchens were not truly invincible. Heroes had emerged one after another within the city, time and again turning back the Jurchen army outside the walls, and it seemed there would be no exception going forward either.
However, another piece of news that arrived that afternoon left Zhou Zhe’s mood rather more complicated.
He casually smashed the brush-washing bowl on his desk to the floor, but a moment later felt he shouldn’t have done that, since the news, after all, counted as more or less good.
Over at Xia Village, Qin Shaoqian and the others had been surrounded by the Ever-Victorious Army, but it seemed… they had won a small victory.
Zhou Zhe felt in his heart that a victory was, after all, something to be pleased about — it was just that… the name Qin Shaoqian left him deeply uneasy.
Relying on the power of the Chancellor’s estate, now pulling all the elite troops under his own command, was it? Brazen. His intentions are worth condemning!
The chief eunuch, Du Chengxi, hearing the sound of the brush-washer shattering, hurried in. Zhou Zhe walked out from behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, and stepped out of the study into the courtyard, where wind and snow were falling.
“Du Chengxi. In times of military peril and hardship, it’s in adversity that one truly comes to know the hearts of men. Tell me — do the hearts of the people still stand with us?”
He gazed at the wind and snow for a long while before slowly speaking. Du Chengxi hurried over and answered carefully: “Your Majesty, these past days, the soldiers have given their lives in battle and the common people have manned the walls, fighting bravely against the enemy — this is precisely the fruit of our Wu Dynasty’s centuries of civilizing influence. Though the barbarians show a moment’s ferocity, they are ultimately no match for the depth of our Wu Dynasty’s civilization and inner cultivation. Your servant has heard the ministers at court discussing that so long as we can endure through this battle, the revival of our dynasty is within sight.”
Zhou Zhe was silent for a moment. “What you say, I already know. It’s just… this matter of the people’s hearts — tell me, do they lie with me, or with those old relics…”
Du Chengxi stammered for a moment, at a loss for words: “Your Majesty, Your Majesty is the Son of Heaven, the supreme and revered sovereign. That the people of this city fight with such valor is naturally because Your Majesty presides here in person. Otherwise, look at every other city — which of them could withstand such a fierce assault from the Jurchens as this one has? The ministers at court, too, merely act on Your Majesty’s behalf in carrying out his will.”
“You do know how to talk.” Zhou Zhe said, and after a moment, smiled. “Still, what you say makes sense. Du Chengxi, if the chance arises, I’d like to go out and take a walk — up to the north, to see the city defenses for myself.”
“Your Majesty, it is perilous out there with the fighting…”
“No need to say more.” Zhou Zhe waved his hand. “I know well enough in my own mind. Not today — don’t pester me about it. Perhaps in a few days… They’re fighting so hard up on the walls, and I can’t set my mind at ease about them. If it’s at all possible, I merely wish to see for myself — just to have a clear sense of things in my own heart.”
He had no wish to say more to the man, and after a moment waved him off: “You may go.”
In the northeast of the city, amid the falling snow, what Qin Siyuan saw was an entirely different scene.
Row upon row, body after body, laid out across the square before him, covered in cloth, stretching from where he stood off into the distance.
More than thirty thousand corpses had been laid out here, and that number was still climbing.
Even in such snowy weather, the stench of blood and the gradually rising smell of decay still lingered in the air. Qin Siyuan walked beside it, leaning on his cane, with the monk Juemingaccompanying him at his side.
“Do you know how many casualties the Jurchens have suffered?”
“A tenth? Or perhaps a little more?”
Qin Siyuan gripped his cane in his right hand, the words nearly forced out from between clenched teeth: “This is meant to be a city under siege!”
“They were never skilled at war, after all,” the monk said, his expression calm. “A little bloodlust can’t make up for morale. That they could even get up there at all is already something.”
The two of them stood before the bodies for a while, and after a moment, Qin Siyuan slowly spoke: “Seven-tenths of the Jurchens’ provisions are gone, but what remains can still last them twenty days to a month.”
“Shaoqian and Liheng and the others have done everything they could. If Xia Village can win, there may yet be a glimmer of hope.”
“A glimmer of hope… We’ve scorched the earth for two or three hundred li — even if the Jurchens don’t win outright, once they break through and get a few hundred li beyond, the sky is still high and the sea still wide for them…” Qin Siyuan walked forward, and after a moment, said, “Monk, we can’t afford to wait here any longer.”
Juemingwalked alongside him, dressed in his black-and-white monk’s robes, still expressionless. The two of them knew each other deeply; their conversation now was not that of a superior consulting a subordinate — many things simply needed doing, and both understood this in their hearts without needing to say it.
“…These past few days, the families of the dead outside have wanted to bring the bodies back. Their sons, their husbands, have already given their lives, and they want them to have somewhere to belong. There are more and more of them now…”
“…Bring them back — bury them where?”
“…Ah…”
“…No more waiting… Burn them.”
That day, the wind and snow seemed, strangely, rather calm.
In the valley of Xia Village, after the first victory, from morning until evening the lively atmosphere within the valley had not settled — this was partly because, after their setback that morning, the Zhang and Liu forces outside had not dared to press another full assault.
Bonfires burned in clusters, and the smell of roasting meat drifted through the air. Everyone was still talking excitedly about the morning’s battle; some soldiers who had fought bravely were pushed forward by their comrades to share what they’d learned with the others. In the wounded soldiers’ quarters, people came and went, familiar soldiers stopping by to visit their comrades, encouraging one another, saying: “Turns out the Resentment Army isn’t all that impressive!”
“This win came a bit too easily — I’m almost worried it’ll make them arrogant.” In the room, Ning Yi was cutting roasted meat into pieces and portioning them onto plates nearby, which Hongti carried out to distribute among Qin Shaoqian and the other generals outside. Hongti hadn’t taken part in the fighting today, and looked clean and tidy, without a trace of killing intent about her as she worked beside Ning Yi. She wasn’t entirely happy about the arrangement — Ning Yi playing cook while she served as his assistant — feeling, naturally, that it didn’t suit Ning Yi’s standing, but Ning Yi himself didn’t mind at all.
“We’ve used up half our stored meat this time.”
“It’s fine. We just won a battle — we can afford to treat ourselves a little. If we save it all for later, I worry a lot of them won’t get the chance to eat it at all.”
Ning Yi explained this, and after a moment, he and Hongti carried the large trays out together. By now, at the great bonfire outside the room, many of the soldiers who had fought bravely that day had been invited over. Ning Yi went around handing out the meat plate by plate: “I grilled this myself! I grilled this myself! Everyone gets some! Take a piece! Two is fine too, take more… hey, you’re wounded, can you even eat this — ah, forget it, just take it, take it!”
Ever since the camp at Xia Village had first come together, Ning Yi had always presented himself as a strict workaholic and an unfathomably deep strategist; seeing him like this now, warm and approachable, still left the blood-spattered soldiers by the bonfire a little too wary to get too familiar with him. After a while, Yue Fei came up from below: “The camp defenses are holding up fine — I’ve told them to stay alert. Though it looks like Zhang Linghui and the others don’t plan to attack again today.”
“If the morning assault failed, there’s not much point trying a night raid either,” Qin Shaoqian said, stepping over and reaching for a piece of roasted meat. “Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren are both seasoned generals who’ve weathered many battles. If they come again, they’ll surely come prepared.”
“Is a single day enough time?” Ning Yi held the plate out to Yue Fei, who cupped his hands in thanks and took a piece with the least fat on it.
“Not enough to prepare siege equipment, but certainly enough to prepare an assault.”
“So tomorrow, then.” Ning Yi nodded.
“It will certainly be tomorrow.” Qin Shaoqian finished his meat and looked off into the distance, sighing.
Wind and snow fell beyond the valley, firelight stretching along the slopes on either side. Outside the camp, soldiers on watch duty kept their eyes fixed intently on the distance. As the wind blew across the ridges and the snowy plain, carrying its chill, the firelight still stretched on unbroken beyond the valley — Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren were still hard at work making preparations for their next assault.
The next day was the second day of the twelfth month. At Bianliang, the Jurchens continued their assault on the city’s defenses. They shifted their strategy slightly — for most of the time now, rather than fixating on breaking through the walls, they fixated instead on killing. By that evening, the generals defending the city noticed the casualties climbing once more, an even greater pressure than before continuing to build along this defensive line. And just as Bianliang teetered on the edge of collapse, the battle at Xia Village had only just begun.
Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren continued their assault on Xia Village’s defenses.
This time, they no longer relied on saturation-style mass attacks, but instead focused on feints and flexible skirmisher charges. Across the round, snow-covered slopes surrounding Xia Village’s defenses, waves of charges appeared again and again in great numbers, only to swiftly withdraw. What actually caused casualties were the massed volleys of arrows fired from a distance, including fire arrows — in weather like this, fire arrows had trouble igniting the wood in and around the camp, and Ning Yi and the others had already made preparations against fire. But in this kind of weather and environment, once struck by a fire arrow, the combination of the wound and the burn would quickly leave most men unable to keep fighting.
Of course, in this exchange of arrow fire, casualties on both sides remained relatively low. Zhang Linghui and Liu Shunren had also shown themselves to be shrewd, keen-eyed commanders — the charging soldiers, though they advanced and then retreated, maintained at all times a posture that could shift into a real charge at any moment. That day, they only launched genuine attacks against a few non-critical points in the defenses, and each time withdrew fully afterward. Since no large-scale results were likely to emerge, Xia Village’s side also held off on firing their elm-wood cannons again; both sides spent the day testing each other’s nerves and endurance.
“It’s nothing — let them run back and forth all they like. We’ll wait at ease and see who outlasts whom!”
Holding shields, several senior officers of Xia Village moved among the occasional incoming arrows, encouraging those responsible for the camp’s defense: “But no one can afford to let their guard down — be ready at any moment to go up and fight them head-on!”
By that evening, although the exchange of arrows had produced few casualties, the psychological pressure building up among Xia Village’s soldiers was, on the whole, considerable. They had by now developed a certain degree of active awareness and initiative, no longer simply drifting through each day — and correspondingly, felt a real sense of responsibility toward the battlefield. Under these circumstances, everyone remained on edge, and by nightfall, much of everyone’s mental energy had been worn down simply by the Resentment Army’s refusal to charge.
Of course, this too was something they had to bear.
By the third day of the twelfth month, the situation remained the same — until that afternoon, as evening drew near, the Resentment Army suddenly launched a full frontal assault, surging forward like a tide. After several rounds of arrow exchanges no different from before, all at once, the roar of battle cries came sweeping across the mountains from every direction! Beneath the grey sky, figures suddenly poured out from the forest all at once, carrying wooden ladders and raising shields, surging madly toward the surrounding defenses. At the front of the camp, several carts draped in thick shields were pushed forward by soldiers, rolling toward the area thick with anti-cavalry stakes and trenches.
Behind that maddened, charging formation, banners reading “Ever-Victorious Army” and “Guo” fluttered and snapped in the wind. It was the evening of the third day — Guo Yaoshi had arrived!
The roar of battle cries shook the mountains, arrows filled the sky like rain, the front of battle stretched on unbroken, and throughout the valley, countless men rushed to take up their positions amid the shouting.
The true test had, at last, begun…