The hot air balloon rose into the sky, the wind roaring past as it swept over the undulating mountains below.

In early winter, the mountain ranges looked blue-grey to the eye, rising and falling like some strange ocean, the roads winding between the peaks like a great dragon cutting through the waves, stretching forward with the advance of the army. The forests in the distance rose and fell in waves, and hidden among the trees lay man-devouring chasms.

The terrain of Shu was famously rugged and majestic. Li Bai had once written that the road to Shu was harder than climbing to heaven. But in truth, the road that had earned that description was already one of the relatively easier routes into Shu.

West of Jiange and north along the Jinniu Road lay what later generations would call the Longmen Mountain fault zone, a true natural barrier. To the south, the Greater and Lesser Sword Mountains were likewise rugged, riddled with sheer cliffs, but the Jinniu Road cut through the mountains and passes, with post stations and villages built alongside it to see off merchants coming and going, and hunters could still move freely through the hills.

In the past, the only people who could make their way through such rugged mountains were poor old hunters from nearby villages with nothing else to rely on. The forests were dense and the terrain treacherous; an ordinary person could lose their way within moments of entering the woods and never find their way back out. In mid-October, the first large-scale fighting broke out across just such terrain.

From the hot air balloons rising into the sky, or from watchtowers built on high ground, one could occasionally see the flash of explosions far off in the dense forests or in the mountain ravines.

The scouts of the Huaxia Army carried explosives called grenades, while the Jurchen scouts carried their own fire-bombs that could be lit with an open flame. Aside from the loud reports caused by these two, most of the killing in the forest was not easy to see from outside — only distant screams carried on the wind, occasional smoke rising above the trees, or a booming sound echoing from some unknown place, letting the troops on the main road know that the slaughter was underway.

In the first few days, the fighting in the forest, though fierce, remained scattered. The two forces that had first made contact probed each other’s strength cautiously, with scattered explosions near and far — perhaps several dozen a day. Occasionally a wounded man would be pulled back out of the woods, and the leading Jurchen scouts would report the combat strength of the Huaxia Army’s scouts to their commanding officers.

These scouts were the most elite veterans in the Jurchen army — men forged either by the harshest conditions of the northern mountains as hunters, or as survivors of mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Their senses were sharp; whether it came to surviving and finding their way through the wilderness, or hunting down bears and tigers, none of it troubled them. Many of them were also well-regarded within the army, trusted confidants no matter which unit they served under. Yuyu had deployed these trusted men from the very start — partly out of confidence in them, and partly to obtain the most accurate reports possible.

The reports from this first clash came back quickly, carried by the wounded and the scouts who withdrew. The Huaxia Army’s scouts, who had spent years operating in the southwest, showed not the slightest unfamiliarity with the mountains of Sichuan. The first elite scouts to enter the forest and clash with the Huaxia Army achieved some results, but their own losses were not small either.

In these first few days of skirmishing, it was actually impossible to determine an accurate casualty ratio — though this outcome did not particularly surprise the Jurchen leadership. In small-scale clashes under a hundred men, even the armies of the Wu Dynasty could sometimes fight to a draw; the Han people were not lacking in brave and resolute men, let alone the Black Banner Army that had slain both Loushi and Cibushi.

On the twentieth, the reserve scouts who had been arranged in advance began entering the mountains one after another. For these non-Jurchen scouts, the upper command had set extraordinarily high bounties: a hundred strings of cash for the head of a single Black Banner soldier, with the reward increasing for officers, plus land, official rank, and even titles of nobility for those of higher standing, and triple the reward for captures.

The gap between rich and poor in Wu Dynasty society was enormous — a poor family might spend only a few strings of cash a year on incidental expenses, while a county magistrate of the eighth rank earned a monthly salary of around fifteen strings, already considered comfortably well-off. Here, a single ordinary head was worth a hundred strings, and since the scouts were mostly elite soldiers, killing even a few officers with insignia on their shoulders would set a man up for life.

The silver and gold set aside for these rewards sat in chests placed along the road beside several post stations and army camps, dazzling to the eye — money the scouts of every army could claim directly. As for the killing done on the battlefield proper, rewards there would first go toward each unit’s military merit, to be distributed collectively once the fighting ended, though in general the amount would end up roughly equal to what the scouts earned per head. Even for those who died in battle, so long as their unit’s merit was properly recorded, the reward would eventually still be sent to their families.

Going by this rate, to “buy” the heads of the entire Huaxia Army, Wanyan Zonghan would need to spend at least tens of millions of strings of cash — but he did not mind the cost.

When the Liao state still stood, the annual tribute the Wu Dynasty paid to Liao in silver alone exceeded a million strings, and yet through trade the Wu Dynasty turned around and earned it all back several times over. When Tong Guan once ransomed the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun, he pooled together property worth tens of millions of strings from great families and officials across the north and the court — and in the end, having achieved merit in his campaign against Liao and recovered Yan and Yun, his reputation soared, while that same fortune of tens of millions would simply be clawed back from the common people all over again.

By the time the Jin state had trampled the Central Plains and destroyed the Wu Dynasty, the gold and silver looted along the way from ruined households and exterminated clans — to say nothing of the slaves seized to be sent north to produce yet more gold and silver — would far exceed that figure. If it truly took only a few tens of millions of strings in gold and silver to “buy” the Huaxia Army, then men like Zonghan and Xiyin would not begrudge the expense in the least.

This was the final battle to settle the realm.

Amid such enormous profit and glory, it was not only the scouts but even the mid- and low-ranking soldiers throughout the ranks who were eager and itching for action.

On the twenty-second, the clashes among the scouts in the vast mountain forests suddenly turned fierce. Both the Jurchen and Huaxia forces committed more troops at the same moment, on the same front, each raising the stakes together.

From the afternoon of the twenty-second onward, the most obvious sign of conflict visible across the rugged mountains was no longer the occasional distant explosion, but the black columns of smoke and mountain fires rising from the forest. In the chaos of fighting in the woodland, many chose fire as a tactic to obscure the battlefield — some blazes flared up and died out quickly, while others, in the relatively dry conditions of early winter, spread fiercely, fanned by the howling north wind into an overwhelming display of force.

Thick smoke rolled and danced through the mountains, the scorched trails visible clearly for miles around. The animals living in the forest scattered and fled in all directions, and it was amid this chaos that the sporadic killing unfolded.

Most of the forest fires were started by the Bohai people, Liaodong natives, and Han-army scouts on the Jurchen side.

Though the enormous bounties offered by the Jurchens had these skilled and daring elite soldiers rushing eagerly into the mountains to kill, once they actually entered the vast forest and truly clashed with the soldiers of the Huaxia Army, the tremendous pressure fell on every one of them.

The mountain forests of Sichuan appeared vast and boundless, and those skilled at moving through the mountains could indeed find many paths, but the rugged terrain made all these paths narrow and dangerous. As long as no enemy was encountered, all was well — but the moment an enemy was met, the fighting that followed would be the fiercest and most treacherous imaginable.

Organized in groups of ten, the Huaxia Army’s scouts — trained specifically for combat in the forest — mostly wore clothing colored to blend with the mountain scenery, and each carried a powerful hand-crossbow. In a sudden encounter, the ten members would seal off the road from different directions, and the first volley of crossbow bolts fired from multiple angles alone was enough to strike terror into the heart.

Beyond the crossbows, each man also carried two or three thrown grenades. Encountering such an explosion on a narrow path left an enemy truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

Beyond hand-crossbows and fire-bombs, the ten members of each unit each had their own specialty and role. Some carried fine steel grappling hooks for climbing, and pulley systems that let them scale mountain slopes as nimbly as apes. A small number of elite teams carried sniper rifles and advanced ahead of the rest, occupying high ground, observing through telescopes, and signaling to nearby units.

The Jurchen scouts certainly had their own gyrfalcons, no shortage of marksmen who could hit a target at a hundred paces, and men with extraordinary skill in scaling sheer mountain peaks — but under the systematic coordination and forward pressure of these Huaxia Army units, the first scout parties to make contact that day suffered devastating losses.

The hundreds upon thousands of scouts had seemed crowded and lively enough on the main road at the mountain’s entrance, but once they entered the forest and scattered along different paths, they would occasionally encounter the retreating figures of the elite Jurchen scouts who had gone in over the previous days. These fresh reinforcements moved up to replace them, while the Huaxia Army’s hundreds of special-operations units had likewise been steadily advancing. By afternoon, the fighting in the forest had descended into chaos, and some of the surviving scouts set fires that blazed fiercely.

Some of the scout units that had submitted to the Jurchen side cursed and wailed. Within the forest they might have had “strength in numbers,” but the combat ability of each unit varied greatly, their styles differed, and the coordination and pace of their advance were all uneven. Some units were fighting up ahead even as they watched the fires behind them spreading toward them…

On the other side, the Huaxia Army’s special-operations units had, from early on, worked out a rough overall battle plan. Even at this early stage of the war, communication between units remained tight, coordinated through core teams occupying the high ground in each sector, advancing and retreating in good order — on the whole, no unit had yet pushed forward recklessly.

In these days, though they had occasionally run into extraordinarily skilled veterans and hunters on the enemy side — some appearing suddenly to kill with a single arrow to the throat, others hidden among piles of fallen leaves who struck without warning — causing no small number of casualties, in terms of the overall exchange ratio, the Huaxia Army still held an enormous advantage.

According to figures compiled later, on the twenty-second, roughly six hundred or more of the Jurchen’s auxiliary scout forces died in the forest fighting, against just over a hundred casualties for the Huaxia Army. On the twenty-third and twenty-fourth, casualties on both sides declined, and the Huaxia Army’s scout line as a whole continued to advance — though several Jurchen scout units, growing increasingly familiar with the forest, managed to seize a few important observation points ahead. Even so, these remained only minor losses ahead of the real battle to come.

Yuyu adapted to the situation and made several adjustments to the mountain campaign, but on the whole, he did not much concern himself with the clumsy performance of some of the auxiliary units.

On the twenty-fifth, Balishu, leading tens of thousands of troops, made his preparations outside the walls of Huangming County, driving several thousand Han prisoners forward toward the city walls.

Huangming County had grown out of what had once been a post-station town, and it was no formidable fortress. Its walls stood only three zhang high, with a total length facing the mountain pass of four hundred and sixty zhang — roughly fifteen hundred meters by later measure. The wall wound from open ground up onto a hillside to the south, where the steep slope formed an “L”-shaped angle with the defenses below. Several trebuchets with longer range, along with cannons, were set up here, and the hot air balloon used for observation floated high above this section of the wall.

The northern end of the wall bordered a mountain ravine some six or seven zhang deep, though there was still a narrow path near the wall that led across it. As the prisoners were driven forward, soldiers atop the wall shouted down, telling them to circle around toward the north side of the city to save themselves. The Jurchens behind them naturally would not allow this — they first used arrows to drive the prisoners southward, then set up cannons and trebuchets to fire into the crowd pressing toward the north.

The crowd wailed and pushed against one another as they surged toward the base of the wall. Arrows, stones, and shells fell among the crowd behind them, explosions, wailing, and screams mixing together as the smell of blood spread through the air.

Once they had pressed up against the base of the wall, the prisoners were finally out of range of the shells and stones. Some called up, hoping the Huaxia Army would open the gates; others hoped ropes would be lowered down to them. But the soldiers atop the wall did not react. Part of the crowd began moving toward the northern side, while others ran toward the rugged slope to the south.

In truth, at this point the only path to survival was the narrow trail between the northern ravine and the wall. Among the Jurchen ranks, Balishu watched quietly as the prisoners were driven all the way to the base of the wall. No mines went off among them, and once the crowd began pressing north, he gave the order to drive out a second group of roughly a thousand more prisoners.

Mixed among this second group was a company of about a hundred archers, who used the cover of the Han prisoners to close the distance to the wall, then began shooting at the prisoners fleeing north below it. A scattering of arrows landed on top of the wall.

Pang Liu’an gave the order to open fire.

Three cannon shots screamed out from the walls of Huangming County and fell into the crowd mixed with the archers. At the same time, the Jurchens on their side were also firing sporadically at the fleeing prisoners from behind — these three shots, amid the general uproar and gunsmoke, barely stood out. Balishu, on horseback, slapped his thigh, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes.

He waved a hand and ordered his subordinates to release a third group of prisoners.

This group, too, numbered around a thousand. Unlike the previous groups, the Jurchens handed out several dozen crudely made scaling ladders to these prisoners.

“…You want to run north — you won’t make it through! The city wall ahead isn’t high. The Black Banner Army calls itself Huaxia — if you get up there, they won’t kill you! Carry the ladders and run for your lives! Anyone too slow, watch out for the Jurchen cannons!”

The man shouting this at the front of the driven prisoners was a former Wu Dynasty official, blood on his body, his face bruised and swollen, relaying the Jurchens’ words to the crowd. Many of the prisoners had families in tow; they hoisted the ladders and ran forward wailing. Some carried children in their arms, crying out pleas that made no coherent sense.

At that moment, the Huaxia Army soldiers atop the wall were lowering shields, blades, spears, and wooden door panels down to the crowd below to help shield them from stray arrows. Seeing the enemy carrying up scaling ladders across the battlefield, Pang Liu’an and Chief of Staff Guo Chen fell silent for only a moment.

“…Have someone shout down to them — tell them not to bring the ladders. There are spies mixed in the crowd. Don’t fall for the Jurchens’ scheme.”

So ordered Guo Chen, before turning to relay another order to the artillery: “Mark the range.”

A soldier with a loud voice took up a simple megaphone atop the wall and shouted with all his strength toward the crowd ahead.

On the “battlefield” ahead, there were no soldiers — only a crowd pushing and fleeing, wailing, weeping, the stench of blood rising, mixed with gunsmoke and spilled entrails.

This was the “gentlest” opening of the entire battle, and Balishu’s eyes carried a fevered bloodlust as he watched it all unfold.

To the Jurchens, this was merely a simple massacre, one they had not even fully committed themselves to — but Balishu relished the enemy’s dilemma, relished whatever the commander across from him might reveal, whether resolve or fury, either one would satisfy him.

To the Huaxia Army, this was a psychological trial that sounded cruel but had, in truth, become almost routine. Many had already been through it back in the days of Xiaocang River; now, once again, a great many soldiers had to endure it a second time.

The Jurchens had swept across the realm; if they needed prisoners, hundreds of thousands or even millions meant nothing to them. Balishu drove these people forward, chased them, slaughtered them. If the soldiers atop the wall showed the slightest hesitation or gave any opening because of it, then after these thousands, Balishu and Zonghan would not hesitate to drive a hundred thousand, even a million more people forward to be cut down before the walls.

The prisoners carrying the ladders were driven forward, closing the distance, merging with the earlier group. The soldiers atop the wall shouted themselves hoarse. Pang Liu’an drew a breath.

“Fire.”

Atop the wall, soldiers lowered their torches, and the iron cannons roared. Shells burst from the muzzle flashes and flew out over the sea-like crowd below.

One shell, then another, then a third — in the burst of shockwaves, people were blown apart, some losing limbs, screaming in agony.

“Hahahaha…” Balishu laughed atop his horse, issuing his next orders without pause.

The trebuchets on every part of the battlefield began to inch forward under cover of the chaos, the artillery advancing with them, as a fourth group of prisoners was driven out… Back in the Jurchen camp, the Meng’an Wulitan and his men stood ready, equipped and waiting to move out.

He was one of the Jurchens’ most battle-hardened vanguard commanders, a trusted fierce warrior under Balishu’s command since the days when Aguda still lived. This offensive against the Huaxia Army mattered enormously to men like Zonghan and Xiyin, many of whom saw it as the final obstacle to conquering the realm — but the caution in strategy and the thoroughness of preparation had not dulled the fighting spirit within the ranks.

Facing this obstacle of Huangming County, once Balishu had arrayed his forces, Wulitan requested from his commander the honor of leading the charge to be first over the wall, to claim the opening merit in this battle of vengeance for fallen marshals like Loushi and Cibushi. Balishu granted his request.

As the prisoners were driven out group after group, the Jurchen army’s formation crept steadily forward. Around noon, the trebuchets with the greatest range began to bring Huangming County’s walls within striking distance. The Huaxia Army, having rested and prepared, struck first, using its own trebuchets to attack the Jurchen siege-engine camp, and the Jurchens quickly anchored their machines and struck back. By this time, fewer than one in ten of the civilians on the battlefield had managed to escape north along the narrow trail — the battlefield had already become a meat grinder for ordinary people.

At the quarter hour into the Wei period — the most tedious and exhausting stretch of the afternoon — the first great surge of this bloody battle erupted. Wulitan, leading a company of a thousand men who had slightly altered their appearance, pressed forward once more, herding another group of civilians toward the wall. He had already selected his point of attack, dividing his thousand men into ten groups to advance from different directions.

Balishu sat astride his horse, his gaze calm as he watched the battlefield — until, at a certain moment, his brow furrowed slightly.

The battlefield still rang with cries and chaos, the trebuchets of both sides trading blows. On the Jurchen side, five of their own siege engines had already been smashed, while beneath the walls of Huangming County, countless people had been pulped by the flying boulders. The falling stones brought devastating destruction without pause. But at the top of Huangming County’s wall, at a certain moment, the atmosphere suddenly seemed to fall silent.

Balishu sensed that brief silence.

Atop the wall, Pang Liu’an suddenly leaned forward, snatching up his telescope and sweeping it quickly across the battlefield. Among the Huaxia Army soldiers guarding the wall, some of the veterans seemed to sense something too — they peered outward from behind their shields, while the less experienced new recruits in the ranks watched the movements of these veterans who had lived through the days of Xiaocang River.

“Heh heh… damn it, they’ve finally, worked up, the nerve, to come…”

Long blades were drawn from their sheaths, a sound rising from deep in the throat, suppressed all the way down to the marrow, and a ferocious air like that of a slaughterhouse spread across the top of the wall.

“…They’re coming. Should we open fire?”

The wall of Huangming County stood only three zhang high; if the enemy drew close, they could scale it and engage in combat within moments. Pang Liu’an’s gaze swept across the battlefield, filled with spraying blood and shrill wailing, and he ground his teeth.

“…Let them draw blood first.”