The Blood Crown - Chapter 22

Yuan Sikong stared intently at the massive enemy army below, feeling a bit dizzy, his chest tightening. He clenched the dagger at his waist and thought of the person who had gifted it to him, the young and stubborn face of an eight-year-old child. Even an eight-year-old had the courage to stand against the Jin invaders and unite the world; he wouldn’t fear the gold thieves!

Under the enemy’s banners, a commander with thick sideburns sat firmly on his horse; it was undoubtedly the Jin Crown Prince, Zhuoletai. Suddenly, he spurred his horse and charged out of the central camp. The massive army promptly opened a straight path for him.

Zhuoletai reined his horse under the city walls, raised his head, and shouted, “Who is on the city walls, declare your name!”

Yuan Mao shouted sternly, “I am Yuan Mao, the defender of Guangning. Zhuoletai, you dare to murder the Emperor’s son? Your crimes will be punished!”

Zhuoletai laughed madly, “This old man dared to mock me; he should die! You stubborn Han people, you should all die!”

“I, Yuan, can stop you once, twice, and more.” Yuan Mao’s spirit grew stronger. “As long as I’m here, you will remain miserable for life. Don’t think you can step even half a step into Guangning! Soldiers, avenge Li Boyun!”

The defending soldiers roared, “Avenge Li Boyun!” Their voices were like thunder, reaching the heavens.

Under the deafening roar, Zhuoletai’s horse took a few steps back. He steadied his steed, drew his sword, and held it high in front of him before swinging it down.

For the third time, the war drums sounded beneath Guangning’s walls, and the Jin army, filled with murderous intent, surged forward. As far as the eye could see, there was only an endless tide of hostile troops.

Yuan Mao shouted, “Archers, prepare, release—”

Yuan Sikong crouched under cover as a rain of arrows filled the sky. He watched the ferocious Jin soldiers charging toward the city, their bloodshot eyes and fierce expressions. It was as if he was facing a horde of vengeful spirits. But when they were hit by arrows and artillery shells, bursting into bloody pieces, it reminded him that these were real living people.

He had read about countless battles in military texts, where brilliant generals discussed tactics, maneuvering their armies with ease, speaking of strategic prowess and tactical finesse. However, what he saw now was the raw brutality of warfare. It was the first time he had been so close to the grim reality of battle, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Yuan Nányù was right by his side, holding his hand tightly. “Elder brother, don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid,” his own voice was trembling.

Yuan Sikong stared at Yuan Nányù, and suddenly, he bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, causing a stinging pain that cleared his mind a little. He took a deep breath. “Nànyù, I’m not afraid.”

Yuan Nányù nodded, but his mouth felt dry. The deafening battle cries, even from this distance, were already enough to make his heart race. He asked, “Elder brother, can we succeed, General Hú? Can we win?”

Yuan Sikong shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Four days ago, it was Deputy Commander Hú Bǎichéng who led the 300 suicide squad members to leave Guangning under the cover of a blizzard. When the plan was first proposed by Yuan Mao, Hú Bǎichéng was the first to volunteer.

Since Hú Bǎichéng left, they had lost all contact, and at present, it seemed like at least they hadn’t been captured by the Jin. Even if they failed, everyone knew they wouldn’t be coming back.

Today was the battle that would decide Guangning’s fate, and Hú Bǎichéng was their only hope.

Due to a shortage of gunpowder ammunition, their firepower was dwindling, and the Jin soldiers took half the time compared to previous assaults to reach the city walls and begin climbing ladders.

Yuan Sikong dashed from cover and sounded his horn with all his might. The local militia he had organized charged toward the city walls, carrying buckets filled with Greek fire. They reached the wall, poured the fiery liquid down, and archers ignited their arrows before shooting them out.

A wall of flames erupted under the city walls, accompanied by desperate cries, but the Jin soldiers continued climbing their ladders.

“General, the west gate is in trouble!”

“General, the south gate is in trouble!”

Yuan Mao shouted, “Shàoxī, Sikong, go support the gates!”

“Yes!”

Zhuoletai’s previous two attacks mainly focused on the east city gate, aiming to concentrate their forces for a single massive assault. The defense’s stronghold and main firepower concentration point were naturally at the east gate, making it the hardest to conquer and where casualties were the highest. This time, Zhuoletai changed his strategy; the east gate remained the primary target, but they had also allocated additional forces to the west and south gates. Even though dividing the troops weakened their strength, he knew that Guangning was already stretched thin and couldn’t afford further splitting.

Zhuoletai’s judgment was indeed correct. Currently, there were only around seven to eight hundred defenders in the city, and they were fighting like ten men each. Though they had a few thousand militiamen, they couldn’t match the ferocity of the Jin soldiers. However, he overlooked one thing: with the right tactics, even frail women could wield power.

Yuan Shàoxū headed to the west gate, while Yuan Sikong and Yuan Nányù went to the south gate.

When they reached the south gate, they saw Jin soldiers with their shields held above their heads as they charged the city walls. Behind them, archers provided cover.

Yuan Sikong ran up to Chén Yǔlóng and said, “Chén, quickly get them into the ‘fire clothes’!”

This “fire clothes” was the name Yuan Sikong had given to it. He had read in historical accounts that, in desperate situations, defenders would light blankets on fire and throw them down from the city walls, causing significant damage. With their dwindling supply of fire oil, it was no longer sufficient. Now, they would see how effective these “fire clothes” could be.

A squad of “Daughters of the Army” led by Yuan Wēilíng ascended the city wall, each carrying a blanket. They doused them with oil, ignited them, and then, working in pairs, they tossed the flaming blankets downward.

These blankets were quite heavy, and they landed steadily on the Jin soldiers’ shields. The ironworking technology of the barbarians was entirely borrowed from the Central Plains, and with little progress over the years, their shields were still made of wood. While wooden shields had their advantages, such as being affordable, lightweight, rust-resistant, and resistant to freezing, they had one significant weakness—they were susceptible to fire.

These flaming blankets were like stars, burning briefly before extinguishing. Normally, they wouldn’t ignite, but when they encountered a large fire, they could set off a massive blaze, creating a wall of flames. The entire attacking group was engulfed in fire, causing some of them to abandon their armor and flee, only to be shot down by stray arrows.

Yuan Sikong shouted, “Continue to drop—”

Before he could finish, he was suddenly tackled to the ground by Yuan Nányù. An arrow had just flown past the spot where he had been standing. Yuan Sikong broke out in a cold sweat.

“Elder brother, are you alright?” Yuan Nányù asked nervously as he touched Yuan Sikong’s face.

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” Yuan Sikong reassured him. He straightened his helmet, which was oversized and cumbersome as it was hastily provided armor. Nevertheless, Yuan Mao had ordered him to wear it.

Chén Yǔlóng directed his soldiers and militiamen to work together. The “fire clothes” fluttered down like paper, setting fire to the shields when they fell on them or knocking down a whole group if they landed on the climbing ladders. A dozen “fire clothes” brought immediate relief to the crisis at the south gate. The Jin soldiers’ assault clearly lost some momentum, allowing the defenders a brief respite.

Yuan Sikong said, “Nànyù, watch here carefully and make sure to protect your sister. I’ll go check on Father.”

Yuan Nányù expressed his concern, “Please be careful. Arrows don’t discriminate, and you have to be vigilant.”

“Don’t worry. You need to be cautious too,” Yuan Sikong reassured. He got up and ran toward the east gate.

Yuan Mao was still shouting orders with a hoarse voice. The situation at the east gate was indeed much more severe than the other two gates. The battering ram had already reached the city gate, and the soldiers were swarming the ladders, climbing up like ants. Dead bodies piled up beneath the city walls, creating a horrifying sight.

Yuan Sikong ran to Yuan Mao’s side and said anxiously, “Father, it seems we might not hold the east gate. Perhaps we should send musketeers to meet the Jin invaders at the city gate.”

They had given their all, but would it still not be enough?

Yuan Mao pulled Yuan Sikong behind him and shouted loudly, “I believe in Hú Bǎichéng. He will not let me down!”

Suddenly, an unfamiliar horn signal sounded from within the Jin army, leaving everyone puzzled.

Zhuoletai turned his horse around and spun in place.

Yuan Sikong was overjoyed, saying, “Father, it must be news of Hú Bǎichéng’s attack on their camp!”

Yuan Mao’s lips quivered slightly, and his eyes, burning red, remained fixed on Zhuoletai.

What choice would Zhuoletai make?

Yuan Sikong thought that if he were Zhuoletai, he would prioritize taking Guangning rather than worrying about his camp. However, Zhuoletai, as the supreme commander of the three armies, faced a complex decision. He was already aware of the dire situation in Guangning, but he couldn’t comprehend how dire it had truly become. Additionally, Guangning had dispatched forces to attack his camp, making it even harder for him to decide. He had already retreated from the city under these walls twice before. If he abandoned the camp and Guangning still couldn’t capture the city, he would lose all his supplies, be attacked from both sides, and that would be a real disaster.

Yuan Sikong was taking a gamble on the certainty that Zhuoletai would return to protect his camp.

Soon, Zhuoletai made a calculated decision to sound the retreat signal.

Yuan Sikong grabbed Yuan Mao’s arm, overwhelmed with excitement.

Zhuoletai was retreating! He had fallen into the trap they had set!

Zhuoletai, being the renowned general of the Jin Empire, imposed strict discipline and order. While his decision to retreat was initially made hastily, it was executed with precision. As Yuan Sikong had anticipated, he sent cavalry from both flanks to rush back to his camp for reinforcement. Meanwhile, he personally led a rear-guard unit.

Yuan Mao shouted with great joy, “Zhuoletai is retreating!”

“Zhuoletai is retreating!” The commanders on the city walls echoed the cry, and the shouts spread throughout the entire Guangning city. The citizens celebrated the news with jubilation.

Yuan Mao turned around, surveying the generals behind him, and asked, “As planned, who among you is brave enough to lead five hundred cavalry with muskets to charge the Jin central army? Who will go?”

In order to prevent leaks, their strategy had to be kept secret until the last moment.

“I volunteer!” A clear, young voice spoke up, and a man in his twenties stepped forward without fear on his face.

This young man was Liang Huiyong, one of the few soldiers who had been adamant about defending the city on the fateful day.

“Good, I see that my Liao Dynasty is not short of courageous young men!” Yuan Mao praised him warmly. “I order you to be the vanguard, disrupt Zhuoletai’s army, and you don’t need to engage in a life-or-death battle. The purpose of this battle is to shake their morale.”

“I will obey your orders!” Liang Huiyong replied with determination.

Yuan Sikong stepped forward and walked up to Liang Huiyong, saying, “General, please remember that as you fight, you need to command the soldiers and have them all shout a specific sentence.”

“What sentence?” Liang Huiyong asked.

A hint of ruthlessness flashed in Yuan Sikong’s eyes as he replied, “‘Reinforcements have arrived, our camp is under attack, Zhuoletai is defeated.'”

Liang Huiyong rode off with his five hundred cavalry, which were Guangning’s last troops. Guangning was now as vulnerable as an eggshell. This was their only and final chance for survival. If they failed, they would meet their end.

Liang Huiyong might be young, but he displayed tremendous valor and was nothing like the reckless Hú Bǎichéng. He was a potential military leader with a bright future ahead. However, the odds for both Liang Huiyong and the death squad led by Hú Bǎichéng were grim.

The onlookers watched as the Guangning cavalry charged in a half-circle to avoid Zhuoletai’s elite troops and headed directly for the central army. Though their journey was long, they could still be seen as they merged with the thousands-strong enemy forces. In comparison, they appeared minuscule.

However, the expected image of these valiant soldiers getting swallowed by the vast Jin army didn’t occur. The five hundred warriors acted like wolves amidst sheep, quickly disrupting Zhuoletai’s central army and almost cutting it in two.

Yuan Sikong’s breathing became more rapid, overwhelmed with excitement.

As he had anticipated, although there were only five hundred cavalrymen, they displayed the strength of five thousand. Several factors contributed to Liang Huiyong’s success. First, the central army consisted of infantry and mechanical troops, so cavalry had a significant advantage. Their charge sliced through the enemy ranks, decapitating foes like harvesting wheat. Second, the suddenness of Liang Huiyong’s attack caught the central army completely off-guard. The soldiers were startled by the unfamiliar muskets, and their morale suffered. Lastly, and most importantly, the Jin army’s spirit was already weakened, and they had grown disheartened. They had invested heavily in the siege but made no progress, suffering heavy casualties. With Zhuoletai’s sudden retreat and the unexpected arrival of five hundred cavalrymen, their confidence was shattered.

When you attack a city for half of the battle, and the commander abruptly sounds a retreat, it raises doubt among the soldiers. After three failed assaults and so many casualties, their confidence had plummeted. The sudden charge of five hundred cavalrymen, despite being outnumbered, caused mass confusion in the central army. They panicked and scattered in every direction. Once the central army fled, the entire Jin force crumbled. The message, “Reinforcements have arrived, our camp is under attack, Zhuoletai is defeated,” spread like poison gas. Even those in the rear of the army could no longer maintain their formation. Zhuoletai himself was unable to halt the disintegration, watching his tens of thousands of troops dissolve into disarray before five hundred cavalrymen like helpless lambs.

The Guangning soldiers, standing on the city walls, witnessed the collapse of Zhuoletai’s army and were overwhelmed with emotion, shedding tears of joy.

Yuan Mao hugged Yuan Sikong tightly, choked with emotion. He said, “Sikong, you saved Guangning.”

Yuan Sikong’s eyes welled up with tears, and he wiped them away. “Father, this is the result of Guangning’s soldiers and citizens uniting against the enemy. I don’t dare take credit for this, and besides, it’s too early to celebrate. We need to see if Zhuoletai will completely withdraw.”

“He won’t come back,” Yuan Mao shook his head, “Father is certain that he won’t dare to return.”

Yuan Sikong thought the same way. This battle had severely damaged Zhuoletai’s forces and was likely to have a lasting impact on his morale. Even if he dared to return, it would take some time to regroup. By then, their reinforcements would have genuinely arrived. Guangning had indeed held its ground.