The Blood Crown - Chapter 275

On the eve of the siege, Yan Sikong was resting inside his tent when Feng Ye, who should have been too busy to break away, suddenly appeared.

Without even lifting his eyelids, Yan Sikong said coolly, “The Wolf King should be busy in armor, immersed in the chaos of war. How do you have time to visit me?”

Feng Ye replied, “It wants to see you.” As he spoke, he held open the curtain, and a silver-gray, one-eyed giant wolf walked in gracefully.

“Húnr!” A hint of color finally appeared on Yan Sikong’s face due to his excitement, and his eyes showed a rare trace of joy.

Feng Hún walked up to Yan Sikong and nuzzled him with its massive head.

Yan Sikong grabbed its thick fur, looking into its eyes, “Húnr, I never thought I’d see you again.” This giant wolf was still as majestic as ever, but he faintly noticed that Feng Hún was not quite the same as before.

It had grown thinner, its steps slower, no longer as spirited as it once was.

Feng Ye sat beside Feng Hún, his large hand stroking its back, “It’s old now. Few wolves live to be twenty. If it were a person, it would be over a hundred.”

Yan Sikong rested his forehead against Feng Hún’s face and softly said, “Húnr, have you grown old?” When they first met, Feng Hún was in its prime, and Feng Ye was still a youth.

Ten years, gone in the blink of an eye.

Feng Hún let out a gentle whimper and licked Yan Sikong with its tongue.

Yan Sikong couldn’t suppress the sadness in his heart and asked, “Will you still take it to the battlefield?”

“Yes,” Feng Ye’s voice was very gentle, “Wearing armor, standing in the center of the army, is when it’s most majestic and happiest. I’ll take it until it can’t walk anymore.”

Yan Sikong hugged Feng Hún’s neck tightly and closed his eyes. Unlike humans, where aging is visible from the outside, the changes in a wolf are subtle. In his mind, Feng Hún seemed forever young, strong, and vigorous. It was hard for him to accept that the life in his arms was already approaching its twilight.

The melancholy and helplessness of time’s inevitable passage filled Yan Sikong’s chest.

Feng Ye gazed steadily at Yan Sikong, sorrow flashing in his eyes.

—

At dawn, three hundred thousand troops gathered beneath the outer walls of the Forbidden City.

The sea of soldiers’ armor gleamed, and long spears stood like a forest. Even from a high vantage point, the end was not in sight.

In the central army, a tri-colored command flag billowed in the early spring chill. Green on the left, white on the right, embroidered with a green dragon and a white tiger. The center was red, depicting a roaring wolf’s head, vivid and intimidating.

This flag represented the commander of the three armies, standing beneath it and mounted on a horse, was the renowned, fearsome—Wolf King.

To Feng Ye’s right stood a one-eyed giant wolf in soft armor, a creature that had followed him in countless battles, becoming a legend among the people. On his left was his most trusted and brotherly masked general, Que Wang.

Yan Sikong’s body recovered quickly, but Feng Ye still wouldn’t allow him to ride a horse. He had insisted on watching the Feng Army’s siege. Besides, with “Que Wang” here, even if he couldn’t lead the troops due to his injuries, his presence could stabilize morale and inspire the soldiers.

Feng Ye squinted, looking at the distant city walls and the well-prepared defenders on the towers. He recalled the time he fled in disgrace, accompanied by only two thousand Feng Army loyalists. Now, he had returned with three hundred thousand heavy troops. He had endured countless hardships and swallowed endless humiliations. In this moment, this moment of achieving his desire, how could mere “satisfaction” describe it?

A surge of boldness rose in Feng Ye’s chest, soaring to the heavens.

Yan Sikong said, “The Wolf King must be quite pleased right now, I suppose.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“In recent years, natural disasters have been relentless, and war has brought continuous chaos. Da Sheng, perhaps, has truly reached the end of its destiny.”

“Continuous chaos due to war.” Feng Ye sneered. “Many of those disasters are closely linked to you.”

“I am willing to break things to rebuild, to end war through war, to heal Da Sheng’s wounds by scraping the bone. I seek a sage and wise ruler who will punish the guilty and restore the nation. If I am wrong…” Yan Sikong’s voice was nearly ethereal, “then it means I misjudged you, and I will face endless damnation.”

“How do you see me?” Feng Ye glanced sideways at Yan Sikong.

“I believe that, in your heart, you have always upheld loyalty to the nation and cared for the people.”

Feng Ye slightly raised his chin, his voice arrogant: “I am willing to protect this world, but this world—must be mine.”

Yan Sikong stared blankly ahead.

Feng Ye slowly drew his sword, the blade scraping against the scabbard, producing a chilling sound. At last, the silver blade slashed through the dark blue sky with a “swish,” as if splitting heaven and earth apart. Just then, the sun broke through the clouds, shining brilliantly over the land!

The sound of war drums was like thunder from the heavens, piercing thick breastplates and striking directly at the heart, causing blood to boil!

Feng Ye’s eyes widened, veins bulging on his forehead. Reflected in his fierce gaze was the majestic Forbidden City, now being dragged into an abyss without end. Feng Ye let out a low roar: “Attack—”

In the next instant, the blaring of war horns and the beating of war drums filled the air. Arrows rained down like a dense web of death above, carrying overwhelming killing intent, piercing armor and flesh alike.

The army surged forward like a black tide with the momentum of a mountain crushing down.

The Forbidden City’s moat, meticulously dredged and fortified, was a full twenty zhàng wide and five zhàng deep, far beyond what could be bridged by a drawbridge or cart. To cross the moat, Feng Ye brought ten siege carts, each loaded with a thousand-ton boulder, pushed by a hundred soldiers, forcing them down into the moat.

On the city walls, arrows flew like swarming locusts, covering the sky. Shielded infantry protected the siege troops and archers, advancing step by step toward the moat despite countless arrows raining down. Soldiers fell one after another, yet more surged forward to take their place. Arrows scattered like porcupine quills across their bodies and the ground—not to protect their hosts, but to claim their lives.

The ground was littered with corpses, but the siege carts were pushed into the moat one by one. From sunrise to noon, the water in the moat overflowed, and the carts formed a path across. By then, the death toll had already reached tens of thousands.

Engineers swiftly constructed plank bridges over the rocks filling the trench. Artillery troops, braving the storm of arrows, pushed their massive cannons across the moat without fear of death.

At Feng Ye’s command, the hundreds of thousands of troops advanced, the very earth trembling beneath them.

Beyond the moat, both armies entered each other’s cannon range. The roar of cannon fire split the walls with hideous scars and blossomed crimson flowers on the ground.

Siege towers, catapults, and cloud ladders rolled toward the city walls in succession.

The soldiers, defying the hail of arrows and cannon fire, launched a relentless assault on the towering walls and tightly shut gates.

It was the grandest, fiercest, and most brutal battle Yan Sikong had ever witnessed in his life.

The air was thick with smoke, the land strewn with bones, and rivers ran red with blood. Feng Ye poured everything into this battle, a clash that would determine whether the dynasty would change names and whether the empire would see a new ruler.

This battle raged from sunrise to sunset, from sunset to the rise of the moon.

Feng Ye promised that the first to scale the walls would be granted a marquisate. At first, countless soldiers swarmed up like ants, but stones, logs, boiling oil, and scalding water were poured down, causing heavy casualties. Gradually, no one dared to advance, and some even hesitated to retreat.

Feng Ye drew a line in the dirt with his sword, declaring that anyone retreating beyond it would be executed!

Beneath the city walls, the soldiers’ corpses piled into small mounds. The Feng Army climbed over their fallen comrades, and finally, the first man reached the city tower.

The war drums beat faster, morale soared, and the soldiers surged forward.

Feng Ye gripped his sword tightly, his entire body trembling.

They had breached the wall, the Feng Army had breached the wall!

Yan Sikong, too, was staring intently at the collapsing defensive line, nearly forgetting to breathe.

The army charged like starving tigers, eager to swallow the enemy whole. They surged onto the walls wave after wave, until finally, the city gate was opened from within.

With a single command, Feng Ye’s army roared and charged through the gates.

After eight hours of bloody battle, the Feng Army broke through the outer defenses of the Forbidden City.

At this moment, the Wolf King, Feng Ye, stood just one inner wall away from supreme dominion over the realm.

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Goodness, this chapter nearly made me cough up blood.