The Blood Crown - Chapter 300

In this confrontation between the two armies, not a single word was exchanged.

 

As the saying goes, “The best strategy is to attack the enemy’s plans; the next best is to attack their alliances.” The ultimate form of warfare is to win without fighting. However, the Han and the Jurchens harbored deep hatred spanning over a hundred years. This battle was destined to be one of life and death.

 

While waiting for reinforcements, Guangning spared no effort in preparing for war.

 

Yan Sikong knew it was unwise for him to show his face, so he disguised himself as Shen Hexuan’s attendant when moving around. Although Shen Hexuan still had people following him closely at all times, he didn’t restrict Yan Sikong’s movements within Guangning City. Still, there were two places Yan Sikong dared not go: one was the execution ground, and the other was the former Yuan family residence.

 

Yet, their enemies didn’t give him time to wallow in sorrow. Soon, they received intelligence that Zhuo Letai was drawing water from the Huang River to make ice, producing cartloads of large ice blocks.

 

Siege warfare commonly used catapults, but sourcing stones was time-consuming and labor-intensive, with limited availability. Ice, however, was different—it was easier to transport, lighter than stone, and virtually inexhaustible.

 

No wonder Zhuo Letai crossed the river before it froze. He intended to secure the Huang River.

 

Hearing this news, opinions varied.

 

Liang Huiyong said, “Although collecting ice is easier than collecting stones, ice is not as hard as stone. The outer city walls of Guangning were reinforced with layer upon layer of ice. At most, the flying ice blocks will damage the ice walls, but they won’t harm the stone walls.”

 

Shen Hexuan pondered, “That may be true, but Zhuo Letai must know ice is less durable than stone. Perhaps his purpose in making ice isn’t solely for catapulting.”

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes darted. “The Guangning city walls are built with a mix of bricks and stones. If the mortar experiences alternating cold and heat over a short period, the bricks and stones may crack. If Zhuo Letai first hurls ice blocks, then uses fire oil and cannons, the walls may not hold as firmly as before.”

 

“Yes…” Liang Huiyong frowned. “These barbarians, who’ve spent their lives building tents and fences, now know how to exploit the weaknesses of our walls?”

 

Yan Sikong sneered, “That vile beast Han Zhaoxing was incompetent and despicable when leading troops. Now, as the Jurchens’ dog, he’s working hard for them.”

 

“You exterminated his entire clan; he must be seeking revenge.” Shen Hexuan squinted. “Even a thousand cuts wouldn’t atone for his sins.”

 

Liang Huiyong also cursed, “He ruined Liaodong.”

 

Fu Zhanqing asked worriedly, “If Zhuo Letai does attack the city with ice and fire, is there a way to counter it?”

 

Shen Hexuan shook his head. “No. How long Guangning can hold is hard to predict.”

 

Yan Sikong said gravely, “This method of attacking the city might have another terrible consequence.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“When the ice blocks hit the walls and shatter, they’ll pile up at the base of the walls. If enough are amassed, they’ll form a natural ladder.”

 

Liang Huiyong’s face changed. “And such a ladder would be even easier to climb than traditional ones.”

 

The group fell into silence.

 

After a long while, Liang Huiyong let out a heavy sigh. “After twenty years, Zhuo Letai has truly come prepared. If the Wolf King doesn’t send reinforcements, Guangning may…”

 

“We’ve also made thorough preparations.” Yan Sikong’s eyes glinted coldly. “Twenty years ago, Guangning was an isolated city with a small garrison, yet it didn’t fear him. Twenty years later, fortified and well-manned, Guangning won’t fear him either. We will defend Liaodong.”

 

—

 

“Any news?” Feng Ye asked Yuan Nanyu anxiously.

 

“I’ve sent out three groups to investigate, but there’s no word yet,” Yuan Nanyu replied, equally tense. “Based on the current intelligence, we can’t confirm that the person is Er’ger.”

 

“It must be him,” Feng Ye said firmly. “I can feel it. It must be him.”

 

“The Commander of Guangning has just sent another report, likely another request for reinforcements.” Yuan Nanyu handed it to Feng Ye.

 

Frustrated, Feng Ye crumpled the letter. “Why hasn’t there been any word from the capital when Liaodong is so close?”

 

“There’s no rushing it now; we can only wait.” Yuan Nanyu spoke solemnly. “The court can’t spare troops at the moment. What should be done about Liaodong?”

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t stand idly by,” Feng Ye said gravely. “But if we act rashly, Chen Mu will seize the opportunity. Zhuo Letai hasn’t attacked yet; we must hold our ground for now.” Saying this, he opened the military report.

 

The previous letters had been filled with lengthy arguments, urging him to send troops. But this time, the letter contained only a single sheet of paper.

 

Feng Ye’s heart tightened. Could Zhuo Letai have already begun the attack? He quickly unfolded the letter, then froze.

 

There were only two large words written on it: Save me.

 

The writing was bold and forceful, like a dragon in flight. Though there were only two words, they seemed to leap off the page, brimming with an imposing aura. The signature line was left blank.

 

Feng Ye stood up abruptly, his hands trembling as he held the letter. Yuan Nanyu was alarmed. “What’s wrong with Guangning?”

 

“It’s him.” Feng Ye’s face was ashen, his voice shaking. “It’s him.”

 

Yuan Nanyu hurried over. One look at the letter, and his expression changed dramatically. “This… this is Er’ger’s handwriting!”

 

Tears welled up in Feng Ye’s eyes as he clutched the letter tightly. “It’s him. It’s really him. Hahaha, it’s him, it’s him…” His breathing became chaotic, caught between laughter and sobs. His heart ached as if pierced by countless needles, making it hard to breathe.

 

It was Yan Sikong’s handwriting, a letter written by Yan Sikong to him.

 

His Kong’er was alive—truly alive!

 

Yuan Nanyu choked, “Er’ger is really alive, and he has gone… no, returned home.”

 

Feng Ye staggered back and collapsed into a chair. Hoarsely, he said, “Que Wang, am I dreaming?” Time and again, in his dreams, he had walked toward Yan Sikong, only to wake up to nothing but emptiness, like falling from the clouds into hell, beyond redemption.

 

Yuan Nanyu clenched his fists. “No, this is real. This is truly Er’ger’s letter. He is in Guangning, in Liaodong, waiting for us to save him.”

 

Feng Ye held back his brimming tears. “He’s still alive. He’s asking me for help. He… he’s alive.” His Kong’er was alive, and at this moment, it seemed like the only thing in the world that mattered.

 

“We should have realized it. If Er’ger were alive, how could he stand by and watch the Jin bastards lay their hands on Liaodong?” Yuan Nanyu said excitedly. “Er’ger has always been deeply emotional and righteous. He’s always had the people of Liaodong in his heart.”

 

Feng Ye stared at the letter, the memory of their last meeting surfacing in his mind: Yan Sikong’s calm expression. At that time, had he already decided not to return? Perhaps he was silently asking for help while uttering words of farewell.

 

And the last thing he himself had said to him—was that he hated him…

 

How much heartbreak and despair had he caused Yan Sikong then? He had personally pushed him off the cliff.

 

Feng Ye closed his eyes in pain and whispered, “I will lead troops to Liaodong. I will personally lead them. I will save him.” For the rest of this life, he would not allow anyone to harm Yan Sikong again.

 

“Wolf King—”

 

“I forbid it!” A stern shout interrupted. Feng Changyue strode into the room. “You cannot leave the capital!”

 

Feng Ye’s eyes were resolute. “Uncle, I must go myself.”

 

“You—you’re doing this for a man…” Feng Changyue trembled with rage. “You are now the Wolf King, ruler of all under heaven, no longer that impetuous, arrogant young prince. This is a grave matter! How can you act so recklessly?”

 

Feng Ye’s face was cold and firm. “I’m not doing this just for him. Securing Liaodong is the only way I can fully focus on dealing with Chen Mi. Otherwise, with threats on both sides, how long can we hold on?”

 

“You’re obviously doing this for him!” Feng Changyue’s face turned pale. “You’ve been entangled with him for ten years—ten years! Do you remember that you have a family? Your wives, sent to Datong, have been completely neglected. Your two sons, born so far, don’t even have names.”

 

“You can name them, Uncle,” Feng Ye replied coldly. “My father is gone. You are the elder.”

 

“You…” Feng Changyue pointed at him in frustration. “You cannot go to Liaodong! We started from nothing and sacrificed so much to reach where we are today. If you leave the capital, Chen Mi won’t miss the opportunity. And if you meet with any mishap in Liaodong—”

 

“Uncle,” Feng Ye interrupted. “With you overseeing the capital, Chen Mi won’t make a move for now. Liaodong is the northern gate of our kingdom. If the city falls, the harm will far outweigh anything Chen Mi can do. You’re right—I am doing this for Yan Sikong. But I’m also doing this for the people of Liaodong. Even if he weren’t there, we would still need to send troops to save Liaodong.”

 

“I never said not to save Liaodong, but you don’t need to go personally!” Feng Changyue shouted. “You are the Wolf King!”

 

“Yes, I am the Wolf King,” Feng Ye retorted, his gaze sharp and piercing. “And I must go myself.”

 

Feng Changyue froze, overwhelmed by Feng Ye’s commanding presence. His gaze, sharp as a wolf’s, locked on him with unyielding determination. The sheer force of it felt like an invisible blade pressing against his throat, making his scalp tingle.

 

“The capital is in your hands, Uncle,” Feng Ye said as he rose. “Nanyu, prepare the troops.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Yuan Nanyu responded loudly.

 

—

 

Since receiving word that Feng Ye would personally lead troops to Liaodong, Yan Sikong had been restless for days. He had thought the unstable situation in the court would prevent Feng Ye from leaving the capital, and that Yuan Nanyu would likely be sent instead. But to his surprise…

 

Yet he quickly calmed himself. Since he had asked Feng Ye for help, it was inevitable that they would meet sooner or later. Whether sooner or later, what difference did it make?

 

However, someone else had a much stronger reaction to the news—Shen Hexuan.

 

Feng Ye had once suffered a humiliating defeat in Taiyuan under Shen Hexuan’s ambush. If Feng Ye came to Liaodong in person, he would never let Shen Hexuan go.

 

And so, Shen Hexuan resolutely decided to leave.

 

Though Shen Hexuan was unwilling to let Yan Sikong go, and Yan Sikong was equally unwilling to let Shen Hexuan leave, they were both in Liang Huiyong’s territory and unable to act against each other.

 

Before leaving, Shen Hexuan left Yan Sikong with a parting remark: “We each serve our masters. The next time we meet, we will still be enemies.”

 

Yan Sikong, in turn, gifted Shen Hexuan a painting, instructing him to open it after his departure, and watched as they left the city.

 

Fu Zhanqing hesitated to speak several times but ultimately left with a look of forlorn resignation.

 

—

 

A few days after Shen Hexuan’s departure, the Wolf King arrived in Liaodong with seventy thousand troops.

 

Liang Huiyong and the officials of Liaodong went out of Guangning to welcome him. Yan Sikong did not join them, but he could imagine the scene.

 

Twenty years ago, the Liaodong officials had greeted Feng Ye’s father in Guangning. At that time, he and Yuan Nanyu had hidden on the city walls, watching the grand display: the awe-inspiring King Jingyuan, the fluttering wolf banners of the Feng family, and the little boy drooling as he slept on horseback.

 

That was the first time he had seen Feng Ye. Who would have thought they would entangle each other for half a lifetime?

 

Yan Sikong sat inside, quietly warming himself by the fire, sipping tea, waiting for Feng Ye and Yuan Nanyu.

 

How would Feng Ye react upon seeing him?

 

It didn’t matter anymore.

 

To him, those loves and hatreds of the past felt like events from a previous life—distant and irrelevant. He had let go. It would be best if Feng Ye did the same.

 

Outside, the hurried and chaotic sound of footsteps grew louder. Yan Sikong’s bright eyes flickered, fixed on the orange glow of the burning coals.

 

The next moment, the door was violently pushed open.

 

A gust of cold wind swept into the room, making him shiver. Yan Sikong turned his head to see a tall figure cloaked in a heavy cape. His face was strikingly handsome, his martial prowess unmatched, and his power absolute—he was none other than the ruler of the realm, the Wolf King Feng Ye.

 

Feng Ye stared at Yan Sikong, who wore a simple white robe, his slender frame and refined features exuding an otherworldly calm. His jet-black eyes seemed capable of absorbing everything, making it impossible to look away.

 

Feng Ye stiffly stepped forward, his throat constricted as if seized by an invisible hand, rendering him speechless. He was afraid to speak, afraid to approach further, for fear that the man before him was a mere illusion that would vanish the moment he disturbed it.

 

Countless nights of tormenting longing, endless regret and despair, countless midnight awakenings—this man, who commanded the world as the Wolf King, had been consumed by pain and yearning. Now, he could scarcely believe the person he had dreamt of for so long was truly standing before him.

 

Yan Sikong set down his teacup and rose to his feet. He glanced at Feng Ye indifferently, then elegantly bowed. “Greetings to the Wolf King.”