The Blood Crown - Chapter 319

Chapter 319

 

After Feng Ye fell asleep, Yan Sikong returned to the city tower.

 

It was already late at night, but the city walls and their surroundings were brightly lit. Yuan Nanyu, now clad in armor, was discussing something with Liang Huiyong on the tower.

 

Yan Sikong climbed up the wall and asked anxiously, “What’s the situation?”

 

“No movement yet,” Liang Huiyong replied.

 

Yan Sikong looked down from the tower. Zhuo Letai’s army was camped just beyond arrow range. After a day of fierce battle, the enemy troops must be utterly exhausted. With the darkness obscuring vision, it wasn’t suitable for an attack—they were likely waiting for dawn.

 

“How is the Wolf King?” Yuan Nanyu asked.

 

“He woke up. Master Que gave him medicine and said that next time he wakes, he’ll be able to eat,” Yan Sikong said, exhaling deeply. “Yuer, it’s all thanks to you…”

 

“Second Brother,” Yuan Nanyu blinked, “we agreed on this before.”

 

Yan Sikong nodded, then changed the subject, lowering his voice. “How is the morale of the troops?”

 

Yuan Nanyu’s face instantly tensed. “There are rumors spreading in the army that the Wolf King is gravely injured and beyond recovery. I’ve already arrested two people to set an example, but… my words alone aren’t enough. The less they see Feng Ye, the more wild their speculations become.”

 

“I’m afraid news of his injury has already leaked,” Yan Sikong said with concern. “This will undoubtedly affect the capital.”

 

Yuan Nanyu felt equally helpless.

 

At this moment, the Feng Family Army faced threats from all sides—the Jin forces, Chen Mu, the court, and the common people. If word spread that Feng Ye’s life was at risk, all their enemies would be emboldened, and the morale within their ranks would crumble.

 

It was a disaster upon disaster.

 

Yan Sikong said gravely, “Once his condition stabilizes, let him come out to oversee the battle. Until then, you’ll command the troops.”

 

“For now, that’s the only option.”

 

The brothers both gazed into the distance beyond the city walls, where the countless flickering campfires of the enemy army glowed like the eyes of lurking beasts in the darkness, radiating a chilling murderous intent, waiting to pounce and tear them apart.

 

—

 

At the break of dawn, the Jin army began transporting wood to the city moat, clearly preparing to use sheepskin rafts to bridge the gap and assist their siege engines in crossing.

 

After a night of uneasy calm, the war reignited.

 

With Yuan Nanyu present, the coordination between the Feng Family Army and the Guangning forces improved significantly. However, the Jin army’s overwhelming numbers meant that for every wave repelled, another would surge forward, seemingly endless.

 

At this moment, one of Feng Ye’s personal guards climbed up the city wall and approached Yan Sikong, whispering in his ear, “The Wolf King has woken up and is looking for you everywhere, Sir Yan.”

 

Yan Sikong assessed the battlefield. The current situation mainly involved defense, with Yuan Nanyu and Liang Huiyong commanding the fight. He wasn’t indispensable. Concerned that Feng Ye might strain himself if he didn’t see him, Yan Sikong weighed his options and decided to go back and check.

 

After informing Yuan Nanyu, Yan Sikong hurried away.

 

He expected to see Feng Ye showing signs of recovery, a rare piece of good news amidst these trying times. But when he opened the door, the sight before him shocked him deeply.

 

Feng Ye was not lying in bed as he should have been. Instead, he was sitting on the couch where Feng Hun lay.

 

“Feng Ye!” Yan Sikong rushed over. Feng Ye’s face was deathly pale, and a bloodstain had seeped through the chest of his white inner robes. He was staring fixedly at Feng Hun, his eyes bloodshot.

 

Feng Hun, too, was staring back at Feng Ye with its one gray-blue eye. It seemed to lack even the strength to blink, and each closing of its eye took an agonizingly long time to reopen.

 

Yan Sikong’s heart tightened. He stepped forward slowly, crouching down and speaking softly, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

 

Feng Ye’s voice trembled as he said, “It has been with me… for twenty years. From the moment it was born, we’ve been together…”

 

Yan Sikong’s nose stung as he placed his hand on Feng Hun’s body, feeling its faint and nearly imperceptible breathing.

 

It had once been so strong, so majestic.

 

But no one could defeat time.

 

“We drank milk from the same she-wolf. It was the largest, the smartest, the closest to me from birth…” Feng Ye said tearfully. “It’s my brother. It’s the true Wolf King.”

 

Yan Sikong said with difficulty, “It’s been holding on, waiting for you to wake up.”

 

Tears streamed down Feng Ye’s face as he choked out, “Hun’er, you… can go now. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”

 

Feng Hun let out a low whimper, summoning all its strength to lift its head and lick away the tears on Feng Ye’s face.

 

Feng Ye clutched its fur tightly, tears pouring down like rain. “Go now, go… I’ll avenge you. I swear I will…” He leaned down, hugging Feng Hun’s neck, crying, “Hun’er, come back to me in the next life.”

 

Feng Hun whimpered once before closing its eye peacefully.

 

Yan Sikong turned away, his heart aching. The fur beneath his palm was no longer rising and falling.

 

Feng Ye clung tightly to the giant wolf, the once-mighty and awe-inspiring Wolf King now trembling like a child as he wept silently.

 

Yan Sikong wiped his face and said sorrowfully, “Feng Ye, your wound is bleeding again. You need the doctor. Hun’er saved our lives; you can’t let it down.”

 

Seeing Feng Ye unresponsive, Yan Sikong had no choice but to forcibly pry his arms apart. “Feng Ye, you have to live to avenge Hun’er. You must live!”

 

Feng Ye’s face was ashen, his eyes filled with boundless grief.

 

Yan Sikong lifted Feng Ye back onto the bed and summoned the household doctor to re-bandage his wounds.

 

The guards stood uncertainly around the peacefully sleeping wolf, unsure what to do.

 

Yan Sikong gave them a look and said, “I’ll take care of it.”

 

After the doctor left, Yan Sikong sat by the bedside and said gravely, “I know you’re heartbroken, but you must take care of yourself now—for Hun’er, for the Feng Family Army, and for Liaodong.”

 

Feng Ye said softly, “Hun’er never wanted to wither away in sickness. To die on the battlefield—it was a worthy death.”

 

“It held on for as long as it could. Fortunately, you woke up, and it said its goodbye to you. Now, it can rest in peace.”

 

The grief in Feng Ye’s eyes gradually turned into hatred. “Where are the Jurchens now?”

 

Yan Sikong gave a brief summary of what had happened during Feng Ye’s unconsciousness, concluding with, “Zhuo Letai is building a bridge. It won’t be long before they launch a full assault.”

 

“And I’m still lying on this bed,” Feng Ye said through gritted teeth. “The news of my injury will undoubtedly shake the troops’ morale. No, I must—” He began to rise.

 

Yan Sikong reacted swiftly, pressing him back down and reprimanding, “Do you know how much effort Yuer and Master Que put into saving your life? Right now, you must rest and recover as quickly as possible.”

 

Feng Ye looked up at Yan Sikong, his gaze deep and heavy.

 

Yan Sikong released his grip. “Hun’er… What do you plan to do about it?”

 

“I want to take it back to Datong,” Feng Ye said hoarsely, “to return it to the place where it was born.”

 

“Once we’ve repelled the Jurchens, you can take it back to Datong.”

 

Feng Ye remained silent for a moment before slowly reaching out and grasping Yan Sikong’s hand.

 

Yan Sikong hesitated but did not pull away.

 

Feng Ye quietly watched him, opening his mouth as if to speak but hesitating.

 

Yan Sikong said calmly, “Say what you want to say.”

 

“…You haven’t called my name in a long time. You haven’t cared for me in a long time,” Feng Ye said softly. “Perhaps this is the only good thing about my injury.”

 

“You saved me. Out of duty and reason…”

 

“Out of what ‘duty’?”

 

Yan Sikong lowered his head. “Feng Ye, until you recover, I don’t want to burden you with anything else.”

 

Feng Ye gazed at him deeply for a long time before speaking hoarsely, “Go oversee the battle. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Zhuo Letai sees me standing on Guangning’s walls again.”

 

Yan Sikong stood up. “Take care of yourself.” He glanced again at Feng Hun.

 

Feng Ye turned his head to look at Feng Hun, his gaze soft yet sorrowful. “Let it stay with me a while longer.”

 

—

 

After stepping out, Yan Sikong felt a suffocating weight in his chest. He wiped his face roughly before riding toward the city walls.

 

Under the hail of arrows and cannon fire, the Jurchens finally crossed the bridge built over the moat after two days and nights of siege. Corpses were piled high in front of the moat, forming mountains. The bridge seemed less like it was supported by sheepskin rafts and more like it was built from countless bodies of flesh and blood.

 

When Yan Sikong returned to the city tower, he saw the Jurchen infantry, cavalry, artillery, and siege troops—an army of over a hundred thousand swarming like locusts. They stretched endlessly, as if just the opening of their mouths could devour the entirety of Guangning.

 

The defenders felt a chilling fear seep into their bones.

 

Yan Sikong clenched his fists tightly. The scene before him overlapped with memories from twenty-one years ago. A cold dread coursed through his body, making him tremble uncontrollably.

 

Come then, let’s settle this once and for all.

 

The massive army gathered beneath the city but did not immediately attack. Yan Sikong guessed their intention.

 

Years ago, Zhuo Letai had sent a fierce general to Guangning’s gates daily to issue challenges, stirring fear and disrupting morale.

 

They had shouted, “Surrender, and you’ll live!”

 

“Surrender, and you’ll live! Surrender, and you’ll live!”

 

This time, Zhuo Letai employed the same tactic. But instead of a small squad of cavalry, it was tens of thousands of troops shouting in unison. The thunderous roar shook the heavens, deafening those who heard it. Not just the soldiers on the city walls, but even the citizens within the city must have heard it clearly.

 

Attacking the heart before the body—though not a novel strategy, it was highly effective.

 

Liang Huiyong conferred with Yan Sikong and Yuan Nanyu. “Shall we fire the cannons?”

 

Yuan Nanyu said angrily, “Zhuo Letai wants to break our morale before attacking the city. We can’t let him succeed.”

 

“No. If we fire, the Jurchens will attack immediately,” Yan Sikong said. “Our troops are exhausted, while the enemy is full of momentum. We must avoid their sharp edge.”

 

Yuan Nanyu frowned. “But I’m worried about the soldiers…”

 

“They are all battle-hardened. They won’t be easily frightened,” Yan Sikong said. He turned to Liang Huiyong. “The soldiers of Liaodong harbor deep hatred for the Jurchens. They won’t be easily shaken either.”

 

Liang Huiyong hesitated.

 

Yan Sikong continued, “As the saying goes, ‘Strike while the iron is hot. Momentum declines with time.’ The barbarians don’t understand this principle. Let them exhaust their morale. We’ll remain steady, conserving our strength. Go reassure the troops and have them take this time to rest.”

 

Liang Huiyong and Yuan Nanyu were convinced. They nodded firmly. “Understood.”

 

Yan Sikong looked at the ramparts he had overseen the construction of and thought, The rest is up to you.