Outside the city of Wogong, there were no more beacon fires lighting up the sky as a sign of peace from various regions.
The vanguard of the Northern Mang army had arrived at the city’s doorstep.
The wind howled, carrying yellow sand across barren land, lifting the dry earth into the air, striking the fluttering banners. In front of the Northern Mang battle formation outside the city, elite cavalry galloped back and forth, delivering orders. On top of Wogong’s city walls, large siege crossbows were poised for action. All the officers instinctively tightened their grips on their sword hilts.
A high-pitched, piercing horn suddenly rang out!
In the past, when the Northern Mang army raided the south and attacked cities, they usually drove captured Han civilians and surrendered soldiers to charge ahead. These unfortunate souls would fill trenches and consume the defenders’ arrows. At most, auxiliary soldiers would push shield carts forward, with infantry and cavalry swarming out like bees, unleashing a storm of arrows upon reaching the city walls. This would result in a scene described as “arrows raining down like a waterfall on the battlements, shields protruding like hedgehog spines.” Once the defenders’ morale wavered, the Northern Mang warriors would scale the walls and crush the defenders in one decisive battle. However, this time, under the command of General Yang Yuanzan, the Eastern Mang army displayed a completely different siege style from the previous two centuries of Northern Mang incursions. As the left and right wings each sent three thousand cavalry to protect the advancing infantry, a weapon rarely seen on the northwestern frontier appeared in massive numbers—trebuchets!
Yang Yuanzan had erected no fewer than six hundred trebuchets almost overnight. The largest required two hundred strong men to operate, hurling stones weighing up to a hundred jin. Not only had the trebuchet units brought a large quantity of stones with them on their march south, but they also gathered every large stone available north of Wogong after entering the Hulu Pass. At this moment, all the Northern Mang soldiers, who had been holding their positions, instinctively looked up, silently waiting for the spectacular sight of countless massive stones soaring into the sky and then crashing down onto the city walls, the roads around the city, or even directly onto the city gates.
Though the six hundred trebuchets appeared to be aligned straight toward Wogong, from the city’s perspective, they were arranged in a curved formation. The strongest ones were placed at the farthest arc center, while the slightly weaker ones were positioned on the left and right, and so on.
No one knew who first shouted “The wind rises in the Great North,” but soon, the entire Northern Mang army near the trebuchets roared the four words with all their might.
Then, the first specially wrapped firestone, soaked in oil and set ablaze, weighing a hundred jin, soared high into the air, hurled toward Wogong.
That moment was like a celestial fire spirit descending to the mortal world.
Hundreds of massive stones followed that flaming rock, all crashing toward Wogong, the first city of the Hulu Pass in Youzhou. All the Northern Mang soldiers were stunned by this unfamiliar siege method.
The stones struck the city walls, fell inside the city, or were blocked by the walls and rolled into the moats.
Inside and outside the city, the air was filled with the sounds of wind and thunder.
Everyone felt the earth tremble, as if Wogong itself was silently weeping.
Meanwhile, the six thousand Mang cavalry, who had advanced ahead of the stones but arrived later than the impact of the rocks, were not meant to directly attack the city walls. Cavalry assaults on cities were usually avoided unless absolutely necessary, as even the most powerful generals could not afford the heavy losses. Their role was to protect the infantry as they advanced to within two hundred paces of the city, suppressing the defenders’ crossbow fire from the walls. After the two wings of cavalry released a volley of arrows toward the city walls, they did not continue forward but instead quickly veered outward, making way for the following cavalry. Thus, the two cavalry wings were like floodwaters encountering reefs, avoiding a direct collision and dispersing to the left and right. A strong cavalry commander, while turning back, glanced at the city walls. As a thousand-man commander in Yang Yuanzan’s personal guard, he knew about the six hundred trebuchets and had learned of their power earlier than most. In his opinion, the Wogong defenders would be too terrified to raise their heads under the bombardment of hundreds of stones, allowing the infantry to advance all the way to the moats. However, during the charge, casualties kept appearing in front and behind him. The city’s siege crossbows fired relentlessly, with two riders pierced through by a single massive crossbow bolt, their bodies pinned to the ground. If the sharpness of Beiliang crossbows was already well-known, then the fact that the arrow volleys from Wogong remained orderly even amidst the chaos of falling stones was truly impressive. The thousand-man commander had personally seen two Youzhou soldiers struck down by stones, yet the nearby archers still fired precise volleys. He sneered—these Youzhou men really feared nothing? There were pools of blood and mangled flesh right beneath their feet.
After the bombardment and the cover from the two cavalry wings, the defenders’ arrows and crossbow bolts increasingly focused on the Northern Mang infantry in the center. Many soldiers were pierced through along with their shield carts by siege crossbows. Some unfortunate soldiers were hit directly in the chest, their bodies dragged backward by the immense force for over ten paces, knocking down the soldiers behind them. Many more were shot mid-charge by the city’s archers. Especially when the infantry line became uneven, the most courageous soldiers and auxiliaries at the front became the targets of the city’s expert archers.
Though the arrow volleys were fierce, they were like a drop in the ocean against the dense swarm of infantry, barely making a dent.
Like black locusts, the densely packed infantry paid no heed to the corpses and wounded beneath their feet, continuing their charge.
On the city walls, a tall, armored archer drew his bow like a full moon, aiming at a Northern Mang commander shouting orders to fill the moat, only to be pierced through the throat by an arrow.
His body was dragged aside, and quickly replaced by another archer from behind.
Continuous bow-drawing, especially full-draw attacks, severely strained the arms. In the Youzhou army, there were strict regulations on how far to draw the bow depending on the distance to the enemy. When to use bows and when to use crossbows was deeply ingrained in their minds. The unshakable rule of Beiliang was to use crossbows first, then bows, then crossbows again. The first phase relied mainly on siege crossbows, waist-drawn crossbows, and foot-drawn crossbows. As one of the three cities guarding the Hulu Pass in Youzhou, Wogong did not have as many siege crossbows as the northern city of Hutou, but this was not due to General Yan Wenluan’s inability to obtain them. Rather, the city’s size limited the number of siege crossbows that could be deployed. Nevertheless, in the earlier exchanges, the siege crossbows had inflicted heavy casualties on the Northern Mang army. At least a hundred enemy soldiers were directly killed or wounded by the crossbow bolts made of wooden shafts and iron fletching. Among them, two Northern Mang officers overseeing the front lines were even killed by large siege crossbows. This must have left the two thousand-man commanders, who were already far from the walls, in a state of disbelief. Their Southern Mang craftsmen had always claimed that their crossbows were no worse than those of Beiliang in terms of range and power, but on the battlefield, it was clear that this was not the case!
Even before the two cavalry wings began their arrow cover, and even before the Northern Mang archers had fired their own volleys, the siege and waist-drawn crossbows of Wogong had already fired from the city walls.
If not for the bombardment from the trebuchets somewhat suppressing the crossbow fire from the city, the infantry in the center might not even have reached the moats.
Dismounted urban combat was the least favored tactic of the Northern Mang warriors. If they were on horseback, fighting against the Beiliang cavalry, they would not fear even if they were at a disadvantage. But without their horses, it was a frustrating and suffocating situation. Fortunately, the infantry assigned to this assault were from various border garrisons in the Southern Mang, who were always considered inferior within the Northern Mang army. Their lives and deaths were of little concern to the elite cavalry on the wings.
A Northern Mang general with a full beard raised his hand, and the six hundred trebuchets began to advance, preparing for a second round of stone-throwing—not to destroy the walls, but to cut off reinforcements to the city.
General Yang Yuanzan was determined to capture Wogong, which had fewer than six thousand defenders, and he demanded that it be taken within a single day. Within the general’s tent, there were differing opinions. Some argued that the terrain outside Wogong was unfavorable for an assault, with the infantry formation too narrow and elongated. Whether they sent eight thousand or ten thousand troops made little difference. It would be better to launch successive waves, applying continuous pressure on Wogong. Even if it took two days instead of one, the casualties could be significantly reduced.
Zhong Tan, the eldest son of General Zhong, was advancing alongside the trebuchets. Ahead of them were Southern Mang-made siege crossbows, ladders, battering rams, and towering siege towers yet to be manned by archers.
Zhong Tan, mounted on his horse, raised his hand to shield his eyes as he looked toward Wogong. The city was finally forced to deploy lighter crossbows.
Zhong Tan listened to the messengers galloping in with reports, hearing only cold numbers—how many had died, how many were wounded.
Within just half an hour, over a hundred cavalry and more than a thousand infantry had fallen, and this was before even reaching the walls.
They were all dead—dead outside the moats, or at most at the foot of the city walls.
Yet Zhong Tan, a top-tier general’s son in the Northern Mang, was surprised at his own lack of emotional reaction. Instead, his mind wandered to many interesting thoughts, like the stories his father, General Zhong Shentong, had told him about the early wars of the Spring and Autumn Period. It was said that Liyang once sent six thousand cavalry to attack a mighty city of the southern neighbor Dongyue. After three days of fierce battle, they withdrew without success. Later, Dongyue celebrated nationwide, treating the defending general, who had held the city with only ten thousand troops, as a god. The emperor of Dongyue issued a decree at top speed, appointing that general as Grand Tutor. Many years later, people realized that in that grand battle involving a total of seventy thousand troops, the combined casualties of both sides were less than six hundred.
Zhong Tan sighed softly, gazing at the distant city of Youzhou. It was precisely the old master of Wogong who had stripped the eight Spring and Autumn states of their dignity and restraint, transforming what was once a somewhat sentimental war into a blood-soaked tragedy. The number of casualties increased from thousands to tens of thousands, until the great battle at Xilei Wall, where every day brought more deaths and reinforcements.
If Xu Xiao had taught the eight Spring and Autumn states the art of cavalry warfare while he was alive, could it be said that even after his death, he was still teaching the Northern Mang the art of defending cities in the Central Plains?
Zhong Tan narrowed his eyes. His infantry had finally begun to scale the walls.
The walls of Wogong were like a cocoon, like ants swarming a hill.
From the city walls, boulders, logs, and boiling oil rained down.
Ladders were pushed over with long hooks.
Northern Mang soldiers climbing the walls were shot down by arrows, their bodies falling to the ground. Those who survived the fall were trampled to death by the following attackers.
On the walls, Youzhou archers and crossbowmen were shot down by Northern Mang archers from the towering siege engines, falling backward one by one.
In such a dense hail of arrows, even those with martial prowess and those without were equally doomed. Several Youzhou archers with strong arms were specifically targeted by the siege tower archers, turning them into human pincushions.
The Northern Mang used every possible means to breach the city. In the deadlock, they seized every opportunity, aiming their siege crossbows at the gaps in the walls, firing bolts resembling large javelins into the stone. Rows of these bolts were embedded into the walls, allowing Northern Mang infantry to climb upward. These soldiers, agile as monkeys, were handpicked by Zhong Tan for their bravery and determination.
Zhong Tan listened to the messengers reporting from the front lines, calmly issuing orders in response. Though the assault was costly, the tactics were flexible. Like the defenders rotating their forces, Zhong Tan would withdraw any thousand-man commander whose losses exceeded the limit. The exact threshold was temporarily set at a hundred casualties in the early stages of the siege. After twenty thousand infantry under twenty thousand-man commanders had experienced one wave of attacks, the threshold would increase to one hundred and fifty. No matter if the commander was of the Yelü or Murong clan, if they failed to meet the threshold, they had to keep fighting. If they exceeded it, no matter how eager they were to fight to the death, they had to withdraw.
Zhong Tan did not care whether the thousand-man and hundred-man commanders understood his orders—they did not need to. He had already obtained the authority to execute disobedient officers from General Yang Yuanzan. If anyone dared to defy his orders, they could try to challenge him with their heads.
Zhong Tan absentmindedly stroked the soft mane of his warhorse. This meticulous command style, where every move was as precise as an extension of one’s own body, was a method taught by a certain white-robed martial general. However, most generals who imitated this style only grasped the surface, not the essence. First, they could not know every officer’s capabilities and endurance as intimately as that person did. Second, in the ever-changing battlefield, an excessive focus on details could lead to losing sight of the bigger picture. Moreover, before the battle was decided, the commander himself would be exhausted like a dog, not to mention the signalmen and messengers, who would be worn out from waving flags and galloping nonstop.
Zhong Tan believed he had learned more than just the surface, though he had not yet grasped the essence. He was not in a hurry. There were still two more cities—Luanhe and Xiaguang—waiting to be taken in the Hulu Pass of Youzhou, and those cities were even larger, with more defenders.
Zhong Tan sat as steady as a rock throughout the battle, occasionally asking Liu Daoxiang, the armored maid beside him, for a pot of water to moisten his throat. Otherwise, his throat would have long been scorched dry. Twenty of the central army’s Battalion Chiefs had all come close enough to witness the view from atop the city wall. Among them, two nearly succeeded in establishing a foothold. One was pierced by seven or eight iron spears and fell onto a pile of corpses, landing in a daze. When he stood up, he saw seven or eight arrows sticking straight out of nearby bodies. Had he fallen on those, he wouldn’t have been able to fight at Luange City, let alone survive.
Another soldier had just reached the top of the wall, even managing to sever several spear tips with his sword before stepping forward. But then a stray arrow, fired from a devious angle, struck him in the ribs. As he staggered backward, a cruel iron owl hook latched onto him. While the soldiers of Youzhou pulled him upward, the Battalion Chief frantically slashed at the chain with his sword, finally severing it. Landing in a heap, he rolled away just in time to dodge five or six arrows whistling past. His brightly colored armor had clearly drawn the wrath of the enemy. When he returned to the rear with his troops to regroup, he still felt a lingering fear—he had nearly become the first Battalion Chief of Youzhou to die in battle. No wonder the military advisors had warned them before the battle to wear extra armor but to avoid anything too flashy.
The counterweight logs on the walls of Wogong City, which could be retracted using a winch, were already mostly destroyed. The massive wolf-tooth hammers, which had caused devastating damage, were completely ruined. The Northern Desolate infantrymen who had been crushed by these devices suffered the most gruesome deaths—every part of their bodies was torn apart, as if their flesh had been scraped away by a butcher’s tool. The corpses were too gruesome to behold.
Around noon, a particularly powerful horn sounded across the battlefield. The unceasing assault, already in motion, surged with renewed vigor.
Commander Yang Yuanzan rode to the vicinity of the vanguard general Zhong Tan, accompanied by a group of cavalry commanders and five or six military advisors dressed in brocade robes and sashes. They noticed a number of young officials seated at low tables beside Zhong Tan, furiously writing down every detail of the battle. Without greeting Zhong Tan, Yang Yuanzan approached one of the officials, a young man named Jishulang, who had been named by the Grand Strategist Taiping. He bent down and picked up a sheet of paper still wet with ink. The handwriting was somewhat messy: *”After the wooden logs of Wogong City, there were several types of earth and brick logs, though their impact was weaker.”* *”Three of our ramming chariots were destroyed by iron-tipped wooden spikes. These spikes, over a foot long and shaped like wolf teeth, were hidden behind the city gates and walls, falling like thunder.”* *”According to reports, the arrows fired from Wogong City vary in age, some forged seven or eight years ago during the fourteenth year of the Yonghui era. Their arrowheads remain sharp to this day, far superior to ours.”*
Yang Yuanzan sneered, “What an excellent point about the arrows staying sharp! I’ll be sure to personally deliver this sentence to the officials of the Western Capital’s Ministry of War. Let them open their eyes wide and take a good look!”
The unfortunate Jishulang, caught in the crossfire, quickly stopped writing, his face filled with anxiety, fearing that this general—one of the thirteen great commanders of the Northern Desolate—might take out his anger on a mere scribe with no official rank.
The general gently placed the paper back and chuckled, “It’s not your fault. You’ve done well. After we capture Wogong City, I’ll personally ensure you and your fellow scribes are credited for your efforts.”
Since even the general, who ranked among the top forty most powerful men in the Northern Desolate, had dismounted, Zhong Tan had no choice but to do the same. Though not as favored by the Empress as General Liu Gui, Yang Yuanzan was still far more trusted than Zhong Tan’s father, Zhong Shentong. Moreover, Zhong Tan was serving directly under Yang Yuanzan’s watchful eye. He quickly approached the commander, and the two generals, side by side, began walking together.
Zhong Tan murmured, “Earlier, I heard a certain Jieshiling official say something in the Western Capital court that stirred my blood. But now, I’m not so sure anymore.”
Yang Yuanzan, who had just arrived from the wounded camp, frowned slightly and asked, “What did he say?”
Zhong Tan smiled, “He said, ‘Beilang boasts of having the boldest courage in Liyang. Let’s break their courage, shatter it completely.'”
Yang Yuanzan asked, “What’s wrong with that?”
Zhong Tan pointed his horsewhip toward Wogong City. “This city may not be like Xiangfan, which held firm in the Central Plains for over a decade. Even if Luange and Xiaguang don’t become the same, what about the rest of Youzhou? Are we really going to refuse to accept any surrender from the enemy? Even if Youzhou doesn’t produce another Xiangfan, what about Liangzhou, which has the most solid defenses? Are we really going to exterminate every single household in Beiliang?”
Yang Yuanzan sneered, “Didn’t you notice who the top two commanders of the northern fortresses near Wogong City are? Or the age of the city’s commander and deputy?”
Zhong Tan thought for a moment and began to understand. “They’re all old soldiers who once visited the heartland of the Northern Desolate, in the Hexi Province. Commander Zhu Mu and Deputy Commander Gao Shiqing are both nearing sixty. It seems that from the Hulukou Pass to Wogong City, though the numbers are small, the men stationed here are truly willing to die. No wonder over a thousand brave refugees from Liuzhou were relocated outside the city last year. Even though they were formidable, they were sent back south of Luange City.”
Yang Yuanzan sighed, “Yan Wenluan’s strategy is to retreat in order to advance. At first, the refugees from Liuzhou were skeptical and hesitant. If we force them to be the first to die at the Hulukou Pass, without us even offering surrender, they’ll mutiny and create chaos, affecting all the refugees who left Liuzhou and even the entire region. But if we first destroy Wogong and Luange, and then push the refugees back again and again until they retreat behind Xiaguang City, imagine yourself as one of those refugees. What would you think? Would you dare to fight? The answer is obvious. So many Youzhou soldiers have died before it was their turn to fight. Since they’ve come all the way to Youzhou, why not give their lives? Zhong Tan, this is precisely where Yan Wenluan’s military strategy shines.”
Zhong Tan nodded.
Suddenly, Zhong Tan smiled, “The Qiang and Rong tribes have been surprisingly fierce in their assault.”
Yang Yuanzan replied calmly, “The Grand Strategist Taiping has declared that after conquering Beiliang, the people of the Northern Desolate, who were originally divided into four classes, will now have a fifth—’Liangren.’ Thus, the Qiang and Rong tribes, currently at the bottom as the fourth class, will finally feel superior.”
Though Zhong Tan had heard this before, he still looked incredulous. “Can it really be that simple? Can it really make people fearless of death?”
Yang Yuanzan said softly, “The Central Plains have many strategists of extraordinary talent. Without facing their brilliant advisors, we cannot imagine their full potential. Not to mention the imperial tutor Yuan in the Liyang capital, or the distant Nanjiang strategist Nalan Youci, but even the late Li Yishan of the Tiding Pavilion—how did ten thousand refugees come to willingly submit to Beiliang? How did the Wuburgs of the Hulukou Pass rise and resist our army so fiercely? How did Beiliang’s pastures, supplies and provisions, and military funds manage to sustain the war effort against an entire nation with just one region?”
Zhong Tan nodded solemnly. “Fortunately, we have the Grand Strategist Taiping as well!”
Yang Yuanzan suddenly lowered his voice. “When you feel the time is right to breach the city, take enough elite troops and personally lead the charge.”
Zhong Tan, who had no such intention, tried to refuse, but Yang Yuanzan’s tone brooked no argument. “The Northern Desolate needs heroes!”
After the resounding horn at noon, the wall of Wogong City became a gateway to hell.
Men died at any moment, and the pace of death only accelerated.
The Northern Desolate infantry, replenished to a full force of twenty thousand, rotated in units of a thousand, then five hundred, then three hundred, then a hundred, and finally thirty-four at a time. Even though General Zhong Tan had raised the threshold to two hundred men, it was still insufficient to slow the rapid pace. The only good news was that after two or even three previous assaults, the soldiers had learned how to avoid the earth and brick logs, how to watch for arrows fired from hidden corners of the watchtowers, and how to suppress their fear. Many who had trembled on their first charge now charged forward with shields, completely ignoring the corpses below and the cries of the dying.
Most importantly, they could feel the enemy’s resistance weakening under their relentless pressure.
Reinforcements kept arriving at the front of Wogong City, from five hundred fresh troops at first, then three hundred with decent armor, then fewer than a hundred wounded, and finally, thirty-four men rushing up the stairs at a single command.
Before Commander Zhu Mu of Wogong City reached the wall, Deputy Commander Gao Shiqing had already led two hundred personal guards in a fierce battle on the front line for over an hour. If it weren’t for the old general’s mighty iron spear and the skilled warriors among his guards, the city wall would already have been overrun. Below the inner wall, the bodies of fallen comrades lay in disarray, and eventually, the defenders of Wogong City could only weep as they threw the corpses down.
Piled high like a mountain.
Zhu Mu personally led three hundred elite soldiers to reinforce Gao Shiqing, cutting down over a hundred enemy soldiers who had climbed the walls. With twin cold blades in hand, Zhu Mu’s momentum was unstoppable. He cleaved seven or eight Northern Desolate warriors in half with a single stroke. Even though the reinforcements pushed most of the enemy soldiers off the ladders, they could not stop the bloodthirsty Northern Desolate warriors from continuing to scale the walls. Zhu Mu, seeing Gao Shiqing, known as the “Bearded Gentleman,” with his beard soaked in blood and frozen like icicles, laughed bitterly as Gao beheaded a Northern Desolate centurion with one stroke and kicked the headless corpse into another enemy soldier who had just climbed the wall. Zhu Mu mocked, “Old Gao, how come you’re already so useless? You said you’d wait until nightfall for me to help you retrieve your spear. It’s still over an hour until nightfall!”
Gao Shiqing, drenched in blood, said nothing. He thrust his spear into another enemy and swept it sideways, sending another soldier flying off the wall.
Half an hour later, the only cavalry unit within the city, the elite Youzhou riders, who rode two horses each, finally began to climb the walls. They had no chance to charge outside, so they silently killed their beloved steeds, unwilling to do it themselves, and took up their swords and spears.
As the sun set, the sky turned crimson.
Commander Zhu Mu and Deputy Commander Gao Shiqing stood back to back. Zhu Mu’s armor was shattered, his chest wounded by a heavy blow, his vision blurring. He shook his head hard and gasped, “Old Gao, my family’s useless sons have all fled Youzhou for Jiangnan. These past few months, I’ve been looked down upon by the elders, treated almost like a Northern Desolate savage. That’s why I wanted to die here at Wogong City—to give an account to the General and Yan Wenluan. But why did you come? Didn’t you scold me back then? Why did you switch places with Li Qianfu’s nephew? Have you really grown tired of life?”
Gao Shiqing pulled an arrow from his waist, spat out blood, and said, “My family stayed in Youzhou. I don’t have sons or grandsons who love money like you. I lived in peace, and even in death, I will die with a clear conscience. I owe nothing to anyone. In the second year of the Yonghui era, you saved my life in the Northern Desolate’s Juzi Province. This time, I came to repay the debt. When we meet again in the underworld, don’t call me brother, and when you see the General, don’t make me lose face!”
On the walls of Wogong City, cries of “Kill all the Beiliang dogs!” echoed.
When a new force, far more ferocious than the previous Northern Desolate infantry, stormed the walls, Zhu Mu was first hacked to death, his hands severed, then his head. Gao Shiqing leaned against the wall, pierced by five or six iron spears, still gripping his spear as he died.
In the night.
One of the vanguard general’s attendants stood atop the city wall and blew the final horn of the battlefield.
Regardless of friend or foe, nearly twenty thousand souls within and outside Wogong City would never hear it again.
Zhong Tan, who had earned the first honor for the Northern Desolate’s Youzhou campaign, slowly closed his eyes.
It seemed as if he heard the wind sweeping through Wogong City.
Mournful and sorrowful.
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