Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Fall of the City

In the open grounds within Liangzhou City, countless tents had been erected—refuge for those who had just fled from Ding County. On the city walls, several torches blazed so brightly that it seemed like daylight. Soldiers and able-bodied men shouted out their commands as they hauled equipment back and forth, reinforcing the city’s defenses.

“There’s not enough grain and fodder in the city. Our numbers are far fewer than those of the Keler army. Even if we rely on the fortifications, at most we can endure for a day or two,” someone said.

“A day or two? If we survive tomorrow, it’ll be thanks to the gods. Who knows if reinforcements from the court will arrive in time? But after years on the battlefield, to die wrapped in a horse’s hide is nothing strange.” Deputy General Tian spoke with a tone of self-mockery.

“Deputy General Tian, it’s too soon to draw conclusions. As long as we can hold out for these two days, reinforcements will surely arrive,” Gan Sui declared with unwavering determination.

Gan Sui had never been to war, but he understood that in battles where the few face the many, one must never show fear. The moment morale wavers, defeat becomes inevitable. As the man in charge, he had to remain steady, or they would be lost in an instant.

Behind him were his wife and children, countless commoners—he could not afford to lose.

The approach of the new year had brought unusually bright weather. Banxia had waited almost an entire evening, yet Gan Sui still had not returned; only then did she realize how dire the situation was. She sought out Shanzhi. “I know your skills—you can take Anzi and escape the city. Don’t hesitate, take him and go at once.”

“And what about you?” Shanzhi had served in the household for years. Banxia’s kindness was impossible to ignore.

“My husband is here. My home is here. I will not leave…”

“Then neither will I!” Anzi suddenly burst in. “You always said we’re family. Should we abandon each other in times of crisis?”

“But Anzi, you’re still so young…”

“Sister, I’m not a child anymore. I’ve trained for years just so I could one day protect you. This time, I can do it. Besides, brother-in-law is commanding on the city wall. I believe the danger is not so great. We should all try to relax.”

Banxia forced a smile and did not insist on sending Anzi away.

Night fell.

“General, we’ve reached Suizhou. By tomorrow night we can be at Liangzhou. Shall we march through the night?” Lin Tianyu looked back at his weary soldiers. Though his heart burned with anxiety, he could only say, “We’ll rest tonight and set out again tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gan Sui, may Liangzhou hold for just one more day.

In winter, daylight comes late. The wind in Liangzhou was bitter, its icy gusts stinging the face. The soldiers on guard rotated shifts, returning into the city for breakfast—a coarse, dry cornbread, but no one cared. They devoured it and went to snatch a bit of sleep, uncertain how long they might rest, for the enemy would soon arrive.

The sun gradually rose. Gan Sui, armored from head to toe, stood sternly atop the city wall. The weight pressed on him until he could barely breathe. Only that morning had they discovered that General Mu had already fled the previous day.

In the distance, a dark mass of troops drew near. The Keler people were expert riders; the vanguard was a line of cavalry, coming ever closer. Gan Sui narrowed his eyes. “Pull!”

Several horse-tripping ropes snapped out from the ground. The galloping horses, unable to stop, crashed forward in disarray. Horses tumbled, their riders thrown, hooves trampling the fallen. Screams of agony rang out, and the enemy’s unstoppable momentum was abruptly checked.

But soon, they drew their long knives and cut the ropes. Behind the cavalry, infantry surged forward, gripping their bright spears that glinted in the sunlight. “Brave warriors, keep charging! For every five heads of Liang’s people you bring, you’ll be rewarded with an ounce of gold!”

Many of these soldiers had never seen gold; the heavy rewards drove them to reckless assault. The wavering attack swelled again. But as they advanced five meters, a torrential rain of arrows fell, felling man after man. The air filled with the scent of blood; crimson stained the yellow sands. Those behind were forced to climb over their comrades’ corpses, and the attack ground to another halt.

Twice repelled, General Namu grew irritated. He signaled to stop the assault and fall back five steps. The armies entered a tense standoff.

The sun, strangely fierce for this time of year, blazed at noon, making it hard to look up. With so few defenders, the morning standoff meant the garrison was due to rotate, but the enemy’s greedy gaze meant any change of guard would invite immediate assault. Gan Sui organized a cautious rotation, while keeping close watch on the Keler movements. But within the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, the enemy, emboldened, attacked again.

This time, most bore shields, rendering the arrow volley less effective. They pressed ever closer, even attempting to raise ladders to the walls. At close range, the defenders resorted to hurling stones; each heavy rock sent men tumbling, but more rushed up in their place. The Keler forces, numerous and relentless, attacked in waves. Most of the defenders had not had a bite to eat all day, sustained only by adrenaline and resolve. Just when they could endure no more, the enemy sounded the retreat.

The defenders relaxed slightly, seizing the chance to eat, all knowing the worst would come at night.

The enemy showed no sign of attacking until evening, but it was the ominous calm before a storm.

“General, our arrows are nearly gone.”

“We’re almost out of stones as well.”

Most of their supplies had been exhausted in the day’s fighting.

“Bring oil—boil it.”

Night swallowed the last traces of dusk. Darkness fell.

On the city wall, several cauldrons of oil boiled fiercely, their flames lighting up the area below. This was their last defense.

At last, the Keler forces could wait no longer and charged forward. As they neared the walls, pots of boiling oil were poured down. The sound of searing flesh rose, mingled with screams. Then, fire arrows set the oil alight. Men became living torches, rolling and writhing in agony as the moat below turned into a sea of fire. The stench of scorched flesh was nauseating. The blaze raged for a full hour, the screams never ceasing. Gan Sui felt as if his hands were stained with the blood of countless men.

General Namu, stung by repeated failures, was furious. He vowed through gritted teeth to take Liangzhou that very night. Three thousand of his troops were already lost.

“Whoever breaches the city and slays the enemy will be rewarded with three ounces of gold.” The stakes had risen. Many understood the defenders must be spent after such a ruckus; as long as they could break through… silver, women…

The soldiers, crazed, surged forward over the charred corpses.

The refugees beneath the walls trembled at the sounds of slaughter without and the cries of frightened children echoed.

Wave upon wave assailed the walls. Arrows gone, stones spent, the defenders were forced into hand-to-hand combat. In the throes of life and death, valor shone brightest. Deputy General Yu could scarcely believe that Gan Sui, a mere scholar, killed the enemy without the slightest hesitation.

But a praying mantis cannot stop a chariot. Gan Sui heard the city gates crash down, and a single, bitter thought flashed through his mind: he had failed to send Banxia and Anzi away—what a disastrous mistake.

The first to suffer were the defenseless commoners. The Keler soldiers rushed in, cutting down the trembling townsfolk one by one. Bodies littered the ground as rebels poured into the city.

Having sacked many counties, they knew well: the grander the building, the more treasure and women within. The first place breached was the General’s Mansion. They believed Gan Sui was the master here, and with both old and new grudges, stormed it with even greater fury.

The general and his wife had fled in secret, but the concubines and maids remained. After months of campaigning, these men had not tasted the company of women. With lecherous grins, they rushed forward.

Liangzhou’s Prefectural Office stood with its doors tightly shut. Lu Ying and Anzi stood at the entrance, swords in hand. Shanzhi and Banxia stood behind them, also armed. From afar came the shouts of men, the anguished cries of women, and the thunder of hooves, growing ever closer until they reached the gate.

The attackers began battering the door. Lu Ying hesitated—given the situation, what were the chances of escaping with Anzi? The more he pondered, the more impossible it seemed.

The door groaned under the assault; outside, the attackers grew more frenzied, convinced the office contained riches and beauties like the general’s mansion.

With a crash, the door gave way, raising a cloud of dust. When it cleared, they saw figures inside, swords drawn.

Lu Ying looked formidable, but Anzi’s face was still childishly innocent. “Such a little thing—he can barely hold that sword! Hahaha… and a pregnant woman, too. The general loves nothing better than using infants as appetizers. Soon, we’ll slice her open and present the child to him.”

With that, a heavy blade swung for Anzi. Instantly, he raised his sword and blocked the blow, sweeping the attacker out the door with a swift kick.

The turn of events was too sudden. Who would have thought this sweet-faced boy was so tough? The Keler soldiers outside were stunned for a second, but quickly swarmed forward. Skill mattered little—they had numbers; even if it became a war of attrition, they would wear them down.

Several men charged at Anzi and Lu Ying with swords, while others circled around, thinking Banxia and Shanzhi would be easy prey.

Shanzhi, fair and delicate, caught one man’s hand as he tried to touch her face, then kicked him so lightly he thought it a gentle caress—until his chest caved in. A sweep of her sword, and he was dead.

Banxia’s skills were not as sharp as theirs, but still more than enough for these lowly soldiers. In a short span, dozens fell at their hands.

The remaining attackers grew fearful, rallying scattered troops for a full assault. The bodies piled ever higher. After several rounds of desperate fighting, Banxia’s arms felt leaden; only Shanzhi and Anzi’s help saved her from falling blades.

She looked up at the brilliant moon, the iron scent of blood filling her nose. She felt she could not hold out any longer. She wondered how Gan Sui was faring.

On the city wall, Gan Sui slew another enemy. After the breach, Deputy Generals Yu and Tian had stayed by his side, so he remained unscathed. But his heart was with Banxia, carrying his child—if the enemy stormed the mansion, it would be certain death. He fought his way back, intent on reaching home.

Suddenly, a distant thunder of hooves echoed across the city. A soldier cried out, “The Lin family army! The Lin family army is here!”

The Lin troops swept in like a tidal wave. Gan Sui seized a horse and galloped to his mansion. He arrived just in time to catch Banxia as she fainted in his arms, utterly spent from the long battle.

But at last, the reinforcements had arrived.