“Save me?” Yan Jueshu’s expression turned cold. “What could you possibly save me from?”
“From hitting a dead end,” He Anchang said, smoothing the wrinkles on his sleeve. “Is there any hot tea?”
Yan Jueshu raised a hand to pour him a cup. “What exactly are you trying to do?”
“I told you, I am here to save you.” He Anchang’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do you truly believe that the things you’ve given Prince Tang have gone unnoticed? Besides me, there are others in the capital who have long since gathered evidence of your tracks. They have held their peace until now, but have you never wondered why?”
“Let whatever monsters and demons come as they may; I’ll handle them.” Yan Jueshu toyed with the agate pendant at his neck. “I am not afraid.”
“You have gone in a great circle, but in truth, you only wish to restore Prince Ping’s memorial tablet and earn him a posthumous title and a good name.” He Anchang lowered his head to sip the tea, speaking slowly. “The Shanyin Embezzlement Case involved the hands of the Crown Prince and Prince Qin. Prince Ding’s departure from the capital to burn the city was also driven by personal desire. The Emperor, without distinguishing right from wrong, declared Prince Ping a rebel, and the young Prince Yan repeatedly stabbed Prince Ping. You want these people to pay with their lives. You trust no one the Emperor might pass the throne to, so you set your sights on Prince Tang. To support his ascension, you have not hesitated to secretly aid the Great Yuan and divide Beiyang. You have exhausted every scheme to reach this point, all to repay the kindness of a single meal from Prince Ping years ago.” He Anchang paused. “However, this matter simply cannot be done.”
“How can I not do it? Why can I not do it!” Yan Jueshu pointed a cold finger toward the window. “Go to the north and see for yourself. From Dezhou to Xianglan, the north-central region of Da Lan is empty—no grain, no soldiers. Shangjin in Beiyang is in peril, and Rouhui is too busy to help. The granaries in the south are all in my hands. Without my command, who can save Beiyang from falling? Once Arslan steps past Shangjin, the territory from the northern border to the center will become a prison overnight! I control the ships heading south, and Prince Tang has amassed a powerful force. Once the Beiyang Army collapses and scatters, only Prince Tang’s Jiangtang Army will be capable of turning the tide! He will take the throne as a matter of course, fully aligned with the people’s will! What is impossible about that!”
“Can you guarantee the Jiangtang Army can turn the tide?” He Anchang’s voice suddenly rose, striking with authority. “Can you? Do you dare say you can? Once Arslan breaks through Shangjin and Beiyang falls, will the jackals of the Great Yuan be satisfied with a mere portion of the land north of the Great River? Have you read your books into a dog’s belly? If Da Lan collapses because of this, Prince Ping’s infamy will remain in the history books forever. A rebel is a rebel. Even decades from now, when the lands of Da Lan are reclaimed, there will still be no place for his memorial tablet among those restored!”
Yan Jueshu’s fist suddenly clenched. He stared at He Anchang, pressing him. “Then do you dare? Do you dare to bet on the Beiyang Army?”
He Anchang set down his teacup gently. He said, “I never gamble.”
Yan Jueshu scoffed, only to hear him say, word by word, “As long as there is grain, Beiyang will surely win.”
***
“We’re out of oil.” Wu Yu turned his head abruptly, looking at the archer squad who had no more arrows. He said hoarsely, “And we’re out of arrows.”
“Use stones.” Xin Yi pushed his head back down, forcing him to look only at the Great Yuan soldiers climbing the city walls. He said in a low voice, “If there are no more stones, tear down the walls. Throw down anything that can be used to smash them.”
“It’s no use,” Wu Yu rasped. “It’s no use, we can’t hold it anymore.”
The hand pressing his head tightened. Xin Yi suddenly shoved him toward the battlements, facing downward, and hissed in his ear, “If you can’t hold it, then get the hell down there.”
Wu Yu’s hands, braced against the battlements, were shaking.
Xin Yi said, “There is no room for failure. Until the moment you are dead, you must keep defending!” With that, he pulled back his hand and turned to walk down. “I’m going out of the city.”
“What are you doing!” Wu Yu grabbed his armor, his voice shrill. “What are you going out there for?”
“You stay and defend; I’ll go and drive them back.” Xin Yi pushed his hand away, his face expressionless. “We can’t wait any longer.”
“You are Prince Yan.” Wu Yu was nearly moved to tears by his pressure, his voice trembling. “You are the last Prince Yan. If you die, Beiyang will have no king left.”
“If we don’t drive them away,” Xin Yi looked him straight in the eye and said coldly, “there will be no Beiyang left.”
Tears suddenly surged in Wu Yu’s eyes. He gripped Xin Yi’s armor tightly, pounded his fist against Xin Yi’s chest, then stepped back a few paces and turned to stand where he was supposed to be.
Xin Yi did not exit through the main gate. Instead, he led three thousand men out through a breach in the rear path of Shangjin. He took only five hundred cavalry; racing horses in the open fields would be meaningless.
Arslan had concentrated his troops in one place, pinned firmly in front of Shangjin, giving no opportunity for a sneak attack to pick off his men. Even in the night, the Great Yuan camp was brightly lit with torches.
Xin Yi had the cavalry split into four squads, two to the east and two to the west. He led the remaining troops, silently crawling across the snowy fields, lying prone to the side and front of the Great Yuan army.
The night was freezing. Lying in the snow for a long time made not only the limbs stiff but also the mind weary. The sky was a murky black without a moon, and a light, fine snow began to fall.
After about an hour, fire suddenly erupted from both the east and west. Sharp firecrackers streaked into the sky, the explosions illuminating both flanks. Densely packed shadows of cavalry were projected into their vision, swaying amidst the blasts, looking like tens of thousands of riders standing ready.
Arslan stepped out of his tent to look. Sure enough, he saw cavalry galloping down from the ridges on both the east and west sides.
When did reinforcements arrive?
Does Beiyang still have reinforcements?
The Great Yuan soldiers attacking the city were drawn by the massive commotion. Suddenly, the defenders on the battlements seemed to find new strength, and stones came crashing down upon their heads.
“Open the city gates!” Wu Yu screamed at the Great Yuan soldiers below. “I have cavalry too! We’re going to wrap you up like dumplings!”
Arslan was uncertain, but the continuous explosions from the east and west forced him to divert his attention. Those cavalrymen charged directly into the Great Yuan’s flanks and rear, drawing their blades and hacking away with apparent confidence. He vaulted onto his horse. “Split the wings and drive them back! Block the attacks from the east and west!”
The tightly gathered Great Yuan army suddenly fractured, dividing toward the east, west, and north. At that moment, Xin Yi shoved a handful of snow down his own collar to shock his senses, raised his blade, and charged out.
The infantry that suddenly burst forth slammed into the Great Yuan soldiers who were in the middle of repositioning. Shouts of slaughter filled the air as they stabbed straight into the side of the Great Yuan formation like a blade through a snake’s heart, tearing it apart.
Arslan cast a glance toward the city gate and saw that the wall of spiked shields remained unmoved. He knew then that Wu Yu’s words had been a lie.
Xin Yi had already fought his way fiercely to the front. The Beiyang soldiers behind him drew their long blades and followed the charge.
Hot blood splattered, and the webbing between his thumb and forefinger throbbed with pain, yet his chest felt numb. Xin Yi hacked down again and again. He used none of the techniques Meng Chen had taught him; he simply struck down, one blow after another, plain and solid. More and more people fell at his feet. Whether they were young or old, he did not remember their faces—only the sensation of the blade slicing through vitals and the instant the blood sprayed. His eyes, his cheeks, his mouth—everything was filled with that salty, metallic taste.
Finally, a long blade met his once more. Just seeing that familiar style of swordplay made the old wounds on his ribs and shoulder throb with pain. But Xin Yi had already stepped forward to meet it. Tiandao slammed against that blade, the vibration traveling straight to his heart.
Arslan’s arm was not at ease either. To this day, it bore a deep scar left by Xin Yi, a constant reminder in the moment he raised his blade that this young man was not to be underestimated.
Xin Yi pressed his lips thin, not daring to relax for a second. The strings in his mind were pulled taut, controlling every part of his body. He did not dare to lose focus; he did not dare to exhale.
The snow began to fall heavily, as if a basket in the sky had been overturned, tumbling down in a heap and scattering into a blizzard.
Flying snow obscured their vision. The sharp blade seemed intent on slicing through this all-encompassing white.
Suddenly, someone kicked the back of his knee hard. Xin Yi stumbled forward, and Arslan’s long blade swept toward his neck. His hair was in disarray, and a strand was severed cleanly by the wind of that blade!
The edge was at his throat, and he had no time to dodge!
But Arslan’s blade stopped.
In that split second, Xin Yi had already pulled away. Tiandao flipped back, finishing off the Great Yuan soldier behind him. Yet the sensation of the blade brushing against his neck remained, sending a chill down his spine.
The Great Yuan’s assault on Shangjin had lessened under the pressure of the sudden raid. To avoid being surrounded, Xin Yi withdrew while he was ahead.
This time, the damage dealt was not enough to be called a heavy blow, but it had indeed forced the Great Yuan to retreat. The squads that had met the east and west attacks found only firecrackers and tattered clothes; the reinforcements had been entirely fabricated. The distance they retreated was not far, but for the Great Yuan soldiers who had been determined to take the city in one breath, it inevitably shook their resolve.
Arslan did not attack the city again for the rest of the night. Xin Yi stood guard on the city wall, his armor half-removed. Wu Yu found a physician and a blanket, tending to those terrifying wounds—stopping the bleeding where it needed to be stopped, bandaging what needed to be bandaged. Xin Yi had not closed his eyes for a long time. Halfway through the treatment, he leaned against the wall and fell asleep.
Wu Yu looked at the wounds—some had scabbed over only to tear open again. He feared they would leave permanent marks. He grumbled inwardly. In the future, while others would have to act tough in their clothes, their little Prince could just take off his shirt to intimidate a crowd. He wondered how much a certain someone’s heart would ache if he saw this.
The wolf cub squeezed out from between someone’s legs and crawled into Xin Yi’s blanket, huddling on his lap. It had to be holding onto him. Xin Yi’s consciousness was hazy; he instinctively patted its small head and continued to sleep.
The smell of burning oil still lingered on the battlements, and no one had the time to wipe away the red splattered on the walls. After the Great Yuan stopped their attack, the countless soldiers on and below the wall slept where they fell. Some simply lay on the ground, people sprawled everywhere.
The snow was still falling. As long as they had a piece of clothing, they could bury their heads and sleep.
Wu Yu, however, felt no drowsiness. He moved to the battlements, blew away the thin layer of snow covering them, and leaned over out of habit. This time, he flinched from the cold of the stone but did not move away.
The red below was covered in white, making it look even more piercing. How many had not closed their eyes, staring into the silence as they lay or leaned there?
His stomach growled a few times. Wu Yu fumbled in his robe for a while but found nothing, only then remembering he had given the last bag of beef jerky to the cub. He rubbed his messy hair in frustration, thinking about what a mess this was. Misfortunes never come singly—trapped by the Great Yuan and out of food.
Shangjin had plenty of silver and coin, but at this moment, a mountain of money was not as precious as a single cart of grain. Logically, Shangjin should not be short on food; it was a major trading hub of the northern border. But precisely because it was a trading hub, Shangjin had no granaries of its own. It relied on the constant flow of goods; the last thing it usually feared was having nothing to eat. Who would have thought the Great Yuan would strike so accurately at its vital point?
Money, money.
A sudden flash of inspiration hit Wu Yu.
That was it! They had plenty of money now! With money, they could buy! They could sell the leather and goods stockpiled in Shangjin to the central regions, and in exchange, get grain from Qingping and the capital. If the capital ran out of sufficient stores, they would inevitably turn to the imperial granaries. If Yan Jueshu didn't want to lose his head too early, he would have to provide grain to the capital. In this way, Beiyang could amass enough military rations in the process.
This was snatching grain from under Yan Jueshu’s nose. Who would be suitable to do it?
He certainly couldn't do it himself. Shangjin was in a dire state, and he had to stay here to act as the Prince’s messenger. Jibai Yue and Xu Hu couldn't leave Rouhui for a single step. Meng Chen was even less suitable. Not to mention he had to manage the rear in the Xianglan area to guard against Prince Tang, even if he were free, he couldn't do it. Uncle Meng always lost so much money when he went out to buy things that he wouldn't even have his pants left. If he went, Yan Jueshu wouldn't even need to lift a finger; they’d be fighting the war with bare asses.
Then who would be suitable?
Wu Yu rubbed his messy hair again, unable to think of anyone else who could handle this task.
***
