Chapter 125: A Single Step

Liu Ji had his reasons for choosing to cooperate with the Newar people. Occupying the lowest rungs of society and inherently disadvantaged, they had no choice but to align with powerful outsiders if they wished to consolidate their rule. Since he had already offended the Tibetans, the Tang became his only remaining option. Furthermore, relying on the formidable reputation of the Tang in the eras to come, he needed such a capable force; otherwise, why would anyone follow him for no reason at all?

Of course, if this path proved impassable, he had another alternative: a good-for-nothing prince who had already disposed of his father and all his brothers, and who was equally in need of the Tang Empire’s full-fledged support.

At this juncture, Hadaishiyepo did not consider himself a failure. With more than half of Kantipur now in his hands and the mountain tribes' offensive stalled—for they lacked formal training and relied only on raw passion—the defenders had gradually rallied under his banner as the kingdom’s sole heir.

The man who was about to become king was filled with ambition and high spirits. With the support of the Tibetans, he believed he would ascend the throne just like the kings before him. Perhaps he would even marry a Tibetan princess, sire a multitude of sons, and watch them slaughter one another once they grew up, continuing the cycle indefinitely.

Kantipur’s main streets formed a rough cross, with the central plaza at its intersection. The rest of the city was carved into small alleys by countless houses. Such a battlefield was a headache for both attacker and defender, as the momentum could shift at any moment based on the balance of power.

The mountain tribes had initially been the aggressors, but as they lost the upper hand, they turned to defense, relying on these houses and using crude bows, blades, and weapons looted from the garrison to repel attacks. Every alley entrance became a site of intense combat, changing hands repeatedly. Both sides were blinded by bloodlust, for everyone knew the consequences of failure.

Gradually, the defenders gained unified command and recovered from the chaos. The city’s residents either fled or hid in their homes. The streets grew less congested and the lines between friend and foe became clearer, which favored the defenders. Bolstered by Tibetan assistance, they slowly overwhelmed their opponents. Familiar with the terrain, they used flanking maneuvers and infiltration to compress the mountain tribes' space, surrounding and annihilating them. As the offensive progressed, the urban areas previously controlled by the tribes were pushed back step by step toward the city gates.

Once the gates were secured, Hadaishiyepo was confident he could hold the city, even if the Tang really arrived.

"Move faster! Drive them out! I will offer a heavy reward for every rebel killed."

Hadaishiyepo made promises as if money were no object. Before officially becoming king, the royal treasury mattered little to him. His priority was to quell the rebellion as quickly as possible; only then could he seize the opportunity to secure his position and ascend the throne smoothly. He wanted to be not only a king but a hero in the eyes of his people—a dream he had never dared to imagine, now only a single step away.

He would not allow anyone to stand in the way of that final step, unless they were dead.

Under his urging, the defenders' offensive intensified. The mountain tribes could no longer hold their ground and retreated step by step, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Just then, a sudden change occurred. Hadaishiyepo would likely never forget the scene that followed. The mountain tribesmen near the gates let out a shout and scrambled backward, leaving the front of the advancing defenders suddenly empty.

Immediately after, a blood-red banner rose from the open gates, followed by a surge of red-tasseled spears that filled the void in an instant. A language entirely different from Tibetan or the local tongue echoed across the sky.

"Boys, follow me and slaughter the rebels!"

Lifie Yuanli, clad in iron armor beneath a sable fur coat, roared like a bloodthirsty beast. With a savage grin, he charged his massive frame and long blade deep into the ranks of the Newars.

"Slaughter the rebels!"

The Tang soldiers behind him surged forward like a torrent of iron, shouting as they followed their commander. Their forest of long spears turned the narrow space into a death zone, expanding the path cleared by their leader and cutting through the defenders' formation like a massive arrowhead piercing flesh.

The momentum of the battle reversed once more. The mountain tribes, holding the walls, seized the opportunity to provide long-range support with a rain of arrows. Caught in this strike, the defenders fell into chaos, unable to advance or retreat in the narrow streets.

Standing behind the lines, Hadaishiyepo felt his limbs turn cold. He had not expected the Tang to truly come, nor had he expected them to arrive at such a critical moment. They were only one step away!

"There aren't many Tang! Drive them out!" A Tibetan beside him, seeing through the enemy's situation, knew they still had a chance if they could just hold off this force of a few hundred men.

"Prince, rally all our men! Leave the Tang to us!" He drew his straight blade and held it high. "Tibetan warriors, the gods are watching! For the Tsanpo, charge!"

"For the Tsanpo!"

Hundreds of Tibetans drew their blades and charged forward, colliding with the Tang soldiers who had pierced their formation. The black and red currents of their armor wove a tapestry of iron and blood.

It appeared the fresh Tibetan troops had halted the Tang advance, but Hadaishiyepo no longer believed the Tang had only brought these few hundred men. The moment their banner appeared, his confidence had vanished.

It was time to consider a retreat. While he continued to rally the retreating Newar defenders and push them back into the fray, he quietly began to pull back with his own loyalists. Nepal was more than just this one city; the royal family still held significant influence throughout the kingdom.

There was no time to pack; he even had to abandon his family. Hadaishiyepo and his men fled in the opposite direction, hoping to exit the city and head toward the Tibetan heartland, even if it meant crossing high mountains and deep valleys.

Unlike the desperate struggle at the other end of the city, this section of Kantipur was as quiet as if it were sleeping. The streets were scarred by looting, and the city gates stood open—once he escaped, he could start over.

Yet, just as he was about to make his escape, he saw an even larger banner, still red like the sunset clouds on the horizon.

The thunderous sound of hooves awakened the sleeping streets. He looked up in a daze, watching the great banner draw closer. It bore Han characters, and beneath it rode a man as imposing as an iron tower, mounted on a magnificent steed that stood nearly as tall as the city walls.

A massive blade flashed across his vision and through his body. He was split in two like a kite. In his fading consciousness, he saw his own severed half trampled by countless iron hooves, left behind on this land forever.

"Kill!"

A deep, resonant voice issued from beneath an iron helmet, and a torrent of iron surged past him.

The main force of the Tang army, led by the formidable General Li Siye, had arrived right on time.