Chapter 153: Seizing the City (Part 2)

Sarasvati struggled to pull herself up from the wooden steps, only to be immediately shielded behind several guards. Disregarding the fire arrows raining down from the sky, she used her piercing, shrill shouts to urge the defenders back to their positions.

"Up, quickly! Block them, hurry!"

Perhaps because she was a queen, or simply because of the indomitable will of a woman, her efforts bore fruit. The defenders, caught midway through a troop rotation, ended their chaotic state and returned to the ramparts under the leadership of their respective officers, just in time to meet the mountain tribesmen's wave of attacks.

Dawn had not yet broken. Aside from the height advantage and the cover of the walls, all other factors were highly unfavorable for the defenders. The torches planted along the battlements exposed their figures, making them clearly visible to the tribesmen shrouded in the darkness. The fire arrows raining down from the cliff face further exacerbated this disadvantage, targeting not only human bodies but also the stout wooden scaffolding where people stood.

Fortunately, knowing they were facing a life-or-death crisis with nowhere to run, the defenders—commanded directly by their queen—burst forth with tremendous fighting spirit, immediately inflicting casualties upon the tribesmen.

Obscured by darkness and branches, most of the arrows loosed by the defenders missed their marks. However, those climbing the tree trunks could not always dodge in time, and the mournful cries of those struck by arrows and falling to the ground similarly shook the morale of the attackers.

A young tribesman nearby, watching helplessly as his companion plunged downward in a scene of agonizing tragedy, felt his mind reel. Forgetting to steady himself against the tree trunk, he suddenly spun around and bolted.

Before he had run far, the rapid thunder of hooves sounded right in front of him. He stopped dead in his tracks, dumbfounded, as a towering shadow charged toward him at full gallop. The flash of white light whipped up by the long spear was like the bright moon on the horizon, instantly blinding him with its brilliance.

"Stop!"

With that cry, he was tackled and knocked to the ground by someone hurling themselves at him. The streak of white light swept past the top of his head, halting right where he had been standing a moment before.

Kang Laosi quickly rose to his feet and cupped his fists in a salute: "Master Yang, our garrison commander gave orders: military law is not to be enforced in this battle."

Yang Yu's warhorse slowly came to a halt, the long spear reversed in his grip. The gleaming shaft shone brilliantly in the dark. On a face whose expression was obscured by shadows, his words fell with icy coldness.

"Why?"

"They were never instructed beforehand; punishment does not apply to the ignorant."

Cold sweat beaded on Kang Laosi's palms, terrified that the other man might strike down without a word of agreement. After all, the two forces did not share a clear command hierarchy. A man who usually appeared all smiles seemed like a completely different person on the battlefield, launching into action without the slightest warning and leaving him sweating profusely.

"Very well, I understand," Yang Yu replied simply, then turned his horse around and issued a command: "Round up all those who fled and drive them over here. Unless they offer resistance, do not harm them."

Orders were passed down the line one after another. Fifty scouts immediately scattered, patrolling the outer perimeter of the city to intercept the fleeing tribesmen and herd them back. Before long, over a hundred people had been gathered.

Seeing how cooperative they were, Kang Laosi breathed a sigh of relief. As he turned his head, his expression grew stern and solemn.

"Make them all squat right here, and go fetch the chieftains of each unit. Let them see with their own eyes what heroes and cowards look like," he deliberately spoke in the Kacha language, instantly causing a stir among the crowd.

Herded together, the tribesmen felt a lingering resentment at facing such humiliation, yet the wolf-like Tang cavalrymen surrounding them exerted an overwhelming deterrent force.

The treatment of these deserters further inspired the main body of tribesmen attacking the city. Few were willing to display cowardice before their kinsmen; casualties on either side would be compensated according to the Tang standards anyway, so dying in battle right here was worth it.

Kang Laosi and his men served the role of battle督战 (enforcers of morale and discipline). Real combat of this low intensity was the best way to train troops—displaying organization, discipline, and tactical methods in the most intuitive manner, using blood and corpses as reference points. In the shortest possible time, it made them understand why the qualities emphasized by the Tang forces forged such an invincible army.

The tribesmen's assault proceeded methodically. Archers from both sides exchanged fire across the ramparts, coupled with the bright trails of fire arcs shooting intermittently from the cliff face, painting a magnificent picture.

Only Yang Yu, sitting steadfastly in his saddle, would occasionally glance toward the city. Herding fleeing tribesmen was not his primary duty. When tasks were assigned, his cavalry unit had been held in reserve; storming fortifications was naturally not their turn. Everything had to wait—wait for the moment the city gates were forced open.

Liu Ji led his men to the section of the city wall they had scouted out in advance. This section faced the Peacock River; as the city's main water source, a tributary flowed through the wall here. Perhaps for this reason, the wall nearby was slightly lower than elsewhere, standing at roughly three meters in height.

The tribesmen's assault had deliberately avoided this section. Yet as pressure mounted heavily at the front lines, the defenders here could not afford to remain idle. A significant portion of them had been redeployed as reinforcements, while the rest desperately fired arrows in the direction of the tribesmen.

A woman unversed in military affairs had done everything humanly possible.

"Dismount, form up."

Liu Ji reined in his horse, slapped its rump to chase it toward the Peacock River, and his men followed suit. In a flash, the mounted unit transformed entirely into foot soldiers, falling into formation before him.

Without torches, each man's appearance could only be vaguely discerned. Liu Ji had no intention of delivering a grand tactical speech; he simply touched upon a few key points.

"See that? Less than two men high. After the archers loose a volley, I go first. Remember, in my Qiankeng Garrison, those who wear the finest armor must charge at the very front. Otherwise, you might as well strip it off and yield it to your brothers."

With that, he waved his hand: "Move out."

The archers and crossbowmen in the unit immediately unslung their bows or heavy crossbows from their backs. Fearlessly rushing forward to a distance of about ten paces, they drew their bows and notched arrows, taking aim at the prominent figures standing out against the firelight on the battlements.

Faster still was Liu Ji himself. Close behind him, Zhang Wujia and Xu Guangjing did not lag behind in the slightest. Dozens of men quickly reached the base of the wall. The two men locked hands to form a hollow, interlocking square, half-crouched with power coiled in their legs, ready to launch him upward.

Liu Ji had left about seven or eight paces of running start. The exact moment the archers released their bowstrings, he burst forward at full acceleration. Fixing their eyes on his stride, just as he was about to collide with the wall, Zhang and Xu braced his right foot and heaved upward with all their might. Liu Ji, clad in full armor, was suddenly lofted into the air, appearing abruptly right before the eyes of the defenders.

A Nepalese soldier who had sensed danger and just rushed over had not even managed to lean out over the ramparts when a figure materialized before him—shining armor and bright red tassels, appearing as if descending from the heavens—and left him rooted to the spot in shock.

The full-force heave of two veteran Mo Dao (long-saber) wielders, combined with his own momentum, carried Liu Ji flying straight over the parapet. Illumined by the torches, he indeed looked somewhat like he was dropping from the sky.

This was entirely an unintended mishap; since it was their first time executing this maneuver, failing to gauge the force precisely was entirely normal. For now, however, he had no time to quibble over details, and as a bonus, this skipped the step of scaling the wall entirely.

While still airborne, Liu Ji drew the side- saber at his waist. To reduce weight, he had not carried his heavy Mo Dao on his back. Following a brief moment of weightlessness, his entire body plummeted onto the ramparts with a rushing whistle of wind.

At the same time, he swung his arm instinctively, separating the head of the dazed Nepalese soldier from his shoulders, sending it tumbling down the wooden steps with a dull *clatter*.

With a heavy *thud*, his boots struck the wooden staging.

"Mamunur!"
"Mamunur!"
...

This spectacle electrified the surrounding tribesmen, who burst into earth-shattering cheers that echoed through the night sky.