The Lament of the Wei River (Part 1)

##Chapter Eight: Lament of the Wei River (Part 1)

The chaotic commotion from the direction of the Black Stone Mountain Pass, like a powder keg that had been lit, suddenly erupted in the deathly silence of the Gobi Desert night, carrying far and wide! The bleating of sheep, the thunder of hooves, the enemy's terrified horns, the chaotic shouts of battle, the crisp sound of clashing weapons... all merged into a huge and muffled wave of sound, rolling and surging in the biting night wind, clearly vibrating the eardrums even from a great distance.

Xiao Yuxuan followed the assassin squad, fleeing like a wounded beast through the cold, shady rocks and withered grass. The whip marks on his back tore open with excruciating pain as he ran, each breath carrying the metallic scent of blood. However, the physical pain paled in comparison to the turbulent, icy turmoil within his heart. That face, contorted with terror in the firelight, like that of an old farmer from Longxi, that desperate cry, thick with a rural accent—"Stop the livestock! They're our family's lifeline!"—clung to him like a leech, relentlessly tearing at his soul, which had just been ignited by the thrill of revenge.

Enemy? Fellow countryman? The wheels of war have rolled on, blurring the lines so cruelly! He struggled desperately, trying to see the truth, but seemed to fall into an even deeper fog. The blood-stained "An" talisman in his arms was long gone, but the burning and icy sensation imprinted deep in his soul was clearer and more painful than ever before!

"Hurry! Keep up! The rendezvous point is just ahead!" The sergeant's hoarse urging pulled him back from his chaotic thoughts. In the distance, the rendezvous point set up by the Qin army was already faintly visible.

As they stumbled, panting and covered in mud, into the shadows of the valley, a tremendous roar grew louder and louder! It wasn't a flock of sheep; it was a real torrent of war!

The earth trembled! The dull, rhythmic footsteps pounded like countless giant hammers striking a drum! The dense clanging of metal armor plates rubbing together formed a cold, steel torrent! Accompanied by the deep, powerful roar of war drums, like the cry of a behemoth:

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

"Wind! Wind! Gale!" The battle roar, as loud as a mountain and as fierce as a tsunami, tore through the night sky with the unique, cold yet fanatical killing intent of the Qin people!

Xiao Yuxuan suddenly looked up! He saw a massive, suffocating Qin army force on the open Gobi Desert in front of the mountain pass. Like a steel behemoth awakening from the darkness, it was rolling towards the Black Stone Mountain Pass with a trembling gait!

At the forefront stood a colossal shield formation, like a moving city wall! Rows upon rows of massive square shields, covered in thick raw cowhide, were tightly joined together, their edges inlaid with cold bronze bands that gleamed with a dark metallic sheen in the torchlight. From between the shields, countless sharp spears protruded like steel thorns, densely packed, their cold light blinding! This was the Qin army's most elite heavy infantry phalanx—the Elite Warriors! They were as silent as mountains, only the clanging of their footsteps and armor forming an unstoppable torrent of destruction!

Closely following behind were the Qin army's chariot troops, like death chariots! The heavy chariots were pulled by two or four armored warhorses, their wheels encased in bronze rims, grinding against the frozen earth with a dull, resounding thud. On the chariots, the drivers held the reins, the spearmen stood at attention, and the crossbowmen drew their bows, ready to fire! On either side of the chariot tracks, ranks of lightly armed infantry and archers surged like a tide, their ochre-colored robes forming a turbulent undercurrent!

At the center of the army, a huge black banner fluttered wildly in the night wind! The ferocious black bird patterns on the banner seemed alive under the firelight! Under the banner, Bai Yu, clad in black armor, stood on the chariot with his hand on his sword. His face beneath the helmet was indistinct in the shadows, but his hawk-like eyes, sharp as lightning, pierced the darkness and were fixed on the chaotic, noisy, and blazing Black Stone Mountain Pass ahead! On the scabbard of the bronze short sword at his waist, the blood-stained character "安" (An) stood out like a glaring scar against the backdrop of his black armor.

The entire army was like a precise and ruthless war machine. The moment Sun Qian successfully breached the enemy's defenses with his "sheep-driving trick," they were precisely deployed to the battlefield! They didn't even wait for the sheep-driving suicide squad to completely withdraw; the opportunity was fleeting!

"It's the main force! The main force has launched an attack!" someone in the suicide squad roared excitedly.

Xiao Yuxuan felt a chill run from his feet to the top of his head. He looked at the army that swept across the Gobi Desert like a steel torrent, at the black bird banner fluttering in the night, at Bai Yu's silent, mountain-like figure. This immense power, this cold order, this precise killing machine… was it truly just for "peace"? Or was it to crush all obstacles and seize more? The child he had let go, the woman who died in the plague, and those "fellow villagers" who had just cried out among the sheep… what did they amount to before this steel torrent?

There was no time to think. They were taken in by the following troops, swept along, and helplessly followed the destructive torrent towards the ignited battlefield.

The Black Stone Mountain Pass has been transformed into a grinding wheel of flesh and blood.

Sun Qian's strategy of "driving sheep to confuse the enemy" far exceeded expectations! The out-of-control torrent of sheep, carrying thick smoke and dust, crashed into the unsuspecting enemy main force like divine punishment! Chaos spread like wildfire! Tents were swept away, the stockade was trampled flat, and soldiers were knocked and trampled by the panicked sheep, causing the formation to collapse instantly! Fires erupted, thick smoke billowed, and the enemy's command system was completely paralyzed!

And just as this extreme chaos reached its climax—

"Wind! Wind! Strong wind!"

The main force of the Qin army, like a death wave surging from hell, crashed into the chaotic enemy camp with earth-shattering battle roars!

"Wedge formation! Break through!" The frontline officer's desperate roar was drowned out by the rumble of steel.

The elite Qin soldiers' shield wall, like a giant battering ram, crashed into the chaotic enemy front! The immense impact sent blood and flesh flying! Long spears protruding from the gaps in the shields, like venomous snakes flicking their tongues, stabbed and slashed with precision and ruthlessness! Each charge was accompanied by the cracking sound of bones shattering and desperate screams! The Qin elite soldiers' formation, like a red-hot iron, relentlessly pierced the enemy's weak points, cutting deeper and deeper!

"Left wing! Encircle them!"

"Right flank! Suppress the high ground archers!"

"Tanks! Run them over!"

Commands, like cold chains, propelled the massive killing machine to its efficient operation. The chariot units, like ferocious iron plows, rampaged through the chaotic crowd, their heavy wheels crushing flesh and blood, raising clouds of carnage! Crossbowmen followed closely behind, their cold bolts swarming like locusts, precisely targeting any enemy points attempting to mount resistance! Light infantry surged forward like a tide, filling gaps, breaking up encirclements, their bronze swords and short spears slashing wildly, reaping the lives of the confused enemy!

This was a one-sided massacre! A crushing attack launched by the Qin army with overwhelming force after the enemy's formation was completely thrown into disarray by a clever strategy! The battle was a foregone conclusion from the very beginning. Enemy soldiers fell in droves like felled wheat. Their sporadic and desperate resistance was quickly overwhelmed by the steel torrent. Blood stained the frozen earth, pooling into streams, and the pungent stench of blood mixed with the smells of gunpowder, charred flesh, and animal excrement created a suffocating atmosphere of hell.

Xiao Yuxuan was swept along by the subsequent wave of light infantry, numbly following their advance. The scene before him was a hundred times more horrific than the initial battle on the riverbank, or the defense of Ice City! He trudged through pools of sticky blood, stepped over mutilated corpses, and looked at enemy soldiers crushed into mincemeat by chariots, their chests pierced by spears, and riddled with crossbow bolts… Many faces still bore the frozen terror of being scattered by the sheep, some not even having had time to pick up their weapons. Among them were several thin men in tattered fur coats, their faces bearing the obvious marks of hardship in Longxi! Their empty eyes stared at the gray sky, as if silently accusing something.

Hatred? Pleasure? A numb, icy chill filled Xiao Yuxuan's heart. He walked like an observer through this bloody hell he had helped create. He saw the brilliance of military strategy, the ruthlessness of power, but not a shred of peace. Only destruction, only death, only this boundless crimson.

The battle drew to a close in the darkest hour before dawn. The massive Black Stone Mountain Pass had been completely breached. The remaining enemy troops, like stray dogs, abandoned their armor and weapons and fled desperately along the Wei River valley (the turbid river on the sand table), the only section not completely blocked. The Qin army, like a victorious pack of wolves, pursued relentlessly, herding the fleeing soldiers like sheep towards a relatively open riverbank downstream on three sides—their final, desperate escape route.

When Xiao Yuxuan dragged his exhausted, blood-stained, and mud-covered body to this Weishui River beach known as "Ghost's Sorrow," the sight before him made him gasp in horror.

The rising sun, like a gaping, bleeding wound, struggled to ascend from the eastern horizon, casting its pale light upon the turbid, roaring surface of the Wei River. The riverbank was a dense, dark mass of kneeling people! As far as the eye could see! These were enemy soldiers, utterly defeated by the main Qin army and driven to desperation, forced to lay down their weapons and surrender! Their numbers far exceeded expectations, likely no fewer than a hundred thousand!

Most of them were ragged, emaciated, and their faces were filled with terror, despair, and the numbness of a long and desperate escape. Many bore wounds, their tattered clothes soaked with blood. Driven by Qin soldiers with spears and halberds, they knelt like lambs to the slaughter in dense rows on the cold, muddy riverbank, heads bowed, their bodies trembling with fear. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and blood, and a vast, suffocating atmosphere of despair.

The Qin army's elite phalanx stood like a cold, steel Great Wall, solemnly positioned along the outer edge of the riverbank. Spears and halberds, gleaming coldly in the morning light, were aimed at the dark, helpless sea of ​​surrendered soldiers within the circle. Chariot troops patrolled the flanks like ferocious beasts ready to pounce. Powerful archers and crossbowmen occupied the high ground behind the riverbank, their cold arrowheads sparkling in the morning light, locked onto the entire group of surrendered soldiers.

Suppressive! Dead silence! Only the turbid waves of the Wei River roared in the distance, a dull and continuous murmur, like a dirge for the impending tragedy.

The central army banner was erected on a high slope behind the riverbank. Bai Yu's chariot was parked there. He stood with his hand on his sword, clad in black armor and a scarlet cloak over his shoulders, his shadow stretching long in the rising sun. He silently gazed down at the dark sea of ​​surrendered soldiers on the riverbank, like livestock awaiting slaughter. His face, shrouded in shadow beneath his helmet, was obscured. Only the bronze short sword at his waist, adorned with a blood-stained insignia, stood out starkly in the morning light, the dark red bloodstains of the character "安" (An, meaning peace/safety).

The magistrate rode up to Bai Yu's chariot in haste. His face held a mixture of post-victory elation and a barely perceptible cruelty. His voice trembled slightly with excitement: "General! A great victory! A great victory indeed! We annihilated countless enemies and captured over a hundred thousand! This is an unparalleled achievement! However…" His tone shifted abruptly, his voice turning cold and urgent as his gaze swept over the dense mass of surrendered soldiers on the riverbank. "However, the number of surrendered soldiers is so enormous! Our army is facing difficulties transporting supplies, and we can barely sustain ourselves! To keep these tens of thousands of surrendered soldiers is tantamount to raising a tiger to cause future trouble! They harbor resentment, and if we are not careful, they could easily cause another uprising! Moreover, many of them are able-bodied men from the enemy state; releasing them would only aid the enemy, leading to endless future problems!"

He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and spoke with the cold, unquestionable logic characteristic of Legalism: "According to the military law of the Great Qin, any surrendered soldiers who are too numerous to be controlled should be... all buried alive to prevent future troubles and to deter the enemy! Please make a swift decision, General!" His last four words were resolute, like a decree itself, carrying a strong sense of bloodshed.

The words "massacre" pierced the hearts of everyone who heard them like icicles! Among the generals on the high slope, some looked indifferent, deeply agreeing; others frowned slightly, a hint of reluctance flashing across their faces, yet none dared to speak. Ji Zhai stood not far away, his brows furrowed, his fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of his clothes, his gaze complex as he looked at the sea of ​​people on the riverbank, then at the silent Bai Yu. Xuan Weizi closed his eyes and lowered his head, muttering incantations as if reciting some scripture; his gaunt face was bloodless, a state he had maintained since the camp riot the previous night. Sun Qian stood beside Bai Yu, his face calm as still water, his eyes like a deep pool, revealing no ripples, his fingers unconsciously calculating something within his sleeve.

Immense pressure, like an invisible mountain, crashed down on Bai Yu's shoulders! The massacre of 100,000 surrendered soldiers? This monstrous atrocity! This unparalleled infamy! The "military law" of the legal department was like a cold shackle, the logistical pressure was like a heavy reality, and the potential danger of the surrendered soldiers was like a sword hanging over his head... And on the riverbank, those 100,000 pairs of eyes filled with despair and pleading were like an invisible tide, almost drowning him!

Bai Yu remained silent. He slowly raised his hand and placed it on the hilt of the sword at his waist. The ancient bronze short sword, with the blood-stained coarse linen talisman on its scabbard, swayed slightly with his movement. His fingers unconsciously caressed the rough cloth, tracing the crooked yet powerfully written character "安" (An). The scalding blood, imbued with the boy's vow to die for his cause, seemed to burn his fingertips through the cold bronze and leather.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze passing over the clerk's face, which was contorted with excitement, past the generals who were either indifferent or hesitant, past Ji Zhai and Xuan Weizi, and finally landing on the dark, desperate sea of ​​surrendered soldiers on the riverbank.

At that very moment!

A small commotion suddenly broke out among the surrendered soldiers on the riverbank, near the outer edge! Several Qin soldiers were roughly dragging a struggling, crying young surrendered soldier, seemingly about to pull him out of the crowd for punishment. The boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, was thin and bony, wearing an oversized, patched, tattered fur coat. He cried and struggled, uttering indistinct pleas in a heavy Longxi accent: "Don't kill me! I'm not a soldier! I'm a shepherd! My home is in Longxi… my mother is still waiting for me…"

Longxi! A shepherd!

These two words struck Xiao Yuxuan, who was standing at the edge of the crowd in the distance, like a thunderbolt! He looked up sharply, his gaze shooting towards the commotion like a sharp arrow!

That tattered leather coat! Those familiar patches with the distinctive stitching patterns of Longxi! That face, contorted with fear yet still bearing a touch of childishness and the familiar contours of Longxi!

It was him! The young herdsman who was knocked down by a runaway flock of sheep last night on the outskirts of the enemy's pasture, crying out, "Those are the lifeblood of my whole family!" He had also been swept up by the fleeing soldiers and become one of these surrendered soldiers waiting to be slaughtered!

Xiao Yuxuan trembled violently! His heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an icy hand! The desperate face from last night overlapped instantly with the young face before him, twisted with fear! He seemed to see another version of himself, another Longxi boy mercilessly swept up and crushed by war! The burning pain of the bloody "An" character had never been so etched into his bones!

He instinctively took a step forward, letting out a suppressed growl, like that of a wounded beast! However, all around him were the cold, grim Qin army formations, and countless spears and halberds pointed at the surrendered soldiers! His steps felt as heavy as lead!

High on the slope, Bai Yu's gaze seemed to pierce through the chaos, landing on the struggling, crying boy from Longxi. Or perhaps, it fell on the boy's tattered coat, patched with Longxi welts. His hand, gripping the hilt of his sword, had knuckles slightly white from the pressure. The blood-stained talisman tied to the scabbard trembled slightly in the morning breeze.

Silence. A deathly silence. Enveloping the banks of the Wei River. Only the boy's desperate cries, piercing the cold air like the mournful wail of a dying man.

The fate of 100,000 surrendered soldiers, the general's choice, the cries of the young man from Longxi, and the blood-stained "peace" talisman tied to the sword of slaughter... all hung by a thread. The turbid waves of the Wei River roared in the distance, as if silently asking for the final answer to this blood-red dawn.