Chapter 20: War
As expected, the panic unleashed by the altar's collapse spread like a drop of water into boiling oil, exploding and boiling over inside and outside Yanhui Pass. Shen Zijie's simplest words, like the seeds of a most vicious curse, grew wildly in the hearts of the superstitious border residents.
The rumor spread rapidly in the yurts, the market, and the whispers of the garrison soldiers, becoming more and more mysterious. Cui Junji, the person who was in charge of the emergency repair of the altar, naturally became the target of public criticism.
The panic quickly turned into rejection and hostility towards Cui Junji, the "outsider".
Even if he followed Shen Zijie's words and cut off Empress Hehe's head, completely linking her to the Xiongnu, when he walked on the street, the herdsmen who once looked at him with gratitude now looked at him sideways, their eyes filled with vigilance, fear, and even undisguised disgust.
But perhaps because he was too confident or because he was distracted by the Huns' affairs, he didn't think about Wen Youqing at all.
It was indeed Wen Youqing who was responsible for the collapse of the altar. She had caught a woodworm on one of the pillars of the main hall. After a few days, the woodworm had gnawed the pillar to pieces, leaving only some brown insect droppings. However, it had nothing to do with her.
But things have been uneasy at the gate of the Shen Mansion these past few days. Mainly because whenever she goes out, she stays by Shen Zijie's side like a she-wolf, silently and vigilantly, her cold eyes sweeping over everyone who looks at her unkindly.
"They..." On the way back to the Shen Mansion, Wen Youqing finally couldn't help it. Her voice was dry and filled with suppressed anger. "Foolish! They don't know what's good for them!"
Shen Zijie continued walking, his profile gaunt and calm in the pale sunlight of the frontier. "Faith is the last anchor of the human heart. When that anchor is shaken, panic consumes reason. It's not surprising." His voice was emotionless. "We and Cui Junji are both from the Central Plains. They're not going after him alone."
Wen Youqing's heart trembled, and she instantly understood what he meant. This panic was destroying the bond that had existed between the border inhabitants, who had lived here for generations, and the officials of the Central Plains. With the Goddess of Harmony, everyone, good or bad, would have an explanation from the gods.
Just like the Huns' sudden attack, people would only think that it was the wrath of the gods, not that there was something wrong with the gods. If there was something wrong with the gods, then the Huns' sudden attack would be the result of the incompetence of the garrison troops and officials, which would disintegrate the foundation of the wall like a plague.
"Did I do something wrong?" Wen Youqing whispered, "I shouldn't have..."
"No," Shen Zijie said firmly, "Those people are Huns, but how could their timing be so perfect? This disaster is man-made, not caused by you."
The north wind, like a knife, whipped up coarse dust and sand, lashing fiercely against the mottled rammed earth walls of Yunzhong City, sending forth a mournful wail. Wang Rong, a garrison soldier for five years, pressed the sword at his waist, his hawk-like gaze sweeping across the gray-yellow horizon outside the city, blurred and swaying in the wind and sand. Every brick, pitted and dented by the wind and sand, was soaked with the blood and sweat of himself and countless comrades.
For five years, the sound of the Huns' horses' hooves had never truly left this parched land, but last night, a strange silence weighed on his chest, more suffocating than any previous pre-war clamor.
"General!" a young scout's voice, panting rapidly, echoed behind him. He quickly climbed the tower, his shoulders dusted with sand. His voice was low, but every word was as clear as iron: "Thirty miles northwest, smoke and dust are rising, and the sound of horse hooves is unusually frequent. These are not ordinary cavalry."
Wang Rong turned abruptly, his eyes gleaming with coldness as he stared at the scout. "Again, how many troops? Which direction?"
"No fewer than five thousand cavalry," the scout spoke rapidly, with an almost cold precision. "The direction... points directly to Xunyang City." He paused, his voice growing deeper. "That road is rugged and hidden, making it difficult for a large army to pass through. It shouldn't be the first choice for a surprise attack. Unless..." He raised his eyes, and his gaze met Wang Rong's mid-air. They both saw the cloud of uncertainty in each other's eyes. "Unless someone paved the way for them, or even... opened the door."
Wang Rong's voice, rusty and grinding from the depths of his throat, asked, "Where are the beacons guarding the city? Why weren't there any signal fires last time or this time?"
After saying that, Wang Rong's lips formed a cold line and he did not answer. But that silence itself was the answer - a traitor!
And this was a traitor who could single-handedly block the sky and paralyze the entire early warning system! A chill instantly gripped Wang Rong's heart, more biting than the north wind outside the Great Wall.
He slammed his fist down on the cold battlements, sending rammed earth rustling down. "Orders! Citywide martial law! Strike your crossbows! Pile logs and rocks on the city walls! Bring five thousand elite troops to Xunyang City for support! Quick!"
The sharp blast of the horn ripped through the dead silence of the night, carrying a desperate shriek that instantly spread to every corner of Cloud City. The dormant border town was like a giant beast awakened, and after a brief period of confusion, it erupted with astonishing efficiency.
The clashing of armor, the thud of hurried footsteps, the roars of soldiers, and the panicked cries of the civilians blended together into a tragic and majestic torrent. Shen Zijie strode up the tower, his armor clanging. Cui Junji followed closely behind, the hem of his brocade robe rustling in the wind.
Wang Rong's news came so suddenly that the chaotic scene within the city stung Shen Zijie's eyes. Hastily assembled militiamen stumbled and tumbled, carrying rolling logs and rocks. A few veteran soldiers shouted at the top of their lungs to maintain order, but panic spread like a plague through the narrow streets. A woman holding a child was knocked to the ground, the child crying in fear.
Shen Zijie frowned and was about to step forward, but saw a slender figure rushing over first.
It’s Wen Youqing.
The demure air of a lady from a noble family she had always pretended to be was completely gone; her plain dress was stained with dust. She knelt on one knee, swiftly lifting the crying child into her arms. With a gentle yet undeniable voice, she soothed the frightened woman: "Don't panic, don't be afraid! Follow the old man over there to the west city cellar! Quick!" Her voice was low, yet it strangely pierced through the clamor, carrying a calming power.
She directed several seemingly frail followers to quickly lead the women, children, the elderly and the weak nearby to a relatively safe area. Her movements were efficient and her commands were confident.
Shen Zijie paused slightly, a barely perceptible complexity flashed across his eyes, and was then replaced by deeper anxiety.
"North Gate!" Shen Zijie roared, and without stopping, he led Cui Junji and a group of personal soldiers, rushing like an arrow towards the direction where the war clouds were densest. He could feel the ground beneath his feet faintly shaking, the vibrations becoming clearer and more intense, like countless heavy drumsticks beating the ground—the Xiongnu cavalry were coming!
When they rushed onto the north gate tower, all they could see was a purgatory. In the distance, on the dark horizon, a dark red wave of torches surged forward, the sound of horse hooves merging into dull thunder that shook the city walls.
Below the city walls, the beacon towers guarding Xunyang City were as silent as a grave, without a flicker of fire or a wisp of smoke. And just outside the supposedly impregnable North Gate, a massive breach, clearly damaged from the inside out, was exposed in the dim firelight! Like the lacerated wound of a giant beast, it gaped open, horribly, leading straight into the city!
"Fuck!" Shen Zijie's eyes were bloodshot, and his teeth were chattering. His guess was correct. This wasn't a coincidence, it was a naked betrayal! Someone from within had torn the city's throat open with their own hands! Rage surged through his chest like magma, threatening to burst through the dam of reason.
"Shoot! Shoot!" Shen Zijie's roar drowned out all the noise. The humming of bowstrings instantly became one, and a dense rain of arrows, with sharp sounds of breaking through the air, poured into the surging tide of torches.
The Hun cavalry at the forefront were like wheat cut by a sickle, and both men and horses rolled and fell. The shrill howls and neighings of horses were instantly drowned out by the even more violent waves of sound.
However, this small loss was a drop in the bucket compared to the massive cavalry. The following cavalrymen, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, continued their pace as they charged straight into the gaping chasm!
"Seal the gap! Seal it!" Shen Zijie's voice was already hoarse. He drew his sword, and the blade reflected a cold light in the torchlight.
The rolling logs and rocks were pushed down by the militia and soldiers, crashing into the surging enemy group, splashing blood and broken bones. However, the gap was too big.
The fearless Hun cavalry rushed in through the gap like a pack of wolves smelling blood!
The city wall instantly turned into a meat grinder.
Shen Zijie, like a blood-soaked god of war, was firmly pinned to the forefront of the breach. His blade was already bent, and every swing felt incredibly heavy. His armor was smeared with sticky blood, and it was impossible to tell whether it was the enemy's or his own.
A Hun centurion howled and attacked him with a heavy mace.
Shen Zijie dodged the blow narrowly, the wind from the mace lashing out and stinging his cheek. He backhanded a precise cut into the man's armpit, spraying hot blood all over his face. He wiped his face, the salty, fishy smell of rust piercing his nose.
Amidst the chaos, he spotted Cui Junji. This young master from an aristocratic family had completely abandoned his decorum, his brocade robe beneath his armor ripped and stained with blood. Unlike Shen Zijie, he didn't engage the enemy head-on with the blade. Instead, he relied on his agility and the martial arts he'd been rigorously trained in since childhood to maneuver through the gaps between the enemy lines.
The sword in his hand didn't swing wildly, but it was cunning and ruthless, targeting throats, joints, and the crevices in armor. Every precise strike was accompanied by a Hun soldier's grunt and fall to the ground. His movements were almost coldly efficient, like a bloody calculation.
As he fought, his sharp eyes swept across the battlefield, as if he was trying hard to search for something in the chaos of flesh and blood.
"Brother Shen! The breach on the right flank!" Cui Junji suddenly shouted, his voice piercing the roar of fighting. Shen Zijie looked in the direction of the sound and saw a particularly fierce group of Xiongnu cavalry, led by a leader with a ferocious scar on his face, fiercely attacking the weak point in the right flank's defenses. They were about to tear open a second gap! If this was breached, the entire city's defenses would collapse completely!
"Follow me!" Shen Zijie kicked away the enemy in front of him without any hesitation, and rushed towards the team of elite Huns like a wedge with the dozens of remaining soldiers around him.
The scarred leader had obviously also discovered them. He let out a strange cry and came forward waving a heavy scimitar.
The two forces collided with a bang! Shen Zijie felt a huge force coming from the blade, which made his palm numb. The scarred leader's physical strength was not inferior to his! The two men instantly clashed, the swords flashing and sparks flying.
The sounds of fighting around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sharp, piercing clash of weapons and the heavy breathing of the other men. Every strike was made with all their might, every dodge a matter of life and death.
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