Chapter 42
Jiang Manyan stood atop the highest arrow tower; he had no time for sorrow.
His honey-brown eyes reflected the sea of fire below as he calmly issued a series of commands.
His composure became the spiritual pillar that kept Jincheng from collapsing in the face of powerful enemies.
A month has passed,
After his aggressive attack failed, Song Guansui changed his strategy.
The Allied forces began digging trenches and building fortifications, cutting off all possible supply lines to Jincheng.
At the same time, they began dumping rotting corpses upstream.
The water system upon which Jincheng depends for survival has been polluted.
Jiang Manyan immediately ordered the use of backup water sources and strict boiling of drinking water.
However, an epidemic still spread among the exhausted soldiers and civilians.
Medicines were being used up rapidly, and the young medical officers they were training worked day and night, yet people continued to suffer from high fevers, convulsions, and die in despair.
The land outside the city was ravaged by repeated tug-of-war, becoming muddy and littered with piles of corpses.
The allied forces' offensive became more insidious. They no longer sought to achieve victory in one fell swoop, but instead used continuous harassment and feints to wear down the already tense nerves of the defenders.
Jin City's supplies were dwindling at a visible rate, especially arrows and logs. Craftsmen were even collecting and modifying arrows fired by the enemy.
Two months, more than sixty days and nights.
Enough to make the stars revolve, and enough to make a city etch an immortal legend in the face of adversity.
The siege of Jincheng has entered its most difficult phase. This battle between a newly born city and an ancient power is destined to leave a lasting mark on history.
What they were guarding was not just the city's bricks and tiles, but the belief in breaking the old order and reshaping a new life.
Every effort to reinforce the city's defenses, every errand to deliver supplies, and every shout in the face of encirclement and suppression were all a fight against millennia of servility and tyranny.
When future generations turn the pages of history, the perseverance of those sixty days will surely leap off the page: a new city, a group of patriots, using their flesh and blood as pens and their faith as ink, wrote a great epic about courage, unity and rebirth.
However, the reality at this moment is also cruel—
As food rations tightened, livestock, which once added a touch of life to the streets, had long become the last resort for sustenance.
Every grain of rice, every bite of food, carries the hopes of the entire city. The people's cheeks have lost their former rosy glow, and a sickly pallor and undeniable weariness are evident in their expressions.
The cracks in the city wall widened in the wind and rain, and the lights along the moat flickered in the cold night.
But Jincheng never bowed its head; Jincheng continued to fight.
Jiang Manyan appeared in the wounded soldiers' camp, personally changing the blood-stained bandages of the soldiers.
He appeared in the craftsmen's workshop and worked with the old craftsmen to study how to manufacture defensive equipment using limited materials.
He also appeared among the people, telling them in his still gentle yet firm voice.
"With each day we hold out, the supplies prepared by the Alliance become more abundant; we are not fighting alone."
This faint hope is like a candle flickering in the wind.
The city's defensive supplies are running out, and the promised resupply from Yancheng has yet to arrive.
The allied forces' latest attack deployed the Song family's trump card: a giant battering ram.
The muffled thuds as they struck the city gates felt like they were hitting everyone's hearts.
New, alarming cracks have appeared in the city wall.
Jiang Manyan stood in front of the crack, reaching out her hand, and could feel the groan of the boulder on the verge of collapse.
He raised his head and looked out at the endless military camps outside the city, where his former "master" was gracefully awaiting the final fate of the city and him.
Jincheng is already battered and bruised, standing on the verge of destruction.
Jiang Manyan stood atop the ruined city wall, looking down at the land he had poured his heart and soul into cultivating, which was now suffering from the ravages of war because of him.
His face was as pale as paper, and his fingernails dug deep into his palms, leaving several bloody marks. Only in this way could he barely maintain a semblance of calm.
"If it weren't for me... if I hadn't provoked Song Guansui, how could Jincheng have ended up like this..."
"How innocent are these people? They trusted me, they followed me, and now their families are destroyed and their lives are gone..."
"It was my ideals, my persistence, that brought about this catastrophic disaster..."
Intense pain and self-blame gnawed at his heart like venomous snakes, almost tearing him apart.
He felt like a jinx, bringing suffering to this land that should have been peaceful and serene.
He was almost at his breaking point, wanting to scream at the ruins and take all the blame upon himself.
But he couldn't.
He was the city lord, the only light the people of Jincheng could see in their desperate situation.
His spine could not bend, his belief could not crumble, and he gritted his teeth, forcing down the surging blood and tears.
Force yourself to straighten your back, which feels as heavy as a thousand pounds, and keep a firm look in your eyes, even if they are bloodshot.
Just then, a warm, rough hand gently pressed on his slightly trembling shoulder.
It's Jiang Zhong.
He followed silently behind Jiang Manyan, like the most reliable shadow. He saw through his young master's seemingly solid facade, revealing a bleeding heart.
"Slow smoke"
Jiang Zhong's voice was deep and steady, carrying a power that had weathered many storms, piercing through the buzzing in Jiang Manyan's ears.
"Slow Smoke, what are you looking at?"
Jiang Manyan didn't turn around; her throat was choked with sobs, and she couldn't speak.
Jiang Zhong didn't need his answer. He pointed to the guards below the city who, though saddened, were still spontaneously clearing the ruins and bandaging each other.
"You're looking at these casualties, this damage, and then blaming yourself, right?"
"But do you remember what we saw when we first arrived here?"
His words were like a key, unlocking the floodgates of memory.
"At that time, there were no cities, no smoke from cooking fires, only a desolate wasteland of despair. Starving corpses were everywhere, plague was rampant, and the bodies by the roadside were being devoured by crows and wild dogs, with no one to clean them up."
"Those who survived had eyes as empty as ghosts, and they would tear each other apart like wild beasts over half a moldy piece of bread."
It's you.
Jiang Zhong pressed down hard on Jiang Manyan's shoulder, his tone filled with unquestionable certainty.
“It was you who led them to build houses brick by brick, reclaim wasteland, and dig irrigation ditches.”
"It was you who hired a teacher to teach them to read and write. It was you who established order, gave them hope, and enabled them to live with dignity like 'human beings'!"
"Look at them!"
Jiang Zhong raised his voice slightly, his voice filled with indignation.
“Their faces now show sadness and anger, but what they lack is that resigned numbness they had back then! They are now fighting to protect their home, fighting for themselves!”
He turned to Jiang Manyan, his gaze intense.
"As for those allied forces and those powerful figures? They didn't attack you because you did anything wrong! On the contrary, it's because you did too well! It's because this city has no exorbitant taxes, no wanton oppression, and the people can live and work in peace!"
"The prosperity and peace here expose their greed and filth! They are afraid, afraid that everyone desires such a life, so they want to destroy it!"
"Slow smoke"
Jiang Zhong's last few words struck Jiang Manyan's heart like a heavy hammer.
"The calamity that befell Jincheng today is not your fault. Nothing in this world is perfect. You have done your best. If you collapse from self-blame now, you will truly be letting down those who shed blood and sacrificed for Jincheng!"
Jiang Zhong's words were like a ray of light, cleaving through the heavy gloom in Jiang Manyan's heart.
Yes... His initial ideal was to reduce the tragedies he witnessed in his youth on this land.
Do we need more hope and peace? The prosperity of Jincheng is itself the most powerful resistance against the old order.
The enemy's attack proved that his path was correct.
He took a slow, extremely deep breath, as if trying to transform his heavy pain and confusion into strength.
When he looked down at the city walls again, the wavering and vulnerability in his eyes had been suppressed, replaced by a deeper and more resolute light.
Another month of bloody resistance
The duration of Jincheng's steadfast defense was extended to over a hundred days.
This was a miracle—of the city's 100,000 inhabitants, after deducting the elderly, women, and children, only a little over 20,000 militiamen could be mustered up for temporary armed force.
Yet, with their own flesh and blood, they withstood the relentless onslaught of 100,000 elite regular troops.
But this battle also drained Jincheng of its lifeblood, and the rumors that had been suppressed began to circulate again in the streets and alleys.
"Hand over Lord Jiang, and the allied forces will withdraw!"
"I heard that the city lord stole a huge sum of money from the Song family, which led to this catastrophic disaster..."
"How can we let the entire city be dragged down with him because of one person?"
The atmosphere inside the council chamber was heavy and tense.
Qin Lingfeng stood quietly beside Jiang Manyan, shoulder to shoulder. Without saying a word, an invisible pressure spread wherever his gaze swept, making the restless air feel suffocated.
"Outrageous! Arrest those who are gossiping and punish them severely as a warning to others!"
The sixth brother was so angry that his face turned red and his eyes flashed with ferocity. Two months later, his severed finger had formed a thick scar, wrapped in cotton cloth, but he still insisted on participating in the battle.
Jiang Manyan concealed her emotions, reached out and pinched his puffed-up cheeks, and laughed loudly, "When our Lin Xiu gets angry, he looks just like a round, chubby pufferfish, which is quite adorable."
"Brother Jiang! What time is it? You still have the mind to joke around!"
As soon as Jiang Manyan let go, a pair of larger, more defined hands naturally covered hers, warm and firm, silently conveying strength.
It's Qin Lingfeng.
Jiang Manyan glanced back and said
"It's better to guide than to block."
Jiang Manyan's eyes shone brightly, and her confident light instantly calmed everyone present. "The people's hearts are like water; they should be guided, not blocked."
...
Under the old locust tree in the city, on a makeshift wooden platform, Jiang Manyan, dressed in a plain white shirt, stood slender but with her back straight.
His unbound black hair swayed gently in the wind, making him appear like a god detached from the world.
As soon as he stood still, the noisy crowd became strangely quiet.
"Fellow villagers!"
A clear sound pierced the air.
"Look at the swords outside the city, listen to the rumors in your ears! Today the Song family can falsely accuse me of theft, tomorrow they can accuse your Li and Zhao families of seizing land! They are besieging more than just me!"
"What's besieged is the city of Chengdu, which we built with our blood and sweat; it's our fields and houses; it's our parents, wives, and children!"
His tone was calm, yet every word struck a chord, and the noise gradually subsided.
"What they want is never me, but our full granaries and the houses we built with our own hands! Hand me over today, and tomorrow their iron hooves will trample your homes, take everything from you, and make us slaves for generations to come!"
"Fellow villagers, Jincheng is our root! It is a path of survival that we carved out inch by inch from barren land and fought desperately to protect from natural disasters and man-made calamities! The wolves have come, and if we retreat, our families will be destroyed!"
His thin shoulders and back suddenly tensed, and his voice was like thunder.
"How can we allow our hard work to fall into the hands of thieves? How can we allow our descendants to be slaves to others generation after generation?!"
After the words were spoken and a deathly silence fell, the crowd erupted like boiling water.
The burly man in the front row gripped the knife handle tightly, his knuckles turning white, and he cursed incessantly.
The women, their eyes red, held their children tightly behind them, muttering curses of "what a sin."
His indignation surged like a tidal wave.
However, a moment later, a whisper poured down like cold water.
"Can we... really win?"
The whispers suddenly changed tone.
Some people cowered and retreated, while others whispered among themselves.
"That's a coalition of nobles..."
"What will happen to the elderly and children at home...?"
...
The anger they had felt earlier quickly subsided, replaced by hesitation and fear. Many people instinctively lowered their weapons.
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