Chapter 98 Breaking the City
There had been no rain in Yangzhou for the past few days, and the weather was getting increasingly hot and humid. The sun was blazing high overhead, and the hard, bare city walls offered no shelter. Even the rebels, many of whom were farmers accustomed to working under the sun, could not hold out. Many felt dizzy, their lips chapped, and their throats felt like they were burning.
But they dared not move.
They had joined the rebels simply to have something to eat. Now, the laws from above had become increasingly harsh. If they disobeyed orders, the guards would mercilessly whip them. Those whips were made of twisted cowhide, and each lash would leave skin and flesh ripped apart.
They are human beings, not old oxen, and they can't withstand such beatings. After a few times, they learned their lesson and no one dared to cause trouble again.
An elderly soldier guarding the city hadn't slept all day and night, and had eaten only porridge for breakfast. His body was swaying and shaky. The man patrolling behind him had eyes as sharp as an eagle, and his whip shot out like a venomous snake. The next moment, it broke through the air and lashed out at the man's back, tearing his clothes and splattering blood.
"Old thing, I told you to stand still, why are you shaking?" The leader cursed while his hands did not stop. He raised the whip high and hit the wrinkled and peeling side of the man in front of him.
The man being whipped, his head wrapped in a turban, sweating profusely, dared not resist, closing his eyes and preparing for the pain to hit him. Unexpectedly, his eyes closed, and instead of pain, he felt a sticky, warm liquid. Panicked shouts echoed around him. Uncomprehending, he opened his eyes and saw the man who had raised the whip to strike him had been pierced through the forehead by an arrow. The force was so great that it cracked the skull and released a stream of red and white, sticky liquid.
He came to his senses and realized that what was splashed on his face was human blood. His eyes trembled as he looked down and saw a thin black line on the official road where the sky and the earth met in the distance. The ground was shaking, stones were flying, and the grass and trees were in panic.
In a split second, a massive mass of cavalry burst forth from the dense forests on either side, reaching the city walls in an instant. Among the following cavalrymen, two stood out: a man and a woman, each riding a majestic steed. The woman, her hair tied in a red string, wore a dark, formal outfit, a long sword pressed against her back. The man, wearing a black robe trimmed with gold, held a bow in one hand, his appearance almost divine.
He was stunned for some reason until his companions pushed him and rushed to the side, beating drums and shouting, "The imperial army is coming! The imperial army is coming!"
Wen Yao rode to the foot of the city, looking up at the formidable ramparts before her, towering like a cliff. Before the rain of arrows could begin, she reached out and gently propped herself up on her horse, leaping high into the air and landing on the wall, knocking over two defenders with a single kick. Without unsheathing her Xingyi sword, Wen Yao struck the men squarely on the back of their necks with the sheath, knocking one unconscious with each blow. In the blink of an eye, a whole host had fallen.
The moment the drums exploded, a commotion erupted in Yangzhou. Nearly ten thousand men, all dressed in short coats and armed with broadswords, suddenly emerged from the vast plain within the city walls, gathering around the gates. The gates were tightly shut, but even so, some held the massive guardrails firmly against the walls.
Siege warfare is always arduous. Flesh and blood flew everywhere as those outside the city tried to break in by any means necessary. Those on the walls threw boulders and scalding oil at the enemy, a tangled mess of blood and the aroma of charred flesh. This time was different. Wen Yao scaled the wall effortlessly, her figure flashing past a crowd, clearing a narrow, endless stretch of wall. Behind her, the armored soldier, eyeing the open space, slung his claws across the battlements and scrambled upwards, tumbling onto the wall's crenellations, tangling with the others climbing up from behind.
In a short time, the fighting was deafening.
The noise spread far into the city streets, and the terrified civilians hid in their homes, clinging to their doors and windows. Outside the prefect's study, someone anxiously called out twice, then, seeing no response, pushed the door open and entered.
Seeing two pairs of human feet dangling in the air, I suddenly broke out in a cold sweat and my knees went weak. I quickly put the person down and felt the breath to confirm that the person was really dead. Only then did I panic completely and didn't know what to do.
The smell of blood filled the air. Wen Yao stood on the city wall and looked into the city. He saw dense rebel troops surging in the city and rushing towards this side.
To catch a thief, you must first catch the leader.
The two people in the prefect's residence are already dead, but there is still no news about Jiang Qiaosheng and Feng Jimin.
Wen Yao looked around but still could not see any trace of Jiang Qiaosheng. He lowered his head and looked back at Zhao Xuanxu, nodded at him, then turned over and jumped off the city wall.
Zhao Xuanxu looked up across the chaos, waiting for Wen Yao's figure to disappear from the city wall.
As she left, dozens of figures swooped down from the city walls, slicing off the heads of the nearest Feathered Guards with their blades. The scarlet ghost heads on the right sides of their necks were ferocious, their fangs and claws bared, betraying their identities. Qianying drew his sword and stepped forward to block two of them, the rest of the secret guards immediately following suit. Some Feathered Guards refrained from charging forward, instead guarding Zhao Xuanxu's sides, cautiously surrounding him.
Zhao Xuanxu casually threw the bow and arrow to someone, then he spread out his long sword and slowly pointed it at the tightly closed city gate in front of him. The tip of the sword flashed a cold light under the scorching sun, which was extremely dazzling.
He said coldly: "Break the city."
Inside the city gates, Wen Yao hurried to find Jiang Qiaosheng. She soared from the wall, her clothes fluttering, instantly becoming a sitting duck for the rebels. Blades lashed at her like thorns, hurling themselves at her from all directions. Wen Yao dodged the blow, her thumb flicking, unsheathing the Xingyi Sword. A cold glow spread, and the surrounding blades instantly shattered, shattering to the ground.
Wen Yao ran without looking around, cutting a path through the surging crowd. She didn't look back, but she could clearly discern the movements behind her.
Feathered Guards led their men down from the towering city walls and began to dispatch the defenders within the city gates. The clash of metal blades continued, and the ferocious and brutal combat on the battlefield was a stark contrast to the unruly and solitary martial arts competitions. In the frenzy of killing, the ground beneath their feet was littered with broken limbs, and the breath they exhaled was filled with blood and foam.
A large knife suddenly came down from above. Wen Yao, without blinking, raised his hand to block it, shattering it instantly. He then stopped fighting with the people around him, rolled over, stepped on the people around him, and leaped onto the eaves, drawing the whistling arrow from his waist and unleashing it. After a long whistling sound, a similar sound was heard from the southeast side of the city.
Over there.
Wen Yao put away her whistling arrows and quickly rushed in the direction of the noise. Following the sound, she landed on an empty street. Before she could fully grasp the scene before her, the smell of blood filled her nose.
Wen Yao raised his voice: "Where is it?!"
As her voice fell, the darkness flickered. Wen Yao spun, holding up his sword to block the blow. A thumb-length steel needle fell to the ground, its tip gleaming black, its poison evident. After firing this final shot, the blood-soaked hand finally gave way, slamming to the ground. The man in the white mask collapsed, dead.
Wen Yao went forward to check the still warm body lying on the street corner. From the large amount of blood and internal organ fragments mixed on his chest, he could tell that he had died from a blow to the heart.
This technique should be used by Jiang Qiaosheng.
Blood was dripping all over the ground. Wen Yao followed the bloodstains along the wall. When he turned a corner, he saw Xue Ke, covered in blood, grappling with two white-masked men. Jiang Qiaosheng faced Feng Jimin with his back to Wen Yao. The short dagger in his hand cut through Feng Jimin's shoulder blade, shearing off a large piece of flesh and blood, revealing the bone.
It seems that Jiang Qiaosheng did not suffer any loss, but this is not the most crucial point.
Wen Yao's eyes were fixed on Feng Jimin's standing legs, and he was extremely surprised.
Feng Jimin sat on the wooden chair at the beginning. She always thought that the man's legs were broken and he couldn't walk.
It turns out I can stand up.
That's good, she doesn't count as bullying.
Wen Yao walked towards Feng Jimin, holding the Xingyi Sword. She rarely missed her target with her sword, and this time was no exception.
Feng Jimin was holding his sword to block Jiang Qiaosheng's attack, leaving him with an open defense behind him. Wen Yao thrust his sword through his heart, then without hesitation, grabbed his neck, twisted his waist, and slammed him to the ground.
Feng Jimin's back slammed into the ground with a loud, dull thud. He couldn't help but cough a few times, blood oozing from his lips. He raised his head to stand, his bright red eyes meeting the tip of the Xingyi sword.
"Don't move." Wen Yao looked down at him, the sword energy moved slightly, and Feng Ji's right wrist holding the sword immediately exploded with blood.
Feng Jimin let go of the sword in pain, and he fell to the ground in a rather awkward manner. The white collar of his clothes was stained by the dirty mud, leaving a circle of muddy stains.
Jiang Qiaosheng wasn't entirely unlucky. A gaping wound ripped through her abdomen, a warmth lingered around her neck, and her breathing was hot and slightly rapid. But Jiang Qiaosheng didn't care for the pain. She sneered at Feng Jimin, the dagger in her sleeve sliding to her palm as she thrust it toward Feng Jimin's heart without hesitation, her murderous intent clear.
Feng Jimin looked up, his pure white eyelashes like a flake of cool snow, neither dodging nor flinching. His face was genuinely calm, a faint smile on his face, and he seemed at least in a good mood. If it were a different scene, with a different group of people, Feng Jimin wouldn't look like a battlefield now, but rather a frail scholar lying among flowers, listening to the rain and admiring the blossoms.
This is something Wen Yao completely couldn't understand.
She raised her hand to block Jiang Qiaosheng, took out a medicine bottle from her sleeve and threw it to her: "Apply the medicine and help Xue Ke."
The two white-masked men that Xue Ke had stopped were truly loyal to Feng Ji Min. Seeing him suffer, they grew anxious, their attacks becoming increasingly fierce, desperately trying to get closer to Feng Ji Min, but were trapped by Xue Ke and unable to escape.
After sending Jiang Qiaosheng away, Wen Yao squatted down and looked at Feng Jimin and said a few words.
The first sentence is: "Your legs can actually walk?"
The second sentence is: "Are you here to die with someone this time?"
"Thanks to the Xingyi Sword, not long after I left Bianliang, my old leg injury healed completely and I was able to walk again." The meridians in his wrist had been brutally severed, and while Feng Jimin seemed fine, a thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead, and his snow-white hair was matted together like stained moonlight.
"As for coming here to die, of course not." He smiled and watched Jiang Qiaosheng kill his two subordinates gently, his expression unchanged. "She's clueless and has a bad temper, and she really wants to kill me. If it were just her, I would never have brought just these few people here. But now Miss Wen is here, and she heard that Wang Fu has returned to the capital. No matter what, you should take me back to Bianliang. Why would you kill me here?"
"Actually," Wen Yao said, "If you're willing to cooperate with Wang Fu in detoxifying Jiang Qiaosheng and stop bothering him, I can spare your life."
"I'm pestering her?" Hearing this, Feng Jimin laughed: "How is it that I'm pestering him?"
"Giving her a ghost line means you don't want her life, you just want to control her. I don't know what the story is between you and Jiang Qiaosheng, but removing the ghost line is my last resort. Also, let me ask you - why are you with the rebels?"
"The purpose of the Red Pavilion is to overthrow Tianshui. If someone rebels, it would be a shame if I don't help them." Feng Jimin's voice was light and his attitude was quite calm. His reason was similar to the reason why Jiang Qiaosheng helped Lou Chengyi.
Wen Yao understood it as soon as he heard it.
Feng Jimin may not have known that the refugee riot was related to the King of Qin, but he just sent people to mix in with the rebels and help the rebels with uneven military strength to kill people.
She stared at Feng Jimin for a while, squatted down, and sighed: "I'm not afraid of you laughing at me. I'm just starting to understand the relationship between men and women, so I'm not very clear. I always feel that you have some special feelings for Jiang Qiaosheng, but looking at what you have done along the way, I don't think so. If I'm wrong, it's fine. If I'm right, I advise you to pursue someone in the right way. If you want to be a dog, be a good dog. Don't go crazy and ask others to stay by your side and remember you. It's too stupid and childish."
These words came out of nowhere. Feng Jimin's unchanging smile finally disappeared, the corners of his mouth curved downward, and he looked at Wen Yao coldly: "What did you say?"
"I say." Wen Yao stood up and flexed his wrist. Feng Jimin's other intact wrist also exploded with blood. His eyebrows jumped in pain, his breathing quickened, and he heard Wen Yao's voice, neither light nor heavy, "Your leg has finally healed. I won't touch your leg, but cripple both of your arms."
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