General Ling Ziyue dispatched the military intelligence to Bianjing via fast horse and immediately entered a period of intense war preparations.
Summer was approaching, and the Liao Kingdom was unlikely to abandon their livestock herding for the sake of war. If they recklessly gambled everything and suffered defeat, it would mean losing everything—a risk the Liao couldn't afford.
The Hebei camp remained on high alert, but what troubled Ling Ziyue was that no news had arrived from Bianjing.
After enduring twenty-three agonizing days, word finally came—the reinforcements were already on their way and would soon reach the Hebei camp.
Just then, the Liao army launched their attack.
Not a single Song scout returned—all had fallen into Liao hands. Fortunately, the grasslands were not yet lush, and the galloping horses kicked up billowing dust.
Before the enemy even reached within twenty li, the Song lookouts spotted the rising dust clouds on the horizon and immediately sounded the alarm.
An Jiu stood before the central command tent, watching as the troops hurriedly assembled.
The two Wei Yue operatives had donned ordinary soldiers' armor and stood among the ranks. They wore no disguises or masks—one was strikingly beautiful, the other elegantly refined. An Jiu suddenly recalled Zhao Ling's question: "With such grace, why did you choose this path?"
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she spotted Zhao Ling himself, pale-faced, standing at the entrance of the supervising officer's tent, gazing at the neatly lined troops.
After a while, Zhao Ling retreated into his tent.
Soon, the sound of coughing echoed from within.
An Jiu glanced at Gao Dazhuang standing nearby, but he seemed oblivious, so she paid it no further mind.
This surprise attack had come without warning, leaving the Song army no time to catch their breath. From assembly to engagement, barely two quarters of an hour had passed.
Deafening battle cries erupted into the sky.
An Jiu and the others tensed.
Chu Dingjiang, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, observed her reaction and said, "Let's go take a look."
At his word, even Gao Dazhuang followed them out of the camp.
Several figures darted swiftly toward the battlefield like falcons in pursuit.
Inside his tent, Zhao Ling coughed violently, nearly bringing up blood, yet not a single Shadow Guard paid him any heed. This only deepened his unease. The thought that Ling Ziyue was still present offered him slight comfort.
Two months without rain had left the battlefield shrouded in dust, nearly obscuring the combatants.
Daylight was no time for a surprise attack—or so the Song had believed, leaving them utterly unprepared when the Liao struck. From the first clash, they found themselves at a disadvantage.
Over the years, Liao raids had "visited" nearly every village along the Song border, drastically reducing the population. With far fewer people, livestock, and resources left to plunder, the Liao now set their sights on larger cities.
Ling Ziyue was no miracle worker—he couldn't protect every scattered village—but he had fortified the major cities into impregnable strongholds. The Liao Iron Cavalry found themselves unable to breach these defenses, forced to retreat empty-handed time and again. Now, they had shifted tactics, targeting the Hebei camp directly.
The Liao's objective was clear: to remove Ling Ziyue, this troublesome obstacle, once and for all.
In other words, this would be a brutal, hard-fought battle.
Gao Dazhuang, realizing this, commanded, "All of you, to General Ling's side. Protect him at all costs."
The group acknowledged the order and rushed to Ling Ziyue's position.
Chu Dingjiang grabbed An Jiu's arm. "You're not needed there."
Even without the Crane Control Army, was Ling Ziyue incapable of defending himself? Their presence was merely an added layer of security—one more or less made little difference.
"Ling Ziyue! Coward! Face me in battle!" Amid the chaos, a Liao general roared in Han speech.As the commander of the Hebei camp, Ling Ziyue couldn't afford any mishaps. Most of the time, he only directed from the rear, rarely leading troops personally, let alone serving as the vanguard.
The man's taunting words clearly underestimated Ling Ziyue. With his temperament, how could he be swayed by mere words?
An Jiu narrowed her eyes. Through the smoke, she could vaguely make out the Liao army's leader—a burly man. While Chu Dingjiang was tall by normal standards, this man resembled a small mountain, his robust build nearly one and a half times that of Chu's. The Liao general who had been shouting stood beside him.
An Jiu clicked her tongue expressionlessly. "That poor horse."
Chu Dingjiang chuckled. "That's Xiao Zhenning, a fierce general from Empress Xiao's maternal clan."
An Jiu saw the iron-tower-like Xiao Zhenning say something, and the Liao general beside him immediately fell silent.
After years of relentless confrontation, he understood Ling Ziyue better than anyone.
"Explosive Crossbows!" An Jiu exclaimed softly.
Chu Dingjiang's expression also turned grave. Looking toward Xiao Zhenning's side, they indeed saw ten black-clothed archers setting up Explosive Crossbows—all aimed at Ling Ziyue!
Xiao Zhenning didn't look pleased either. He would have preferred defeating Ling Ziyue through sheer strength, but with the top-secret weapons provided by higher-ups and orders to eliminate Ling Ziyue at all costs, he had no choice but to comply.
Death loomed imminent.
Ling Ziyue saw it too. But if he turned to flee now, the Song army would collapse with their commander's retreat.
In those brief moments of standoff, Ling Ziyue felt as though decades had passed.
Faced with this situation, even Chu Dingjiang wore an uncharacteristically solemn expression. His dark eyes fixed intently on the Explosive Crossbows, as if waiting for something.
Ling Ziyue wore the same expression, fine beads of sweat already forming at his temples. (To be continued...)
PS: I'm truly hopeless. While everyone's working hard to get me into the top five for monthly votes, I'm stuck on writer's block—only managing this much since six o'clock. I've sorted out the outline a bit, so hopefully next month won't be this bad.
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