Upon returning to Beishuo City, Chu Qiao was greeted as a hero. Aside from necessary defensive posts, nearly all soldiers and civilians of the city gathered at the gates in a dense, frenzied, and jubilant crowd, as if the Battle of Beishuo had already been won. When Chu Qiao led the Southwest Garrison Commander's troops through the city gates, the welcoming crowd nearly overwhelmed their formation. Lu Zhi, deputy commander of the Second Army, had perished, and the newly appointed deputy commander Yin Liangyu led his troops forward to maintain order, only to see them quickly scattered like dust.
Chu Qiao observed calmly. Though the Second Army soldiers had made some effort to tidy up for the arrival of their allies, the army had been decimated since her departure. The remaining soldiers were wounded, their uniforms torn and stained with blood, their faces pale beneath the dust. Fear, exhaustion, confusion, and dejection flickered clearly in their eyes. Many had lost their scabbards, their blades hastily tucked into their belts, clinking with each movement—a sound of weaponry devoid of fighting spirit, only adding to the chaos.
In stark contrast to these panicked Second Army soldiers, the officers and troops of the Southwest Garrison Commander stood out. Though their armor was also bloodstained and dust-covered, they moved with confidence and composure, maintaining strict formations and disciplined ranks. Riding steadily on horseback behind Chu Qiao, they marched with vigorous strides down the long street. The north wind swept through their billowing greatcoats, their ink-black cloaks carrying the scent of blood, austere and desolate. At the sight of them, the civilians erupted into thunderous cheers. Amid the collapse of a million-strong army and the flight of Yanbei soldiers, only these troops had fearlessly plunged into certain death, resolutely taking up the duty to defend their homeland.
Yin Liangyu rushed forward, his helmet knocked askew by the chaotic crowd. Without time to adjust it, the young man urgently said, "It's easy to add flowers to brocade, but hard to send charcoal in snowy weather. Lord Chu, arriving in our hour of peril, has saved Beishuo from certain doom. The entire Second Army is deeply grateful for your grace!"
Chu Qiao dismounted and smiled calmly. "General Yin, you flatter me. We all serve Yanbei—the Southwest Garrison Commander and the Second Army share the same breath and roots."
As she spoke, the young woman removed her wind cap. Despite the brutal battles she had endured, she remained neat and clean. Her military uniform accentuated her tall, graceful figure, blending a soldier's vigor with a woman's elegance. Her face was lovely, her skin snow-white, and her eyes sparkled like stars when she glanced around, radiating confidence. Her voice was gentle and friendly, brimming with sincerity.
A wave of astonished exclamations rose from the crowd. Soldiers and civilians who had never seen her before murmured in discussion, praises washing over her like a tide. From the Zhenhuang Incident to the northwestern battlefield, from the Biantang Mutiny to the Defense of Chidu, countless glorious campaigns adorned this woman's legacy. Naturally, people had overlooked her age and appearance, but now, on this tumultuous battlefield, the girl's beauty shone like a bright lamp above them all. They couldn't help but marvel:
"Is this Lord Chu? So young?"
"Yes! It's truly unbelievable—so beautiful!"Having just routed the Southwest Field Army led by Zhao Qi and the Batuha Family's forces, Chu Qiao knew that the recent battle had not struck at their core strength. The Daxia Army's defeat was solely due to their all-out final assault on Beishuo City, where they had committed their entire vanguard and cavalry corps to the battlefield. In their rush to conclude the battle before nightfall and with absolute confidence in their rear's security, they had even deployed several reserve units, leaving their rear defenses hollow—manned only by supply troops and transport units. The nearest cavalry regiment was separated from them by two supply divisions. The Southwest Garrison Commander, composed entirely of cavalry, moved with extreme speed. Their charge was like a leopard bursting into a herd of wild horses from behind. Compounded by Zhao Qi's accidental death at her hands, which left the Daxia Army leaderless and demoralized, she had seized this opportunity.
However, the reputation of Daxia's hundreds of thousands of troops was not unearned. Zhao Yang would arrive soon. Though anxious, Chu Qiao concealed her unease and said to Yin Liangyu, "Where is General Cao? I have urgent military intelligence to report immediately."
Yin Liangyu replied gravely, "The General is in the conference hall. Please follow me, my lady."
They were still in the city garrison headquarters of Beishuo City. Dark obsidian tiles paved the ground evenly, the structure towering imposingly. Torches flickered dimly, and footsteps echoed through the corridor—each step heavy and weary.
Finally arriving at the conference hall entrance, two young guards immediately straightened upon seeing Yin Liangyu, saluting crisply and announcing, "General Yin!"
Yin Liangyu nodded, stepping aside to indicate Chu Qiao. "This is Lady Chu from the General Staff."
The guards clearly recognized Chu Qiao, promptly smiling and bowing. "Greetings, Lady Chu!"
Chu Qiao nodded in acknowledgment. "You've worked hard."
"Is the General inside?"
"Yes, the General has been waiting for you both for some time."
Yin Liangyu nodded. "Please announce us."
One guard acknowledged, gently knocking before proclaiming loudly, "Reporting to the General! General Yin and Lady Chu of the General Staff request an audience!"
A draft swept through the corridor, whistling like a wounded puppy. The hallway was silent, no one spoke—only the young guard's voice reverberated in the corners, mingling with the wind's mournful howl.
Yin Liangyu frowned, stepping forward to say firmly, "General Cao, Lady Chu Qiao of the General Staff requests an audience."
Still, no response came from within. Yin Liangyu's frown deepened as he continued, "General, are you inside?"
Chu Qiao's eyebrows lifted sharply. "Something's wrong," she said, then forcefully pushed open the conference hall doors.
With a creak, the doors swung open. A strong gust rushed out—the window opposite was unlatched, scattering documents and papers across the floor like white butterflies with broken wings, tumbling endlessly underfoot. The vast conference hall stood empty, tables and chairs remaining in their places. Cao Mengtong sat with his back to them in his usual seat, motionless and silent, leaning against the chairback as if studying the map hanging on the wall.
Yin Liangyu exhaled in relief, stepping forward respectfully. "General, Lady Cao is here. She says she has urgent matters to report."Cao Mengtong seemed not to have heard, not even changing his sitting posture. Chu Qiao frowned deeply and immediately stepped forward. The guard behind her was startled and quickly chased after her, calling out, "Lord Chu..."
However, before he could finish, the guard's voice abruptly cut off. His eyes widened in horror, his mouth slightly agape, yet not a single word could escape.
Cao Mengtong was wearing a brand-new uniform, his sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal half of his forearms. On his left arm was a distinct knife scar, seemingly left many years ago, barely visible unless one looked closely. His clothes were impeccably smooth, without a single wrinkle. From the left pocket of his lapel peeked half of a white handkerchief, neatly folded. Both sides of his black lapel were embroidered with golden thread in the pattern of War Eagles, a total of nine thumb-sized emblems, showcasing the noble status of this elderly army commander. He was no longer young, in his sixties, with wrinkles covering his face, sagging muscles, and the corners of his eyes and mouth drooping downward. His hair was streaked with gray, meticulously combed, yet it could not conceal his aged appearance.
A dagger was plunged into his chest, and blood had trickled down, already congealed. The room was cold, and the dark red blood had frozen into a icy trail. Life had long departed from this body, leaving only a solitary shadow, aged and desolate under the moonlight.
A massive map of Yanbei hung before him, depicting a rugged terrain with countless ravines and undulating mountains. A thin line connected the place names on the map, starting from the northernmost Meilin Pass, passing through Huihui Mountain, the Shangshen Plateau, Siqiulanling, the Sunset Mountains, Blue City, Chidu, and Beishuo, then marked with a large crimson arrow pointing directly toward the rich and vast Eastern Lands.
Yin Liangyu and the guards were stunned. Faced with the sudden death of their commander, they were at a loss, unsure of what to do.
Chu Qiao slowly stepped forward, reached out her hand, and gently brushed over Cao Mengtong's unblinking eyes. Along with the anger, hatred, and frustration she had felt toward this commander who had failed to fulfill his duties, it all seemed to wash away like cold water, buried and frozen by the heavy snow of a harsh winter, leaving only a vast, chilling desolation.
For the sake of personal gain, he had disregarded the lives of millions of soldiers and civilians. He had misjudged people, failed to assess the enemy clearly, acted foolishly and recklessly, and been arrogant and obstinate. It was this man whose incompetence and pride had completely dragged down a favorable war situation, causing the army to suffer immeasurable losses. His crimes were too numerous to record, and even death would not be enough to atone for them. Before coming here, Chu Qiao had thought of so many methods and strategies to remove him and reclaim command of Beishuo City, even preparing sharp words to vent her fury.
But at this moment, looking at the elderly man sitting quietly in the cold wind, all her anger suddenly vanished without a trace.
This was a brutal war, and everyone had paid a cruel price for it, whether alive or dead.
"General, look!" A sharp-eyed guard picked up a piece of paper from the table and handed it to Yin Liangyu.Yin Liangyu quickly took it, glanced over it swiftly, then raised his head and gently handed it to Chu Qiao, saying, "Commander Chu, as of now, you are the highest-ranking officer of the Second Army. I, Yin Liangyu, report to you!"
Chu Qiao took the paper and saw that it was written in a completely formal tone, briefly transferring command of the Second Army and the Beishuo Army, along with a few lines expressing hope that Chu Qiao would fight bravely for Yanbei's glory—as if it were the most ordinary handover ceremony imaginable.
Chu Qiao unbuckled her sword and set it aside, then took a step back, stood straight, and gave a crisp military salute. "General Cao fought for our nation, resisted the Daxia Army, and battled to his last breath without retreating. He set an example for the entire army. I will not fail the general's expectations—I will remain loyal and resolute, never retreating!"
That night, the military camp's records noted the following: During the Battle of Beishuo, General Cao Mengtong led from the front. Despite his advanced age, he fought decisively on the walls of Beishuo City, vowing never to retreat and resisting the Daxia Army tenaciously. He sustained severe injuries and, unable to recover, passed away in the conference hall on the evening of October 27. Before his death, he transferred command of the Second Army to Military Advisor of the General Staff and Senior Commander of the Southwest Garrison, Commander Chu Qiao. General Cao lived a life of loyalty and courage, devoting himself entirely to Yanbei. In his later years, he guarded the nation's gates, and even in his final moments, he remained concerned for the state—a model for all Yanbei soldiers.
Three hours later, Zhao Yang, delayed by the great fire in Chidu, hurriedly arrived. He assembled the Northwest Army Corps and the scattered Southwest Field Army, bringing a force of five hundred thousand to attack from both sides.
In the conference hall, Cao Mengtong's seat had already changed occupants. A young woman in a black uniform sat upright in the chair, her gaze sharp as she looked down at those below. Most of the familiar faces were gone. Over a dozen tribal chieftains, sensing the dire situation, had fled in panic with their family troops. Hardly any high-ranking officers of the Second Army remained. Yu Zeqi, the commander of the Third Army's support troops, had surrendered to Daxia with his fifty thousand soldiers. Xia An, the garrison commander of Beishuo City, seeing the imminent collapse of Beishuo, had fled toward the Yanbei interior two days earlier under the pretext of punishing deserters, taking the original Beishuo City defense forces with him.
Now, those seated below were mostly mid- to low-ranking officers from the original army. In the seat for the Seventh Brigade of the Eighth Division of the Second Army sat a portly cook. The brigade's commander had led his five thousand troops to desert the battlefield. The cook, unwilling to leave and even trying to persuade his comrades to stay and defend Beishuo, had been severely beaten and nearly killed. Now, the Seventh Brigade existed in name only, with him as its sole remaining member. When Chu Qiao called for representatives from each military unit to attend the meeting, no one else could be nominated, so the cook rushed over without even removing his apron.
In times of national crisis, when survival hangs in the balance, it is not the high-ranking officials enjoying wealth and privilege who prove most loyal. They are busy fleeing, surrendering, betraying their compatriots, and seeking ways to survive. Instead, it is often the most overlooked common people who dare to step forward, using their frail shoulders and simple minds to shoulder the responsibility of defending the nation. The absurdity and irony of such circumstances are truly laughable.
"Commander, what should we do?"Yin Liangyu was originally a clerical officer in the military supply department, responsible for recording the inflow and outflow of provisions. When his superior fled, he handed over all his duties to Yin Liangyu, generously promising to promote him and pass on his position. Before Yin Liangyu could even voice his objection, the man had vanished without a trace. Thanks to this twist of fate, Yin Liangyu was promoted over twenty ranks in just two days, eventually becoming the deputy commander of the Second Army and now the second-in-command in Beishuo City.
Chu Qiao turned around and said calmly, "Everyone, please share your thoughts."
The group remained silent, cautiously glancing at one another. They had all been low-ranking individuals before, always at the forefront of charges and battles, with no experience in forming their own opinions. After a long while, a seemingly honest militia representative suddenly stood up. He wore coarse work clothes stained with blood—whether his own or someone else's was unclear. As everyone turned to look at him, he appeared shy and hesitant. After gathering his courage, he finally asked in a soft voice, "I'm from the militia of Xitao Village. Our village chief is injured, so he sent me instead. He asked me to ask the general if we'll retreat? Will you abandon us?"
"That's right!" someone chimed in. "Will the general be like General Xia An, leading troops to chase deserters and never returning?"
Chu Qiao replied calmly, "Rest assured, even if we retreat, I will be the last to step out of Beishuo City's gates."
"That's a relief!"
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room, as if everyone had been worried about this very issue. A burly man with a thick beard suddenly declared, "I don't understand all those grand principles. Whatever the general says, I'll follow."
"Agreed!"
"Yes, we'll listen to the general!"
Chu Qiao pondered silently for a moment before slowly rising to her feet and saying gravely, "In that case, please return immediately to muster your troops. At dawn, we will engage the Daxia Army in a decisive battle!"
The crowd responded with a resounding affirmation, seeming far more comfortable taking orders than offering opinions. Soon, the meeting hall grew quiet, but Yin Liangyu remained seated in his spot, as if he had something to ask.
"General Yin, speak your mind if you have something to say."
Yin Liangyu thought for a long time before finally saying, "General, I'm not well-versed in military matters, but three days ago, when General Yu Zeqi of the Third Army defected, he burned down most of the grain depot. Currently, the city's combat-ready defenders total less than forty thousand. Even with the thirty thousand troops you brought back, we only have about seventy thousand, and most of them are militia. The Daxia Army is powerful. If we confront them head-on, can we win?"
Chu Qiao frowned slightly and was about to speak when Yin Liangyu quickly explained, "I'm not suggesting we flee, I'm just... just a bit concerned."
Chu Qiao smiled faintly and said, "I know you're not thinking of running, but there's no need to be so pessimistic. The fact that I'm willing to stay means I have confidence."
Yin Liangyu sprang to his feet excitedly. "Do you have a surefire plan for victory, sir?"
"I don't have a guaranteed plan for victory, but there is some news you might like to hear."
"What news?""His Highness's First Army and Miss Yu's Sunset Army are rushing to reinforce us. As long as we hold out for ten days, reinforcements will surely arrive."
Yin Liangyu was immediately overjoyed, his face lighting up as he exclaimed, "Really? Is it true, my lady?"
"It's true," Chu Qiao smiled slightly. "Go share this good news with everyone."
Yin Liangyu nearly ran out the door. Watching his retreating back gradually disappear down the conference room corridor, the smile on Chu Qiao's face slowly faded and froze.
No one yet knew that Yan Xun had led the First Army and troops from the Sunset Mountain-Blue City region to attack deep into Daxia's heartland. First, she feared there might be traitors in the army - if this information reached Zhao Yang's ears, while it might relieve the siege of Beishuo City, it would certainly allow enemy forces to cut off Yan Xun's retreat path, trapping him in danger. This was her greatest concern at the moment.
Second, if this information were to leak out, everyone would immediately realize that Yanbei had been abandoned by Yan Xun. Morale would instantly collapse, and this battle would become unwinnable. Previously, she had defended Blue City to protect Yanbei's interior, providing a retreat route if the Beishuo forces were defeated. But now, with the interior virtually undefended and the Sunset Mountain region left unguarded, retreat had become meaningless - it would only lead the enemy deeper inside and reveal their defenseless state. In other words, all of Yanbei's armed forces were now concentrated in Beishuo City. If Beishuo fell, Yanbei would be doomed. That was why she had abandoned Chidu and shifted the battle to Beishuo.
And Yan Xun - would he return? Would he give up the grand ambition within his grasp, abandon this perfect opportunity for revenge?
Outside, heavy snow fell continuously, the mountains dancing like silver snakes. Chu Qiao leaned back in her chair, moonlight illuminating her smooth forehead. She was so thin, her chin sharp as if carved by a knife. Suddenly, a conviction rose from deep within her heart, burning through her entire being like fire.
"He will. He will definitely return."
———————*—
On the distant horizon, against the morning sunlight, the Daxia Army could be seen gradually approaching. Column after column stretched continuously, their forest of banners fluttering in the wind.
After days of fierce fighting, the battlefield was now piled with corpses like mountains, littered with short knives and long spears. Despite the night's snowfall, the ground before Beishuo City remained stained crimson with blood. These macabre blossoms seemed to flourish despite the cold, blooming ever more brilliantly. The vast sea of red cast a dark crimson hue over the rising sun, its eerie light spreading across the expansive battlefield.
The battle came so swiftly. Consecutive defeats had worn away Zhao Yang's patience - he no longer bothered with careful troop deployments and strategic calculations, nor with cautious probing attacks. His five hundred thousand troops surged forward in a roaring tide, their armor forming metallic mountains, their battle cries thundering across the plains. As the massive army arrayed itself and sounded the unified charge, the defenders on Beishuo's walls collectively shuddered, feeling as if the very walls beneath their feet were trembling before the enemy's roar, about to collapse at any moment.The soldiers of Beishuo turned pale. Compared to Zhao Qi's Southwest Army, which relied on numerical superiority, Zhao Yang's Northwest Army was truly a fierce pack of wolves and tigers. They couldn't even imagine how Chu Qiao, leading less than ten thousand Southwest Garrison Commanders, had managed to hold out against such an army for so long. But there was no time left for contemplation. Ten thousand horses thundered forward as the massive army pressed down like a raging flood.
"Kill the enemy!"
In an instant, Daxia's army erupted like a volcano. In contrast, the city walls of Beishuo were shrouded in deathly silence.
"Prepare yourselves!" He Xiao's imposing figure stood atop the city wall. The numerous battles had swiftly tempered this young officer, forging his growth. Gripping his war blade, he spoke in a deep voice, "Ready!""
"First squad, prepare to attack!"
"Second squad, prepare to attack!"
"Third squad, prepare to attack!"
"Fourth squad, prepare to attack!"
"Seventeenth Squad, prepare to attack!"
...
Loud commands rang out in succession. The Southwest Garrison Commander's troops now numbered less than three thousand, with the remaining seven thousand selected from Chidu's militia to replenish the ranks. After Cao Mengtong's death, the Second Army's elite guard corps became Chu Qiao's personal guards. Altogether, they formed a force of thirty thousand, serving as the main strength in this battle. Before them stood large crossbows, each nearly half a person's height, silently positioned. These were weapons Chu Qiao had previously designed and handed over to the military supply factory for production. However, after her departure, no one knew how to assemble or operate them, so all three thousand crossbows remained intact and unused.
Arrows were loaded row by row into the hidden chambers of the crossbows. These arrows were advanced weapons improved with modern technology, capable of firing twenty-eight arrows simultaneously through wheel-axle mechanisms. Each shooting task consisted of three rounds, with four-dimensional calibration directions, meaning that in the span of a breath, these crossbows could continuously launch eighty-four sharp arrows aimed at four different directions. Their power was unimaginably immense—if not for the lack of bullet-like force, they could almost rival machine guns.
The piercing sound of bowstrings echoed incessantly. The battle was imminent, and the enemy drew closer. Cavalry swiftly overtook the infantry, charging at the forefront. The Daxia Army's leading officer shouted, "Kill all the northern barbarians!" The soldiers surged forward like a tidal wave, their battle cries roaring like a tsunami.
He Xiao's expression remained unchanged. After a moment, he finally declared in a resolute tone, "Attack!"
In an instant, a deafening "hum" filled the air. The sky darkened as if covered by a massive black cloth—a swarm of arrows soared like locusts. The simultaneous firing of three thousand crossbows was equivalent to eighty thousand archers drawing their bows at once.
No flesh and blood could withstand such a terrifying storm of arrows. There was no escape, no retreat. The scene at Chidu City repeated itself: the massive cavalry corps collapsed as if struck by a giant's fist, with no one able to evade. After the volley, within a four-hundred-pace range, not a single living being remained standing.
In that moment, everyone's eyes widened in shock. The Daxia soldiers charging from behind were as if struck dumb, daring not to advance another step—especially those from the Southern Army who had never witnessed such a sight. Zhao Yang was so enraged he nearly charged forward with his sword. He had rushed through the night, hastily reorganizing his troops to attack, fearing that Chu Qiao would recreate the sharp offensive weapons from the Chidu defense battle. Yet, he had still arrived a step too late. Little did he know that such weapons had long been stored in Beishuo City. Of course, he wasn't the only one unaware; many likely never imagined it, for if such weapons had existed earlier, how could Cao Mengtong have suffered such a devastating defeat in previous battles?
"Charge! Those who retreat will be executed!"
The sharp call to charge sounded once more from the Daxia Army camp. Heavy armor units and shield bearers led the way, and the assault began anew.
Chu Qiao stood atop the high city tower. The entire Beishuo City erupted in jubilation. Seeing victory within reach, people rushed to the battlements, setting up makeshift catapults and defending with unwavering determination.Dark clouds of arrows rained down in volleys, enemies falling like cut grass. Clad in a white fur cloak, the young woman’s face remained expressionless. Tens of thousands died before her—with a mere wave of her hand, countless heads would roll, and blood would converge into streams, then rivers, then lakes, until it burst forth like a flood. Human lives were as worthless as weeds, ants, or scraps of paper. War was a devouring demon, its bloody maw gaping wide as it advanced to consume everything in its path.
Gradually, she lost all sensation—no fear, no disgust, not even exhaustion. Only numbness remained, her limbs stiff and cold.
War was brutal. Two days later, the city’s arrows were depleted. A day after that, all the rolling stones and wooden beams were exhausted. The Daxia Army had paid a price of nearly seventy thousand lives. The vast battlefield was littered with bloody corpses, and broken blades and arrows stretched densely all the way to the horizon. The defenders of Beishuo were utterly exhausted, but before they could even eat a meal in the evening, the dark shadows of the enemy surged forward once again.
Chu Qiao sighed helplessly. Even though they had thrown the last stone and shot the last arrow, inflicting such heavy losses on the enemy, the foe had still regrouped and charged back so quickly. Both she and Zhao Yang knew that, in many ways, war was a test of endurance. Whoever could hold out longer would be the final victor. The Daxia Army’s northern expedition had suffered devastating losses, and now Zhao Yang was staking everything on one desperate gamble.
"Commander, what should we do?"
A subordinate rushed in anxiously, his eyes filled with hope. In the past, this female general had always managed to produce powerful secret weapons at critical moments to turn the tide of battle. The entire Second Army held her in deep admiration. But now, Chu Qiao merely shook her head and said calmly, "There’s nothing we can do. Fight."
Close-quarters siege warfare erupted in full force. The world was filled with desolation and wails, the ground trembling violently beneath their feet. The air echoed with the mournful neighing of warhorses. The Daxia Army, like towering mountains, crashed fiercely against the walls of Beishuo, surging forward in wave after wave. The disparity in numbers made the later stages of the battle increasingly gruesome. The walls were lost and retaken multiple times, each time reclaimed at the cost of soldiers’ blood. The troops of the Southwest Garrison Commander displayed astonishing and fearsome combat prowess. With fewer than three thousand men, they held half the city wall, while the other half was defended by over sixty thousand soldiers. Yet, despite this, the Southwest Garrison Commander still had to repeatedly lend aid to the other defenders.
Two days later, Zhao Yang sent men to dig trenches beneath the eastern wall, causing a partial collapse. A small section of the wall crumbled. Although Chu Qiao swiftly organized a defense, over two thousand elite Daxia soldiers managed to breach the city. The fierce fighting lasted for more than two hours, with corpses piling up into a small mountain.
"General! The Third Brigade has been completely wiped out. The Archery Battalion and the Fourth Militia Unit, led by General Yu, charged out of the city and repelled the Daxia soldiers digging trenches outside. They all died in action. The Xiaolin Battalion was entirely annihilated. The Eleventh Squad fell in its entirety at the eastern first battlement…"
"General, we can’t hold out any longer. At most, we have two hours left. We must retreat!"He Xiao also stepped forward, the young man covered in wounds and bloodstains, his voice hoarse as he said gravely, "Commander, all officers and soldiers of the Southwest Garrison request your retreat. We will carve a path for you through the western gate."
Yin Liangyu, pale-faced, this scholar accustomed to wielding brushes now clad in military attire, frowned and stepped forward, saying, "General, reinforcements will not arrive. We have no time left. Please lead the Southwest Garrison and all the women and children of the city to break out. As long as we reach Blue City, as long as we reach Miss Yu, we will have a chance to rise again. I am willing to stay behind and share the fate of Beishuo."
Chu Qiao slowly shook her head. Blue City? There was no one left there. Even if they fled there, it would only lead the Daxia Army deeper into Yanbei's heartland. She said softly, "I will not retreat."
"General, please prioritize the greater situation! This is no time for rash decisions!"
Chu Qiao raised her head, her gaze firm as she looked into the distance, and said slowly, "Reinforcements will come."
"Commander!" He Xiao grew slightly agitated. "We cannot wait any longer. Time is running out. If we don’t leave now, it will be too late."
Chu Qiao repeated the same words, filled with confidence—or perhaps madness and stubbornness: "Reinforcements will come."
The others withdrew helplessly and issued the order for the entire army to defend to the death. In an instant, the entire city erupted with frenzied roars. Chu Qiao could not discern the emotions behind them—rage, sorrow, terror, ferocity, fear, hatred, despair. Perhaps there was nothing at all, perhaps it was merely a final cry before death.
The sky gradually darkened, the setting sun blood-red. The fighting reached its peak. The captain of the Eighth Division's Seventh Brigade, who also served as a cook, brandished a butcher’s cleaver and charged with a roar toward the Daxia soldiers scaling the walls. Over a dozen Daxia soldiers lined up and surged forward, but the portly cook lunged at them, knocking all of them into a fire. Flames quickly engulfed their bodies. The Daxia soldiers panicked, slapping at the flames on their clothes, but the cook paid no heed and continued to charge at others, his momentum fierce, as if completely unbothered by the fire consuming him. The Daxia soldiers recoiled in terror, scrambling out of his path wherever he went. Finally, without a word, the cook seized the rope ladder the Daxia soldiers were using to climb the wall and slid down it, dragging over twenty climbing soldiers with him to their deaths on the rocks below the wall. Blood splattered, brains burst—on this day, hundreds of thousands from both sides witnessed the loyalty and courage of a cook.
"Commander! The Eighth Brigade has been completely wiped out!"
"Reinforcements will come."
"Commander, the eastern second wall has collapsed. Over three hundred enemies have broken through. The Ninth and Tenth Brigades are engaging them."
"Reinforcements will come."
"Commander, you must leave now! The Daxia Army has committed its last three reserve units to the battle!"
"Reinforcements will come."
"Commander, it will be too late if we don’t go now! Reinforcements are not coming. Give the order to retreat!"
"Reinforcements will come."
"Commander…"
…
Everyone had lost hope. They all believed Chu Qiao was determined to share the fate of Beishuo. The battle grew increasingly brutal, filled with chaotic screams everywhere. The soldiers of Yanbei went mad, staking everything on one final, desperate roar as they brandished their blades and charged into close combat with the enemy.A commander should not personally join the battle, yet at this moment, Chu Qiao slowly drew the sword from her waist. Even now, a conviction roared wildly in her mind—hold on for one more moment, just one more moment. She walked out of the central command tent and ascended to the highest point of the city wall. The blade gleamed sharply, like a flash of silver light.
He Xiao suddenly rushed forward, his face pale with shock, unable to distinguish between joy and anger as he cried out in alarm, "My Lady!"
"Say no more!" Chu Qiao cut him off sharply, her voice firm. "I will not retreat. Reinforcements will surely come."
"My Lady," He Xiao licked his parched lips and said slowly, "The reinforcements have arrived."
Chu Qiao’s body trembled. Following He Xiao’s pointing finger, she whirled around. On the horizon of Huolei Plain, a thin, ink-black line gradually emerged. Dust swirled above it, and from the Daxia Army camp came the piercing sound of horns—not the triumphant call of victory, but a desperate, mournful wail. Messengers dashed back and forth, officers shouting hoarsely, though their words were indistinct. Panic—utter chaos—gripped the Daxia forces as they retreated like a receding tide. Soldiers ran back in confusion, obeying the horn calls without understanding what was happening.
The earth shook—Boom! Boom! Boom!
Everyone froze. The defenders of Beishuo City, who had steeled themselves for death, lifted their heads and gazed toward the distant east. On the crimson expanse of Huolei Plain, the narrow line coalesced into a black river. Then, like a massive black eagle leaping from the edge of the sky, it spread its vast wings, majestic and formidable, transforming into an endless, dark ocean!
Overwhelming and storm-like! Black war banners fluttered above the dark tide, the War Eagle emblem so fierce it seemed ready to tear through the fabric. Warriors controlled their horses with their legs, drew their sabers, and raised them high, roaring with thunderous fury: "For freedom!!!"
Deafening battle horns instantly resounded across the land, and a tremendous cheer erupted from the walls of Beishuo City.
"The Black Eagle Banner! It’s the Black Eagle Banner! Your Highness! His Highness has come!"
"Our reinforcements are here!"
Soldiers cheered and leaped for joy, many weeping on the battlements. In just a few days, this ancient city had faced life and death repeatedly. Now, confronted with sudden hope, people embraced each other warmly, united in celebration.
In stark contrast to the cheers from Beishuo’s walls, panic and furious shouts arose from the Daxia camp. Zhao Yang cried out in disbelief, "How could this happen? How did they flank us from the rear?"
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
A messenger, clad in the uniform of Zhenhuang City and covered in dust, rushed forward and shouted, "Orders from the capital! You are commanded to return immediately to defend our homeland! The traitor Yan Xun has led five hundred thousand troops deep into the empire, laying waste to the northwest. Now, he has turned back to encircle the Northern Expedition Army!"
With a furious kick, Zhao Yang sent the messenger tumbling from his horse, snarling, "Why wait until he’s slaughtered my entire army to report?"
"I rode day and night, Your Highness! All the other messengers were intercepted and killed by the Yanbei Army. I was the only one left—I had to be cautious…"
Before he could finish, Zhao Yang kicked him again. The fourteenth prince of Daxia swiftly issued orders: "All regiments, form defensive formations! Do not rout! Hold your ground if we are to stand a chance against the enemy!"Before he could finish his words, the armies of the Southwest Army, Northern Alliance, and the remaining forces of the Batuha Family scattered in disarray, leaving only the Northwest Army to form defensive formations and resist the advancing Yanbei Army.
Zhao Yang closed his eyes in despair. Was heaven truly determined to destroy Daxia?
The retreat of the Daxia Army was like a receding tide. All resistance was torn apart by the Yanbei Army as easily as breaking dry twigs. Numerical superiority, combat strength, renewed morale, and the suddenness of the assault all secured the Yanbei Army’s inevitable victory. Two hours later, the Daxia Army had already fled from Huolei Plain, retreating in panic toward Helan Mountain. The Yanbei Army dispatched 100,000 troops in hot pursuit!
This day was November 1st of the 775th year of the Baicang Calendar. The Black Eagle Army, which had penetrated deep into Daxia’s heartland, suddenly returned to Yanbei’s homeland. Yan Xun had strictly controlled the flow of information along the way, galloping on horseback day and night, eating, drinking, and sleeping in the saddle. Upon his return, he immediately threw his forces into battle without any rest. Caught off guard, Zhao Yang was attacked from both sides by Yan Xun and Chu Qiao. The Southwest Army, Northern Alliance, and Batuha forces collapsed like water at the front lines. Unable to hold the line alone, Zhao Yang had no choice but to retreat toward Helan Mountain. Yan Xun pursued relentlessly, killing over 200,000 enemy soldiers along the way. Apart from Zhao Yang’s Northwest Army, the main forces of the other three armies were almost completely decimated. Yan Xun led his troops deep into the northwestern interior of Daxia, only stopping when they reached Wild Goose Cry Pass. Subsequently, the Black Eagle Army set up camp north of Wild Goose Cry Pass. Zhao Yang gazed across the river and saw that the entire northwestern region of the empire had fallen into the hands of the Yanbei Army. Officials and nobles in the northwest surrendered without resistance. Overwhelmed with fury, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the frozen surface of the Chishui River.
Thus, the first Northern Expeditionary War came to an end. The Yanbei Army suffered losses of up to 400,000 soldiers at the cities of Beishuo and Chidu. Chidu City was reduced to barren land, and countless refugees perished during their migration. Yanbei’s already strained finances grew even more precarious.
Compared to Yanbei, Daxia’s losses were almost incalculable. Not only had the Northern Expeditionary Army lost more than half its forces, with one imperial prince slain on the battlefield, but half of the northwestern territory had also fallen into enemy hands. If Yan Xun had not turned his forces around to rescue Beishuo, even the imperial capital might have been captured. The eyes of the entire Ximeng Continent were fixed on the northwest, where a magnificent red sun slowly set. The 300-year glory and dreams of the Daxia Empire began an irreversible decline.
After Zhao Yang returned to the imperial capital, the Daxia imperial family was enraged. The Elder Council, unusually swift, unanimously passed a resolution to imprison Zhao Yang. Three days later, the empire quickly assembled 300,000 troops from the Southeast Army, Northeast Army, and the private armies of various noble families. Led by the Seventh Prince, Zhao Che, these forces were once again dispatched to the northwestern battlefield.
Zhuge Huai, the eldest son of the Zhuge family, had served as the overall coordinator of the reserves during the first Northern Expeditionary War. Because of the defeat, he was implicated, and the entire Zhuge family faced marginalization and impeachment by the Elder Council. Left with no choice, Zhuge Mu Qing had to reinstate his fourth son, Zhuge Yue, appointing him as the overall coordinator of the reserves and quartermaster for this new campaign. Following closely in Zhao Che’s footsteps, Zhuge Yue swiftly headed to the northwest.
It was clear that another great battle was about to unfold. Yet, before this storm arrived, there would be a brief period of calm.
——————Break——————
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