Chapter 748: I, the King, Will Do It Alone!

Yuan Cheng ignored him, looked toward the army marching toward him, and waved his hand.

"Ka, wha—!" a light sound rang from the camp wall.

A snow‑white lowered flag trembled in the wind, slowly rising to the top of the Flagpole.

Chen Wang lifted his head, stared at the glaring snow‑white, and the color in his face drained completely.

He froze completely.

He never expected Yuan Cheng to have even prepared the lowered flag!

"Yuan Cheng!" he roared, "How dare you..."

Yuan Cheng stood silently, and the crossbowmen lowered their weapons.

The lowered flag hung silently, its whiteness especially dazzling.

The sound of hooves behind grew nearer.

Chen Wang gritted his teeth, yanked the reins hard, and the warhorse turned: "Go! To the South City Main Camp!"

He clenched the horse's belly with both feet, and the warhorse bolted like an Arrow.

The remaining soldiers scrambled, following him.

He crouched on the horse, listening to the wind in his ears, his chest feeling pressed by something, his breathing labored.

The sky gradually darkened, the setting sun sank completely, and night enveloped Jingcheng.

Finally, Chen Wang, exhausted, arrived near the South City Main Camp.

This time, he didn't even approach the camp gate.

In the distance, the camp gate stood wide open, torches like a forest lighting every detail of the Main Camp.

In the central courtyard, there was a mountain.

A mountain made of piled weapons.

Daggers, spears, swords, halberds, long spears, shields…

They were stacked layer upon layer, flashing specks of cold light in the torchlight.

Chen Wang suddenly braked the horse, as if struck in the chest.

He opened his mouth but could not utter a single word.

His South City Main Camp, evidently, had not fired a single Arrow nor swung a single Blade before it surrendered.

Inside the Main Camp, a curtain was drawn aside, and a man dressed as nothing more than a Colonel stepped out, followed by a group of soldiers.

It was Old Zhao.

Old Zhao laughed heartily: "Prince, you ordered that all four camps be taken before nightfall; this is the farthest, I was worried the whole way that we wouldn't make it in time."

"Never thought I'd let Old Zhao earn another merit!"

"Exactly! We've been hurrying all the way, expecting a night battle, but they didn't even want to fight!"

"What do you know!" Old Zhao said, looking at the weapon mountain, shrugging his shoulders: "This is what they call a defeat as massive as a collapsing mountain!"

The words pierced Chen Wang's heart like a knife.

Defeat as massive as a collapsing mountain!

He slowly turned the horse's head, leading the remaining guards into the narrow alleys nearby.

The guards stared at each other.

"Your Highness," the deputy commander said bravely, "what should we do now?"

Chen Wang gave no reply.

He reached out, leaning on the wall, his fingertips trembling as they brushed the rough bricks, slowly feeling them.

He stared fixedly at the wall before him.

After a moment, he turned his head and looked at the guards still by his side.

Whether deputy commander or soldier, all wore bewildered expressions.

Chen Wang knew better than anyone that he had no way out.

"No way out? You also dare to sit back and enjoy Jingcheng!"

We must never hand over this perfectly fine city!

"Disperse," his voice hoarse and low.

Everyone looked up together, faces full of confusion.

"Set fire!" Chen Wang's eyes were bloodshot, his gaze crimson, "ignite everything that can burn!"

"Burn Jingcheng completely for me!"

"Yes!"

A few hundred remaining soldiers scattered in groups, like sand poured into the cracks of the night.

Someone took out a fire‑starter, crouched under a household's courtyard wall, and set a broken bamboo basket piled in the corner alight.

Flames licked the bamboo strips, producing crack— crack— crisp sounds, the orange‑red fire glaring in the darkness.

Yet, as soon as the fire lit, it immediately attracted soldiers patrolling the street.

They brandished knives, rushed into the alley, seized the arsonist by the back of the neck, and without a word, slashed him dead.

Fresh blood splattered a wall instantly.

The arsonist hadn't even finished pleading when he collapsed softly beside the fire he had just lit.

The soldiers stamped out the flames with several steps, lifted the corpse and dragged it away.

As they left, they cursed and swore:

"Damn it! Can't beat them so they set fire, what the hell!"

"Exactly! Tell the brothers to watch out for arson!"

Kill any suspicious person on sight!

Yes!

A few remnant soldiers huddled in the shadows at the wall's base, clearly visible.

A Shougaoger gripped the fire striker in his hand, his fingers trembling so much he could barely hold the small bamboo tube.

He glanced at the pool of blood not far away, still seeping into the stone crevice, and his Adam's apple rolled up and down.

"I... I don't want to set fire." His voice trembled. "My home isn't far from here; just turn past the two alleys ahead and you're there."

"My old mother is still at home; I can't possibly set fire and burn her to death with my own hands."

An older veteran beside him fell silent for a moment, then tossed his fire striker to the ground: "Forget it."

The fire striker fell to the ground, rolled twice, scattering sparks everywhere, and went out.

"You also saw it—those two brothers just lit the fire when they were spotted and got cut down."

"Their main army is right on the main street; this fire simply won't catch."

"But," Shougaoger hesitated, "if we go out now, won't they mistake us for stragglers and cut us down?"

"Possible." The veteran nodded.

But then he shook his head: "But if we really set the fire, wouldn't them cutting us down be even more justified?"

Another chimed in: "Yeah, better to go out holding our swords and surrender; at least we might save our lives."

Shougaoger turned to look at him: "I don't even have a sword! I lost it while running earlier."

The veteran glared at him: "What's wrong with your head?! Do you still remember how General Yuan Cheng surrendered?"

Shougaoger pondered: "You mean...?"

"Just grab a piece of white cloth and wave it going out—done! Who says surrender requires holding a sword? Waving a white cloth isn't surrender?"

"Makes sense." Shougaoger nodded, tore a strip from his collar, gripped it in his hand and raised it overhead: "Let's go—even if it's for my mother back home, I have to make it back alive."

The others nearby stood up as well—some raised their swords and spears, some raised the white cloth strips they'd torn from their clothes, heads bowed, and walked out of the narrow alley.

The same scene played out repeatedly in the dark alleys throughout Jingcheng.

Chen Wang alone crouched in the original narrow alley, back against the cold brick wall, waiting for a long time.

He occasionally poked his head out of the alley, waiting to see the flames in the night sky, waiting to hear the frightened cries of the people.

However, only occasional shouts of the soldiers drifted from afar before quickly falling silent again.

In Jingcheng there was no fire, no smoke, not a sound he wanted to hear.

He waited and waited, until even his own breathing sounded painfully loud.

He clenched his fists so tight his fingers cracked.

A bunch of useless fools! They can't even light a fire properly!

Then I, the prince, will do it myself!

He pulled out a fire striker, braced himself against the wall to stand, and walked deeper into the alley.

He wanted to move faster, but his steps were unsteady, his stomach empty, gripped by waves of cramping pain.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, scraping his sore throat, his mouth so dry it felt like it was smoking—how long had it been since he'd had water?

He could no longer remember.

As he walked, something tripped his foot.

He looked down and saw a broken cabinet piled outside a household's door.

Perfect! Wood catches fire easily and isn't easy to put out.

He looked around; the alley was narrow—if a fire broke out here, nobody in this area could escape!

He crouched, blew on the fire striker, and reached into the cabinet.

The door creaked open as someone pushed it.

A big, rough-looking man who resembled a butcher stepped out, one hand holding a candle, the other a kitchen knife.

He instantly saw Chen Wang crouched at his own doorstep.

Chen Wang lifted his head and saw him as well.

Their eyes met.