Chapter 276: Seeking Aid at Bijie

Hearing Zhang Zhongmou's question, Zhang Cheng's face showed some helplessness.

To be honest, he didn't have much confidence himself, but at this moment, there was simply no way back. If they couldn't hold the city, death was the only path.

Aside from this one road, there was no other choice.

Zhang Cheng looked at Zhang Zhongmou and said with some worry: "It's too dangerous here — blades and arrows have no eyes. Sir, why don't you go down below first? In any case, as long as Bijie City still stands, I will live and die with it."

Zhang Zhongmou looked at Zhang Cheng, somewhat helpless. Did that even need to be said?

If Bijie City were lost, there would be no good outcome upon returning either — he might well be beheaded outright. Better to die fighting here. Dying in battle here would at least leave him with some dignity.

But the likelihood of his own death was not great, so Zhang Zhongmou said fiercely: "I'll stay right below the wall. If the city falls, I will take my own life at once — to be loyal to Your Majesty, to be loyal to the Great Ming. If you reach the Yellow Springs first, remember to walk slowly, so we can keep each other company on the road."

Glancing at Zhang Zhongmou, Zhang Cheng nodded vigorously and said with a smile: "Good, this subordinate will accompany you, sir."

Hearing Zhang Cheng's words, Zhang Zhongmou smiled, then turned and walked down toward the straw shed in the city.

Zhang Zhongmou and Zhang Cheng had no other choice left — they could only send men to seek reinforcements while they held the city to the death themselves.

The rebels outside the city had already charged toward the city wall.

Zhang Cheng reached out and drew the blade from his waist, raising the saber high with blazing eyes as he said: "Brothers, I won't say anything else. If we cannot hold Bijie City and the rebels breach the walls, we are all dead!"

"Today, I won't speak of grand principles of state and righteousness. I'll say only one thing — we want to live!"

"In this southern frontier land, we endure harsh garrison duty not so these bastards can chop off our heads, but so we can chop off theirs! Pass the order down — keep count of the heads you take, and when this is over I'll petition for rewards for you."

Some of the men around answered, some didn't — their eyes were all fixed tightly on the charging rebels, their hands gripping swords and blades firmly.

In their hearts, they agreed with Zhang Cheng's words, and they knew full well that if this battle were lost and Bijie City breached, they would all be dead.

Below the city wall.

An Bangyan watched his men reach the foot of the wall, and a smile of certain victory spread across his face.

As long as he could take Bijie City, it would open the path for him to become the King of Luodian. He was confident that Bijie City could not possibly hold out long under sustained, ferocious assault — they didn't have that many men, and he could surely take it with ease.

Once that time came, he would issue his commands from Bijie City, and the chieftains all around would certainly follow him. Thinking of the bright future ahead, how could An Bangyan not be excited?

An Bangyan had long since sent men to contact the chieftains of various regions — as long as he took Bijie City, these chieftains would surely send troops to aid him.

An Bangyan watched his men setting up scaling ladders, with soldiers climbing up one after another toward the parapet.

Meanwhile, the Ming soldiers hurled arrows and stones down as if they cost nothing.

Neither side wasted words, nor probed each other — they went straight at each other's throats from the very start.

Under such circumstances, casualties appeared immediately.

An Bangyan's men fell from the scaling ladders like dumplings being dropped into a pot, and only a few could barely stagger back to their feet. The ladders were covered in thick, sticky blood, and some men nearly slipped as they stepped on it.

The Ming soldiers atop the wall shouted loudly as they defended. Whenever someone was struck by an arrow, he collapsed straight to the ground; some even tumbled directly off the wall. As soon as a position opened up, someone would quickly fill the gap.

Soon An Bangyan's men surged onto the parapet — after all, Bijie City's walls weren't that tall, and they couldn't provide the Ming defenders with much strategic depth at all.

Zhang Cheng's face twisted savagely as he swung his blade and cut down a rebel who had just climbed up, while shouting for his men to push forward and drive the climbers back down.

As a military officer, Zhang Cheng understood very well how critical this moment was.

The first wave of an assault was always when morale was at its peak. If they could beat it back, the second wave wouldn't be as fierce, and by the third wave the attackers might lose heart entirely.

If they could hold for several days, then the attackers, facing enormous losses, would instinctively grow timid. Only then could he hold the city.

In truth, if the first wave couldn't be beaten back, there would be no 'later' at all.

The Ming soldiers on the wall gritted their teeth and reddened their eyes as they slaughtered their way into the rebels.

For a time, the cries of battle shook the heavens.

Zhang Cheng personally led the men in charging and fighting along the wall — wherever rebels surged up, there he stood and held the line.

This bloody struggle lasted a full half an hour or more, until every last man who had climbed onto the wall had been cut down.

Even as he fought, Zhang Cheng called for men to set fires.

They poured fire oil down the ladders, then set the ladders alight, so the rebels had no way to climb up anymore.

"Fire! Fire!" Zhang Cheng shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his blade as he did.

"Push them back over there! Bring up the boiling broth and pour it down — let them have a taste!" Zhang Cheng bellowed his commands.

After holding out for a long while, the rebels finally retreated.

Watching the rebels fall back from the wall, Zhang Cheng let out a breath of relief — but it was only a temporary relief, because he knew this was just the beginning, not the end.

Even after the rebels withdrew, Zhang Cheng dared not relax in the slightest. He directed men to tend to the wounded while ordering others to carry the fallen brothers down.

Though many familiar faces had died in battle, this was no time for grief. At the same time, he had the enemy corpses on the wall thrown down to pile below. On the one hand, this would intimidate the enemy; on the other, it would obstruct their advance.

Once the corpses piled up to a certain height, if the rebels charged again, they could set the bodies alight to block their progress. Of course, that was a last resort to be used only when no other option remained.

Because burning corpses would also bake the city wall, which was harmful to it — it might even cause the wall to collapse from the heat. This tactic absolutely could not be used unless there was no other choice.

As the battlefield was cleared, Zhang Cheng's expression grew grim.

At this moment, Zhang Zhongmou also came up from below the wall. He walked to Zhang Cheng's side and asked: "Are you alright?"

"Reporting to you, sir — I'm fine." Zhang Cheng shook his head and said.

But his face showed some dejection as he said hesitantly: "In that last round, we lost over seven hundred men dead, more than four hundred severely wounded, and the lightly wounded are even more numerous."

"There are only five thousand soldiers in the city altogether. If we fight a few more rounds like that, we won't be able to hold out. Sir, we need to call the able-bodied men of the city up to defend the walls." Zhang Cheng looked at Zhang Zhongmou, his tone somewhat low.

Zhang Zhongmou hadn't expected them to be on the verge of collapse so quickly either — they'd only just fought off the first wave, and now they already needed to mobilize the able-bodied civilians?

But Zhang Zhongmou also knew this was something done only when absolutely necessary. Since Zhang Cheng was raising it now, it truly had come to the point of no other choice.

Outside the city, in the enemy camp.

An Bangyan's expression was also rather grim at this moment. In that last assault, he had lost over three thousand men — such losses were truly too heavy.

He hadn't expected the Ming army to hold so firmly — and for just one Bijie City at that. Still, he could afford the losses.

Gazing at Bijie City, An Bangyan said: "Swap the men out. Send more up."

"I don't believe it. They held against one wave — can they hold against another? Go, go! Attack a few more times and it will fall."

In truth, An Bangyan had no better method; he could only use this approach to attack Bijie City.

Bijie was a small city—holding it in a siege was out of the question. As long as he was willing to pay the price in lives, he could definitely take it.

Only by taking Bijie could the other chieftains see hope and be willing to follow him. So this was no time to retreat—he had no way back.

Hearing An Bangyan's words, men gathered their ranks and once again launched a charge at the walls of Bijie.

They charged upward, brandishing their blades and howling.

A hundred li from Bijie, Yuan Keli was leading his men forward. At his side were Li Biao and Zhang Yanfang.

After this stretch of forced march, Zhang Yanfang felt he could still manage.

But Li Biao was reaching his limit—his beard was in disarray, his face haggard, and sitting in the saddle, he seemed barely able to stay upright.

Yuan Keli, despite his age, seemed to feel nothing at all.

Yuan Keli rode up beside Li Biao and said with some exasperation: "If you can't manage, don't force yourself. I told you to go back to Guiyang, but you insisted on coming along."

Li Biao said helplessly: "It's just age—my body isn't as sturdy as it used to be. But this official still wants to follow. I can hold on."

Yuan Keli shook his head helplessly and said: "Very well."

He didn't know how to persuade Li Biao.

In truth, Li Biao felt he couldn't not follow. He was actually worried about Yuan Keli. Yes—he was worried about Yuan Keli.

Through their time together, Li Biao had come to realize one thing. Neither Yuan Keli nor Sun Chuanting, who had just left, actually knew that An Bangyan would rebel.

Though they had put forward many reasons, they couldn't be certain in their hearts. The only reason they had split their forces and sent men here was that An Bangyan was an unstable element.

Once the main army entered Sichuan, if An Bangyan rebelled, then Guizhou would have problems. In the eyes of Yuan Keli and Sun Chuanting, Guizhou absolutely could not have problems, so An Bangyan had become a problem that had to be resolved.

Yuan Keli bringing his men here wasn't so much because he feared An Bangyan would rebel—it was to resolve this problem.

As for the method of resolution, Li Biao could already guess it.

The simple way: if An Bangyan had no intention of rebelling, then he'd come along. Keep his subordinates behind, take his men away, even break him apart piece by piece—only stopping when he was no longer seen as a threat.

The harder way: if An Bangyan rebelled, kill him outright. This was what Li Biao worried about—he felt An Bangyan wouldn't obediently comply.

If their side went even slightly too far, An Bangyan would certainly rebel. And after dealing with An Bangyan, a pile of mess would be left behind.

When that time came, Sun Chuanting and Yuan Keli would have earned their great merit and ridden off with a pat on their backs. Wouldn't that mess fall to him, Li Biao?

What would he do then?

So Li Biao had to come along—if Yuan Keli did anything too extreme, he could rein him in.

And if An Bangyan did rebel, he hoped Yuan Keli wouldn't let the matter spiral out of control. Otherwise, things here would become very difficult to handle afterward.

Yuan Keli could more or less guess Li Biao's thoughts, but he didn't care. The reason was simple—Yuan Keli knew Li Biao's thinking was correct.

He had come to eliminate a threat, and An Bangyan had to be dealt with this time, no matter the method. This matter wasn't about right or wrong—it was about where one stood.

Just as Yuan Keli was mulling this over, the front suddenly fell into chaos. Then someone spurred his horse and came galloping toward them at speed.

Looking at the approaching man, Yuan Keli furrowed his brow.

A man covered in dust—clearly a messenger bearing news.

The man rode up before Yuan Keli and Li Biao and saluted directly from horseback: "My lord, An Bangyan has rebelled! He is currently besieging Bijie, and Bijie has already sent men to request aid."

"Give me the details." Yuan Keli's face darkened as he nodded.

Things had indeed happened just as Sun Chuanting had said—An Bangyan couldn't wait any longer. He had raised the banner of rebellion without even waiting for word from Zunyi to arrive.

It seemed there would be war this time.

The man quickly said: "An Bangyan is leading tens of thousands of troops to besiege Bijie. Bijie may not hold out much longer."

Yuan Keli glanced at Zhang Yanfang beside him and said: "Pass the order—the whole army speeds up. We must reach Bijie by tomorrow. Also, tell everyone that An Bangyan has rebelled."

This gave Zhang Yanfang some pause. He said: "My lord, won't saying it now affect morale?"

In truth, even though these men were his own subordinates, Zhang Yanfang had no confidence in his heart. The reason was simple—he had no faith in his men. Hearing of battle, some of them might well run.

Many had parents above and children below—no one wanted to die here. On ordinary days, letting them serve as soldiers and draw their pay was no problem; but truly fighting to the death against rebels—these men wouldn't be too willing.

After all, military pay wasn't that much. Only the living had a future, wasn't that so?

Yuan Keli glanced at Zhang Yanfang and said nothing.

Li Biao beside him also wore a worried expression. The reason he didn't quite approve of Yuan Keli's approach was that he knew the condition of the soldiers under his command.

If the troops he had were like those from the capital, then he'd have confidence.

Forget bringing thirty thousand men—he'd have confidence taking down An Bangyan with just those five thousand. But they weren't!

So Li Biao also looked at Yuan Keli, hoping he could think of something.

In truth, Li Biao had harbored a wishful hope—what if An Bangyan didn't rebel so quickly?

That was why Li Biao hadn't told Yuan Keli about the soldiers.

Yuan Keli, however, was unhurried. With his wealth of experience, he had already thought of it long ago.

In those years, the undefeated Young Lord Qi led ten thousand men against the wokou pirates. And what happened? He was routed by a little over a thousand of them, howling in misery. Why?

Wasn't it because the moment those soldiers saw the wokou, they ran?

So Young Lord Qi had to train his own troops—that was how the famed Qi Family Army came to be, and how the famed Zhejiang soldiers came to be.

In the present situation, of course there was no time for Yuan Keli to train troops. But Yuan Keli could still solve this problem—he had already thought of it.

Remember, this was the southwest, not those pampered soldiers Qi Jiguang had led. The local folk here were fiercely tough, and the Ming soldiers here were the same.

Their combat effectiveness wasn't lacking because they truly couldn't fight—it was simply that they didn't want to fight, didn't want to risk their lives. That was all.