Chapter 255: The Attack

The monk Zonglun spun his tale with such fervor that he half-believed it himself, his face brimming with emotion, seemingly radiating Zen wisdom—though the fingers working his prayer beads had unconsciously quickened their pace.

Li Shouzhen's mental state at this moment was clearly far from sound, and his resentment toward Zonglun was genuine enough, but hearing these words of comfort, the furrows on his face smoothed considerably.

"As the Dharma Master says, Heaven's mandate rests with me, and this trial is but a test. It is my own resolve that wavers—a small setback, and doubt creeps in..." Li Shouzhen regained control of his emotions, calmed himself, and muttered.

From the look of it, he seemed to believe Zonglun's words again—though it seemed more like he was simply seeking consolation from the monk.

"Transmit orders to all units: maintain heightened vigilance and guard strictly against a Han army surprise attack. All officers must strictly discipline their men. Tell Wang Jixun that any soldier under his command who shows the slightest sign of insubordination may be executed first and reported afterward!" Drawing a deep breath, Li Shouzhen gave the cold command.

Since raising the banner of rebellion, Wang Jixun had fought with considerable vigor. Though he had suffered more defeats than victories against the imperial forces, his reckless bravery, coupled with that rare taste of victory, had earned him ever greater trust from Li Shouzhen, who appointed him Patrol Inspector to oversee Pucheng.

Upon hearing the order, Sun Yuan and Liu Rui, two subordinate officials, exchanged a glance—both sensing that Li Shouzhen had not recovered his usual "heroic bearing." After a moment's hesitation, Sun Yuan couldn't help but clasp his hands and suggest: "My Prince, the Han army has the city surrounded, and the people are anxious, the troops restless. Should we not open the treasury and distribute money and grain to reward the soldiers and lift their morale?"

After brief consideration, Li Shouzhen waved a hand: "Take my orders and see to it. Tell the soldiers—follow me, and we will surely break the Han army!"

Of the several men present, who knew how many believed those words, or to what degree.

As Zonglun stepped out of the hall, he let out a heavy sigh, his body trembling involuntarily—none of his usual eminent-monk bearing remained. The cold wind struck him, sending a chill down his spine, and he realized his back was already soaked with sweat. Li Shouzhen in that hall had clearly frightened him.

He glanced back at the still-splendid hall, a strange glint passing through eyes that had lost their "Buddhist aura."

"Dharma Master." The novice monk waiting outside the hall hurried forward nervously, calling out with deference.

"Return to the meditation hall. Spread the word—I am entering seclusion to pray for the Prince and the soldiers!" Zonglun straightened his posture, composed his expression, and strode off ahead.

In his heart, though, he was already scheming—he needed to find a way to extricate himself and preserve his own life. At the same time, disappointment was unavoidable. He had hit it off with Li Shouzhen from the start, expended so much effort, and finally helped him successfully raise the rebellion—yet before he could reap the glory and fame, everything was falling apart, with mortal danger staring him in the face......

Wasn't it just a rebellion? Why had the Great Han reacted so swiftly and violently? Was it because the Emperor was too young?

In the hall, Li Shouzhen kept his son behind, gripping his shoulder and speaking gravely: "Chongxun, I am placing the fifteen hundred yabing guards of this household under your command. From here on, the situation is unpredictable. If things turn dire, lead the men and escort the family in a breakout. The Han army has massed its forces heavily on the east and south—to the north, there may be a path to survival, but you'll have to carve it out yourself......"

Hearing these heartfelt words from Li Shouzhen, Li Chongxun was stunned. He looked at his old father, puzzled: "Father, you......"

"Hmph! Does Zonglun truly think I'm so easy to deceive? I simply chose not to call him out. At this point, with the situation so dire, how could I fail to see it!" Li Shouzhen said flatly, a hint of mockery curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Then what about you, Father?" Li Chongxun nodded in sudden understanding, asking urgently.

"Don't worry about me!" Li Shouzhen waved his hand, a stubborn look settling on his face.

Without explaining anything to Li Chongxun, he forcefully shooed him out of the hall. Then, slightly hunched in his once-imposing frame, he dragged heavy steps to the desk, solemnly straightened his robes, and sat firmly upon his throne as Prince of Qin.

The next morning, before the thick fog had dispersed, the soldiers of the imperial army's eastern and southern camps had already filled their bellies early. Then they moved in orderly fashion—those with combat assignments took their positions under their respective commanders, preparing to launch the attack.

Though visibility was poor under the shroud of fog, the movement of tens of thousands of men and equipment could not be concealed. The dull rumble had long since alerted the rebel sentries on the eastern and southern city walls.

When the rising sun climbed high and the fog dispersed, the scene below the walls was revealed in full. Over fifty thousand imperial troops on both sides stood in neat formation within the sprawling stockade walls—an utterly orderly spectacle.

The stockade fortifications had been built with considerable camouflage, now entirely dismantled, presenting a completely new appearance.

The several hundred trebuchets arranged along the stockade walls were also revealed in full. Dozens of triple-bow mounted crossbows stood in neat rows at the front, their hemp covers stripped away—the bolts thick and long, the arrow fletchings glinting with sharp cold light. These were weapons capable of piercing city walls; once fired into the ramparts, men could climb them like steps.

The atmosphere was grim and tense. Seeing the scene below, the defenders on the walls exchanged fearful glances, each reading dread in the other's eyes; many swallowed audibly. The rebel commanders who rushed up to the walls cursing upon hearing the news also turned pale at the sight, unable to suppress exclamations of shock.

In the southern camp, a viewing platform had been hastily erected—nine zhang tall, positioned beyond safe distance. Liu Chengyou, escorted by palace eunuchs and guards, now ascended the platform to observe the battle.

Looking down from on high, the dispositions of both armies at Pucheng lay fully in view—especially the imperial army's imposing might, which stirred an involuntary surge of excitement from the depths of one's heart.

Zhao Yanjin stood nearby, hand resting on his saber. Though long immersed in the army, this was his first opportunity to survey the entire battlefield—he had never realized how mesmerizing the might of the Great Han's forces could be. He stole a glance at Liu Chengyou, who sat calmly sipping tea with a placid expression, and the reverence on Zhao Yanjin's face seemed to grow somewhat more sincere......

Liu Chengyou, for his part, paid no mind to Commander Zhao's subtle psychological shift. His cold, sharp gaze swept toward that "diminutive" rebel city, and he said in a frigid tone: "Order the attack!"

At the command, the flag-bearing officers on the viewing platform immediately waved their banners to transmit the order. In an instant, commands passed down the chain, and the entire imperial assault formation stirred into motion. War drums thundered; shouts erupted.

Accompanied by waves of rhythmic chanting, the trebuchets were the first to launch. Twenty-catty stone projectiles, pulled by the coordinated strength of the soldiers, were suddenly hurled toward the city walls, carrying ferocious momentum as they smashed into the battlements. The specially trained strongmen moved with smooth, uniform precision—not a hint of hesitation.

From slow to fast, from sparse to dense, the barrage grew into a full-scale bombardment. Soon, over Hedong city, aside from the rising and falling chants, there was nothing but the continuous thunder of stone striking walls—"Boom," "Thud"—each impact dull and pounding against the heart, mingled with the rebels' screams and wails.

For manpower-pulled trebuchets, accuracy was not a high requirement—when besieging a city, simply lobbing the stones over the walls sufficed. As for killing power, the stone projectiles were actually of limited lethality, but their deterrent effect was immense—especially under concentrated bombardment.

Merely watching the stones flying in at high speed was enough to strike fear into any heart. And with so many defenders on the walls, there were always unlucky ones struck, reduced to pulp in an instant. Such bloody scenes dealt an even more direct blow to rebel morale. The Pucheng troops on the walls were not of high quality—many were hastily conscripted and barely trained.

The result: atop Pucheng's walls—dodging, screaming, wailing, chaos......

While the southern assault was underway, the eastern side, under Bai Wenke's command, was carrying out similar actions. Under the pounding of the stone projectiles, the entire city of Pucheng seemed to tremble!