Chapter 704: Destruction at Hand

A gentle summer breeze blew through the night-shrouded Chenglong Pass fortress, the entire stronghold immersed in a suffocating atmosphere. As he made his rounds, all he saw were numb faces, utterly devoid of spirit.

Sensing the low morale in camp, Zhou Xingfeng wanted to inspire his men, but could think of no effective means. Even personally bandaging wounds for several injured soldiers in the infirmary only produced a superficial effect.

The camp lacked not only grain and equipment, but also doctors and medicine. Many of the seriously wounded died in agony. After Zhou Xingfeng left the infirmary, several more corpses were dragged out and buried.

The pitch-black camp walls, backed against the hills, still enjoyed the cool of the river breeze, but Zhou Xingfeng could only feel the camp's stifling mood of defeat. The groans of the wounded drifting from behind only further agitated him.

"Wang Duan!" Zhou Xingfeng called out.

"Here!" Wang Duan, the yabing officer accompanying the inspection, immediately stepped forward to receive orders.

Without much deliberation, a chilling ruthlessness surfaced in Zhou Xingfeng's expression as he instructed in a low voice: "The army lacks medicine. Those severely wounded soldiers—they can't be cured, and living only means more suffering. I can't bear it. You do it for me—help them find release!"

Wang Duan was slightly startled. He looked up at Zhou Xingfeng, saw only an expression of utter indifference, and clasped his fists in response: "As commanded!"

"Remember—do it discreetly, move quickly, keep it quiet!" Zhou Xingfeng cautioned.

"Yes!"

Wang Duan turned and went to make arrangements, while Zhou Xingfeng drew a deep breath, his expression growing even more severe. How much medicine and how many rations would disposing of a batch of severely wounded men really save?

"Pass the order to all camp generals—military council inside the pass in half an hour!" Zhou Xingfeng summoned the order-issuing officer, gave the instruction, and strode away quickly.

In the commander's tent, two plates of food had already been laid out—fish, mandarin fish, after all, this was a land of rivers and lakes, a land of fish and rice. But compared to the Han camp, Zhou Xingfeng found his food increasingly tasteless.

Before him, the chief secretary of the central command, head bowed, reported on the army's situation, his somber tone laced with trepidation: "In today's battle, casualties exceeded a thousand. The northern stockade is badly damaged, and the southern stockade is in dire straits as well. Here at Chenglong, each camp's strength is under six thousand, and those fit to fight are less than three in ten. Baling's garrison has been drawn down to only a thousand. There is much resentment in the ranks, morale is low, and military grain won't last much longer..."

"How much military grain is left!" Zhou Xingfeng looked up and asked coldly.

The secretary paused, then answered: "Chenglong, Junshan, and Baling combined—less than a thousand dan!"

"What about the new grain from Changsha?"

"Commander, Secretary Li reports that Changsha has no grain to send. To support the front, the Hunan treasury is completely exhausted, and the people's strength is spent. Recently, popular unrest has erupted in various places faster than it can be suppressed. Heng, Chen, Gui, and Dao prefectures no longer heed the military government's orders. Changsha itself is in turmoil. The Lady and Secretary Li can only hold out in Changsha for now."

Hearing this report, Zhou Xingfeng did not become hysterical. Instead, he appeared very calm—only his silence was somewhat frightening. How dire the rear situation truly was, Zhou Xingfeng knew full well.

After a moment, he asked again: "Any progress on the Junshan front?"

The secretary replied: "The Han army holds firm behind fortified walls and is difficult to breach. Today, General Zhang even suffered a counterattack by Zhang Xun, losing over a thousand men. General Zhang reports that the Junshan line can no longer be broken through and requests permission to withdraw. Today the river fleet also lost many warships and soldiers. The Han army's naval offensive is very fierce—we can no longer hold the river mouth and keep the Han army bottled up outside Dongting. Once the fleet is completely broken through, the Junshan camps will become isolated forces..."

"Not a single piece of good news!" Zhou Xingfeng drew a deep breath, and a deep smile actually curled at the corners of his mouth.

"As for Zhang Chongfu, I know he did his best—can't blame him!" Rarely, Zhou Xingfeng's attitude toward a subordinate's failure was not harsh: "Any more bad news? Tell me all of it at once!"

"Wuling—no word for two days. I suspect it has already fallen!" the secretary reported cautiously.

"To be expected!" Zhou Xingfeng still showed no great emotional fluctuation as he spoke.

Seeing this, the secretary couldn't help but show hesitation. Noticing it, Zhou Xingfeng said flatly: "You have something to say?"

"Commander, this subordinate..." The secretary was clearly holding back.

"Speak! I pardon you!" Zhou Xingfeng said.

"Commander, the overall situation has collapsed. Circumstances being what they are, our army is at its most perilous point. The Han army is powerful—if we continue to resist stubbornly, I fear we will die and our clan be wiped out..."

"You want to advise me to surrender?" Zhou Xingfeng asked coldly.

Caught by his glare, the secretary was startled, his body trembling slightly. Thinking of Zhou Xingfeng's temperament, he silently cursed himself for being too talkative. However, Zhou Xingfeng indeed had no intention of blaming him. He waved his hand: "You may withdraw!"

"Yes!"

When only he remained in the tent, Zhou Xingfeng finally murmured: "Surrender? Too late..."

After pondering for a while, a hint of stubborn obsession appeared on Zhou Xingfeng's face. His eyes were actually turning red as he muttered hatefully: "A pity—Heaven does not protect this Zhou!"

"That Lady Gao and her pack of incompetents—surrendered without even fighting! These Jingnan troops fought so hard against my Hunan. If they had joined forces to fight the Han army, how could the Jinghu situation have collapsed so completely?"

"Li Jing is short-sighted. I could set aside past conflicts, but he wavers between two sides, fearing the Han like tigers. If Jinghu falls, how can his Southern Tang survive?"

"Fu Yantong—these barbarians, in the end, cannot be relied upon..."

"..."

After muttering complaints one after another, it all dissolved into a long, sighing lament.

In truth, Zhou Xingfeng had long understood that he had reached the end of his rope—the tide of destruction was already unavoidable. The front could no longer hold, and the rear had become a rotting mess.

Here in Yuezhou, he could still struggle on, but once problems emerged on the western route, he knew that holding on in Yuezhou had lost all meaning.

When news arrived of the defeat at Liyang—Yang Shifan's entire army annihilated, Murong Yanzhao leading troops south—Zhou Xingfeng had entertained thoughts of withdrawing back to Tanzhou. But after deliberation, he abandoned the idea. That would not merely fail to prolong his survival—it might directly trigger collapse and bring the scourge of war straight to Changsha.

Of course, the fact that the Chu army could still hold on in Yuezhou was also the result of Zhou Xingfeng's strict blockade of news from all directions. Otherwise, it would have collapsed long ago.

After a while, footsteps of varying weight sounded as officers from the various camps filed in one after another, all saluting Zhou Xingfeng in unison. He looked up and swept his gaze around—each face was solemn, and from their expressions one could almost read words like "despair" and "defeat."

Before these officers, Zhou Xingfeng once again resumed his usual resolute and imposing bearing. The corner of his mouth twitched as he said coldly: "Just now, someone told me our army's situation is critical and suggested I surrender. I observe that all of you seem dispirited—do you share this sentiment?"

At these words, the assembled generals exchanged glances, their expressions odd, as if wondering who had been so bold.

For a moment, no one dared to speak. Zhou Xingfeng continued: "Everyone here is a brother who rose up with me and fought alongside me for years—I have always regarded you as my own limbs. Some things, I'll say plainly. This head of mine still has some value. If anyone harbors such thoughts, you may cut it off and present it to the Han army to win wealth and rank. I would not blame him!"

"Commander, say no more!" As Zhou Xingfeng finished, the yabing officer Wang Duan immediately stood up and declared loudly and solemnly: "This officer will follow the Commander to the death. How could we men of Huxiang fear the Han army!"

"We will follow the Commander to the death!" With someone taking the lead, the rest followed in pledging their resolve.

Yet these slogans seemed strong on the outside but hollow within—some people were surely speaking insincerely. The Chu army's morale had disintegrated to a very dangerous point. Had Zhou Xingfeng not organized a supervisory camp from his death-sworn yabing guards, the army might already have fallen into chaos.

Zhou Xingfeng seemed unconcerned and said directly: "Given the current battle situation, our army can no longer maintain its present posture. Chenglong Pass fortress is badly damaged, Junshan cannot be broken through. Continuing to disperse our forces will only give the Han army an opportunity!

My intention is to abandon the fortress and withdraw, concentrate our forces, and have the entire army fall back to defend Baling. Relying on the city of Baling, we will fight the Han army to the death!"

"May I ask the Commander, when do we move?" one Chu general asked.

"Tonight!" Zhou Xingfeng said immediately: "I have already ordered Baling to make preparations. All generals, return to your camps and secretly prepare for withdrawal. In the latter half of the night, the entire army withdraws!"

"Yes!"

"I know many of you think this battle is lost!" Before dismissing the council, Zhou Xingfeng rose and spoke in his usual loud voice: "But I, your commander, have never thought so. We still have elite troops and strong generals, we still have a solid city to rely on. The Xuzhou barbarians have agreed to send troops to aid us. The outcome of this battle is still unknown!

In years past, Li Congke, trapped in Fengxiang, still managed to turn defeat into victory, even advancing on the Central Plains and seizing the throne. Now the Han army has marched a long distance on campaign. If we brothers are united in heart, we are not without a chance of victory..."

Setting aside whether comparing the situation to Li Congke's was appropriate, for Zhou Xingfeng, as long as it worked, it was enough. Being able to fool these rough and simple men was sufficient.

And judging by the results, a few were indeed swayed by him. Regardless of what he was like in private or what flaws he had in character, in public—especially before these military men—Zhou Xingfeng was always formidable, fearless, and full of confidence. This, perhaps, was the embodiment of leadership.

At Zhou Xingfeng's command, the Chu camp secretly mobilized. In the latter half of the night, after arranging the rearguard, they withdrew to Baling. At the same time, Zhang Chongfu before the Junshan stockade received the order and decisively withdrew as well, retreating to Baling under the river fleet's cover.

The Chu army's unusual movements quickly drew the attention of the Han army, and a chaotic battle unfolded under the night sky, opening the prelude to Zhou Xingfeng's downfall.