Chapter 77: The Fall of Anyang

Inside the tent, the furnishings were simple yet immaculate, arranged with clear order. Feng Dao sat upright behind the desk, eyes closed, expression calm. With his graying hair and beard, he truly carried an air of "transcendent immortality."

"Chancellor Feng, you must speak up. If this continues, not only will the ten thousand Han soldiers in the army die in vain beneath those sturdy walls, but the soldiers and civilians of Anyang will hardly escape destruction along with the city..." Commissioner of Military Affairs Li Song looked at the seated Feng Dao and spoke with earnest sincerity.

Unfortunately, he received no response from Feng Dao.

"Can you simply stand by and watch the soldiers lose their lives innocently?" Li Song's tone had already taken on a note of anger.

Feng Dao finally opened his eyes and shook his head: "The Liao Emperor has always been extremely wary of the surrendered troops from the former dynasty. He harbored thoughts of slaughtering them from the very beginning. As the Central Plains seethed and surrendered soldiers turned to rebellion, he grew even more vigilant. At this moment, the Liao Emperor is filled with murderous intent—how could surrendered ministers like us possibly dissuade him? Speaking out rashly would only make him think we harbor disloyal intentions, inviting disaster upon ourselves."

Feng Dao's words were earnest and sincere, revealing his true feelings while also carrying a note of warning. But Li Song clearly could not accept this, saying: "Back in the Eastern Capital, you also secretly protected the people alongside Zhao Yanshou. How is it that now—"

"Times have changed!" Feng Dao sighed and cut him off.

"Is the Chancellor afraid?" Li Song blurted out, somewhat rudely, though he felt regret the moment he said it.

Feng Dao glanced at Li Song but did not take offense. His gaze was calm as he said softly: "Lord Li, you and I are both surrendered ministers of a fallen state, far from home, barely able to protect ourselves. Let us not stir up more trouble."

"Also, although the Liao Emperor has placed us in high positions in name, it would be unwise for us to meet privately and give others cause for gossip..."

Feng Dao was dismissing him. Li Song had no face to remain, and seeing the old fox close his eyes again, he left in frustration.

After Li Song left the tent, Feng Dao opened his eyes once more. A trace of inexplicable melancholy crossed his expression as he murmured: "If persuasion were possible, would this old man begrudge offering counsel? If they truly cared about the lives of Han soldiers, they could have spoken up themselves—why come looking for me..."

"Your Majesty, the surrendered Jin troops are one thing—they are not of one heart with the Great Liao. But the Yan troops are loyal men. They followed Your Majesty south to destroy the Jin; even if they have no merit, they have toiled hard. To show such disregard for the soldiers—how can Your Majesty bear it..." In the imperial tent, Zhao Yanshou was summoning his courage, pleading with emotion.

Ever since his dream of becoming emperor was shattered, Zhao Yanshou had been in low spirits. As his authority was whittled away and Yelu Deguang grew distant, he was nearly suffocated by frustration.

This time, it was his old subordinates who had come begging to him. In truth, if it were a normal siege and assault, even with losses, the Yan troops would not have complained much. But recently, the Khitan—starting from Yelu Deguang himself—had displayed their exclusionary attitude all too clearly.

Faced with his old subordinates' pleas, Zhao Yanshou suddenly realized that he still held some prestige. After careful deliberation, he decided to plead once for the Yan troops. He harbored a faint hope in his heart—this was his chance to rise again.

Zhao Yanshou had come to understand thoroughly: whether in the southern lands or the northern, military power was what mattered most. And for him, the ones worth relying on were still the Yan troops.

Although Zhao Yanshou had fallen out of favor, his status was still there, and Yelu Deguang still treated him with courtesy. Though irritated inwardly, Yelu Deguang maintained a faint, reserved smile on his face and said flatly: "If the Yan troops were trustworthy, why did they defect to Hedong after the defeat at Luzhou, willingly serving Liu Zhiyuan?"

"Your Majesty! The defeat at Luzhou was due to the commanders' poor leadership—what does that have to do with the common soldiers? They merely sought to preserve their own lives. This is only human nature; how can they be blamed for it?" Zhao Yanshou retorted with some agitation: "Since the time of the founding emperor, through campaigns north and south, have there been few examples of Khitan tribal soldiers defecting to the enemy after defeat?"

"King of Yan, what do you mean by that!" Yelu Deguang did not speak, but Prince Yongkang Yelu Ruan, who was also in the tent, suddenly cut off Zhao Yanshou, staring at him coldly with what seemed like murderous intent.

Seeing this, Zhao Yanshou was startled into alertness, realizing he had been "carried away" and speaking without restraint. Noticing the sinister flash in Yelu Deguang's eyes, he quickly changed his tune: "Your servant means no harm. It's just that, Your Majesty, you have possessed the lands of Youyan for ten years now. The Yan people are Your Majesty's subjects—they pay you taxes, they shed blood in battle for you... The soldiers' families are also in Yan lands. How could they lightly speak of betrayal? They are, after all, different from the Jin soldiers!"

Seeing Zhao Yanshou's earnest words, Yelu Deguang's face showed a hint of seriousness. After a moment's thought, he rose and helped Zhao Yanshou up: "Were it not for the King of Yan, I would have nearly made a grave mistake."

With that, he paced a few steps in the tent and said in a deep voice: "I have had my army camped before these walls for far too long!"

"Wuyu!"

"Here!" Hearing the call, Yelu Ruan immediately responded.

"Take command of the troops, strike with full force, and break this city within half a day!" As he spoke, a grim smile curled at the corner of Yelu Deguang's mouth: "I want Anyang—its walls fallen and its people dead!"

"Yes!" Yelu Ruan answered crisply.

"That Liu boy—still no movement?"

"None."

"Have Bali De keep watch on him. If he dares to come, destroy him!"

On the walls of Anyang, filth stained every corner. The stench of blood mingled with mournful groans. Behind the parapets, the few remaining defenders all wore expressions of despair.

Surrender—they had already surrendered more than once. Even when they laid down their weapons, they faced the Liao army's merciless slaughter without hesitation. And when they offered the city to the enemy, the Liao camp would sound the retreat and withdraw. Back and forth, this had repeated several times.

"The Khitan are dead set on making us die!" Leaning against a wall, Liang Hui let out a mournful sigh, utterly desolate.

At this moment, Liang Hui was in complete disarray. His fair face was covered in dust and grime, his armor bore sword marks and was stained with blood. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked around at the scene of devastation, his mind filled with regret.

He truly regretted it now. Watching his soldiers die before his eyes—many of them old brothers who had followed him for years—the strength he had accumulated over so long was destroyed in a single battle. His heart was filled with anguish.

"Had I known this would happen, I should have gone to Linlu that day..."

"Acting Military Governor, the enemy is coming again!" A young officer's terrified voice came from beside him.

Hearing this, Liang Hui immediately roused himself and rose to look down at the foot of the walls. This time, the Khitan troops had also committed their forces. Seeing the dense ranks of the Liao army pressing forward, a surge of valor suddenly rose in Liang Hui's heart. He let out a hoarse, desperate roar: "Brothers, since the barbarian invaders don't want us to live, then let's fight them to the death!"

For a moment, that rush of blood had some effect. But the vast disparity in strength could not be overcome. When the Liao army stopped toying with them and truly exerted their power, Anyang fell in a single assault.

The defenders were all slaughtered. Even after taking the city, the Liao army did not relent. Raising their blades and trampling with iron hooves, they turned their targets to the other civilians in the city.

Soon, amid the piercing screams of agony, a thick swath of blood-red spread through the city of Anyang...