Chapter 117

The revolutionary army that captured Keyimen soon arrived at Xingqing Fu, the capital of the Western Xia; it must be said that the revolutionary army’s ability to conduct such a long-range strike relied primarily on Mongolian horses.

These horses can adapt to all kinds of harsh climates and feeding conditions, including extreme cold, scorching heat, and arid environments; they can survive without water or forage by finding roots and water beneath snow and ice; they possess exceptional endurance and speed, capable of sustaining long-distance runs of 50 to 100 kilometers per day for over ten days; this trait grants them extraordinary mobility in military operations, enabling rapid repositioning or sudden attacks on enemies.

Though small in stature, they have rugged, sturdy bodies, short thick limbs, and solid hooves, which help them walk steadily over rough terrain; their thick skin and coarse hair protect them from freezing temperatures and blizzards, shielding them from harsh weather.

More importantly, they reduce the army’s logistical demands; furthermore, Mongolian horses have strong reproductive capacity, and mares can provide mare’s milk as rations for soldiers, and even blood when necessary; these traits endowed the Mongols with unmatched strategic mobility.

More importantly, the system’s red packet feature allowed him to receive supplies mailed by Zhang Chu’an and Nie Huaishang without any transportation cost.

This was essentially a bug in military terms.

“Commander, I just don’t understand—aren’t we here to liberate them? Then why are they fighting alongside Western Xia slave masters against us?”

Watching the Western Xia city where soldiers and civilians alike resisted to the death, guard Yu Jichi wore a face full of confusion and frustration.

“Hahaha, that’s a good question—because previous armies have harmed the common people countless times; even their commanders encouraged them to do so: kill, loot, rape women. Would you not pick up your Ma Dao and fight such a gang if they stormed into your home?”

Guo Jing’s question made Yu Jichi hesitate—if such a band of bandits came to his own home, he would die before letting them in.

“But we…” Yu Jichi began, but Guo Jing cut him off: “I know you’re going to say we’re doing good, that we’ve come to liberate them, to free them from the oppression of their masters—but our army is unprecedented.”

“But armies that harm the people? They’ve always existed—for thousands of years since the slave society. How many years does a person live? How many generations have witnessed nothing but such armies? How can the common people believe our slogans without any basis?”

After hearing Guo Jing’s detailed explanation, the guard’s frustration vanished instantly; he straightened his chest, his eyes gleaming with fervor, and declared firmly: “I understand, Commander! I will hold my post steadfastly, striving tirelessly for this noble and great cause—the people taking charge of their own destiny—until the moment of victory!”

“Good.” Guo Jing nodded with approval, his tone filled with genuine affirmation: “We must carry this spirit—fearless in the face of hardship, unwavering in our resolve. No matter how rugged the path ahead, we must press forward, never slackening.”

“Today, three million people of Western Xia still suffer under the oppression of monks, nobles, and scholar-officials; not only are they oppressed by them, but when war comes, they are tricked into becoming cannon fodder to defend the walls, while the powerful hide in their grand mansions, drowning in luxury. Comrades, it is time we tell those men: their days of tyranny are over—henceforth, the people stand up!”

“Take Xingqing Fu, liberate all of Western Xia!”

“Take Xingqing Fu, liberate all of Western Xia!”

Tens of thousands of troops surged with morale like blazing flames, burning fiercely in every soldier’s heart; they waved their arms and shouted slogans, their loud voices exploding like thunder, echoing across the entire Xingqing Fu.

The soldiers defending the city, hearing this unfamiliar slogan, exchanged bewildered glances—this didn’t match their image of a brutal, murderous army.

Seeing the soldiers’ confused expressions, the sergeant lashed his whip across the man’s back and roared: “You idiot, what are you thinking? Those outside clearly want to sweet-talk you fools into laying down your arms—once they get in, they’ll kill you, rape your sisters, and maybe even drag you off as slaves!”

The whip struck his back with merciless force; a searing pain spread from his spine as if fire burned his skin, the agony like a sharp blade piercing every nerve ending—yet he cursed himself for being so foolish as to believe such an obvious lie.

Guo Jing waved his hand lightly; a brilliant, dazzling signal flare shot into the sky like a streaking meteor. Instantly, hundreds of shells rained down like a storm, roaring from the distant hills like furious fire dragons twisting through the air; finally, they slammed into the walls of Xingqing Fu with thunderous force, shaking the very ramparts.

Under this violent, storm-like artillery barrage, the defenders on the walls suffered heavy casualties; blood stained the walls, cries of agony rose in waves, heart-wrenching. But even more terrifying was that they had no idea where the revolutionary army’s artillery was positioned; this unknown threat hung over them like an invisible sword, leaving them constantly gripped by fear and unease.

Yet they had no time to ponder the location of the revolutionary artillery—because the revolutionaries had already begun their assault.

Their muskets had a range far exceeding their bows; their accuracy surpassed even the best archers; their rate of fire made bows utterly obsolete. On the walls, once-proud archers now stood as helpless targets, exposed to the enemy’s musket fire.

Faced with such fierce and precise firepower suppression, the defenders were forced to crouch, unable to retaliate; they felt bound by invisible pressure, unable to stand tall, let alone mount an effective counterattack. The power of the muskets filled them with unprecedented fear and helplessness; they could only watch helplessly as the enemy advanced step by step, their hearts heavy with despair.

This was not the most hopeless situation—the truly soul-crushing reality was the endless, overwhelming waves of artillery fire, which swept over the walls like a relentless storm, leaving behind nothing but shattered ruins.