Chapter 180

Shi Tingyu's slash came at a cunning angle, aimed straight at Zhou Shixiang's neck, forcing Zhou Shixiang to twist aside to avoid it — otherwise his head would have parted from his body.

Shi Tingyu's first slash cut empty, and he followed with a backhand stroke, this one coming straight at Zhou Shixiang's chest.

The two men stood barely a foot apart, and it seemed Zhou Shixiang had no way to dodge — when suddenly something appeared out of nowhere to block the long saber's path, only to be cleaved in two in an instant: it was the long spear in Zhou Shixiang's hands.

The severed spearhead thudded heavily to the ground. Shi Tingyu's face twisted with savagery, and without a word he raised his long saber again, as if to see what this rebel before him could use to block now!

Just as he raised the blade, he heard startled cries beside his ear. Suspicious, but before he could react, a sharp pain shot through his throat, and the next instant his whole body stood frozen as if struck by lightning.

"This..."

Shi Tingyu's eyes flew wide as he stared in disbelief at Zhou Shixiang, who was still gasping for breath before him — the latter's hands clenched tightly around the broken shaft of the spear, its head sheared away.

"Gurgle, gurgle..."

A rush of bubbles sounded from his windpipe. Shi Tingyu instinctively clamped his mouth shut, but the blood welling up from deep in his throat instantly bulged his cheeks, and with a "wah" he spewed out a mouthful of blood.

"My lord!"

The Qing soldiers cried out in alarm.

"Battalion Commander!"

The Taiping soldiers also shouted.

"Urgh!"

With another great roar from Zhou Shixiang, the severed spear shaft was ripped out of Shi Tingyu's throat, then yanked viciously free.

The wooden shaft, sheared by the long saber, now ended in a wickedly sharp point, and blood dripped from that wooden tip one drop after another.

"South... ern... bar... barian..."

Shi Tingyu's body swayed once in unwilling resignation, his hate-filled gaze sweeping back and forth over Zhou Shixiang, until at last the light before his eyes grew dimmer and dimmer.

"Thud!"

Shi Tingyu's falling body struck the ground with a heavy sound, his frame convulsing ceaselessly, his throat still emitting a steady "pfft, pfft" like a leaking bladder.

After several struggles, the colonel of the Han Bordered Blue Banner at last stopped breathing — only his two eyes remained wide open, dying with his grievance unavenged.

"The rebel commander is dead — what are you waiting for? Fight and kill the rebels!"

His heart still pounding wildly, Zhou Shixiang had no time for relief.

He turned and barked at the Taiping soldiers still standing there in a daze, then thrust the half-spear in his hand at a Qing soldier, snatched up the long saber from Shi Tingyu's hand, and threw himself at the remaining Qing soldiers.

"Kill the Tartars! Kill the Tartars!"

Zhou Shixiang's valiant display sent the Taiping soldiers' morale soaring. Their fear gone, they roared and charged at the few Shang clan soldiers, who had already been scared out of their wits.

The two personal guards who had climbed the wall with Shi Tingyu had not yet recovered from the shock of their commander's death before Zhou Shixiang and his two personal guards bore down on them and cut them to the ground.

At the sight, the remaining clan soldiers instinctively wanted to retreat — but behind them was the city wall, and there was no path for them to fall back.

"Protect the Battalion Commander!"

Over on the other side, Ge Zheng saw that Zhou Shixiang was already locked in close combat with the Qing soldiers, and with a cry of alarm he led his men forward.

"Drive the Tartars down! Drive them down!"

"Brothers, kill the Tartars!"

More and more Taiping soldiers surged up from both flanks, and the overwhelming numerical advantage crushed any will to resist in the five remaining Shang clan soldiers, who were skewered through in an instant by the onrushing Taiping troops.

One clan soldier, screaming, leapt straight from the top of the wall — and that leap sent the Qing troops below into utter despair.

"Battalion Commander, you're wounded?! Someone — get over here, now!"

Ge Zheng, arriving after the Qing soldiers had all been wiped out, only then noticed that Zhou Shixiang had at some point slumped down against the city wall.

He hurried over and saw that Zhou Shixiang's right chest had been slashed open with a long gash, blood pouring from the wound.

Horrified, Ge Zheng tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve and began bandaging Zhou Shixiang, at the same time shouting for men to carry him down from the wall for treatment.

"I'm fine — a flesh wound, nothing fatal. Don't mind me; take the brothers and keep killing the enemy!"

Zhou Shixiang struggled to motion for Ge Zheng to help him up, then told him not to worry about him and to take men at once to plug the breach and prevent the Qing troops from climbing up again.

Whether from sheer exhaustion or too much blood loss, Zhou Shixiang's face was pale, and his legs were unsteady when he stood, swaying several times in succession.

Seeing him like this, Ge Zheng did not dare leave him be, and without letting Zhou Shixiang say another word he ordered several soldiers to carry him down for treatment immediately.

Zhou Shixiang called out several times that he did not want to leave the wall, but the more he shouted the weaker he became. With the situation on the wall already stabilized, he stopped resisting and let the soldiers carry him down.

He understood too that, wounded as he was, staying on the wall would accomplish nothing and would only distract his men — better to go down than to stay.

Before going down, Zhou Shixiang gave Ge Zheng a few more instructions, and also repeatedly admonished Jiang He and the others who had hurried over upon hearing the news. Only then did he reluctantly descend from the wall.

He had not realized it before, but once down from the wall, Zhou Shixiang suddenly shuddered and broke out in a cold sweat. Had that enemy commander been a step slower, he would long since have become a ghost under the man's blade.

After the fear came acceptance: in that moment, had he not fought forward with all his might, once the wall fell death would have been certain anyway. That being so, what was there to say?

A man dies with his cock pointing at the sky; if he does not die, he lives ten thousand years. Fortunately, the heavens had not gone completely blind, and had left him his life.

Shi Tingyu's death had resolved the crisis on the wall in the nick of time. Under the command of Ge Zheng, Jiang He, and the others, the Taiping Army resealed the breach and stabilized the wall's defenses, so that the Qing troops could no longer climb onto the ramparts.

Through his spyglass, Shang Kexi saw everything clearly. Though the sight of the Taiping soldiers on the wall made his blood boil, he forced himself to calm down.

The Qing troops assaulting the city had completely lost their edge. After Shi Tingyu's death, whether banner troops, camp troops, or those fierce clan soldiers, all had begun to go through the motions without putting in real effort.

Hardly any Qing soldier was still throwing his life away climbing the wall.

Qin Guocheng too had lost any will to keep driving his men forward in the assault. For the first time, he turned his gaze toward the main camp to the rear.

"Father Prince, call off the attack!"

"My Prince, call off the attack!"

Under this renewed urging from his son and his trusted men, Shang Kexi at last sighed: "Pass the order. Withdraw."

When the sound of the gong signaling retreat rang out, the Qing soldiers assaulting the city felt as if a great weight had been lifted. Qin Guocheng let out a breath of relief and hurriedly directed the Qing troops below the wall to pull back.

Earlier, when Lin Shanzhi had directed the Green Standard's withdrawal, it had at least been orderly; now the Qing army was in utter chaos, each man scrambling to retreat from beneath the wall, shoving and jostling with no order whatsoever.

The wounded banner troops and clan soldiers had comrades to drag them to the rear, but the wounded camp troops were simply left untended, left to wail to the heavens and beg their comrades to carry them back.

Some banner troops even found their cotton armor a hindrance, frantically stripping it off and tossing it aside before breaking into a sprint toward the rear.