Chapter 649: The Duan Brothers' Feint Attack

In mid‑July at He Dong, the heat had become so thick it could not be dispelled.

Soon after dawn broke, a red sun tore free from the embrace of the distant mountains, sprinkling golden light over the surface of the Fen River.

The glittering ripples followed the current eastward, like a silk ribbon studded with shattered gold.

Across the river, Yubi City was bathed in morning light; its walls were built against the mountain, the ramparts hewn from dark‑blue giant stones that rose along the ridge, and the lofty city towers stood majestically aloft.

The arrow tower's embrasures resembled fierce fangs, and the surrounding mountain ranges framed the whole city like a heaven‑crafted barrier—one man could hold the pass, ten thousand could not breach it.

On the north bank of the Fen River, Nanyang Fortress presented a different scene, its flags standing in profusion.

This once‑unremarkable stronghold had become a major garrison for the Qi State's great army, with thirty‑thousand elite Qi troops led by Duan Xiang stationed here.

The camps stretched for more than ten li, with layers of tents piled upon one another.

From the riverbank it spread all the way to the mountains on the north side; from afar it appeared as a vast, dark mass, grand in scale.

Along the riverbank a newly built defensive line had taken shape, its rammed‑earth walls rising over a zhang in height.

Every few dozen steps stood a watchtower, and the soldiers, gripping long halberds, kept a vigilant eye on the river and the opposite shore.

On the northern foothills, another sturdier line followed the mountain's contour, with deep ditches and dense thorny barriers, forming a right‑angle with the river defenses and sealing Nanyang Fortress tightly.

These two lines had been erected for many days; the Qi soldiers reinforced the works by day and took turns on guard by night, yet they remained unmoving.

Only the occasional horn and training sounds from the camps broke the seemingly silent standoff.

When the sun rose three rods high, the light grew fiercer, and atop Nanyang Fortress, the commander Duan Xiang stood with his hands behind his back.

He wore a dark‑colored, gold‑threaded battle robe, a jade belt at his waist, and a silver‑white cloak whose edges fluttered slightly in the morning breeze.

He stood tall and broad‑shouldered; his armor made his features even more handsome, his sword‑shaped eyebrows slanting into his temples, eyes deep and bright, nose high, lips well‑defined.

Only faint fine lines at the corners of his eyes hinted at a seasoned composure.

One hand rested on the sword at his waist; the white‑jade pommel glimmered warmly in the sun. His gaze crossed the wide Fen River, fixed steadily on Yubi City across the bank, lingering without shifting.

A gentle breeze brushed his face, carrying the river's moisture and distant foliage's scent; Duan Xiang inhaled deeply, his chest filled with fresh air, yet he could not suppress the swelling emotions within.

He spoke slowly, his voice low and clear, with genuine admiration: "I must say, Yubi City is truly extremely formidable!"

Half a step beside him stood his cousin Duan Liang.

Duan Liang was also in his thirties, wearing the same style of battle dress as Duan Xiang, though his cloak was dark gray; he was slightly lean yet still upright, his features resembling Duan Xiang's with a sharper edge to his brows and eyes.

At this moment, he too gazed at Yubi City, his eyes fixed on the mountain‑built walls and the continuous hills behind; hearing the words, he nodded, his face full of agreement, his tone tinged with lament: "No wonder back then Wei Shaokuan, with only a few thousand men, could cause the late emperor's personally led army of over a hundred thousand to achieve no victories and even lose more than half..."

He paused, a weight of solemnity and regret flashing in his eyes, and added, "It even exhausted the late emperor's spirit, leading him to die in anguish!"

That episode remains an indelible wound in the hearts of all of Great Qi.

Back then, Taizu, the Divine Martial Emperor, personally led a campaign against Yubi, determined to seize it…

But Wei Shaokuan's troops defended the city flawlessly; the King's Army besieged it for over a month, trying every method, yet could not breach the walls, instead suffering heavy losses, and the hundred‑plus thousand troops retreated in disarray, with casualties exceeding half.

After returning to the capital, the Divine Martial Emperor's melancholy could not be eased; soon he fell ill and eventually died in sorrow.

This not only caused Great Qi to miss the chance to advance westward and unify the realm, but also weakened the nation, becoming a thorn in the hearts of the Qi people.

Duan Xiang continued to stare at Yubi City; its dark‑blue walls exuded an unbreakable chill in the sun. A trace of solemnity appeared on his face, his brows furrowed, and in a deep voice he said, "If we were to truly fight, we would likely meet the same fate…"

His words carried a hint of helplessness, yet also a clear awareness of reality.

Yubi City's steepness truly epitomized one man holding the pass against ten thousand; it could not be easily broken by manpower, especially with elite Zhou State troops garrisoned inside—any direct assault would be like striking stone with an egg.

As his words ended, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, a flash of relief in his eyes, and he added with a hint of gratitude, "Fortunately our mission is only a feint, to divert Zhou State's attention!"

Those words seemed to unlock the shackles on his heart, dispersing much of the heaviness surrounding him.

Duan Liang, hearing this, smiled, clasping his hands before his chest, his posture calm and confident, first saying lightly, "No problem!"

Then his chest rose slightly, his gaze blazing and firm; his tone brimmed with confidence and bravado, his voice rising a few notes as he declared grandly, "Sooner or later, Great Qi will subdue Zhou, crush Liang, and unify the world!"

"When that day comes, we will again sacrifice at Yubi for Great Qi, honoring the heroic spirits buried here!"

His voice rang out, echoing over the ramparts with undeniable resolve.

Sunlight fell on his face, sharpening his features, and his hopeful confidence for the future infected Duan Xiang beside him.

Duan Xiang nodded in agreement, a spark of fierce light flashing in his eyes, and in a deep voice he replied, "Hmm!"

"It will further comfort the late emperor's spirit in heaven!"

The Divine Martial Emperor's dying wish was to unify the world and cleanse the heavens.

Though the road ahead is long, as long as Great Qi stands united, it may yet be achieved.

Speaking thus, as if recalling something, his gaze drifted northwest, over the mountains north of Nanyang Fortress, toward the distant horizon, his eyes showing concern and hope as he murmured, "I wonder where Ku Di Gong and the Crown Prince's army have reached…"

It was a feint strategy; success or failure hinged on whether the two armies could coordinate seamlessly, and Duan Xiang naturally worried about the main force's movements.

At that moment, a rapid tread echoed from below the city, shattering the calm atop the ramparts.

A stout‑built general hurried up the rampart, standing over eight chi tall, with a tiger's back and bear's waist.

His battle attire was stretched tight, his face covered with horizontal flesh, thick brows and large eyes, his gaze sharp as a blade—he was Han Ningshi, Duan Xiang's capable subordinate.

Han Ningshi hurried to Duan Xiang's side, halted, knelt on one knee, clasped his fists, and in a resonant, respectful voice said, "Lord, the first batch of Liuren captured domestically has all been delivered to…"

"A total of 17,892 people!"

His voice bore a hint of fatigue, yet could not hide a trace of excitement, evidently having labored for this matter for a long time.

Duan Xiang, hearing this, instantly withdrew his gaze from the northwest; the concern on his face instantly gave way to joy, and he laughed, lightly patting Han Ningshi's shoulder, his tone full of relief and eagerness, "Good! Very good!"

"At last they've been delivered!"

His voice carried a lightness as if a burden had been lifted, his eyes sparkling brightly.

These Liuren held extraordinary significance for the army at this moment.

Han Ningshi scratched his head, a hint of conflict appearing on his face; his dark cheek flushed slightly from hesitation, and fine beads of sweat dotted his furrowed forehead.

Having followed Duan Xiang in campaigns for years, he had always obeyed orders without question, rarely doubting the commander's decisions, but this arrangement concerning the Liuren exceeded his comprehension.

Over 17,000 individuals, each gaunt, thin, in tattered clothes, possessing no combat ability, yet consuming vast rations daily…

The crux is that they aren't even fit to serve as laborers!

For the army stationed on the front line, this is undoubtedly a heavy burden.

"That… Lord…" Han Ningshi swallowed a mouthful of saliva, his voice a few tones lower than before, tinged with cautious probing, "Shuyi dares, there is something unclear…"

Duan Xiang heard the words, slowly turned around, raised an eyebrow at him: "What is it?"

Han Ningshi took a deep breath, as if making a great resolve, and laid out the doubts in his heart: "I wonder, Lord, what use you have for these Liuren?"

He hesitated, seeing Duan Xiang did not get angry, then mustered courage to continue: "You see them, each one frail as a reed, unable to hold weapons steady, having no combat ability, yet they waste provisions…"

"Shuyi really cannot understand, keeping them merely wastes military rations, utterly useless!"

These words were blunt, even a bit coarse, every phrase dripping with contempt for these Liuren.

In his view, soldiers should prioritize warfare, provisions should be used on the front line, letting these useless Liuren consume food is sheer waste of resources.

Standing nearby, Duan Liang heard the words and couldn't help but laugh.

He raised his hand, tapping Han Ningshi with a finger, his tone teasing: "You, don't just spend every day brandishing swords and spears, training troops; you should read more military texts!"

"Your mind turns too slowly, no wonder you can't grasp the subtleties here."

Han Ningshi, embarrassed by Duan Liang's words, scratched his head, his face showing a hint of simple awkwardness, yet his gaze still held doubt as he looked at Duan Xiang and Duan Liang.

Clearly he still did not grasp the key point.

Duan Xiang's face showed no trace of anger; instead a faint smile lingered at his mouth. Rather than rush to answer Han Ningshi's question, he shifted tone and asked: "Did the wooden armor you were tasked to prepare earlier, along with the discarded worn weapons from the army, get ready?"

Han Ningshi heard this, his eyes instantly cleared, the earlier doubt temporarily suppressed, he straightened his back, without hesitation, blurted out: "Yes, Lord, they have all been delivered together!"

"We rushed the production of over twenty thousand sets of wooden armor, and accounted for more than eighteen thousand pieces of worn swords, spears and halberds; all have been stacked in the storehouse!"

Duan Liang listened, slowly nodded, a slight upward curl at his mouth, his gaze returned to Yubi City across the river; the bluish‑black walls still appeared impregnable under the scorching sun, yet his tone carried a confident air as he said meaningfully: "Very good!"

"After waiting so many days, we can finally make a move…"

Duan Xiang's smile gradually faded, replaced by a cold sharpness.

He placed one hand behind his back, the other gently brushed the white jade sword hilt at his waist, a ruthless curve lifting his mouth, a flash of resolve in his eyes, and in a deep voice ordered: "Immediately issue the order to retrieve all wooden armor and worn weapons from the storehouse and distribute them to the escorted Liuren!"

"Then command the soldiers to strictly guard them, drive them across the Fen River to attack Yubi City!"

"What?!" Han Ningshi heard, as if struck by a thunderclap, his eyes bulging, his face full of disbelief.

He instinctively spoke: "Lord, this must never be done!"

"Those Liuren have not even the strength to bind a chicken; they can't even wield decent weapons. Sending them in wooden armor to assault a city is a death march, isn't it?"

His voice involuntarily rose a few pitches, filled with shock and incomprehension.

As soon as the words fell, Han Ningshi suddenly seemed to realize something; his pupils contracted sharply, eyes widened, the shock on his face deepened, and his voice became a bit stammering: "Wait… wait!"

"Lord, are you perhaps planning… planning to use these Liuren...?"

Duan Xiang heard, raised an eyebrow slightly, a half‑smile on his face, a hint of amusement in his eyes, and slowly said: "Your Majesty's task for us is a feint attack, to draw Zhou State's attention and create an opportunity for the Crown Prince and Ku Di Gong's main army."

He hesitated, his gaze sweeping over Han Ningshi's shocked face, and continued: "Although it's a feint, we can't just keep besieging without striking, can we?"

"If it drags on, how could Zhou State's garrison not become suspicious?"

Duan Liang immediately took the thread, a knowing smile on his face, a cunning glint in his eyes, adding: "Indeed! If we keep besieging without attacking, the garrison in Yubi City will surely notice something amiss, and our feint will lose its purpose…"

Han Ningshi stood stunned, pondering Duan Liang's words for a moment; the doubt in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a light of sudden realization.

Then, slapping his thigh hard, his face lit with excitement, he couldn't help praising: "Brilliant! Lord, wise indeed!"

His tone was fervent, speaking forcefully: "Instead of wasting our elite soldiers of Great Qi, better to use these expendable lives as a fill!"

"Let them assault the city; first, it can confuse Yubi City's garrison, making them think we truly intend a full assault, leaving no room for slack, thereby achieving the feint's purpose…"

"Second, although these Liuren are weak, their numbers are vast; when they attack, Yubi City's garrison will have to employ siege engines to repel them, thereby consuming their arrows, rolling stones and other supplies…"

"Third, even if all these Liuren fall in battle, we suffer no loss; instead it will cause Zhou State's garrison to lower their guard, thinking our strength is limited!"

"This is a three‑fold gain!"

Han Ningshi grew more excited as he spoke, the flesh on his face trembling slightly from the excitement.

The earlier contempt for these Liuren had long vanished, replaced by deep admiration for Duan Xiang's strategy.

Yet he still let a slip of the tongue occur…

Letting these Liuren, who can affect the stability of the realm, be consumed beneath Yubi City also makes Great Qi more secure!

Consider it a full utilization of resources…

Duan Xiang looked at Han Ningshi's excited demeanor, a faint smile on his face, waved his hand and said: "Since you understand, don't delay; go do it at once!"

"Make sure the soldiers guard them tightly, drive the Liuren in batches across the river to assault the city; the larger the movement, the better, but also be careful not to let Zhou State's garrison spot any flaw!"

"Shuyi obeys!" Han Ningshi thundered, his eyes flashing with fierce light, full of fighting spirit.

He respectfully bowed to Duan Xiang and Duan Liang, then turned, strode down from the city wall with light yet firm steps, clearly eager to carry out the order.

On the city wall, Duan Xiang and Duan Liang again looked toward Yubi City across the river.

The sunlight grew ever more scorching, the glint on the Fen River's surface stinging the eyes, and that steep fortress.

At this moment, in their eyes, it no longer seemed an impregnable stronghold, but prey soon to be toyed with at their hands.

The July sun was so scorching it seemed ready to roast people; on the only gentle slope south of Yubi City, thousands of Liuren were driven together in a crowd.

Like a dense swarm of ants, they spread a chaotic patch of color over the Huangtu.

Some wore rough, cracked wooden armor that turned gray‑white under sun and rain; others were wrapped in patched, tattered leather armor, its edges already worn beyond use.

In their hands were either broken curved blades, rusted spears, or crooked wooden spears.

Many even trembled while holding weapons, knuckles whitening from strain, their frail bodies seeming as if a gust could topple them.

Their faces were sallow, eye sockets sunken, showing fatigue from days of marching and hunger.

And ten or so steps behind the Liuren, Qi army soldiers donned sturdy armor and brandished weapons, forming a neat formation.

The mysterious iron armor glimmered coldly in the sunlight, long bows drawn to the limit, sharp arrowheads aimed at the Liuren's backs, the bowstrings taut and straight, exuding fierce murderous intent.

The soldiers' faces were hard, eyes unflinching, as if before them were not living people but livestock awaiting drive.

That aura of grim killing rode the wind toward the Liuren, making the already panicked crowd even more restless.

Han Ningshi, clad in heavy armor with copper nails gleaming on his shoulder armor, flipped onto his horse, stood before the Qi army formation, loudly read Duan Xiang's command, and as soon as his words fell, the crowd of refugees erupted like a pot blowing up.

A gaunt middle‑aged refugee with a sallow face suddenly threw his wooden spear, collapsed onto the ground, his voice full of shock and despair, howling, "Let us go attack Yubi?!"

"This is sending us to our deaths, using us as cannon fodder?!"

His shout was like a stone dropped into boiling water, instantly drawing a chorus of agreement.

Beside him, a young refugee turned pale with terror, lips trembling, eyes full of fear, clutching his elderly father's sleeve tightly, his voice shaking, "Yes! Back then Emperor Shenwu personally led elite troops to attack, and they suffered heavy losses under Yubi City…"

"In our condition we can't even hold weapons steady; if we go, it's certain death!"

Those words struck everyone's concerns, and the refugees all wore expressions of deathly pallor.

They had long foreseen their fate from the Qi army's attitude; they were merely ants at someone's disposal, inevitably unable to escape death.

The crowd fell deathly silent, leaving only heavy breathing and suppressed sobs; not a single person dared move a step forward.

Han Ningshi, seeing this, knit his brows, his face full of displeasure, raised his hand to tighten the horse rein, and shouted loudly, "Stop standing there!"

"The Grand General commands: whoever first breaches Yubi City will be rewarded with ten thousand taels of gold and a thousand mu of fertile land!"

"And their descendants will thereafter enjoy lasting wealth!"

When those words fell, the refugees still stared at each other, their eyes unmoved, but with a few more hints of sarcasm.

Ten thousand taels of gold are but a mirage; even life cannot be saved, so where is the wealth?

Their feet seemed rooted, nailed firmly to the spot…

No one dares risk their life to gamble on a vague, empty promise.

Han Ningshi's patience finally ran out; his tone turned cold in an instant, he snatched up his long bow, drew the string, and aimed a sharp arrow at the refugee crowd, bellowing, "If anyone dares step back, if anyone is a coward, I will shoot them dead!"

Before his words finished, the Qi soldiers behind him moved in unison, raising their long bows over their shoulders, the arrowheads flashing coldly, a dense barrage aimed at the refugees' backs.

That mountain‑like pressure slammed into them, and even the wind seemed to pause for a moment.

The refugees, startled by the display, had their prior despair instantly replaced by survival instinct; a man gritted his teeth and roared, "Retreating means death; we must fight!"

"Kill!"

It was unclear who shouted first.

Immediately after, waves of shouts rose and fell across the gentle slope.

Yet those shouts contained no hint of fighting spirit, only the desperation of burning one's own boats.

The refugees clutched their broken weapons, pushing and crowding, stumbling forward toward Yubi City.

Their steps were frantic, formation chaotic, like a herd of driven lambs racing toward a cliff.

On Yubi City's walls, the defending troops had long formed a strict formation awaiting attack.

Yang Langhui, clad in Xuan Armor, stood beneath the arrow tower, his sharp gaze fixed on the slope below; seeing the refugees charge, he barked in a deep voice, "Prepare for battle!"

In an instant, a synchronized response rang out from the walls.

The city militia used long poles to push rolling stones the size of a grinding mill, hurling them through the wall gaps; the heavy stones whooshed down, crushing a swath of refugees instantly.

The sound of bones cracking interwove with screams, blood spattered, reddening the yellow earth beneath their feet.

Immediately after, logs as thick as a bowl's rim rolled down one after another from the walls, smashing the refugees' heads, blood gushing, their cries echoing through the hills.

Fuel poured down the wall's grooves, igniting on contact, leaping into roaring flames that engulfed the foremost refugees in a sea of fire.

Harsh screams rang continuously, and the air quickly filled with the acrid smell of burnt flesh.

The archers on the walls took turns firing, a dense rain of arrows falling like black clouds, the unprotected refugees falling to the ground, pierced by arrows.

The arrows pierced the thin wooden armor, embedding in flesh, blood gushing out, forming streams of blood across the slope.

The poorly equipped, frail refugees had no ability to fight back under such fierce assault.

They never even reached the wall, yet fell in sheets, the ones at the front collapsing into pools of blood.

Those behind were pushed forward by the force behind them, stepping on comrades' corpses to keep charging, only adding to casualties.

In less than half an hour, the first wave of charging refugees was already dead or gravely wounded.

The remaining people were terrified to the point of soul‑shaking, wanting to retreat, but the Qi army's arrows behind them forced them to keep moving forward…

In the end they all fell at the foot of the city, never even touching Yubi City's gate, and were easily repelled by the defenders.

Such driving and slaughter lasted a full three days.

On the gentle slope south of Yubi City, the once yellow earth had long vanished, the refugees' corpses piled up like mountains, layer upon layer.

Under the scorching sun, the bodies began to rot, the stench of decay mixing with blood spreading across both banks of the Fen River, flies and mosquitoes swarming over the piles, buzzing.

Injured but not dead refugees moaned weakly among the piles, yet no one paid them any heed.

Beneath their feet lay viscous blood‑mud; each step lifted blood‑stained fragments of flesh, and all around was a scene of wounds, a terrifying picture of a human hell—Rensheng Jianyu.

The Fen River water turned reddish from the blood, its babbling flow sounding as if mixed with countless souls' wails.

Even the July wind carried a bone‑chilling cold.

At Yubi City's walls, Yang Langhui furrowed his brows, hands behind his back at the parapet, his gaze lingering over the sea of corpses and blood below, his finger absentmindedly rubbing the sword at his waist, muttering, "Strange!"

"This is too strange!"

His companion Yuwen Ze also wore a heavy expression, dust on his armor untouched, and upon hearing the words he turned his head, asking in a deep voice, "Old Yang, have you also sensed something amiss?"

The sieges of recent days seemed grand in scale, yet were riddled with oddities, leaving Yuwen Ze constantly uneasy.

Following A Xiong, having experienced countless battles of all sizes, this was still the first time encountering something so unusual…

Yang Langhui slowly nodded, his gaze still fixed on the city below, raised his hand to point at the mountain of corpses, his tone solemn and each word clear, "Hmm! Prince, look at these attacking 'Qi troops'…"

"They are far from Qi State's elite; each has mediocre combat ability, their armor and clothing are shoddy, and their siege lacks any method—no ladders, no battering rams, they just charge forward aimlessly…"

"They don't even seem to be here to siege!"

Yu Yan, standing nearby, stepped forward at the right moment, clad in light armor, eyes sharp, picking up the thread, added, "It seems more like they're here to fill lives!"

"These people don't look like soldiers at all; they look like displaced refugees forced to die…"

After all these years, Yu Yan had become well‑versed in military texts, and this kind of strategy that disregards casualties and seeks only attrition was his first time seeing it!

Yuwen Ze nodded heavily, his face full of doubt, his brows furrowing tighter: "That's right! The Qi army has always been fierce and brave; when He Liuhun led a personal campaign back then, the offensive was so fierce!"

"But now this tactic is chaotic and unordered, with no fighting spirit at all, clearly just sending men to die in vain..."

"What kind of medicine is the Qi army really selling in its gourd!"

A silence fell over the city walls for a moment, and the three of them wore solemn expressions.

The mountain of corpses and sea of blood below the city pressed on everyone's hearts like a massive stone; the Qi army's such abnormal move was far from a simple siege, and must conceal a conspiracy behind it…

But what exactly this conspiracy was, they could not fathom at that moment; they could only grow more vigilant, staring at the Nan Yang Fortress across the river, daring not the slightest relaxation.

The wind, carrying the scent of blood, blew up to the city walls, rustling the edges of the three's armor.

In the distance, the Fen River's surface glittered, yet it reflected no sign of life.

Only the banners atop Yubi City fluttered in the fierce wind, their rustling revealing a lingering gloom of uncertain war.