Chapter 667: The Letter of Persuasion to Surrender

The second day's dawn arrived sluggishly.

Pale cyan daylight barely tore through the night's gloom, slanting over Gancao City's streets stained with blood marks and rubble.

The lingering heat of last night's melee had not faded; the air still carried the lingering scent of blood and the charred odor of burned Fuel, and thin frost clung to the broken arrows and shattered blades at the base of the Qiangbi, reflected by the daylight as a cold hard gleam.

In the city, a somewhat orderly mansion served as Wang Xiong's makeshift meeting place.

The main hall's doors and windows had long been removed to serve as barricade timber for the city's defense; the four walls were mottled, and only a battered desk in the center remained relatively intact.

Wang Xiong's bloodstained armor was still on, and the knife wound on his shoulder from yesterday was tightly bound with coarse cloth, from which dark red blood beads still seeped slowly, darkening the fabric.

He held a letter, his back straight as a standing Chang Qiang, standing behind the desk, his gaze sweeping over the more than three hundred rotating guard soldiers resting in the hall and several respected youthful leaders of the city.

These guards were all battle‑hardened elites; though their faces were weary, eyes sunken, bloodstains on their armor dried into scabs, and many bore bandaged wounds, none slumped—each stood upright, gripping their weapons tightly, with unextinguished fighting spirit in their eyes.

Several youthful leaders were also city men: burly blacksmiths, veteran grain‑store keepers, and a village headman of considerable local prestige...

Though they lacked proper armor—some wore coarse short garments, others donned hastily patched Leather Armor—they held hoes, cleavers, and Long Spears, their expressions equally resolute, their gazes at Wang Xiong full of trust.

The hall was silent except for the heavy breathing of the crowd and occasional footsteps of soldiers patrolling Outside City, the atmosphere solemn as if on the brink of battle.

Wang Xiong raised his hand, gently placing the letter on the desk; his knuckles whitened from the pressure, his voice hoarse yet undeniably solemn, cutting through the hall's silence and reaching every ear: "Everyone, last night the Qi army sent a surrender‑encouraging letter under cover of darkness..."

The words fell, and a slight stir rippled through the hall as everyone's eyes flicked onto the plain white letter on the desk.

Surprise and anger flashed in their eyes, but not a hint of fear. The commotion was short-lived, cut off by a cold, hard snort.

In the front row of the crowd, a soldier in his thirties spoke first.

His name was Zhou Hu, formerly a border garrison soldier who retired home due to injury; when Gancao City was besieged, he was the first to enlist, broad‑shouldered and massive, with a slash scar running from his brow bone to his jaw, adding to his fierce bravery.

He now gripped his long sword at his waist, its sheath already polished to shine; hearing the words, he snorted harshly, a corner of his mouth turning aside, his eyes roiling with fierce bloodlust and resolve, then he bellowed loudly: "Ha! A surrender appeal?"

"I've fought this far, my body painted with glory, brother after brother falling around me, and now you ask me to surrender?"

"There's no way out!"

Zhou Hu's voice thundered like a sudden storm, exploding through the hall and instantly igniting the crowd's fury.

Before his words ended, nearby soldiers began echoing, roars rising and falling, shaking the hall's battered walls: "Exactly! Brother Zhou is right!"

"A surrender appeal? Pure fantasy!"

A young soldier's eyes brimmed with hatred, his fists clacking, he snarled through clenched teeth: "Don't talk about me surrendering; anyone even half‑thinking it would betray the brothers who fell yesterday!"

"Yesterday on the city wall, Zhang Lao San, trying to push down the ladder, was pierced in the chest by a Qi dog's arrow and clung to the parapet until death."

"Li Er Shu used his last breath, hugging a Qi dog as he rolled down the wall, perishing together..."

"They gave their lives to guard this city; if we surrender, wouldn't we become ungrateful, spineless cowards!"

His words struck a chord in everyone.

Everyone in the hall had reddened eyes, the scenes of yesterday's blood‑soaked battle flashing in their minds—fallen brothers, the brutal melee, each vivid as yesterday.

A bearded soldier took the floor, his voice ringing, proclaiming: "Well said! Men of Gancao City know no cowardice!"

"If we surrender today, when we reach the Yellow Springs, how could we face those fallen brothers?"

"How could we face the city's elderly, weak, women and children?"

The crowd nodded, their fury intensifying; many pounded their weapons hard, producing a "clang‑clang" sound to show resolve.

At this moment, a youthful man in the crowd spoke; his name was Su Mo, formerly a city teacher, lacking the strength to bind a chicken yet possessing considerable insight.

During wartime he organized the city's youths to transport rolling stones and Fuel, coordinating expertly, earning great respect.

His gaze burned like a torch as it swept the hall, his voice deep: "Brothers, beyond honor, we must be clear—surrender offers no way to live!"

"We have been battling the Qi army Outside City for countless days, slaughtering countless of them, breaking their ladders, destroying their siege engines, and have forged a death‑long feud!"

"If we open the city and surrender, once the Qi army enters, the first thing they'll likely do is sack the city to vent their frustration over the failed siege!"

"Then not only we defenders won't survive, but the city's elderly, children, and women will all be unable to escape disaster!"

Su Mo's words cut to the heart like cold water poured down, yet made everyone even clearer‑minded.

Indeed, the Qi army has always been brutal; yesterday during the assault, the Qi troops below the city mercilessly exterminated the wounded defenders who fell, using savage methods, all of which the onlookers witnessed.

If we surrender, the fate awaiting Gancao City will be a slaughter that spares no chicken or dog.

The crowd in the hall kept nodding, their anger turning into resolve; several soldiers clenched fists, knuckles whitening, roaring: "Exactly! Mr. Su is absolutely right!"

"We have no choice now; we must fight the damned Qi army to the death, a fight to the bitter end!"

"Even if we die, we'll drag the Qi dogs on our backs and protect the families inside the city!"

"Fight to the end! Fight to the death!"

"Drag the Qi dogs on our backs!"

The roars echoed through the hall, deafening; in each eye burned a fierce blaze, a resolve to live beyond death, a determination to guard their home.

A short, thin soldier squeezed into the front row; his name was Wang Er, a city peddler, not old, yet he had shot three Qi soldiers in yesterday's battle.

He gripped his Short Spear tightly, its tip already serrated, slammed his fist into his palm, and said resolutely: "Just do it! I, Wang Er, may be a peddler, but I know the duty to defend our land!"

"Today we share the fate of Gancao City!"

"If I sacrifice my life for this city, I ask the living brothers to do me a favor: collect my corpse, find a thin patch of earth to bury me, so I rest in peace rather than be exposed to the wilderness and gnawed by wild dogs!"

Having spoken, he bowed deeply to those around him, his expression earnest, a hint of calm in his eyes, without any trace of fear.

His words caused a pang of sorrow in everyone's hearts, which was quickly filled with a heroic, tragic vigor.

An old soldier stepped forward, patted Wang Er's shoulder, and said gravely: "Brother, don't worry! As long as I still have breath, I'll certainly collect your body!"

"If I also fall, other brothers will be there; men of Gancao City never abandon their own!"

"Right! Never abandon our own!" the crowd answered in unison, their voices firm; the hall's atmosphere was both tragic and fervent, each person holding a death‑bound resolve, swearing to share Gancao City's fate.

Just as this heroic spirit surged skyward, a slightly hesitant voice suddenly rang out, breaking the hall's fervor. From the back of the crowd, an older soldier stepped forward; his name was Chen Laogen, near fifty, a veteran of many battles, consistently steady, and held considerable respect among the troops.

His face was solemn, brows knit, his gaze fixed on Wang Xiong, bearing a hint of probing and a hint of unease; he spoke cautiously, voice low yet clear to every ear: "Wait! Marshal Wang!"

Everyone hearing the voice turned to Chen Laogen, then all shifted their gaze to Wang Xiong; the hall's clamor gradually subsided, and every eye focused on Wang Xiong, tinged with doubt.

Chen Laogen met the crowd's stare, inhaled deeply, looked at Wang Xiong again, and with a probing tone asked: "Marshal Wang, you gathered us all here today and brought out this surrender‑encouraging letter, speaking of it before everyone—could it be that..."

It can't be that you've developed a surrender mindset, can it?

The words fell like a massive stone into a calm lake, instantly stirring a huge wave in the hall. Everyone was stunned, then a flash of doubt crossed their eyes, and their gazes toward Wang Xiong grew uncertain.

Indeed, Wang Sima is the highest official of Gancao City; his every move concerns the life and death of the whole city.

If he truly has a surrender mindset, then Gancao City is truly doomed.

Some showed anxious faces, some furrowed brows, some whispered debates; the hall's atmosphere instantly grew tense, and the once strong heroism was diluted by a hint of doubt.

Zhou Hu clenched his long sword, stepped forward, fixed his gaze on Wang Xiong, and said in a deep voice, "Wang Sima, Chen Laogen's words may be abrupt, but they reflect the doubts in all our hearts; please give us an explanation!"

Su Mo also stepped forward, bowed toward Wang Xiong and said, "Wang Sima, since the Qi army began the siege, you have led from the front, fighting in blood; we have seen it with our eyes and respected it in our hearts."

"But this matter is of great importance; please make it clear!"

Over three hundred defenders and several young and vigorous leaders now stared at Wang Xiong, each with a different look.

In the tense silence, a thunderous scolding voice erupted like a rolling thunder, shaking the dust from the hall's broken beams, and shouted, "Silence!"

Everyone turned toward the voice and saw Huang Shizhang stride out from beside Wang Xiong.

His massive black‑iron armor bore overlapping dents and bloodstains from yesterday's battle; his tangled beard still clung with fresh blood droplets. His copper‑bell eyes stared wide and fierce, fixed on Chen Laogen, and his tone was as sharp as a blade: "Chen Laogen! You fool! What kind of person is Wang Sima? Haven't you seen the bloodshed on the city walls these past two days?"

"When the Qi army's assault was at its most urgent yesterday, who led the charge at the front and forcibly cut down three siege ladders?"

"You dare to doubt that he has a surrender mindset—it's as if your dog eyes are blind!"

Huang Shizhang's roar was like a raging wind passing through; everyone in the hall shivered.

Chen Laogen's face flushed red from the scolding, his lips muttering; subconsciously he lowered his head, his hands gripping the hilt of his long sword until his knuckles turned white, and after a moment he managed a low whisper, "Is… is this not doubt?"

"It concerns the lives of the whole city; I… I have to ask…"

Though his voice was small, it rang clearly in everyone's ears.

Many in the hall showed hesitation on their faces; indeed, the matter is so grave that even Wang Sima's past bravery cannot tolerate any carelessness.

Just as the subtle atmosphere wavered again, Wang Xiong burst into a hearty laugh; the laughter pierced the hall's solemnity with a sense of openness and boldness, rattling everyone's eardrums, "Hahaha! What a perfect 'must ask'!"

The laughter abruptly stopped, and Wang Xiong's smile instantly faded, replaced by a stern, dignified expression.

He stepped forward two paces; the bloodstains on his armor swayed slightly with the movement, the wound on his shoulder tugged but he seemed unaware. His eyes burned like torches as he slowly scanned the hall, and in a clear voice he retorted, "Brothers, I am the chief administrator of Gancao City, the Court‑appointed Xiazhou Sima, leading you in blood‑soaked battle to keep the Qi army at bay for countless days and nights!"

"Think carefully: if Gancao City falls and the Qi army breaks in, who will they kill first to vent their anger?"

The question struck like a revelation; everyone in the hall was stunned, then immediately bowed their heads to contemplate.

Yesterday's brutal Qi army assault is vivid in memory—the roars that slaughtered the wounded as the city fell, the snarls when Fuel was set ablaze—each one displayed the army's ferocity.

The Qi army, after a long failed siege, had built up anger; once they entered the city, they would inevitably seek the most suitable target to vent their fury.

Almost the instant Wang Xiong finished speaking, a clear voice rang out from the crowd, "Then of course it's you, Wang Sima!"

Everyone turned toward the voice, and it was the perceptive young Su Mo.

His gaze fixed on Wang Xiong, he said in a deep tone, "The Qi army's failed siege cost them many troops; their hearts surely now hate the city's chief defender to the bone."

"Since ancient times, after a city falls, the invading army vents its anger by killing from the top down: first the defending commander, then the soldiers, and finally the civilians of the city."

"As the defending commander, Wang Sima is naturally the first nail they will pull out!"

Su Mo's words were clear and logical; everyone in the hall nodded in agreement.

Indeed, the Qi army hates Wang Xiong to the core—they despise him for using a few thousand remnants to block tens of thousands, for disgracing the Qi army; after the city falls, Wang Xiong will inevitably be the first to die, and he will have no good end.

Wang Xiong heard this, a knowing smile appearing on his face; he looked at Su Mo, then turned his gaze over the crowd, his tone mixing a rhetorical question with openness: "Mr. Su, you speak very well!"

"Given that, what meaning does my surrender have?"

"The Qi army will kill me; whether I surrender or not, on the day the city falls I cannot escape death."

"If I don't surrender, I can still die on the battlefield and earn a name of loyal heroism!"

"If I surrender, I will only be humiliated to death by the Qi army and bear a millennial curse of infamy."

"Brothers, do you think I, Wang Xiong, am the type who craves life and fears death, willing to endure millennial scorn?"