Chapter 673: Jade may be shattered but its whiteness cannot be altered; bamboo may be burned but its node cannot be destroyed

The battle cries rose and fell, shaking the dust on the Qiangbi so it fell in clumps.

Many Qi soldiers showed ferocious expressions, brandishing their Weapons, as if they would pounce and tear Wang Xiong and the others to pieces the moment they hesitated.

Although the soldiers behind Wang Xiong felt their eardrums tremble from the deafening battle cries and their bodies swayed slightly from fatigue and wounds, not a single one stepped back.

Gripping their weapons tightly, they fixed their gaze on the enemy ahead, their faces full of a death‑defying resolve.

They followed Wang Xiong in a death‑defending Gancao City, having long placed life and death beyond measure; now their only thought was to share the general's fate, even if they fought to the last soldier, they would never surrender.

Ding Weize saw Wang Xiong remain silent, his face showing no sign of wavering, and thus knew that simple intimidation could not make him yield.

He slightly softened the harshness on his face, adopting a coaxing expression, trying to sway Wang Xiong with profit: "If you kneel and surrender now, you can still have a chance to live!"

He examined Wang Xiong's youthful face closely, his tone deliberately gentle, "I reckon you're just over twenty, aren't you?"

"You still have splendid years ahead, and a bright future!"

"His Highness the Crown Prince admires your city‑defending ability and wishes to bring you under his command!"

He paused, seeing a hint of looseness in Wang Xiong's expression, and felt a secret joy, continuing to tempt: "If you are willing to surrender, the Crown Prince will surely entrust you with great responsibilities—high offices, generous salaries, wealth and honor, everything you could wish for!"

"Why then do you sacrifice your life for the already ruined Gancao City, for those so‑called loyalty and righteousness?"

"Surrender?" Wang Xiong murmured the word softly, a complex expression flashing in his eyes as if he were pondering seriously.

Ding Weize, seeing this, let his smile grow more smug, thinking to himself that he could not escape the lure of fame and profit.

But in the next instant, Wang Xiong suddenly covered his face and let out a hearty, unrestrained laugh: "Hahaha!"

The laugh was bright and bold, carrying a carefree disdain that seemed to see through everything, starkly out of place in the dire situation; Ding Weize, hearing it, was baffled, his smile instantly frozen.

He furrowed his brows, his eyes full of confusion and anger, and shouted sharply: "Why are you laughing?"

Wang Xiong's laughter gradually subsided; he slowly lowered his hand, his expression turning extremely solemn, his bright eyes flashing with the light of loyalty.

He raised his hand, pointing to his chest, and said with righteous firmness: "I, Wang Xiong, once served as a cavalryman under Grand General Chen Yan, marching with the general in countless campaigns, killing enemies and earning merits; trusted by the Grand Preceptor, I was appointed Xiazhou Sima and awarded the title of Assistant State General. How could I surrender to you Qi bandits?"

His voice rang resonant and powerful, each word like a pearl, bearing an unassailable righteous aura.

Every sentence seemed to proclaim his devotion to loyalty, each word brimming with love for his country and hatred toward the enemy.

The Qi soldiers around were intimidated by his aura; the deafening battle cries gradually subsided, leaving only his steadfast voice echoing in the alley.

Wang Xiong inhaled deeply, thrust his chest forward, the battered armor creaking "creak", yet it could not conceal the heroic aura emanating from him.

His eyes flashed with a death‑defying light; his gaze swept over Ding Weize and then over the surrounding Qi soldiers, and he said, each word deliberate: "Jade may be shattered but its whiteness cannot be changed; bamboo may be burned but its node cannot be destroyed; though the body may fall, the name can endure on bamboo and silk!"

These words rang like the sound of metal on stone, striking the ground with resonance, deeply imprinting themselves in the hearts of everyone present.

The more than thirty soldiers behind him, hearing this, straightened their chests, the light in their eyes burning hotter; many even trembled with excitement, whisper‑shouting: "Sima Wang is right! We swear to die rather than surrender!"

"To live and die with Gancao City!"

"Never bow to the Qi bandits!"

Ding Weize, mounted on a Warhorse, let his complexion darken bit by bit, his eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in his pupils.

He gripped his Great Sword tightly, his knuckles whitening from the strain, the fury and murderous intent in his heart intertwining, almost uncontainable.

He had originally thought that the lure of high offices and generous salaries could always sway this young general, but he did not expect Wang Xiong to be so obstinately stubborn, valuing so‑called loyalty and righteousness, unmoved at all.

"Wang Xiong, it seems you are obstinately stubborn, prepared to resist to the end…" Ding Weize's voice was ice‑cold and biting, like a winter north wind, laden with murderous intent, each word seeming squeezed from his teeth.

"Now we must fight to the death!" Wang Xiong's voice thundered like a sudden lightning in the narrow alley, each word carrying a resolve to burn the boats, making the surrounding air tremble slightly.

He thrust the curved‑blade Chang Qiang he wielded forward sharply, the Spear Tip pointing straight at the Qi troops ahead; the battered armor reflected a sharp cold glint in the morning light, contrasting with the burning fury in his eyes.

Having endured intimidation, temptation, and the choice of loyalty, at this moment only one thought remained in his mind—

Fight to the last breath, sacrifice the city with blood, repaying the sacrifices of Su Mo and Chen Laogen, and the trust of the city's people.

He slowly turned his body, his gaze sweeping over the more than thirty comrades drenched in blood beside him.

Among them were veteran soldiers who had followed him for years, youthful fighters who had taken up arms on their own, and even a few boys still retaining a childlike air…

Each face was smeared with blood and fatigue, wounds continuously oozing, yet their eyes remained as fiery as flames.

"Gentlemen, will you follow me?" Wang Xiong's voice was low and earnest, carrying a faint, barely perceptible choke.

This question bore no soaring oath, yet carried a trust of life and death together.

No one answered, nor was an answer needed.

Huang Shizhang was the first to clutch his Great Sword tightly; the cracked fissure on the blade glinted coldly in the sunlight, his injured left leg trembled slightly, yet he still stood steadily at the front line, his face showing a death‑defying resolve.

Immediately behind him, more than thirty warriors clenched their Weapons—whether Chang Qiang, Great Sword, clubs, or stones—they gripped them to the death.

Some soldiers, straining too hard, tore their wounds; blood ran down their Weapons, spreading on the ground like dark‑red blossoms.

"Kill!"

A deafening, earth‑shaking shout erupted from their throats; without any hesitation, they surged forward like arrows released, charging at the Qi troops ahead.

In that shout there was no fear, only the courage of burning one's boats.

No retreat, only loyalty that sacrifices oneself for the nation.

They knew they faced foes several times stronger, that they might not even break the enemy's formation, yet they still charged without hesitation, using flesh and blood to guard their final dignity and glory.

Ding Weize, seeing this, let a ferocious smile appear, the ruthlessness in his eyes spouting forth like a substance.

"Kill them all! Chop them into mush!"

He barked the order, swinging his Great Sword fiercely, aiming straight at the charging Wang Xiong and his men.

The command ignited like a fuse, and the surrounding Qi soldiers instantly erupted with beast‑like roars.

With blood‑thirsty glints in their eyes, they raised their Weapons, swarming toward Wang Xiong and his men.

The narrow alley instantly became a human Rensheng Jianyu; the clanging "ding‑ding‑dang‑dang" of Weapons, the "puff" of flesh tearing, the dying screams, and angry roars intertwined, deafening all.

Qi soldiers surged like a tide, dense and countless, blocking the alley completely; Wang Xiong and his men were like a lone boat in a raging sea, ready to be swallowed at any moment.

Wang Xiong led on horseback, his Chang Qiang dancing in his hand as if impervious to wind and rain, blood splashing wherever the Spear Tip passed.

He dodged a Qi soldier's Great Sword, thrusting his Chang Qiang forward, precisely piercing the opponent's throat; the soldier's eyes widened, blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell slowly.

But before he could withdraw his Chang Qiang, two Qi soldiers attacked from both sides, their blades bearing a sharp cold wind, striking for his vital points.

Wang Xiong suddenly twisted his body, dodging the vital spot, and at the same time kicked out, sending the soldier on his left sprawling to the ground; the Long Spear in his hand swept sideways with momentum, driving back the enemies on his right.

But the enemies were simply too many; after felling one, two more surged forward.

He pierced one, then three more closed in. Wang Xiong's stamina had long been exhausted, the days of fierce fighting leaving his whole body aching; his arms felt as heavy as if filled with lead, and each swing of the Long Spear demanded tremendous effort.

The pain of his wounds tormented him like raging fire, and his vision began to blur.

Huang Shizhang fought fiercely beside him, brandishing the Great Sword with a fierce wind, cutting down each enemy that approached Wang Xiong.

But his injuries were too severe; the arrow wound in his left leg hampered his movement, and he gradually felt powerless.

A Qi army soldier seized the opening, slashing his shoulder with a blade; blood spurted out instantly.

Huang Shizhang let out a low growl, yet still gritted his teeth, and with a reverse slash beheaded that soldier, then staggered back a step, leaning against the Qiangbi, panting heavily.

The warriors fell one after another.

A young soldier had just pierced a Qi army combatant's chest when an enemy behind him slashed his back.

He didn't even have time to turn, collapsing heavily to the ground; the Weapons in his hand slipped away, yet his eyes remained wide open, staring toward Gancao City.

An old veteran, to shield the boy beside him, blocked three Long Spears with his body; the spears pierced his chest, blood staining his tattered clothes, yet he still clutched a Qi army soldier tightly, roaring for the boy to run, and was finally cut down by a flurry of blades.

The force of over thirty men, like flowers battered by a raging storm, withered away swiftly.

Wang Xiong watched his comrades fall one by one, his heart aching as if cut by a knife; anger and grief intertwined, nearly driving him to madness.

He swung the Long Spear wildly, each thrust laced with boundless hatred, yet the enemies were simply too many.

His movements grew slower, his wounds multiplied, blood streaming down his armor, forming a winding trail on the ground.

At that moment, Wang Xiong was fiercely repelling the assault of two Qi army soldiers.

He parried the long sword of the soldier on his left with his left hand, and thrust his spear toward the heart of the soldier on his right with his right hand.

But in that split second of distraction, a Qi army soldier hidden in the crowd flashed a cruel glint in his eyes, gripped his Long Spear tightly, and thrust straight at Wang Xiong's back.

The Long Spear whistled with wind, aiming at Wang Xiong's rear heart, drawing ever nearer, about to pierce his armor.

"Sima, be careful!"

A chilling shout cut through the battlefield clamor; Hong Xi, who had been grappling with two Qi army soldiers, caught the fatal strike out of the corner of his eye, his pupils snapping shut.

He had no time to think, nor could he mind the enemies ahead; he shoved the soldier before him with all his strength, leapt forward, and lunged at Wang Xiong's back.

"Ah!"

A gut‑wrenching scream rang through the alley; the Long Spear drove mercilessly through Hong Xi's chest, the sharp spearhead exiting his back, hot blood splattering onto Wang Xiong's armor.

Hong Xi's body collapsed limp onto Wang Xiong's back; his eyes stared fixedly at Wang Xiong, blood spilling from his mouth, and he managed to utter a few strained words: "Si... Ma...".

Wang Xiong's whole body froze as he felt the warm weight on his back; he whirled around, seeing Hong Xi's blood‑smeared face and the light in his eyes gradually fading.

"Hong Xi!" Wang Xiong let out a gut‑wrenching cry, his voice hoarse as a broken gong, tears instantly filling his eyes, anger and grief erupting like a volcano.

He seized Hong Xi's fallen body, gently set him on the ground, then sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing scarlet, like a wounded beast.

Ding Weize, astride his Warhorse, watched the scene clearly, a cruel smile curling his mouth, and shouted loudly: "Wang Xiong, they could have lived, but alas they all died because of you!"

Those words were like the most venomous curse, stabbing deep into Wang Xiong's heart, trying to crush his last will.

He desired not only Wang Xiong's life, but his death in despair and remorse.

"Capture him alive!" Ding Weize ordered again, a flash of greed in his eyes.

Wang Xiong was a rare talent; if captured alive and presented to the Crown Prince, it would be a great merit.

Hearing the order, the surrounding Qi army soldiers altered their tactics, no longer slaughtering indiscriminately, but deliberately encircling Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang, attempting to capture them alive.

Dozens of Qi army soldiers surged from all directions, forming an airtight human wall that tightly enclosed Wang Xiong and Huang Shizhang in the middle.

Wang Xiong looked at the lone Huang Shizhang beside him, the rest of his comrades already lying in pools of blood, and an endless despair rose within him.

He knew he was powerless to turn the tide; if captured alive by the Qi army, he would endure endless torment, perhaps be forced to surrender, tarnishing his name of loyalty and righteousness.

Wang Xiong slowly turned his head, meeting Huang Shizhang's gaze.

Huang Shizhang's shoulder still seeped blood, his face pale as paper, yet he kept his spine straight; he looked at Wang Xiong, slowly nodded, a knowing expression appearing in his eyes.

No words were needed; the two had already reached an understanding.

Wang Xiong clenched the Long Spear in his hand, slowly raised it, the spear tip aimed at his own throat.

Huang Shizhang also gripped his Great Sword tightly, the blade pressed against his own neck.

They would rather die than surrender, rather be shattered like jade than remain whole like tile.

At that hair‑trigger moment, a sharp sound of something tearing through the air suddenly rang out!

"Whoosh—"

A Feather Arrow shot from the alley mouth like a meteor chasing the moon, its speed astonishing, bearing a biting cold wind, straight toward a Qi army soldier preparing to pounce on Wang Xiong.

The soldier didn't even have time to react; the Feather Arrow pierced his brow, blood gushing along the arrow shaft.

His eyes widened, he fell upright on the ground, twitched a few times, then fell still.

The sudden turn left everyone stunned; the clashing sounds halted instantly, and the alley fell into a brief deathly silence.

Immediately after, a booming shout echoed from the far end of the alley, cracking like thunder:

"Spare my son!"