Chapter 721: Yuwen Ze

Hedong, a key stronghold.

Yubi City.

The dying sun, like blood, stains the reeds on both banks of the Fen River with a bleak crimson.

This steadfast city, which guards the eastern gateway of Guanzhong and lies on the loess plateau like a prehistoric behemoth, now exudes a nauseatingly strong scent of blood.

At the foot of the city wall, piles of broken weapons and partially buried Qi State corpses tower like mountains.

The war smoke has not fully cleared, twisting in the wind into long, gray‑black dragons.

Yuwen Ze, clad in armor, gazes out at the outside city with eyes that reveal a steadfastness and depth forged by countless battles.

Beside him, Yang Langhui, Zhang Poqi, and Huan Jing, three trusted aides, stand rigidly against the wind, all with tense expressions, daring no slack.

Yet the suffocating scene outside the city undergoes a strange change at this moment.

The main Qi forces, which had spread over the hills like a black tide and launched continuous staged feints against Yubi City day and night, suddenly cease beating their drums.

The siege towers and ladders that had already reached the city's edge are mercilessly abandoned in place.

The army does not maintain the tightening encirclement formation; instead, it orderly turns, lifts camp, changes direction, and slowly retreats.

"How strange!" Zhang Poqi steps forward, gripping the hilt of his waist blade with one hand, his knuckles whitening from the force.

He lets out a incredulous, wary exclamation, his eyes full of alertness: "Why are the Qi troops retreating? They withdraw as cleanly as an ebbing tide!"

Huan Jing, who had remained silent, furrows his brow; his keen eyes stare fixedly at the swirling yellow dust raised by the Qi retreat.

In his mind, like a precise calculating device, he frantically simulates the overall situation of Guanzhong and even the Northern Border.

Suddenly, a flash of brilliance sparks in Huan Jing's eyes, as if he has caught a hint of truth behind the layered fog.

He whirls his head toward Yuwen Ze, his tone tinged with barely restrained excitement: "Prince! Could it be that on the northern main battlefield of the Summer and Ling provinces, a breakthrough has been achieved? This Qi force feigning attack beneath Yubi City, trying to pin us down, must have received some extremely fatal intelligence, forcing an immediate withdrawal!"

Huan Jing's conjecture, like a spark on dry wood, instantly triggers a chain reaction atop the city walls.

"A breakthrough? Then it must be that Chen Zhuguo cut a bloody path in the Northern Border, bruising the Qi people and the Rouran barbarians!" Yang Langhui exclaims, his tiger eyes instantly igniting with fierce battle fervor, a killing thirst long suppressed and now craving blood.

He lunges forward a step, his heavy black‑iron war boots striking the blue bricks with a muffled clang.

Yang Langhui drops to one knee, fists clasped, and loudly petitions Yuwen Ze: "Prince! The enemy now flees in panic; once our tens‑of‑thousands move, the formation will stretch, the front and rear cannot both be covered, and a fatal flaw will appear!"

Yang Langhui thrusts his head up, his gaze feral like a blood‑thirsty wolf: "Subordinate General requests permission! Grant me three thousand troops, and I will lead them out of the city to pursue! Even if I cannot annihilate the Qi force, I will tear a massive chunk of flesh from them, showing them that Great Zhou's Yubi City is not a place one can come and go at will! Prince, give a decision!"

The surrounding soldiers, battered on the city walls by the Qi army for days, have long harbored a seething rage.

Now, seeing the enemy retreat, the blood‑hot men each draw their waist horizontal blades with a "swish," the backs striking armor, producing thunderous war cries: "Prince, issue the order! Charge out of the city to slay the enemy! Charge out of the city to slay the enemy!"

On Yubi's walls, battle fervor boils, the wave of killing and resentment surging skyward, nearly engulfing Yuwen Ze himself.

At such a moment of usable morale and soaring spirit, any ambitious commander would likely open the gates without hesitation and lead a killing charge.

Yet facing these inflamed soldiers, Yuwen Ze's warm, gentle face shows no hint of being clouded by even a trace of frenzy.

His gaze is as calm as ancient ice; he does not look at the kneeling Yang Langhui, but continues to sweep over the rear formation of the retreating enemy.

His eyes, sharp as an eagle's, pierce the layered yellow sand.

He clearly sees that, although the Qi rear appears crowded, its marching formation remains orderly.

More crucially, the central army's Great Banner, where the Qi commander stands, not only does not advance but presses at the rear of the formation.

On both wings of the Qi main array, light cavalry equipped with strong bows and hard crossbows subtly patrol as cover.

"Impossible!" Yuwen Ze abruptly raises his hand, his broad cloak snapping in the wind with a sharp crack.

His voice is low, yet like a bucket of icy water, it suppresses the generals' clamor: "For safety, we must not step out of the city recklessly!"

"Prince!" Yang Langhui hurries, the blue veins on his neck bulging, "The chance for battle slips away in an instant!"

"Silence!" Yuwen Ze's gaze suddenly hardens, the aristocratic authority of his lineage erupting, "Do you think the Qi commander is made of mud? Open your eyes and look at the swirling dust! Though they retreat hastily, the central army stays intact, and the wings are guarded by crossbow formations. This withdrawal, even if not a deliberately set Pocket Formation, surely leaves a vicious rear ambush!"

Yuwen Ze strides to Yang Langhui's side, looking down from above, his tone unyielding: "General Yang, remember this! Yubi is the eastern gateway of Great Zhou's Guanzhong! Beyond this gate lies the open plain of Chang'an! Our primary task is to hold Yubi to the death, not to fight in the field outside the city!"

"If we greedily chase a few thousand enemy heads and rashly advance, only to be outflanked by the Qi and lose the gate, causing Yubi to fall… even if we behead the nine clans, we cannot escape blame!"

This barrage of scolding, aimed straight at the strategic core, sounds like evening drums and morning bells.

Yang Langhui, Zhang Poqi and the others exchange glances, then look again along Yuwen Ze's indicated direction, indeed discerning the hidden murderous intent within the Qi retreat formation.

Though their hearts still brim with resentment, they are instantly awakened by Yuwen Ze's supreme rationality, a cold sweat beading on their backs.

All understand the gravity of the nation's fate; they clasp fists, bow their heads and shout: "Prince, you are wise! The Subordinate Generals almost jeopardized the state, we obey!"

Seeing the generals calm, Yuwen Ze promptly issues a thunderous command: "Transmit my General's Order! Immediately dispatch three times the usual scouts, hanging far behind the Qi forces, to ascertain their true withdrawal movements and encampments! Keep Yubi's four gates sealed with thousand‑pound bolts, place the entire army on top‑level alert. Without my Token, no one may step out of the city to pursue even a half step; violators will be beheaded without mercy!"

The generals roar their assent and immediately disperse to carry out the orders.

The clamor atop the walls gradually subsides, leaving only the rustle of wind whipping the battle flags.

Yuwen Ze plants both hands on the rough city‑wall embrasure, his fingertips feeling the icy chill of the blue bricks.

He watches the distant Qi army's rising yellow dust, his brows tightening further.

He worries inwardly, even clenching his fist: "A Xiong, the Qi retreat is so bizarre—they've abandoned not only the imminent siege of Yubi but also the Hedong defensive line. What earth‑shattering event has unfolded in the Northern Border's battlefield? You must be safe and sound."