Chapter 570: Caught Between Advance and Retreat

In Yancheng, the daylight passed amid a stifling busyness.

On the city wall, the chanting of the reinforcement work was dull and urgent.

Laborers and soldiers mingled, hauling every heavy thing they could find—broken carts, door planks, even the stone bases of temple statues—up onto the city wall with all their strength.

Below the city, auxiliary troops shouted their chants as they dug the final moat, deepening and widening it.

Dust flew, everyone's face covered in a gray‑yellow layer, their eyes showing fatigue, and even more, a numb ruthlessness born of being driven to desperation.

Yue Fei, hand on his sword, walked slowly along the wall to inspect.

He walked slowly, his gaze sweeping over each crenel, checking whether each pile of rolling logs and siege stones was stable.

He would pause now and then, pat a young soldier's shoulder and ask, "Who's left at home?" or bend to examine a wounded soldier's freshly bandaged injury.

His voice was not loud, but unusually steady.

It seemed that the relentless orders of these days and the shadow of the Jin army pressing the border had not shaken him in the slightest.

But only Zhang Xian and Wang Gui, walking close behind, knew that the Marshal's hand gripping his sword hilt had whitened knuckles from the strain.

"Marshal, the crack on the outer side of the east gate's walled enclosure probably won't withstand a few bombardments from the catapults," Wang Gui reported in a low voice, worried. "The craftsmen say, unless we have a lot of glutinous‑rice slurry and sanhe soil, we can only barely fill it with rammed earth and wooden stakes; the result…"

"Do what we can." Yue Fei interrupted him, calm. "No glutinous‑rice slurry? Use rice soup. No sanhe soil? Mix clay with lime. Tell the soldiers, every scoop of earth they tamp in might save the life of a comrade beside them."

"Yes." Wang Gui replied, saying no more.

Zhang Xian stepped forward, lowering his voice further: "Over at the baggage battalion, Yue Yun's people have been watching all night. Wang Jun… after midnight last night, he slipped out of camp for about two quarters of an hour, heading again to the burnt‑out ruins west of the city. Our men dared not follow too close, lest they spook the quarry, so they didn't see who he met. But when he returned, he seemed to have something tucked in his chest."

Yue Fei's eyes turned cold in an instant, then returned to neutrality.

"Understood. Keep watching. Pay special attention to his contacts with the granary and armory. All supplies he handles, keep a separate secret ledger."

"Understood."

Upon reaching the south gate, he happened to meet the civil official sent by the Imperial Court envoy, standing under a detachment of brightly armored imperial guards, stern‑faced as he inspected the "troop withdrawal preparations."

Seeing Yue Fei, the official gave a perfunctory fist‑clasp, but his tone carried a superior‑sounding question:

"Commissioner Yue, I, acting on the envoy's order, again inspect your army's withdrawal preparations. Not knowing why, with the five‑day limit already two days past, the fortification work inside the city has become even more urgent. Why aren't these laborers being used to transport grain and the wounded?"

Yue Fei stopped, facing the official, his face showing just the right amount of weariness and helplessness.

"Envoy, please see clearly. It is not that I, Yue Fei, intend to delay; I am compelled by unavoidable hardship."

He pointed toward the direction outside the city.

"The Jin army's scout cavalry watches day and night, less than ten‑odd li away. If I openly move the baggage train, showing weakness to the enemy, the Jin horsemen will arrive in an instant. By then, not only would transport be impossible, but even the safety of the wounded and civilians throughout the city would be in jeopardy."

"Strengthening the city defenses is precisely to deter the Jin army and cover the retreat. This is an 'advance as retreat' strategy; I hope the envoy will understand our situation and report it to the superiors."

The official's brows knotted; he clearly did not believe this explanation, yet could find no obvious flaw.

"Even so, the withdrawal deadline must not be delayed any further! The Imperial Court has repeatedly issued clear orders; must Commissioner Yue insist on his own way, treating the sovereign's command as nothing?"

These words were already quite severe, bordering on an accusation.

The surrounding guards' hands rested on their sword hilts, and the atmosphere instantly tightened.

Zhang Xian, Wang Gui, and the others' faces darkened as they stepped half a step forward.

Yue Fei, however, raised his hand to halt his subordinates, and his expression toward the official became even more earnest.

"Official, your words I dare not accept! The imperial edict is resplendent; I, Yue Fei, worry day and night—how could I dare to violate it? I am simply… lacking the strength."

He sighed, took out a prepared document from his bosom, and handed it to the official.

"This is what the army's scribes have recorded. Please take a look, envoy. Those needing cart and horse transport for serious wounds number over 1,300; the grain and baggage require more than 800 large carts; there is a shortage of draft animals and laborers. Moreover, the roads are threatened by the Jin army's scout cavalry, so the transport convoys need strong military escorts… All this cannot be finished in five days."

"Yue Fei has already ordered that the lightly wounded march on foot, and only ten days' worth of grain and fodder be taken, the rest burned to speed things up. Even so, the quickest we can move the entire force to Cai Prefecture is eight to ten days."

"This is not delay, but necessity. I beg the envoy to have pity on the soldiers' lives, to convey this truth to the heavens, and plead with the Imperial Court… to grant us a few more days!"

His words were earnest, even tinged with sorrow, matching his bloodshot eyes and visibly gaunt face, making them highly persuasive.

The official took the document, glanced at it—its dense numbers and items looked proper enough.

His complexion eased a little, but his tone remained firm.

"The difficulties of Commissioner Yue, I will duly report. But the Imperial Court's edict stresses execution. Eight days… at most eight days! If after eight days your army has not set out, do not blame me for reporting the truth; then the Court will be furious, and you, Commissioner, may not be able to bear it."

"Yes, yes. Thank you, envoy, for your understanding." Yue Fei repeatedly bowed, lowering his posture to the utmost.

The official snorted, turned with his guards, and left.

Only when that group's silhouettes vanished at the end of the wall's passageway did Yue Fei's humble, earnest expression instantly withdraw, returning him to cold hardness like iron.

"Eight days…" he murmured softly.

Zhang Xian drew near, eyes full of worry: "Marshal, are we really to withdraw after eight days?"

"Withdraw?" Yue Fei glanced at him, then turned his gaze to the boundless northern wilderness. "I said 'relocate to Cai Prefecture.' As for how to 'relocate' and when to 'set out'—the battlefield changes moment by moment; how could those sitting in Lin'an City possibly predict it?"

Zhang Xian startled, then immediately understood.

The Marshal was using verbal concessions and a pile of seemingly reasonable but hard‑to‑achieve "difficulties" to buy precious time!

"But if after eight days we do nothing, that official will surely memorialize…"

"Let him memorialize then." Yue Fei's tone was flat, yet it bore an undeniable resolve. "By that time, whether the Jin army attacks the city or not will no longer be up to him to decide."

He turned and continued walking along the wall; his voice carried clearly to the officers behind him.

"Issue the orders: make the withdrawal preparations look more convincing. Concentrate the vehicles, have the auxiliary troops drill loading, to create the appearance of constant busyness."

"But the fortification work must not stop for a moment. Arrow production, work through the night. Grain and fodder… as I previously ordered, strictly control rations, prioritizing the fighting troops and the wounded."

"Tell all the army commanders: from today onward, I will eat with them. My bowl may contain only so much rice; theirs may not have a single grain more."

Wang Gui could not help but say: "Marshal, you bear the whole army; you must not…"

"Do it."

Yue Fei cut him off, leaving no room for doubt.

"In extraordinary times, only when upper and lower share the same will can we seek life amidst death."

He stopped his steps, gazing at the busy yet silent crowds inside and outside the wall, and said slowly:

The Imperial Court's edict is the Imperial Court's consideration; our battle is our own lives.

Yancheng, we cannot leave now.

At least, before we beat the Jin invaders painfully so they dare not easily move south; before we arrange the wounded well so they are not abandoned to die; before... we see a clearer turning point, we cannot leave.

This may defy the edict, or may invite great disaster.

He paused, his voice not loud, yet like a heavy hammer striking each person's heart.

But if, to obey an edict that could doom the three armies and make Zhongyuan despair, we abandon the land and hope won at the cost of lives throughout this city...

I, Yue Fei, cannot do that.

If punishment is to be given, after this battle is over I will go to Lin'an myself to receive it.

Now, my duty is to lead you, to hold this place, to survive, to win battles!

The surrounding personal troops, commanders, and even the nearby soldiers who could hear a few words—all were shaken in body, their originally somewhat panicked gazes gradually regathering their luster.

The Marshal has not given up!

He is still thinking of ways, still leading everyone in resistance!

That is enough.

Zhang Xian, Wang Gui, and the others clenched their fists in salute; the suffocating frustration in their chests seemed to be ripped open by these words.

The subordinate obeys the order!

The order was swiftly relayed downward.

The Yue Family Army's operations accelerated in a rhythm that seemed contradictory but was actually unified.

On the surface, they were busy with 'withdrawing troops'.

Inside, they were preparing to 'hold fast'.

The contradiction has been made public.

The envoy's entourage grew ever colder, hardly communicating with the Yue Family Army's commanders anymore, merely sending people each day to coldly record the various signs of 'slow progress'.

The news had clearly been transmitted back to Lin'an.

A new edict may already be on the road, bearing harsher wording, or... a more direct order.

Meanwhile, the movements of the Jin army's main camp grew ever more frequent, scout skirmishes became increasingly fierce, and the clouds of the impending battle thickened.

Yue Fei knew he was walking an extremely dangerous tightrope.

One end is the sovereign's command, weighty as a mountain; the other is the lives of the three armies and the great cause of the northern expedition.

Beneath his feet lies the perilous wall of isolated Yancheng; all around are tiger-eyed strong foes and cold arrows from behind.

To advance is to defy the Imperial Court, possibly bringing ruin and disgrace.

To retreat is to ruin the overall situation, surely to be spat upon for all ages.

Advance or retreat, he is trapped in a valley.

But he has no other choice.

He can only grip his spear firmly, plant his feet solidly, and in this valley, for the troops and civilians behind him, carve out as large a space as possible for breathing and resistance.

At night deep, he again sat alone in his tent.

The jade pendant in his bosom remained cold.

The echo of Mr. Chen of Northward Aspiration is still awaited.

And what he can rely on, for now, is only his own unshakable resolve, and this Yancheng that grows ever more like an anvil.

He spread out paper and brush, began writing a letter to his family far away in Lin'an.

The letter was very brief, only reporting safety and entrusting trivial matters.

But at the end of the letter, he paused, adding a sentence that came out of nowhere:

If any mishap occurs, do not grieve, do not yearn. My son's deeds in this life are guiltless before heart and before the people; that is enough.

After sealing the letter, he summoned his personal troops, ordering them to send it back as a family letter together with the envoy's courier riders the next day.

Having done all this, he then blew out the lamp.

In the darkness, only his gaze remained clear and sharp, looking out toward the boundless night beyond the tent.

As if hoping to pierce through these layers of encirclement, to see that path which perhaps exists but is thick with thorns.