Chapter 101: Scaling the Walls

Zhang Xianzhong led several thousand elite veterans, along with trusted generals like Shi Tatan and Xie Diguang, breaking camp overnight and heading northwest. Sun Kewang and Li Dingguo escorted the grain supplies behind them, while Liu Wenxiu and Ai Nengqi stayed behind with tens of thousands of troops. One reason was to keep Gao Yingxiang from noticing anything amiss, and the other was to continue attacking Shouzhou, seizing more money and grain, then find an opportunity to break away from Gao Yingxiang and rendezvous with Zhang Xianzhong.

Zhang Xianzhong planned to head north first, then turn west, break through Yingshang before heading southwest into Runing Prefecture in Henan, taking advantage of the gap left by Lu Xiangsheng's forces pursuing Gao Yingxiang to attack prefectures and counties along the way. After passing through Nanyang Prefecture, he would finally reach Yunyang Prefecture in Huguang, a place where the three provinces of Shaanxi, Henan, and Huguang met—where official authority was weak, the people were fierce, and refugees were numerous. With the money and grain in his hands, he would soon gather a massive force. Zhang Xianzhong believed that within a few years, he would no longer fear any official army.

But the clamor of several thousand men breaking camp, along with the fiery dragon formed by countless torches during the march, still alerted the people of the other bandit camps.

Early the next morning, Gao Ying'en rode at full speed to the Xi'an camp. Seeing that the camp of tens of thousands seemed unchanged, he pondered to himself: Last night there was a great commotion in the Xi'an camp, and someone reported a camp disturbance—but the current situation didn't seem to fit that. After a camp disturbance, how could the camp still be so orderly? There was no blood or corpses on the ground either. So what exactly had happened?

Reaching the entrance of Zhang Xianzhong's main tent, Gao Ying'en dismounted. Liu Wenxiu came out from the tent to greet him, cupping his fists in salute before smiling: "Brother Gao comes to our Xi'an camp so early—might I ask what instruction you have?"

Gao Ying'en did not return the salute. Walking toward the tent, he said: "Last night there were reports of unusual activity in the Xi'an camp. The Dashing King sent me to inquire—what exactly happened last night?"

Liu Wenxiu smiled: "Nothing major. A unit fled with the grain supplies. My adoptive father flew into a rage and personally led men in pursuit!"

Gao Ying'en was startled. Stopping in his tracks, he asked: "Who fled? How many people?"

Liu Wenxiu replied with hatred: "That damned Xie Diguang! My adoptive father treated him like a brother, yet he went mad for some reason, took over two thousand of his men northward, and made off with most of the gold and silver in our camp. My adoptive father was furious and led men after him, vowing to demand an answer—what exactly drove him to leave!"

Gao Ying'en said: "It's already past midnight. Why hasn't the Eighth Great King returned yet? Could he have run into danger?"

Liu Wenxiu shook his head: "I don't know either! My adoptive father took my two elder brothers with him, so nothing should happen. As for why he hasn't returned, I truly don't know. Perhaps he's smashing a nearby village along the way to replenish supplies!"

"The Eighth Great King hasn't returned—can the Xi'an camp still send troops to attack the city today?" Gao Ying'en continued.

Liu Wenxiu puffed out his chest and said proudly: "Rest assured, Brother Gao. This little Shouzhou, a bunch of guard station soldiers—our Xi'an camp doesn't even consider them worth a glance! Yesterday was merely testing their strength! Today I and Old Fourth will personally take the field and guarantee the city falls. When my adoptive father returns, he'll surely praise me well!"

Gao Ying'en looked around. Zhang Xianzhong's main tent was still there, and many bandits in the surrounding camps had already come out of their tents—some relieving themselves, some cooking, some lifting stone locks to train their strength. The expressions on everyone's faces were no different from ordinary people's.

He had basically come to believe Liu Wenxiu's explanation: someone had led troops in defection, and Zhang Xianzhong had taken a small group of personal guards in pursuit. As for why someone would leave—the reason was simple: silver and women. Either the spoils were divided unfairly, or there was jealousy over a woman. Such things happened every day among the roving bandits—nothing remarkable.

Gao Ying'en turned and walked back, calling out loudly as he went: "No matter when your adoptive father returns today, the Dashing King has ordered: attack the city at the hour of Chen! Take Shouzhou within two hours, or your Xi'an camp can get lost! Let our Dashing King's camp handle it!"

Liu Wenxiu clasped his fists: "Rest assured, Brother Gao! I'll take it within one hour!"

Gao Ying'en didn't look back. He strode quickly to his horse, mounted, and rode off into the distance, with a dozen or so personal guards galloping close behind, the dust they kicked up stinging the eyes.

Liu Wenxiu waved his hand to disperse the dust that rushed at his face, spat once, then turned and went back into the main tent.

Gao Ying'en returned to the main camp and truthfully reported to Gao Yingxiang everything he had seen and heard, admitting that perhaps what Liu Wenxiu had said was indeed true. Gao Yingxiang and his trusted advisors racked their brains for a long while but could think of no other reason. They could never have imagined Zhang Xianzhong would be so decisive—upon sensing that Gao Yingxiang intended him harm, he immediately abandoned tens of thousands of men and left. In Gao Yingxiang's heart, he still believed that Shouzhou, this big fat piece of meat, was right before their eyes. Given Zhang Xianzhong's greedy nature, he would certainly want to break the city and plunder it thoroughly first—and then, amid the chaos, he would send someone to find an opportunity to kill him.

Just past the hour of Chen, several thousand Xi'an camp soldiers, personally led by Liu Wenxiu and Ai Nengqi, formed up in ranks and, carrying more than a dozen long ladders, advanced toward the city wall in grand procession. The tens of thousands of roving bandits in the camp, under the command of their various leaders great and small, began packing up their tents and belongings, selecting the strong and able-bodied to assemble and prepare—so that once the city fell and their own people opened the gates, these men would surge in to help haul away all manner of supplies.

This was a long-standing tacit agreement among the roving bandits. After all, with so many people, if everyone tried to rush in and plunder once the city fell, the mere trampling and jostling of hundreds of thousands could kill countless numbers. So each bandit camp selected men in advance, waiting to enter in an orderly fashion after the city fell, with the total never exceeding ten thousand.

When they were several hundred paces from the city wall, Liu Wenxiu gave the order. Several thousand men halted and formed up. Two hundred archers and a hundred shield bearers stepped out of formation and advanced at a brisk pace toward the wall, stopping some dozens of paces away. Then five hundred Xi'an camp bandits split into several groups and, holding blades and shields, strode toward the foot of the wall. With a shout, over a hundred bandits carried ladders at a run toward the wall.

The ladder bearers soon reached the foot of the wall. In groups of several, they set the ladders up and held them steady. Five hundred bandits quickly closed in on the long ladders, preparing to climb. The archers and shield bearers formed a square formation, standing about ten paces from the wall's base, ready to cover the bandits scaling the wall. Two hundred archers were enough to cover most of the area where the bandits would ascend.

On the city wall, just like yesterday, it was eerily silent with no movement.

When the attacking bandits had all gathered around the long ladders, a whistle sounded. Two hundred archers released their fingers almost simultaneously, and a small patch of black cloud formed by two hundred arrows flew up onto the city wall in an instant.

No cries of agony sounded from the wall as they had imagined, which greatly surprised the archers. But they kept loosing arrows without pause, and the bandits stepped onto the ladders and began climbing with all their might.

There were no rolling stones, lime pots, or boiling oil as expected, nor any arrows in reply. The first bandit on each of the dozen or so ladders, trembling with fear, reached the top of the ladder without incident. After loosing seven or eight arrows in succession, the archers' arms were sore and spent, and under the shield bearers' protection they withdrew to rest.

A dozen or so bandits reached the crenellations almost simultaneously—but the scene that met their eyes was like a basin of ice water, drenching them from head to toe in cold.

The broad surface of the city wall was studded with arrows shot up from below. Their white fletchings swayed gently in the breeze like reeds in bloom.

Along the northern section of the wall near the inner city ran a long row of thatched shelters, their roofs likewise bristling with countless arrows. Inside the shelters, over a hundred musketeers leveled their firearms at the bandits climbing onto the wall. These musketeers were, of course, from Huang Degong's Shandong official troops—his force of over five thousand was equipped with three hundred new-style muskets.

The bandits standing at the crenellations felt nothing but despair. Some, their ferocity flaring, let out a roar and leaped down from the crenellations, charging at the shelters. Others, panicking, turned to climb back down the ladders—but the bandits on the ladders were packed one after another, and someone was already standing behind them, urging them on while shoving them with his hands.

A short, shrill blast of a horn sounded. Several dozen muskets fired almost simultaneously. The silent city wall suddenly erupted in a thunderous roar, and a dense cloud of gunpowder smoke instantly filled that entire stretch of the wall before gradually being blown away by the wind. The first rank of musketeers finished firing and stepped aside, while the second rank raised their weapons and aimed at the crenellations.

Within a distance of a dozen or so paces, whether it was the bandits who had leaped down from the crenellations to fight to the death or those turning to flee, several blossoms of blood burst from their bodies. The bandits who had jumped down were knocked flat to the ground by the impact of the shots and died on the spot. Those at the crenellations were blasted backward and tumbled off the wall from several meters up.

After the front rank of bandits was cut down by the muskets, the second rank hesitated at the sound of gunfire—but pushed along by those behind them, they still climbed onto the crenellations.

Though the gunpowder smoke on the wall had not yet fully cleared, it no longer blocked vision. The bandits who reached the top were likewise stunned by the scene before them. Then the muskets sounded again, and at last some bandits who were not killed outright let out piercing screams. Those who had been about to step onto the wall finally stopped their climbing. Several terrified cries rang out: "Muskets!"

"The official troops have muskets!"

"Fall back! Fall back!"

"Run! Run!"