Chapter 97: Feint

He let out a faint, dissatisfied snort. The newly conscripted refugees had no combat experience whatsoever; by all rights, some veteran bandits should have served as the backbone to lead these newcomers, and after a few engagements, the recruits would quickly grow into seasoned soldiers. But today his assault on the city was not meant to take it, so he simply sent the never-before-blooded refugees up the walls—after all, there were plenty of refugees to spare. Kill a thousand and he could recruit ten thousand more on the spot, as long as he had money and grain in hand.

But if he always sent refugees to attack the walls, aside from losing men, morale would also take a heavy blow. The defenders, by contrast, would see their spirits soar. So it was still necessary to apply a proper measure of pressure on the defenders.

Zhang Xianzhong waved his hand grandly, and Sun Kewang immediately understood. He barked in a low voice: "Follow me!" A dozen or so of Zhang Xianzhong's personal guards drew their blades from their sheaths and followed behind Sun Kewang, charging to meet the several dozen roving bandits who were retreating in defeat.

Sun Kewang was the first to plunge into the fleeing bandits. Gripping his blade with both hands, he swept it horizontally—one bandit's head flew several chi into the air before thudding to the ground, rolling a few steps before stopping face-up, while a torrent of blood sprayed from the neck cavity. The dead bandit's face was frozen in utter terror, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, as if unable to believe what had just happened.

Sun Kewang raised his blade again for a diagonal chop. With an explosive shout, one bandit soldier had no time to dodge—he let out a miserable shriek as the blade cleaved him from shoulder to hip, cutting him in two.

Zhang Xianzhong's dozen or so personal guards surged forward in a mass. The routed soldiers, already shaken to the core by the scene below the walls, were in no state to withstand the slaughter of this elite force of skilled, well-equipped warriors. Screams rang out without cease, and in the blink of an eye, all the bandits who had retreated were cut down on the spot.

Sun Kewang turned back carrying his still-dripping long blade, his face betraying not the slightest change. Li Dingguo, however, furrowed his brow slightly, a flicker of reluctance in his heart. He felt that sending these untrained refugees into battle was itself the commander's error, and now even killing the routed soldiers—though it might intimidate the troops—would likewise sow panic and unease in their hearts.

Zhang Xianzhong nodded in satisfaction and gave the order: "Two hundred veterans, one hundred shield bearers, one hundred archers, four hundred new recruits—hit them again! Three ladders! Kewang, you oversee the battle line!"

Amid the continuous stream of commands, the second wave of assaulting bandits stepped out from the formation. A dozen or so bandits carrying three ladders were the first to race toward the city wall. The bandits avoided the section of wall where the earlier fighting had taken place, choosing instead a stretch on the west side of the south gate.

One hundred archers advanced toward the wall under the cover of the shield bearers. The ladder-carrying bandits crept toward the wall in terror, only to find—just like last time—that the defending officers and soldiers made no move. Summoning their courage, the bandits set up the three ladders not far apart, bracing the long ladders with hands and feet, then began praying inwardly to every god and Buddha for protection. The brief, fierce battle moments ago had been clearly visible to them all; the killing power of the boulders the defenders hurled down was simply horrifying.

The archers arrived near the erected ladders and took their positions a dozen or so paces from the wall, with shield bearers gathering around them, ready at any moment to raise their shields for cover. The six hundred assaulting bandits were also closing in on the ladders.

The leader commanding the archers shouted at the top of his lungs: "Nock arrows!"

All one hundred archers set arrows to their bowstrings, then stepped back and drew the strings, leaning their bodies backward to aim at the sky.

The assaulting bandits quickened their pace toward the ladders. A batch of experienced veterans was the first to set foot on the ladders and climb swiftly upward, reaching the halfway point within a dozen or so breaths.

Just like last time, a single clang of the bronze gong sounded, and figures of the officers and soldiers appeared at the crenellations, raising thunder-stones to hurl down.

"Loose!"

At the command, bowstrings twanged, and one hundred long arrows shot into the sky in the blink of an eye. When their force was spent, the arrows turned and plunged down upon the officers and soldiers atop the wall.

A chorus of screams immediately erupted from the wall top. Some thunder-stones were dropped, while other soldiers, before they could even hurl the stones in their hands, were struck by the arrows. The conical hats worn by the guard station soldiers were made of cloth, and the sharp arrowheads pierced straight through—without even a grunt, they toppled over dead.

Because the defensive area was relatively small, only a few guard station soldiers could carry thunder-stones up and hurl them down in rotation, so only a handful of boulders came down in the first volley. Then that stretch of wall was blanketed by arrows, and dozens of guard station soldiers lay dead or wounded. From the wall came the faint, urgent shouts: "Spread out! Spread out! Shields! Shields!"

The few thunder-stones that did come down caused little harm to the bandits. Since they were hurled directly at the bandits on the ladders, the men on two of the ladders were knocked and battered to the ground. Fortunately, the wall top was suppressed by arrows, and no sustained rain of stones followed, so this time only one bandit was crushed to death, with a few others wounded.

The bandit archers kept lofting arrows at the wall top. Under the cover of this dense fire, the leading bandits on all three ladders successively climbed onto the wall. The bandit archers ceased shooting—in that brief span, each man had loosed five arrows, and their arms were already going numb and sore.

The inland guard station soldiers had not seen battle in years. At the sight of bandits scaling the wall, panic seized them at once. Chaos reigned atop the wall—some wanted to fight, some wanted to flee, some screamed at the top of their lungs. The several bandits who had reached the wall leaped down from the crenellations and charged at the officers and soldiers with swinging blades and thrusting spears.

There were over a hundred officers and soldiers in this area. Though most felt terror in their hearts, there were still men of courage and blood. A dozen or so guard station soldiers let out a shout and, led by a Centurion, surrounded the few bandits who had scaled the wall in a semicircle. The Centurion raised his large shield, tucking his whole body behind it, and charged forward with all his might.

With a dull thud, the combined weight of body and shield, plus the speed of the charge, knocked one bandit flat on his back. A dozen or so guard station soldiers thrust their spears in a frenzy of stabs. Though the first bandits up the wall carried small shields, they could not withstand the stabbing of a dozen or more long spears; their own blades were short weapons, and before they could even close the distance, they were stabbed to the ground.

The Centurion roared: "Seal the crenellations!" Then he threw his whole body at a bandit who had just climbed onto the parapet, shoving his shield forward with both hands. The bandit let out a startled cry and plummeted from the wall top, six or seven meters high, crashing down into the dense mass of bandits below. There was an instant tangle of toppled men and horses as the bandits shouted and cursed without end.

At that moment, Li Long arrived with a squad of men. Wielding an iron staff several chi in length, he brought it smashing down on a bandit who had just poked his head above one of the ladders. The man's head was crushed to pulp, and his body tumbled straight off the ladder, knocking a string of bandits behind him down as well.

Seeing their commander's ferocity, the guard station soldiers' morale surged. With thrusts of spears and slashes of blades, all the bandits who had scaled the wall were killed to the last man.

At Li Long's bellowed commands, lime pots and thunder-stones rained down like a storm. The bandits below the wall fled in shrieks and screams. The bandit archers, caught in the splash zone as well, were forced to fall back to a distance of several dozen paces from the wall. Though this was safer, any arrows they loosed from there would inflict negligible harm on the officers and soldiers.

Sun Kewang saw that this attempt had likewise failed to succeed. With a soft sigh, he said: "Sound the retreat!"

A frantic clangor of bronze gongs rang out. The bandits—who dared not withdraw for fear of being cut down by the battle-line overseers, yet were chilled to the bone by the defenders' barrage—heard the sound like the chanting of Buddhist sutras. Every one of them sprinted back at full pelt, and quite a few of the new recruits, terrified of being too slow, threw away their weapons and fled back empty-handed.

Another chorus of cheers rose from the wall top. Li Long ordered iron hooks used to haul the bandits' ladders up onto the wall, so the roving bandits could not use them in another assault. He then arranged for men to clean up the battlefield and tend to the wounded. As for the corpses of the roving bandits, the officers and soldiers simply picked them up and tossed them over the wall.

Sun Kewang counted the men, singled out the soldiers who had discarded their weapons and fled back, then ordered them all beheaded. In a moment, heads rolled—several dozen bandit soldiers died at the hands of their own men. The second assault had cost another several dozen casualties. But the significance of this attack lay in probing the true strength of the defending officers and soldiers. Were a real assault to be launched—dozens of ladders raised, elite veteran bandits as the main force—Sun Kewang was confident he could break Shouzhou in less than a quarter of an hour. The guard station soldiers were truly fragile, little better than ordinary refugees, merely holding the advantage of terrain.

Sun Kewang led his men back to the main formation and ordered the troops to return to their units. Then he came before Zhang Xianzhong, clasped his hands in salute, and said: "Righteous father, we lost over thirty men this time, but the strength of the defending officers and soldiers has been fully probed. I dare say we can stand atop the walls of Shouzhou in less than a quarter of an hour!"

Zhang Xianzhong laughed: "I saw it too. These guard station soldiers are far inferior to the border troops—this is good news! When the time is right, we'll take Shouzhou! Kewang, send men to gather the corpses and bury them on the spot!"

Sun Kewang acknowledged the order. He detailed two hundred refugees from the formation and sent a minor leader carrying a white flag to the foot of the wall. After shouting up to explain their purpose to the officers and soldiers and obtaining their consent, the two hundred laborers took up iron spades and hoes, dug several large pits a hundred or so paces from the wall, then tossed the two hundred-odd corpses of the roving bandits inside and covered them over. And so these two minor skirmishes came to a formal close.

The reason Zhang Xianzhong ordered the corpses buried was not out of a burst of compassion or the glow of humanitarian virtue. It was chiefly because the weather was too hot—if the bodies were not buried promptly, plague could easily break out, and once it spread, the annihilation of the entire army was not out of the question.

Li Long naturally understood this reasoning as well, so the two sides reached an easy agreement. The officers and soldiers even lowered some bamboo baskets from the wall on ropes, filled with quicklime, to be sprinkled in the pits—a better way to eliminate any pestilence that might arise.