Chapter 303: Surrender or Not, That Is the Question

Jiang Mingyu and his party trudged along a mountain path littered with falling yellow leaves, crunching brittle dead branches beneath their feet with a soft crackling sound. The endless autumn scenery unexpectedly stirred a faint melancholy in Jiang Mingyu—had Fang Hang and Gou Dan received their orders yet? Where were they now?

He sighed helplessly, mocking himself for this rare bout of sentimentality. The current situation had reached its most critical point; he ought to focus entirely, giving his all. Yet, as the long war neared its end, countless thoughts surged into his mind and refused to fade.

At that moment, Tukesulu walked up beside him and asked with concern: "Big Brother, what are you thinking about? Are you worried about Gou Dan's battle?"

Jiang Mingyu snapped back to reality and chuckled, clapping Tukesulu on the shoulder: "Hah, I was just thinking of them. Truly, my brother understands me like a mirror!"

Tukesulu frowned: "At this final moment, you're not actually worried, are you?"

Jiang Mingyu laughed heartily and shook his head: "Worried? How could I be? Gou Dan has followed you for so long—don't you know him? With his wit and capability, he's never lost a siege. Don't worry—I'm certain they've already taken Huzhou and are waiting for us to march north!"

Tukesulu froze slightly, then broke into a relieved smile: "You're right, Big Brother! I underestimated Gou Dan. Rest assured—with their help, Li Haoyang has no chance of turning the tide!"

The two exchanged a glance, each seeing resolve and hope in the other's eyes. Then the guide pointed ahead and said: "My lord, ahead lies Jizhou City! We've reached the battlefield!" Jiang Mingyu's heart tightened. He drew a deep breath, straightened his chest, and strode forward: "Come then—this battle, we shall win!"

He had long planned this strike, waiting only to deliver the final blow to Li Haoyang. If Jizhou fell, his great cause would be accomplished. Thinking of it, Jiang Mingyu's eyes blazed with unshakable determination. He knew he could not lose—and would not lose.

After seventy-eight days of trekking through the mountains, the guide, his face gaunt and yellow, suddenly spoke.

"Your Majesty, thirty li ahead lies Jizhou City!" His voice rang clear in the silent forest.

Jiang Mingyu's eyes brightened. He turned to Tukesulu beside him; both saw in the other's gaze the gleam of ambition—this land, occupied by the Great Liao for decades, would finally be fully reclaimed!

Tukesulu scanned the surroundings, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips: "Big Brother, we haven't met a single enemy soldier on this journey—Fang Hang and Feng Xi's plan has succeeded! How many ministers does Li Haoyang still have left? When Jizhou falls, he'll be utterly trapped!"

Jiang Mingyu burst into laughter, slapping Tukesulu's shoulder: "Exactly! Li Haoyang is now beset by internal strife and external threat—utterly desperate! This final victory is already firmly in our hands!" As he spoke, memories of years of brutal warfare against the Great Liao surged through him—today, at last, the dawn of victory had broken, filling his heart with soaring pride!

Jiang Mingyu drew a deep breath, planted his feet firmly on the ground, raised his arm, and gave the order to the entire camp: "All troops, set up camp here tonight! Eat well, sleep fully! At dawn, we march straight for Jizhou—and crush Li Haoyang to dust!"

The encampment was quickly erected; the scent of roasting meat and soldiers' laughter filled the mountains.

Jiang Mingyu raised his cup and drank deeply with the men, toasting to victory within reach. Tukesulu, rarely so drunk, lay sprawled in a stupor; Zhang Jiani's eyes reddened with emotion.

"Big Brother, I'm so happy! We've fought this war for so long—it's almost over!" Zhang Jiani's voice trembled, tears glistening in her eyes.

Jiang Mingyu nodded with a smile, gazing at the army behind him. At this moment, every soldier's face radiated unmasked joy and anticipation.

Some lay on the ground devouring meat; others gathered in groups of three or five, shouting and laughing; many were already drunk, slumped and swaying.

In that moment, Jiang Mingyu felt an inexplicable surge of emotion.

These ordinary soldiers might not fully grasp the meaning of this war—but they would follow him to this hard-won victory. He knew: he bore their entire hope and trust upon his shoulders.

Night deepened. Other camps fell silent, but the lanterns in Jiang Mingyu's tent burned brightly.

One by one, the generals retired to sleep; the rustling of their breaths stirred Jiang Mingyu's thoughts—these brothers who had fought beside him for over a decade, tomorrow, if they won, would earn supreme glory and reward.

Thinking of this, Jiang Mingyu could not help but feel profound gratitude toward them.

Suddenly, a thunderous snore echoed outside the tent, shattering Jiang Mingyu's reverie.

He pulled back the tent flap and stepped out—before the main tent, men lay fast asleep: some sprawled on their backs, mouths wide open; others slept sideways clutching wine bottles; still others snored in undignified postures.

The chaotic scene made Jiang Mingyu smile. He realized now: these soldiers had fully relaxed, because they trusted their lord would bring them victory.

Jiang Mingyu gently drew the tent flap shut, letting the deafening snores surround him.

Jiang Mingyu marched steadily, leading his fifty-five-thousand-strong army out of the ravine in orderly file. Sunlight pierced through gaps in the cliffs, casting dappled shadows.

Jiang Mingyu squinted, adjusting to the blinding light, then scanned the surroundings. After so long underground, this golden landscape felt strangely unfamiliar. A few scattered households along the ravine hastily packed their belongings and fled; their terrified glances drew a cold sneer from Jiang Mingyu.

The army advanced in force; the countryside lay deathly silent. Occasionally, an elderly villager or child peered from behind a hut, watching the invading host with fear and dread.

Half an hour later, the sturdy walls of Jizhou City rose before them. Jiang Mingyu quickened his pace, arriving first at the city's base, gazing up at its heavily guarded gates. His sneer deepened—years of hatred lay hidden behind these walls.

"Li Haoyang, Li Haoyang—did you ever imagine I'd come with an army today?" Jiang Mingyu murmured, his gaze hardening with murderous intent. He raised the Tianyu Ge high, facing his fifty-five-thousand soldiers, and roared: "Crush the Great Liao—in this battle!"

Li Haoyang spat in fury, the word "retreat" making him want to laugh. Since Jiang Mingyu entered Hongzhou, his desk had held no good news—only reports of defeat.

He reached for the latest defeat report; his wrinkled hand trembled. It was the first report of Fei Long's death—the handwriting, shaken by terror, was barely legible. He still remembered the dull ache in his chest when he read it.

Then came Wang Sichao's final annihilation—the blood-stained battlefield report was now illegible, save for two huge, shocking characters: "FAILURE." Failure. Failure after failure—like a tide slowly devouring the Great Liao's realm.

Wu Yongyan. Kuang Boya. Li Haoyang pulled out their reports with a bitter smile. He had believed they could cut Jiang Mingyu in half—now they'd been shattered so easily. Their corpses probably rotted somewhere in the wilds.

Li Haoyang dug his fingers into his temples, the throbbing nerves reminding him: within Jizhou, only fifty thousand veteran troops and one hundred fifty thousand raw conscripts remained. Outside, Jiang Mingyu's six-hundred-thousand-strong army loomed—a twenty-to-one disparity. No matter how he calculated, it was eggs against a stone.

His gaze fell on the new conscripts—those fumbling youths—what could they possibly do against Jiang Mingyu?

"How to repel the enemy?" Li Haoyang whispered. Repel? What a joke. Was there any path left but to wait for death?

Li Haoyang gave a bitter laugh, his eyes filled with helplessness and anxiety. He turned to Jin Ling, seeking a glimmer of hope in his face. With a hoarse voice, he asked: "Jin Ling—do you have any plan to break this siege?"

Jin Ling was Li Haoyang's trusted minister and most reliable strategist. He had followed Li Haoyang since the days when he was merely a low-ranking general, through to his ascension as emperor. He had seen Li Haoyang's glory—and his despair. But now, even he was powerless.

He stroked his beard, paused thoughtfully, then spoke: "Your Majesty, I have a word to say—but I'm unsure whether I should speak it."

Li Haoyang stared at him urgently, thinking: Could Jin Ling still have a brilliant plan? He cried: "What time is this? What are you afraid to say? Speak!"

Jin Ling sighed, lowering his head. He knew Li Haoyang placed great hope in him—but he also knew the words he was about to utter would bring disappointment, even rage. Gathering courage, he said: "Your Majesty, Jiang Mingyu comes like a tidal wave. Our troops are raw and untested—they cannot stand against him. Fang Hang and Li Gou Dan have conquered Huzhou without loss; our forces suffer constant casualties. Feng Xi is attacking Jizhou like a madman; regional commanders are overwhelmed, unable to spare troops to reinforce the capital. The only viable option now is… is…"

He paused, watching Li Haoyang's face. He saw the emperor's eyes turn cold and sharp as blades. His heart lurched—but he forced out the two words: "Surrender."

He closed his eyes, knelt before Li Haoyang. "Your Majesty, these are my truest words. I beg you to consider them."

Surrender? The word struck Li Haoyang like lightning. He could not believe his ears. He glared at Jin Ling, ready to rage—but found himself speechless. He knew Jin Ling spoke the truth.

"You… you said what?" he asked, voice trembling with disbelief and fury.

Jin Ling lifted his head. His eyes were resolute, yet filled with sorrow.

"Your Majesty, I speak the truth. Jiang Mingyu now controls half the realm. His army is elite. Our resistance is futile."

"If we persist, more civilians and soldiers will die—and Jiang Mingyu will grow even crueler toward us."

"Only surrender can save our lives—and perhaps preserve some dignity."

"Your Majesty, you are the father of all under heaven. You must think of the people—do not let them suffer more war."

He finished, kneeling again, tears streaming down his face.