Chapter 299: Beneath the City Walls

It wasn't just one person shouting—at least a dozen were yelling at the top of their lungs. Wang Zhaojing's heart seized violently. Had he missed something just now? Could those old people and women actually be the congregation of the Incense Smelling Sect coming to seize the gate?

Wang Zhaojing drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on his sword hilt. It seemed he would have to fight. He forced himself to calm down, but the others on the city wall were already panicking. Some faced outward, some tried to turn and look back into the city—all of them like headless flies.

"All of you, listen to my goddamn orders!" Wang Zhaojing bellowed, kicking over a man stumbling around nearby. He grabbed a long spear and began lashing out in all directions. No one had expected a noble scion like him to erupt in such fury. Through the beating and thrashing, order was actually restored.

Once the panic subsided, Wang Zhaojing could finally make out the crying and shouting within the city. He walked to the edge and looked down. No one was charging to seize the gate. The Xuzhou commoners surging forward were weeping and running wildly in all directions. A few who had been pushed toward the gate didn't dare face the weapons of the soldiers and militia. They simply knelt there, kowtowing repeatedly.

Down below was utter chaos. No one knew who had shouted those words, only that once they were shouted, all the commoners had been terrified.

Was it all just to incite this chaos? What was happening outside the city? Wang Zhaojing spun around and sprinted to the battlements. The refugees outside were still filling in the moat, but at the pace they were going, they wouldn't finish filling it in a hundred years.

Wang Zhaojing exhaled in relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He turned and walked toward the bewildered Zheng Quan, glaring at him fiercely. "So this is the inside-outside coordination you spoke of? Isn't this a joke?"

Zheng Quan looked around in terror, then suddenly gritted his teeth and said, "Young Master Wang, if it were a joke, I wouldn't have been hunted down, and the man who gave me the news wouldn't have been killed..."

"... Gunzi and those others are usually pretty bold. How come as soon as things kicked off just now, they wanted to run west for reinforcements..." Someone behind him said with a laugh. These men had been scared out of their wits moments ago, yet now they had the leisure to mock others.

Hearing this, Wang Zhaojing suddenly froze. He shoved Zheng Quan aside and sprinted down from the wall. Once below, ignoring the chaotic scene, he went straight to Uncle He and said, "Uncle He, you hold this place. I'm taking every man I can use. The west is in danger!"

As he spoke, Wang Zhaojing vaulted onto his mount, raised his sword, and shouted, "Those who came with me, follow me now!"

He could only bellow like that, because the men he had brought were a motley mix. Yet upon hearing his shout, every group answered in unison. Mounted or on foot, they hurried to follow.

The sound of slaughter shook the heavens to the west. The streets within the city were empty. Wang Zhaojing rode, his head drenched in sweat. He dared not ride too fast, afraid of leaving his troops behind. One hand gripped the reins, the other clutched his sword hilt. At this moment, only a weapon could make him feel at ease.

The western wall, where the refugees were taking the initiative, had already descended into utter chaos. In the direction where Xu Hongju stood, one could see a ramp built from corpses and earth drawing ever closer to the top of the wall. Refugees swarmed upward. Those who couldn't dodge in time were shoved off the sides. The top of the ramp was now far above the ground—a fall from that height usually meant death.

The reason the pace had quickened was that Xu Hongju and his men had completely cast aside all pretense. They drove each group of refugees forward in rotation. Anyone who hesitated was killed on the spot without mercy.

The Incense Smelling Sect cadres who had been hiding among the mass of refugees, along with the refugee converts they had cultivated over this period, all brandished weapons and pressed forward viciously. At this moment, no one spoke of compassion, and no one cared about past bonds. There was only one rule: refuse to carry earth up, and die.

Besides the killing and coercion, baskets of flatbread were simply dumped onto the ground. One sack of earth added to the ramp, and upon returning, you traded it for one flatbread.

These were grain flatbreads, unmixed with wild greens or grass roots. With so much grain, why hadn't they brought it out before? Some had this question. Some tried to go and take some, but strong young men armed with steel blades and wooden spears guarded the spot. Anyone who dared make a disorderly move was immediately hacked or stabbed without a second thought.

If you wanted a flatbread, you carried earth up and came back to trade for it. Refusing meant death anyway. Going meant at least a bite of flatbread—you could die a full ghost. The refugees, previously terrified by the logs, stones, boiling water, and scalding oil from the wall, went mad once more. They dug up earth with their hands, carried it in their own clothes, trampled over the corpses of their companions, and ran upward just like that. In times like these, dying was better!

The refugees mobilized with full effort, but the defensive counterattacks from the wall had weakened considerably compared to before. Logs and stones were still plentiful. Boiling water was even more abundant than earlier. Scalding oil remained fully stocked. Yet hardly anyone dared show their face.

Because just as this wave of assault began, some soldiers and civilian braves on the wall who had grown somewhat accustomed to the fighting stood up shouting and hurling logs and stones, pouring down boiling water. But the moment they showed themselves, several screamed and toppled backward—they had been struck by arrows shot from outside the city!

The refugee bandits actually had bows and arrows. No one had imagined the refugee bandits possessed such deadly weapons. A few men were hit, and before the others could react, more were struck. Everyone immediately froze, cowering behind the battlements and trembling, terrified of being killed by an arrow.

In truth, only five people had been shot dead. The rest were merely wounded. And there were no more than twenty arrows in total—the enemy's supply was limited. Yet no one wanted to be the unlucky one. Morale plummeted. The refugee bandits had bows. Who knew what else they might have?

By this point, the several leaders on the wall were frantic. Commander Wang was smashing men everywhere with his scabbard, forcing them to keep counterattacking. The soldiers held shields up tightly for cover before hurling logs and stones and pouring boiling water. But this method was far too slow. A few bold ones who showed their faces were shot at again. They reacted quickly enough to avoid injury, but they dared not raise their heads anymore.

The defensive counterattack from the wall weakened, and the refugees' efficiency greatly increased. However, the ramp required an enormous volume of earth. The ground below the wall had been trampled solid by the refugees, so now they had to dig specifically for earth to have enough. Yet at this moment, the ramp was only about the height of a man away from the top of the wall.

"Old Liang, there are refugee bandits at the east side of the city too. Take some men and go check." The messenger requesting reinforcements from the east had already arrived. The defense here was struggling. If the other side was also breached by the refugee bandits, everything would collapse. In the view of these two Commandants, only regular soldiers could serve as the backbone to hold the line.

"What about your side? The bandits are about to scale the wall!" Commandant Liang said worriedly.

"Afraid of nothing! If they climb up, I'll hack them down with my blade. Do they really think there's no one left in this city?" Commander Wang said fiercely. It wasn't just him—Zhao Zhentang and Chen Wu had also drawn their weapons. The regular troops, the constables, and the militia all understood that this was no time for hesitation. The fear of the city being breached outweighed the fear of being shot by arrows. Cauldron after cauldron of boiling water began to be poured down.

"Pour the oil!" someone shouted. Several men yelled and strained, shields covering their fronts. The sound of arrows striking shields could be heard. Several large cauldrons of scalding oil were tipped over. The ghastly, piercing screams from outside merged into a single sound. The refugees had finally retreated again.

Only now did Commandant Liang have the chance to lead his soldiers toward the east gate. No one dared walk upright along the wall anymore. They hunched over and hurried away. Once they were beyond the section of wall under attack, Commandant Liang straightened up and exhaled in relief. He looked up and cursed, "Where are those little bastards who brought the message? Why can't I see them? Did they run off into the city?"

Speaking of the city, Commandant Liang couldn't help turning his head to look. He discovered that at some point, several places within the city had caught fire. In broad daylight, columns of smoke rose into the sky, probably visible even from outside the city.

The weather was dry and things were parched—a fire breaking out was normal enough. The city's residents would put it out themselves; it wouldn't cause any major trouble. Commandant Liang muttered a curse: "The busier we are, the more chaos there is!"

After a fire starts, thick, rolling smoke is unavoidable. But this smoke was so dense it looked as if a whole roomful of cow dung had been set alight. Yet in the chaos of war, who had time to care about that? The neighbors hurried to fetch water and fight the fire, terrified it would spread to their own homes.

"Second Master, the smoke is rising!" someone beside Xu Hongju shouted. Through the dust cloud kicked up before the city wall that filled the sky and stung the eyes, it was indeed hard to see clearly. But they did see it.

An excited expression appeared on Xu Hongju's face. He waved forward and said, "All of you, go! Once the city is open, there'll be plenty of pleasure for everyone!"

Of the several hundred strong young men originally before Xu Hongju, only a dozen or so remained. Xu Hongju called two of them over and said, "Go deliver a message to the horse team over there. Tell them to press forward. Kill anyone who tries to run. They'll get their reward afterward."

Someone immediately sprinted off to deliver the message. The mounted bandits who had been watching the excitement all this time mounted their horses one after another, spreading out and pressing forward...

Several large basins of boiling water were poured from the battlements directly facing the ramp. A few men dumping earth screamed and leaped off the ramp. Those behind were about to follow when several arrows shot out from the refugee crowd with a whistle. One defender was unlucky—an arrow nailed him right in the forehead. The defending soldiers ducked back in terror. Seizing this gap, refugees charged up carrying door panels one after another. They leaned the panels against the city wall. Now, by stepping on the panels, they could climb right up to the battlements!

"Everyone, ready your weapons! Don't panic! These refugee bandits have long since run out of strength. As soon as they show their heads, shove them back down!" Commander Wang held a blade in one hand and a shield in the other, roaring his orders.

The soldiers and militia on the wall all gripped long spears and great blades, ready for close combat. The defenders were few, but the attackers were utterly frenzied. Moreover, there were cold arrows being loosed. If both sides kept wearing each other down like this, the defenders couldn't afford the attrition. Better to take advantage of waiting in position to fight in close quarters.

"They're... they're almost up!" someone shouted, voice trembling. The shouts of the refugees outside made it clear they were right there.

With a battle cry, a hand grabbed the edge of a battlement. Half a refugee's head appeared. A soldier waiting inside swung his blade down, chopping the hand clean off. The refugee who had shown his head tumbled straight down.