Mo Sang – CH 312

Chapter 312. The City

A massive catapult emerged from behind the black iron battle formation, propelled by groups of burly men, swiftly cutting through the barrier and charging forward.

Within the iron formation, rhythmic shouts of “Sang! Sang! Sang!” erupted, creating waves of cheers. Spears thundered forward, shields were raised, and the massive, square battle formation split into countless ten-man squads, all charging forward.

From the city walls, arrows rained down.

The catapults stopped amidst the arrow barrage, hurling massive stones into the air.

Few of the hurled stones struck the walls; most landed in the moat, splashing the water high.

Li Sangrou switched to a repeating crossbow, spurring her horse forward while firing at the archers crouching on the battlements, relentlessly firing down their arrows.

Twilight deepened around them; the sun closed its eyes, rapidly sinking below the horizon.

Torches were lit both on and below the city walls, their flames flickering and shifting, sometimes dense, sometimes sparse, casting shadows on and off the walls.

The dense rain of arrows, the fading twilight, filled Li Sangrou with a profound sense of powerlessness.

In the face of hundreds of thousands, she, alone with her crossbow, was ultimately a drop in the ocean.

One after another, ten-man battle formations charged through the densest hail of arrows, meeting the Southern Liang defenders at the various fortresses outside the city. Long spears thrust forward, roaring, piercing each other’s formations.

In the blink of an eye, the two armies were locked in fierce combat.

The catapults slowly retreated, and one after another, countless ten-man battle formations rushed past them, clumps of them like boulders tumbling down a steep slope, rumbling and crashing forward, unable to stop, trampling over fallen Liang soldiers and the corpses of their comrades.

The Black Iron Army, like ice floes breaking in a raging river, was cold, sharp, and unstoppable, ruthlessly crushing everything in its path.

The Old Yunmeng Guards, clad in black, surged against the tide, their superb horsemanship weaving and dodging through the battle lines, charging towards Li Sangrou. Seven or eight banners bearing the character “Sang” converged, forming a line, and moved towards the most intense part of the attack at the command of the central army.

Li Sangrou spurred her horse forward. With each movement of the “Sang” banners, the triggers of her crossbows clicked incessantly, each crisp click wiping out an archer from the city wall.

The Black Iron battle formation rolled all the way to the moat. The battle halted, and soldiers carrying pontoon bridges rushed forward from the rear, one after another leaping into the wide moat, desperately swimming forward while dragging the bridges.

Catapults launched massive stones, creating a small, pointed island in the middle of the moat. The first section of a pontoon bridge was placed atop this island, and a second section was rapidly pushed across from it.

From the city walls, a hail of arrows rained down on the moat, embedding themselves densely and instantly turning the water blood-soaked.

Li Sangrou quickened her pace, using all her strength to deflect the arrows with her crossbow, a sense of helplessness rising within her once more.

There were too many arrows, too many archers.

The first pontoon bridge reached the other side, then the second. One by one, the soldiers who built the bridges tumbled into the moat, only to slowly rise again, staining the river crimson.

Behind them, soldiers dragging the pontoons charged forward, only to fall back into the river.

One after another, pontoon bridges were erected, arranged in rows of over ten chi wide. Ten-man battle formations split from the middle, five men per team, charging onto the bridges, crossing them, and attacking the defenders on the other side of the moat, heading towards the city walls.

Li Sangrou reined in her horse, her crossbow whistling incessantly.

Tall siege ladders were raised to the foot of the city wall and placed against it. Li Sangrou kept a close eye on the ladders, the crossbow bolts firing rapidly, killing every soldier charging towards them from the city walls.

A wooden post emerged from the crenellations, causing the siege ladder to fall backward, soldiers tumbling down at varying heights.

Another siege ladder was erected, then another…

Li Sangrou took a deep breath, focusing on the siege ladder positioned between two crenellations. Her crossbow moved swiftly between the two crenellations, firing at every target on either side.

The first soldier climbed over the crenellation, lunged forward, grabbed the Southern Liang defenders who were wielding swords at him, and fell to the ground.

Another soldier climbed over the crenellation, slashing at the onrushing Southern Liang defenders.

Another soldier…

The siege ladders beside him moved towards the crenellation through which the Southern Liang Army was pouring in, pushing from one crenellation to another.

Li Sangrou let out a soft breath.

The city had fallen.

Atop the city walls, far away, bright torches, like a cascading river of stars, flowed swiftly from the southern side of the city wall, which stretched for dozens of li.

Li Sangrou paused slightly, squinting at the bright flames. Closer still, the banners with characters flying high above the flames came into Li Sangrou’s view.

“General Wen’s side has already entered the city,” Li Sangrou breathed a sigh of relief.

The banner with the inscription quickly came into view, and moments later, the city gates roared open, countless Qi soldiers cheering as they rushed in.

Li Sangrou lowered her crossbow and glanced back at the cloth bag at Da Chang’s waist.

“Asleep, snoring away,” Da Chang said, adjusting the bag.

“As expected of our Pang’er, truly a general’s demeanor,” Hei Ma peeked out and clicked its tongue.

Li Sangrou smiled, reined in her horse, and headed towards the central command banner.

Before the Gu-character banner, torches burned brightly, extending in a fan shape.

Under the banner, Gu Xi looked relaxed, smiling at Li Sangrou. “Much faster than expected, thanks to you. Are you tired?”

“Not bad. When do we enter the city?” Li Sangrou glanced at the increasingly brightly lit city walls.

“We will be in the city soon. Morale is high right now; it is the perfect time to press on. We must enter the Southern Liang Imperial Palace before dawn,” Gu Xi said, cracking his whip and laughing loudly.

“Mm,” Li Sangrou responded, glancing at the watchtower.

Half an hour later, a troop of light cavalry, carrying torches and waving signal flags, approached the central army.

“Let’s enter the city,” Gu Xi commanded, gesturing with his hand.

The massive drum cart remained in place, its guards in bright armor forming an arrowhead, the arrows pointing forward. Black-clad veterans of the Yunmeng Guards were mixed among them, meeting the light cavalry as they headed straight for the city gate.

The Barbican was brightly lit by torches, littered with the marks of battle. Beyond the Barbican, the massive main gate was stained with blood. Inside the open gate, the traces of slaughter stretched into the city, fading away until they disappeared completely.

Li Sangrou’s gaze fell on the last trace of blood, then she looked ahead and let out a soft sigh of relief.

Wu Huaiguo’s death left the Liang Army defending the city leaderless, forcing them into a chaotic free-for-all. This nighttime battle proved much more efficient.

In the distance, a messenger, waving a command flag, charged forward. Gu Xi looked at the flag and smiled. “The inner city has fallen; they’ve probably surrendered.”

As soon as Gu Xi finished speaking, the messenger rushed forward, shouting, “General Wen reports: The inner city garrison has surrendered!”

With that, the messenger turned his horse and galloped back.

“Let’s go! Into the city! Tomorrow we will go check out that long dike,” Gu Xi said enthusiastically.

“Alright,” Li Sangrou replied with a smile, turning her horse around and following Gu Xi along the quiet streets, heading straight for the inner city.

When they were still a shot’s distance from the inner city gate, a tongue of fire suddenly erupted in the distance, shooting straight into the starry sky.

Li Sangrou and Gu Xi simultaneously reined in their horses, glaring at the raging flames.

“It’s towards the capital,” Ru-Yi reported quickly, leaping onto his horse and surveying the scene.

“Quickly! Issue the order! Mobilize all the water cannons! Sound the gongs! The fire’s starting!” Gu Xi commanded sharply, jerking the reins and spurring his horse into the city.

Li Sangrou followed closely behind. A line of over a thousand horses galloped wildly along the wide, straight imperial road, their heavy hooves pounding the ground, making the entire city of Hangzhou seem to tremble.

The gongs blared wildly; the bronze bells on the fire towers chimed arrhythmically; and shouts in the Hangzhou accent filled the air: “Fire! Fire!”

Li Sangrou followed Gu Xi, rushing to within a hundred paces of the wide moat connecting the capital to West Lake. She felt a wave of heat wash over her. Gu Xi, at the forefront, reined in his horse and gestured for his light cavalry to stop.

Along the imperial city walls, a dozen or so water dragons had been erected, drawing water and spraying it into the sweltering heat.

Gu Xi looked up at the entire small hill behind the imperial city, now ablaze.

The Southern Liang imperial city faced the water and nestled against the mountain. Behind the hill stretched a vast expanse of land for over ten li, as prosperous as the area in front of Lizheng Gate.

Li Sangrou gazed at the raging flames before her, overwhelmed with mixed emotions, yet feeling utterly lost in thought.

With such raging, roaring flames, had the Liang Emperor poured all the oil and fat of Hangzhou, the entire Southern Liang, into his palace?

“Do not be afraid,” Da Chang said, taking Pang’er from his bag and cradling it against his chest, gently patting it to comfort it.

The frightened Pang’er clung tightly to Da Chang’s clothes with its two front paws, climbing up until its chin was pressed against Da Chang’s neck, then its head, nuzzling against Da Chang’s neck and whimpering for a moment before falling silent.

Squads of Northern Qi infantrymen lined the streets, shouting and driving the common people close to the capital towards distant safety.

The people of Hangzhou, who had enjoyed over a century of peace, cried out in terror, dragging their families along, their clothes disheveled, driven by spears in a panicked flight to safety.

Water cannons were dragged out and thrown into rivers and wells, their waterwheels churning, spraying water towards the approaching flames and heat waves.

“What’s the situation on the other side of the mountain?” Gu Xi asked from horseback, watching the fire line rapidly spreading behind the mountain.

Several scouts rushed out and soon returned, shouting, “General Wen reports: We’ve managed to drive as many people as possible to the lakeside.”

Li Sangrou sighed softly. With such a massive fire, this was already the best-case scenario.

East and south of the imperial city, the moat and the lake held back the raging fire. West and north, the flames climbed the mountaintops, then spread outwards, reaching the inner city’s moat and continuing northwards, creeping along the undulating hills.

At dawn, rumbling thunder grew louder and louder. Just as Ru-Yi and the others had draped oilcloths over Gu Xi and Li Sangrou, a sudden clap of thunder followed, and a torrential downpour began.

“Alright!” Gu Xi breathed a sigh of relief, reaching out to catch the raindrops.

“Master, Boss, let’s take shelter from the rain at Jingling Palace,” Ru-Yi called out, wiping his face from the rain.

Gu Xi glanced at the nearby Jingling Palace, gestured, turned his horse, and entered the now-cleaned palace.

As dawn broke, Gu Xi took a hot bath, changed his clothes, and a scout reported that the fire had been extinguished by the heavy rain.

Li Sangrou also washed up, changed into her usual off-white dress, and stood under the eaves, slowly sipping a bowl of ginger soup while watching the dense raindrops pelt down.

As day broke, the rain gradually stopped. Soldiers from all directions formed a line and rushed into Jingling Palace to deliver reports, some rushing back directly, others receiving orders and then hurrying back.

Li Sangrou left Jingling Palace and stood by the moat, looking at the ruins of the imperial city across the river. After a moment, she turned around and watched the still-shaken commoners, soaked to the bone and shivering in the cold, hurrying home along the street.

An hour later, the swarms of soldiers thinned out, and Gu Xi emerged, leading the newly appointed officials of Hangzhou Prefecture who had arrived from the main army camp, along with their accompanying secretaries, Hanlin Academy advisors, all the non-official generals, and several hundred skilled scavengers. Surrounded by guards, they headed towards the main gate of the imperial city—Lizheng Gate.

Li Sangrou followed Gu Xi, circling around the moat to Lizheng Gate.

Gu Xi stood before Lizheng Gate, looking up at the gate reduced to a charred earthen wall and brickwork.

“This gate, with its golden nails and vermilion doors, dragons and phoenixes soaring, gleaming and dazzling, was extremely magnificent,” Gu Xi sighed.

“Will it not collapse after being burned like this?” Li Sangrou took a few steps to the side, carefully examining the incredibly sturdy earthen walls and brickwork.

Gu Xi glanced at her speechlessly, flicked her sleeve, and suppressed his sigh. “No, let’s go.”

“The layout of the Southern Liang imperial city is similar to our Jianle city. This road leads directly to the Great Qing Hall. Grand ceremonies like the New Year’s Day court audience are held there,” Gu Xi said to Li Sangrou as they slowly walked forward. “Last time, I entered through the Lizheng Gate and met the Liang Emperor at the Great Qing Hall.

Over there is the Dengwen Drum Court, over there is the Inspection Court, and over there are the Six Ministries.” Gu Xi stopped and pointed around.

Li Sangrou listened to Gu Xi’s explanation, watching the soldiers quickly disperse into the ruins, using long steel spikes to poke and pierce through the debris, checking everything, and gesturing.

“Thankfully, there are no corpses,” Gu Xi sighed.

Gu Xi walked slowly, stopping occasionally, telling Li Sangrou about how this and that place used to be. Following the wide, straight imperial road, they crossed a white stone bridge, climbed the long steps, and stood atop the Great Qing Hall, now reduced to its foundations by fire. He slowly looked around, turned, faced the Lizheng Gate, and waved to Li Sangrou standing below the steps.

Li Sangrou smiled and shook her head.

That place was fine for him to stand there, but she should not.

Besides, she did not have the desire or the inclination to stand there.

Gu Xi walked around the Great Qing Hall, descended the steps, and sighed to Li Sangrou, “If only this fire had not happened, how much better it would have been to stand here and accept surrender.”

Li Sangrou glanced at him sideways but did not answer.

“The bodies have been found over there,” Ru-Yi reported.

“Let’s go see.” Gu Xi beckoned to the crowd, directing them towards the soldiers waving to his rear.

The foundation of a palace diagonally behind the Great Qing Hall was covered in charred remains.

Gu Xi climbed two steps, staring intently at the layer of charred remains on the foundation. Though the charred sections were intertwined and almost indistinguishable, it was still clearly visible that they were people.

The officials, generals, scholars, and clerks who had followed him scattered around the palace foundation, silently observing the charred remains.

“This is the Fengshen Hall,” Ru-Yi said softly from behind Gu Xi.

The Fengshen Hall was the ancestral hall within the Liang Imperial Palace where ancestors were worshipped.

“Bring over some of the finest coffins, try to distinguish them, and place them in the coffins.” Gu Xi stared blankly for a moment, then sighed deeply.

The ground was covered in charred remains, burned beyond recognition, making it impossible to distinguish one person from another.

“There are some over there, too,” Ru-Yi gestured to Gu Xi.

Behind the Temple of Worship, on the foundation of the Temple of Peace, from the center of the main hall to the steps, and even beyond, were scattered twisted, inhuman figures.

Li Sangrou stood about ten steps away from the steps, looking at the charred remains hunched over, their chests arched in a ball. She slowly crouched down, gazing at the small, crouching mass of remains protected by the charred body.

Gu Xi walked to Li Sangrou’s side and reached out to help her up.