Thick smoke surged from the rear.
Was it a fire? No, it didn't quite look like one...
The thought flashed in his mind, and then there was another series of booming sounds. This time, he understood where the smoke was coming from—several stone bullets were hurtling through the air.
Upon impact, they ignited into bursts of flames, splashes of blood, pure chaos. The neat formation of the military array was as if flattened in an instant.
What on earth are these infernal things?
Tuoba Wu was stunned.
There was no time for him to think. The relentless booming continued, and the entire rear military formation descended into utter disarray.
"Hold the line!" Tuoba Wu finally reacted, roaring angrily, "How many troops are attacking? No retreat! Those who retreat will die! Fight back!"
At this command, the formation turned on the fleeing comrades without hesitation. The bowmen immediately loosed sharp arrows at them.
In an instant, more bodies fell to the ground.
Yet even this tactic, reminiscent of the orders to prevent retreat during their siege of Duke Zhu Shan's fortress, couldn't quell the panic and flight.
"It's the Qingshan Army!"
"The Qingshan Army!"
Thick smoke billowed as the entire rear formation collapsed. The woodcutters screamed in terror and scattered; the mere mention of those three words seemed like the utterance of demons, more terrifying than the arrows that rained down before them. Evading the arrows from the front, they frantically fled in all directions.
This sent the entire rear formation into complete chaos.
Tuoba Wu was both furious and filled with dread.
What kind of army is the Qingshan Army? Why do they strike such fear into his warriors?
He looked toward the front. The booming seemed to have stopped, but the aftermath was horrific—the rear formation looked as though a giant had rampaged through it.
Stone bullets? Fire bombs?
"Follow me!" Tuoba Wu drew his blade and called out, stepping off the lookout platform.
He feared Duke Zhu Shan, but that didn't mean Tuoba Wu was a coward who could be frightened by anyone.
He was ready to personally lead his elite troops into battle and teach these impudent Zhou soldiers a lesson they'd never forget.
Just then, a sharp, piercing wail filled the air.
What now? Tuoba Wu instinctively looked up, only to see dense, flying long spears descending from the sky.
Seeing the oncoming spears, the fleeing woodcutters cried out in even greater panic. They scrambled wildly in every direction, while those in the rear formations about to engage were caught off guard. The rain of spears struck with brutal speed.
Screams erupted all around as countless woodcutters were skewered, some carried off the ground—and oftentimes, it wasn't just one or two but several strung together.
The formation beneath seemed nailed to the ground, a grotesque tableau of bodies impaled in clusters.
The impaled soldiers writhed in agony, not dead yet, howling in futility.
The front formations were an utter nightmare, like Purgatory itself.
The axe in Tuoba Wu's grip nearly fell to the ground.
What… what devilry is this?
"Your Highness, Your Highness!" A personal soldier stumbled toward him. "We need to retreat! Quickly retreat!"
Retreat?
Here, in his own territory, on the verge of victory, and now someone was proposing retreat? What kind of nonsense was this?
Without missing a beat, Tuoba Wu raised his hand and struck the soldier down with his weapon.
"How many soldiers do they have?" he roared.
"Around five thousand," a general stammered in response.
Only five thousand? He would have thought tens of thousands. Five thousand soldiers—what did he have to fear? Tuoba Wu's frustration reached its peak as he watched the increasingly scattered woodcutter troops whose cohesion had all but dissolved.
And yet, further ahead, another army drew near.
A glance made it seem as if they stretched endlessly, blotting out the horizon.
That they could march this far must mean every one of them had a horse, likely more than one. All of them were armored, and even at a distance, one could see the excellent craftsmanship of the equipment. Red tassels fluttered on their iron helmets, dancing vividly in the wind.
Not only were there troops on foot and mounted, but there were also ten carriages ahead, resembling supply wagons but positioned in a strange manner. Under the sunlight, rows of long spears angled upward, glinting menacingly.
It was obvious that these spears were launched from those carriages.
What were these? Crossbows? Crossbow carriages?
Tuoba Wu's expression flickered with disbelief. Never in his life had he seen such weaponry among the Zhou soldiers, nor an army so well-equipped, their very bearing radiating resolve and discipline.
The Zhou troops' equipment had always been somewhat shabby, save for the elite forces directly under Duke Zhu Shan. Rarely was an entire army fully outfitted in armor.
Could this, too, be Duke Zhu Shan's personal troops?
Tuoba Wu shifted his gaze to the great banners of the approaching reinforcements.
Among the colorful flags fluttering above the formations were two massive ones. One he immediately recognized—it was the distinctive banner of the Shun'an Army. Based on its design alone, he could tell where this troop hailed from: Hejian Prefecture's Shun'an Army.
The Shun'an Army from Hejian Prefecture—why had they come all this way? It should have been more convenient for the Yongning Army to respond instead.
But the other banner... he had never seen before.
Tuoba Wu squinted, scrutinizing it. It was a crimson flag, six feet long, with three large characters emblazoned upon it.
Was this… the Qingshan Army?
"Where did they come from?" he muttered, gripping his battle-axe tighter, preparing to step forward. "Warriors, I want all of you to—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. From the carriages, another rain of spears tore through the sky.
Having experienced the devastation of these spear barrages, the woodcutter divisions immediately fell into disarray. The entire left flank disintegrated into chaos.
Though still a fair distance away, Tuoba Wu instinctively took a step back, raising his weapon in a futile attempt to block the incoming threat.
It was too fearsome.
To launch spears with the force of crossbow bolts—the power required must be immense. Even fortress walls could be punctured by this level of force.
Flesh and blood were no match for fortress walls.
When did the Zhou soldiers acquire such divine weaponry? If they wielded such weapons, wouldn't they be unstoppable?
Tuoba Wu felt a chill run through his heart.
After this wave of crossbow spears, the carriages began to withdraw. Meanwhile, the Zhou troops re-organized, forming into a circular array and advancing once more.
A circular array? Yet not quite.
Tuoba Wu stared, perplexed. The formation appeared slow but at the same time astonishingly swift—it seemed almost in the blink of an eye, they had pierced into the disordered woodcutter ranks.
The already fragmented rear formation was like a herd of cattle amidst rushing bulls.
The confrontation between spears and sabers was savage beyond words.
Shouts of battle surged like thunder. The woodcutters' sporadic attempt to regroup and defend crumbled under each charge from the circular array.
From within the array, cavalry units would occasionally break formation to quickly slash down the woodcutters, isolating their ranks before swiftly retreating. The movements resembled nimble, devastatingly accurate arms striking precisely where it hurt most.
Each clash left countless casualties, among both the woodcutters and the Zhou soldiers, but regardless of their own losses, the Zhou troops showed no emotion. Their formation held firm, never once wavering.
Watching his elite warriors fall one after another, Tuoba Wu finally emerged from his stunned state.
These ferocious and fearless Zhou reinforcements were as formidable as Duke Zhu Shan's personal forces—no, perhaps even stronger.
Could this be Duke Zhu Shan's hidden trump card?
How had he gathered no intelligence on this army? Where had it come from?
"This Qingshan Army is the same force that slaughtered a thousand of my men in Bazhou with just a few hundred soldiers," a general said urgently beside him. "My lord, we must retreat."
"Yes, this Qingshan Army not only has powerful weaponry but also a battle formation that's shockingly peculiar," another commander urged. "We need to retreat to the camp."
Retreat?
Tuoba Wu's expression twisted with vexation as he turned to glance at the fortress where intense fighting raged on.
Clearly, news of the reinforcements had reached the defenders. Their morale surged, while the once-dominant woodcutters were beginning to falter and fall back.
Zhu Shan was on the verge of defeat!
"Just a little more time," Tuoba Wu roared.
Even with their divine weaponry, the reinforcements couldn't possibly break through his forces so easily. Hold out a little longer, and Zhu Shan would perish.
This was the chance to kill Zhu Shan!
Kill Zhu Shan! Kill Zhu Shan! Such an opportunity could never return!
"My lord, my lord, the Qingshan Army is deceptive, and the Seventh Prince is still at the camp!" a personal general exclaimed urgently.
A shiver went up Tuoba Wu's spine just as a rumbling sound echoed from afar.
It was the same sound as earlier, when the enemy weapons had struck his troops.
Tuoba Wu's expression changed drastically as exclamations broke out within the ranks.
"It's the main camp!"
"The camp is under attack!"
Unbelievable!
Several generals grabbed hold of Tuoba Wu.
"My lord, the Seventh Prince is in the camp!"
"These weapons are too terrifying!"
"We must return to defend!"
Cries to retreat erupted from all around.
Already familiar with the devastation wrought by the stone bullets and the spear barrages, Tuoba Wu couldn't help but imagine the carnage they might bring to his camp.
His expression shifted repeatedly before he finally cast a hateful glare toward the embattled fortress walls. With a snarl, he slammed his battle-axe into the ground.
"Call the troops back to the camp," he commanded.
...............
As the woodcutters receded like a tide, the Zhou soldiers atop the fortress finally let out a collective sigh of relief. Some collapsed to their knees, leaning on their weapons; others simply fainted on the spot, utterly spent.
"Reinforcements!"
"Reinforcements!"
Many others shouted hoarsely, their cries tinged with tears.
Could it really be? Did reinforcements truly arrive?
Just moments ago, locked in a life-and-death struggle, they had paid no heed to their surroundings. All they'd heard was the woodcutters shouting in panic about reinforcements. None of them had dared to believe it, nor could they afford the distraction to look. But it turned out the enemy was truly retreating.
Several officers, while not as visibly shaken, couldn't hide the mist that welled up in their eyes.
Never having dared hope for salvation, the emotions that surged through their hearts at the arrival of reinforcements were beyond words.
They lifted their gazes to the chaotic battlefield below. The woodcutters streamed away like waves retreating from the shore, while a contingent of reinforcements advanced with unstoppable momentum.
Their formation spread into a double-winged attack array, banners fluttering proudly. The iron hooves clattered forcefully, and the forest of long spears exuded an unyielding air, pressing forward like an unstoppable mountain.
The officers immediately recognized the banners of their reinforcements.
"The Duke! It's the Shun'an Army!"
One officer at the forefront cried out in joy, turning back to look.
But where the Duke stood, surrounded by officers and soldiers, there was an air of sorrow. They seemed indifferent to the reinforcements, ignoring even the sounds of celebration.
Their leader, Duke Zhu Shan, was nowhere to be seen.
The officer's heart sank, his face paling. His knees buckled beneath him.
Duke Zhu Shan!
Duke Zhu Shan!
He let out a heart-rending cry, stumbling forward.
Meanwhile, a detachment from the reinforcements broke away and charged toward the scene. Seeing the soldiers and officers converging on a single spot, their faces turned grave.
"Duke Zhu Shan!"
Cloaked in blood, Li Guorui shouted urgently. Even before approaching, he leaped from his horse, his body trembling as though it might collapse.
Had they arrived too late?
The scale and ferocity of the woodcutters' forces had been evident to him firsthand. Knowing Duke Zhu Shan had struggled for over half a month, his army reduced from tens of thousands, what chance could there have been for survival?
"I..." Li Guorui's voice was hoarse, nearly inaudible. "I was too late..."
The others dismounted as well, the atmosphere somber and heavy.
"Not too late."
A deep, rich voice emerged from the cluster of soldiers and officers huddled nearby.
Though weak and weary, every word was clear.
That voice instantly invigorated Li Guorui. He looked up as the soldiers parted, turning their heads as one.
Through the crowd appeared a man in white armor.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, but he did not stand as tall as a mountain this time. Instead, he sat on the ground, leaning against a vice general. One hand gripped the hilt of a long blade planted firmly in the earth. Even in this state of repose, his posture remained upright.
His helmet had been removed, revealing his face.
About forty years of age, his features were striking and handsome, his demeanor gentle. Despite his bloodied and battered appearance, his calm gaze radiated a quiet strength that settled all who beheld him.
This was the Great Zhou North Martial God, Duke Zhu Shan.
Li Guorui's heart surged with joy, but his elation was cut short when he noticed the crimson stain spreading beneath Zhu Shan's white armor.
A long spear had pierced his chest, the shaft broken away, leaving only the spearhead embedded.
"My Lord Duke!" At the sight of this terrible wound, Li Guorui's knees buckled once more.
"Stand." The Duke's deep and steady voice commanded.
The tone was gentle but carried a compelling authority. Li Guorui forced himself upright, his expression a mixture of elation and sorrow as he looked at Zhu Shan.
"I want to see the brave soul who came to my aid," Zhu Shan continued, his gaze resting on Li Guorui.
All eyes now turned toward Li Guorui.
He was unfamiliar to many of them, they realized.
Yet instead of stepping forward to announce himself, Li Guorui moved aside. The few men standing behind him also stepped aside.
Was it not him? Was there another?
Confusion swept through the crowd. Before they could process it, a figure wrapped in a red cloak emerged into sight.
Amidst a sea of iron-clad men, this figure stood out—a slender young woman. As the spring breeze lifted the hem of her cloak, the intricate pleats of a floral-embroidered skirt peeked out beneath.
She reached out her hand, delicately raising her skirt slightly. With small, measured steps in her deer-leather boots, she carefully navigated the blood-stained ground, her movements both somber and respectful. She even tiptoed around fallen corpses with a reverent lift of her slim, swaying figure.
The crowd collectively held their breath. For a breathtaking moment, it was as though they had transcended the battlefield—gone were the blood and steel; they seemed transported to a serene Jiangnan spring, where willow trees swayed gently, flowers bloomed in vivid hues, and a fresh-faced maiden danced around, carefree.
Even Duke Zhu Shan couldn't hide his astonishment. He watched as this young woman advanced with an elegant air. She held her head high, her porcelain-like face a mixture of shyness and nervous determination.
She seemed eager to speak, yet hesitant, as though unsure of what to say. After a subtle pause, she lightly extended her hand from beneath her cloak.
In her small, delicate palm lay a single, round confection wrapped neatly in tinfoil.
"Do you… like candied plums?" she asked earnestly, gazing at the wounded warrior before her.
*************************
This chapter is a staggering 3,800 characters long, per advice from Maoni. The goal was to release it all in one breath for maximum impact.
Thus, no second update today. And by the way, don't blame Maoni for this decision—it wasn't his suggestion, despite what I said earlier.