Chapter Eleven: Annihilation of the Enemy

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Having just completed an inspection, Pang Yuan, exhausted, sank into a simple pavilion to rest.

“I truly am getting old. To think I’m this breathless after just a short walk.”

He gazed at the soldiers, whose training was feeble and spiritless, and furrowed his brows deeply. Rising without delay, he returned to the central command tent.

Unrolling a memorial before him, he found the ink in the inkwell already thickened by the gentle breeze, yet he remained at a loss for words.

Lifting his head, he stared at the boundless yellow sands outside the camp, and tears welled in his eyes. “All my life I’ve ridden into battle, yet now I cannot devise a way out of this predicament. I have truly failed the late emperor’s trust.”

This was already the seventh memorial he’d sent to the capital of Wei in Daliang, each urgently requesting provisions and pay.

But these petitions vanished without a trace, not even the faintest ripple in response.

Pang Yuan found himself in a terrible dilemma.

The city of Chenghao before them could not be breached, and the army was forced to idle here. With nine hundred thousand troops and no supplies, many camps had begun slaughtering their horses to stave off hunger.

Even the wild vegetables nearby had long been stripped bare by the army, more devastating than a plague of locusts.

Now, those still able to persevere with training in the camp likely numbered less than half. Soon, he feared, there would be no food at all. Perhaps they wouldn’t even last another half month. By then, it was all too possible they would be driven to cannibalism.

And should the gates of Chenghao swing open at that moment, the coalition would collapse in utter defeat. It would be at least twenty years before such a campaign could be mounted again.

At this thought, Pang Yuan bowed his head in despair. “I am already over sixty. Even if I wished to wait another twenty years, would Heaven grant me that time?”

A surge of defiance erupted from the old general’s body.

“I do not have another twenty years. Nor do I wish to wait. This time, if I do not succeed, I shall perish.”

He put away the memorial, set aside his brush and ink, closed his eyes to erase the last remnants of hesitation. When he opened them again, only a blood-red resolve remained.

That night—

At the camp of four hundred thousand surrendered soldiers,

On this unusually silent night, a tent flap quietly parted, and a young man slipped out.

He moved stealthily, glancing around as he crept from the tent.

He had barely gone far when another person emerged, hissing in a low voice, “Hey! What are you doing, sneaking out in the middle of the night instead of sleeping? Haven’t we suffered enough from hunger already?”

The first man, caught, turned back sheepishly. “I’m just too hungry to sleep. I wanted to see if I could find something to eat.”

As he spoke, he approached the other, his right hand hidden behind his back, concealing something.

Suspicious, the man called out to him. “Wu Xian, what are you hiding behind your back? If you’ve got something you shouldn’t, show me.”

Wu Xian replied casually, “We’ve been together so long, what could I possibly hide from you?”

He kept closing the distance.

When they were less than a step apart, the other man lunged suddenly, but Wu Xian’s concealed right hand pressed to his chest.

“You—” The man stared at Wu Xian, but before he could utter another word, blood spurted from his mouth and he fell backwards.

Wu Xian knelt, gently closed his companion’s wide, staring eyes.

“Sorry, but you knew too much,” he murmured, wiping the blood from his dagger with the dead man’s clothes. He then dragged the body outside the camp to dispose of it.

By now, the camp had long since lost its sentries. Everyone was starving—how could they endure the endless night?

Meanwhile, ten miles from the camp, a vast army of two hundred thousand was advancing, led by none other than Pang Yuan himself.

Kelin, by his side and clearly uneasy, asked, “With our provisions so short, even if we slaughter all forty thousand of these prisoners, it won’t solve our problem.”

But Pang Yuan’s next words were chilling. “Who said these four hundred thousand are just for killing? I’ve already assembled nearly a thousand men into a corpse disposal unit. After we kill them all, the bodies will be processed—to serve as our next source of rations.”

“What did you say!” Kelin’s eyes blazed with fury. He could not believe this old man could be so ruthless, to contemplate such a monstrous act.

“You’d better think carefully,” Kelin said in a trembling voice. “Even if we take Chenghao after this, do you think anyone will still see you as human?”

Pang Yuan narrowed his eyes and replied, “Let the historians judge me. My only concern now is whether we can win. The rest is out of my hands.”

Kelin glanced back at the soldiers behind them. Thankfully, their horses had galloped ahead, and no one else was close enough to overhear their conversation.

He realized Pang Yuan had trapped him. Even if he did not personally kill anyone tonight, he was now complicit.

Suppressing his rage, Kelin said, “I’ll withdraw my troops now. I’d rather return to the capital in disgrace.”

“Heh.” Pang Yuan’s smile was cold and empty. “Do you really think you can just walk away from me so easily?”

“What do you mean by that?” Kelin’s face darkened. He cursed himself for ever joining forces with Pang Yuan—now he couldn’t even leave the army without difficulty.

“To keep you all obedient, I took precautions with your meals days ago. Ordinary poison tests won’t detect it.” Pang Yuan turned, fixing Kelin with a steely gaze, enunciating every word.

Kelin’s eyes flashed with fury. “You… you!”

“We’re on the same side—no need for such anger,” Pang Yuan said with a half-smile. “Once the battle is over, the antidote will be delivered to you.”

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Kelin turned away, his eyes clouded with gloom, lost in his own thoughts.

Seeing his expression, Pang Yuan sneered. “Don’t bother trying to steal the antidote. If I was able to poison you, I’m certain you won’t be able to concoct a cure.”

The fifteen thousand elite troops under Kelin’s command were no match for the Wei army. Even if he wanted to rebel, he had no certainty of victory. Silent, he offered no further protest—his silence was his only defiance.

Suddenly, he recalled a secret letter he’d received half a month earlier, and a sharp glint flashed in his eye.

“You old fox, since you’ve been ruthless, don’t blame me for being heartless. You struck first—don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Kelin thought to himself.

“Hmph.” With a show of indignation, Kelin spurred his horse and rode away.

“Marshal, are you sure letting him go won’t endanger the army?” Pang Yuan’s deputy asked cautiously.

“Him? He can’t do much,” Pang Yuan replied with a cold laugh.

By now, the two hundred thousand strong force was less than ten miles from the prisoner camp.

Following Pang Yuan’s orders, the horses’ hooves were wrapped in cloth to avoid alerting the prisoners, but this had greatly reduced their speed, doubling their travel time.

After another incense stick’s time on the march, Pang Yuan suddenly signaled a halt.

“Marshal, have you discovered something?” The deputy, a longtime companion of Pang Yuan, understood that a sudden halt meant trouble.

“Not exactly. But I have a bad feeling,” Pang Yuan replied. At his level of martial mastery, he could sense a faint foreboding—a sign that boded ill for him.

“Shall we turn back, Marshal?” the deputy asked, awaiting his command.

Pang Yuan looked solemnly at the sky. “We’re at the end of our rope. Even if Heaven wishes my death, I must try.”

He turned to his deputy, commanding, “No, carry on with the plan. Advance as before.”

“Yes, sir.”

The deputy signaled the messengers, who waved their flags, and the two hundred thousand marched on.

When they reached the camp’s entrance, all was silent. Not a blade of grass stirred.

Pang Yuan scanned the mountain ranges on either side, and dread seized him.

“Not good! Retreat, now!” He ordered the withdrawal before the troops could even enter the camp.

“Retreat!”

The army scrambled to reverse its formation and withdraw.

But before they could move, fires erupted on both sides of the mountains, and a hail of arrows soon followed, sending chills down their spines.

From the seemingly deserted camp came sudden whistling sounds, and then, massive stones the size of human heads rained from above.

This was only the beginning.

They soon realized that not just stones, but jars filled with oil were being hurled down. When the jars shattered, dread coursed through the soldiers.

Torches tumbled from the slopes, and thousands of fire arrows streaked across the night sky, igniting the oil-soaked earth.

In a flash, the entire force of two hundred thousand was split into several isolated groups by the raging inferno.

Amid the chaos, Pang Yuan searched frantically for Kelin.

He seized an Avaso Empire soldier, his eyes bloodshot.

“Where did Kelin go?” he demanded, his fury terrifying the soldier into speechlessness.

“Useless! Die!” Pang Yuan struck him dead with a single blow, brains splattering the ground.

“Don’t panic! Withdraw in order!” Pang Yuan shouted desperately, trying to impose order.

But no one responded—every man fought for himself, their sense of direction lost.

The vanguard under Pang Yuan, though numbering less than thirty thousand, was the most elite of the army.

They fought fiercely, shielding Pang Yuan.

“Protect the Marshal first!” his deputy cried, fending off arrows.

The rest of the thirty thousand, though shaken by the ambush, quickly regained their composure.

Nearly thirty thousand cavalry fought their way out with Pang Yuan, braving the fire and arrows.

Meanwhile, on the mountain slopes—

Su Qing stood atop the left peak, gazing down on the inferno that lit the night for miles.

The screams from the fire echoed endlessly between the mountains, painting the night with horror.

Wu Jian approached Su Qing, his face grim. “Marshal, Pang Yuan’s unit has broken through.”

“Oh?” Su Qing answered absently, still watching the desperate struggle below.

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Wu Jian was puzzled. He was familiar with the deployment and had felt uneasy about it, but had said nothing. Now that Pang Yuan had broken through, Su Qing seemed utterly unconcerned, deepening his confusion.

Yang Tingyu, seeing Wu Jian’s doubt, stepped forward to explain. “Brother, there’s no need to worry. The Marshal has it all under control—just wait and see.”

Wu Jian frowned, bowed, and said, “Then I’ll take troops to intercept the survivors.”

Su Qing only motioned him to proceed.

“Your subordinate takes his leave.” Wu Jian retreated, then hurried off.

“I wonder how Kelin is faring,” Su Qing sighed.

Yang Tingyu chuckled. “Marshal, your confidence is unshakable—why sigh over this?”

“Let’s not speak too soon. The outcome is not yet decided,” Su Qing replied, his gaze lost in the fire below.

As for Pang Yuan, who had broken through with thirty thousand cavalry, he was utterly at a loss.

He did not understand.

Why had the troops from Chenghao suddenly appeared here?

Why had the sentries around Chenghao not reported a thing?

Why had the four hundred thousand surrendered troops instantly rebelled against him?

Why? Pang Yuan had fought for Wei for years, conquering north and south—what did he have to fear?

Yet now, he could not comprehend how Yang Qingyun, whom he had routed before, had suddenly mounted such an effective counterattack.

Every move had been calculated so precisely that he had no time to react before defeat swept over him.

“I haven’t lost yet—I still have over three hundred thousand troops. Even if they’ve absorbed the four hundred thousand prisoners, they can’t form an effective fighting force. I still have a chance… I still have a chance…”

A group of cavalry raced back toward their main camp. The wind roared in their ears as they galloped, and few heard Pang Yuan’s mutterings.

But his deputy, riding close, heard every word.

“Marshal… perhaps we should return to the capital,” he said, voice choked with grief.

Pang Yuan wept openly. “Return? How could I face the capital now?”

“Marshal, please—His Majesty will show mercy for your loyal service,” the deputy pleaded, gripping Pang Yuan’s arm, trying to comfort his shattered spirit.

“No.” Pang Yuan shook his head. “Do you truly believe we can make it back to Wei alive?”

“What do you mean?” the deputy asked, unease creeping into his voice.

“The other coalition leaders have long resented me. Now is their perfect chance to cooperate with the Ming forces. Do you think they won’t offer my head as tribute?” Pang Yuan uttered the truth he dreaded.

Indeed, of the two hundred thousand brought this time, one hundred fifty thousand were Wei soldiers. Only fifty thousand were from the two other empires.

Thus, the others still outnumbered the Wei troops.

As long as Kelin and Corford wished, they could present Pang Yuan’s head to the Ming at any moment.

That was why Pang Yuan had searched so desperately for Kelin in the chaos.

As long as Kelin remained, not all was lost. But if Kelin escaped and persuaded Corford to betray him, not even a hero could survive the pursuit of hundreds of thousands.

No sooner had Pang Yuan finished speaking than a familiar voice sounded in their ears.

“Pang Yuan, I’ve already reached an agreement with Marshal Su. You’d best dismount and surrender now.”

Kelin and Corford appeared, leading a vast army that blocked Pang Yuan’s cavalry.

Pang Yuan looked up at Kelin’s sly grin and let out a bone-chilling laugh. “So, Su Qing, after all our struggles, I have lost to you without ever seeing your face. This is the shame of my life.”

He shouted, “Kelin! Don’t forget—you’re poisoned. Without my antidote, you won’t live long!”

He laughed, but the despair was obvious in his voice.

“Hmph, old man, if you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have laughed anyway,” Kelin sneered, interrupting Pang Yuan’s bitter laughter. “As soon as I returned to camp, I met Yu Wenqi. He promised me, on Su Qing’s behalf, the sacred Tianshan Snow Lotus antidote.”

Kelin paused, then continued, “Of course, the price for that is your head, General Pang. Hahaha!”

Hearing this, Pang Yuan’s heart turned to ash. All hope was gone.

“Whoever takes Pang Yuan’s head will be rewarded with a thousand taels of gold and a triple promotion! Kill!”

With Kelin and Corford’s order, tens of thousands of soldiers, illuminated by the moonlight, surged toward Pang Yuan like a raging river.

In his ears, Pang Yuan heard the dying words of his father, who had perished in his arms: “Oh vast heaven, why are you so cruel to me?”

“Oh vast heaven, why are you so cruel to me…”