Chapter 36: Ashes to Ashes and the Fire of the Bifang

In the 27th year of the Shu-Tian Calendar, both the defenders and the attackers of the Southern Frontier siege reached a rare consensus after surviving the ordeal: the defenses at Yongji Pass were exceptionally formidable. While the defenders took great pride in this conclusion, the attackers retreated in fear, cursing the pass as a treacherous slaughterhouse.

It took the "Black Tide" a full hour, starting with the first wave of "possessed suicide troops" leading the charge, to successfully prop up enough ladders against the walls. It is worth noting that the ladders were not placed directly onto the battlements; the garrison had specialized lever devices that could lift the tops of the ladders—with the men clinging to them—and flip them into the air. After losing several waves of men to these falls, the Southern Frontier soldiers finally discovered a workaround: by placing the ladders half a meter below the battlements, they stayed out of reach of the levers. They would then climb up, hammer scavenged arrowheads into the masonry, and use them as footholds to vault onto the ramparts.

However, as the signal flags fluttered, the Wu Family Army unveiled a new tactic. Yellow, viscous mud began pouring out of the drainage chutes along the top of the parapets. While oil or boiling excrement could serve a similar purpose, the scale of Yongji Pass was vast; mud was the most economical way to ensure total coverage across hundreds of meters of wall. Soon, yellow slime coated the stone like a bad case of diarrhea. Even the agile Snake-kin found it impossible to traverse the slick patches. Those who attempted to zigzag their way across only exposed themselves to heavier fire from above. Before a clever Snake-man could congratulate itself, it would be struck by debris and sent plummeting.

Within five minutes, the mud had segmented the climbing zones into eight manageable sections, forcing the "ants" to relocate their ladders to clear spots. Yet, these spots were intentionally left as "concave" areas where climbers were exposed to flanking fire. Once these fools scrambled up, they were met by defenders wielding long poles tipped with axes or hammers, knocking them back down with rhythmic efficiency.

...A small battlefield on the wall...

In his designated sector, Wen Si directed his squad to take turns dispatching the intruders. Each swing of the pole-axe was precise; after seven or eight strikes, a soldier would rotate out, turning the defense into a seamless assembly line. Every strike was followed two seconds later by a dull thud from below. Wen Si could have easily shattered the ladders, but he saw no need to interrupt such a convenient "skull-meeting-axe" formation.

While resetting his crossbow, Wen Si heard a soldier complain about arm fatigue. Wen Si scoffed, "You’re complaining about easy kills? Four days ago, I was outside the walls, thrusting a pole at enemies, risking my life! You lot—" He cut himself off, raising his crossbow to pin a Snake-man who was trying to scale the wall bricks. The creature was nailed through the neck three meters from the top and tumbled down. The soldier, who had initially envied Wen Si’s kills, now realized the veteran was simply covering his blind spots. In a fixed position, killing one at a time was perfect—if two came up at once, the pole could be grabbed, leading to a collapse of the line. Wen Si’s crossbow ensured no "product backlog" occurred on their assembly line of skulls.

The soldier looked at the pile of corpses below and asked, "Brother Wen, the bodies are piled so high. Why won't they give up?"

Wen Si stepped on his crossbow stirrup to reload. "Hear that thumping at the gate? They’re betting everything on smashing through, so they’re forcing us to burn our energy here."

"Then they really are idiots," the soldier muttered.

"Do your job! Stop yapping," Wen Si barked. Though they didn't know the commander's full strategy, the defenders had realized that the Southern barbarians were merely being baited into trying different, futile methods of assault. Wen Si smirked, thinking of their young commander: "Not very old, but truly wicked. Or rather, brilliant and divine."

...Both sides’ stamina bars were depleting...

At the main gate, the enemy finally breached the outer barrier, only to find themselves trapped in a barbican. As the giants swung their stone hammers to break through, they saw the garrison soldiers retreating behind the inner gate, pulling boards and beams with them. The giants rushed in, but as they sprinted, they triggered a hidden tripwire. The tensioned bamboo mechanism sent the giants sprawling. Realizing this was a trap rather than an ambush, they roared in frustration and began mindlessly hammering the inner gate.

As they learned their "lesson," the inner gate slammed shut. Then, the defenders poured lime into the murder holes above, followed by buckets of "golden juice." The resulting mixture was devastating. The giants, burned and blinded, were then pelted by black iron bombs. The shrapnel tore into their scalded skin, and the terrified monsters fled the barbican in a panic.

When the giants retreated, the morale of the entire army collapsed. The smaller infantry on the walls realized the battle was lost and attempted to flee, only to be picked off one by one by crossbowmen. Over two thousand were lost in the siege. The rest scrambled away, leaving behind a steaming, foul-smelling heap of corpses.

Unlike colonial wars where defenders might be trapped behind walls, Wu Fei had a reserve field army waiting behind the barbican. As the horn sounded, the victorious peasant-soldiers began the pursuit. Cavalry swept through the Southern camp—little more than a collection of straw huts—and set it ablaze. The Black Tide, already broken, was trampled into the mud. The giants, slow and heavy, were caught as they fled, and the remaining four thousand invaders were scattered to the winds.

Cheers erupted on the walls. Soldiers exited in orderly fashion to eat, the silence of the mess hall broken only by the sound of wooden spoons and slurping. Suddenly, a new alarm sounded: a group of Crow-kin had launched a raid from the forest. Wu Fei, who had perfected his troop rotation, handled the threat with machine-like efficiency. The Crow-kin circled at eighty paces, but stayed out of range, knowing they lacked the firepower to engage.

A lone Crow-kin flew forward. Wu Fei allowed him to approach, and the creature dropped a bamboo tube containing a "snake-skin scroll" before fleeing. It was intelligence intercepted from the enemy. Wu Fei smiled, wrote a reply on a bamboo slip, tied it to an arrow, and shot it back toward the birds.

...Birds choose their trees to perch on...

The Southern leaders, Ang Ri and Jia Mude, had split up. Ang Ri, seeing Wu Fei’s willingness to recruit useful outsiders, decided to defect. As he approached Yongji Pass, Jia Mude sensed his betrayal and sneered, channeling a flame from his furnace.

Ang Ri suddenly felt the fire within him spiral out of control, consuming his "wood essence." He realized that while he hadn't used the lethal pills Jia Mude favored, he had used his own fire to refine them, leaving him vulnerable to this remote manipulation. He spat out a mass of blue-tinged flames, which flew southward.

Jia Mude, sensing the return of his stolen item, nodded. This was the relic his master had ordered him to retrieve to lift his clan’s curse. But as he chanted, a blue flame suddenly manifested on his own finger, burning him and breaking his focus. The object he had been controlling flew northward.

...The oriole follows the mantis...

Three incense sticks later, inside Yongji Pass, Auntie San looked at the flame in her palm. Using the expertise she and Master Xian held regarding the Southern Fire Sect, she easily neutralized the remnant spell. A rare, sweet smile graced her lips. "Next, I shall guide it into his body."

She opened her lips, swallowed the flame, and began to rewrite its essence. Once altered, it would shatter the stubborn prejudices within the heart of that intractable man.