The siege begins at dawn.
Zhou does not rush.
They build.
Across the plains north of Ling An, their engineers raise siege towers like forests of wood and iron. Trenches spread outward in careful lines. Cannon batteries dig into the frozen ground, angled toward the city walls.
The banners of Zhou ripple beneath gray skies.
Five legions.
Disciplined.
Patient.
Prepared to starve Ling An if necessary.
Then the cannons fire.
The first thunder rolls across the plains like the breaking of heaven.
Stone explodes from the northern walls. Dust fills the air. Soldiers scramble along the ramparts as Zhou artillery begins its steady rhythm.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Ling An shakes beneath the barrage.
But the defenders do not break.
Black Tiger musketeers fire from the battlements. Archers loose arrows into advancing infantry. Liang cannons answer back with roaring defiance.
For hours the battlefield becomes smoke and noise.
Men fall.
But the walls hold.
Barely.
By the second day the situation worsens.
Zhou siege towers creep closer under shielded formations. Their infantry rotate endlessly, fresh soldiers replacing the fallen. Their supply lines remain intact beyond the horizon.
Ling An cannot match that.
Every defender lost cannot be replaced.
Every cannon destroyed weakens the wall further.
Liao Yun arrives breathless in the war chamber.
"The northern gate nearly collapsed under artillery fire."
"Casualties?"
"Two hundred Tigers."
"And the line?"
"Holding."
For now.
Wu An nods slowly.
But he knows the truth.
The siege will eventually succeed.
Unless something changes.
The council chamber trembles with distant cannon fire.
Ministers argue again.
"We cannot sustain this!"
"The city will starve before Zhou retreats!"
"Negotiation is still possible!"
Wu An stands silent.
The Presence hums faintly inside him.
Then he speaks.
"We still have prisoners."
The room freezes.
Everyone understands immediately.
Shen Yue's voice drops.
"The Southern prisoners."
"Yes."
Thousands of captured soldiers and refugees from the destroyed Southern capital remain inside Ling An.
Laborers.
Former soldiers.
Civilians.
Enemies once.
But now—
Resources.
Liao Yun studies Wu An carefully.
"You intend to use them."
"Yes."
"How?"
Wu An moves markers across the battlefield map.
"Tomorrow morning Zhou will attack the eastern gate."
"They believe our defenses are weakest there."
"They are correct."
Shen Yue watches him slowly.
"You will put the prisoners on the walls."
Wu An shakes his head.
"No."
The ministers wait.
Then Wu An finishes.
"We send them out."
Silence.
A minister stammers.
"As… reinforcements?"
"No."
"As bait."
The word lands like a blade.
At sunrise the eastern gate opens.
Zhou scouts watch with confusion.
A column emerges from the city.
Thousands of people.
Unarmed.
Weak.
Prisoners.
The Southern Kingdom's captured soldiers and refugees.
They march slowly toward the battlefield.
Behind them, Black Tiger units hold the gate.
On the walls, Liang cannons reposition quietly.
Zhou commanders hesitate.
The prisoners continue forward.
Some begin to cry.
Some kneel.
Some beg.
They realize too late what is happening.
Zhou officers shout orders.
Their soldiers hesitate to fire into a mass of civilians.
That moment—
That single moment of hesitation—
Is what Wu An needs.
"Now," he orders.
Ling An's cannons erupt.
Hidden artillery fires over the prisoners into Zhou's advancing formations.
Explosive shells tear through siege lines.
Black Tiger musketeers unleash volleys from newly exposed positions.
Cavalry charges from a concealed southern gate strike Zhou's flank.
Chaos spreads instantly.
Zhou formations stagger as the sudden counterattack shatters their advance.
The prisoners scatter in terror across the battlefield.
Many die in the crossfire.
Many are trampled.
Many simply disappear beneath smoke and cannon fire.
War shows its ugliest face again.
By afternoon the battlefield quiets.
Zhou has pulled back from the eastern gate.
Their siege towers burn.
Their artillery positions suffer heavy damage.
Ling An breathes again.
For now.
The battle is not won.
But it has turned.
When the soldiers return inside the city, the people watch silently.
They saw the prisoners march out.
They heard the screams.
They understand what happened.
The ministers gather again in the war chamber.
No one speaks.
Finally one of them whispers.
"That was… monstrous."
Wu An does not look away from the battlefield map.
"It was necessary."
"Thousands died."
"Yes."
"Many were civilians."
"Yes."
The minister trembles.
"How can you justify that?"
Wu An lifts his eyes slowly.
"Because the city still stands."
Silence follows.
Outside the walls, Zhou's army reorganizes.
Their commanders now understand something important.
Wu An will do anything.
Anything.
To survive.
Night falls over Ling An.
The battlefield outside glows with scattered fires.
The siege continues.
But something has changed.
Zhou now approaches more cautiously.
More slowly.
Wu An stands atop the northern wall.
Shen Yue joins him.
"You crossed another line today," she says quietly.
"Yes."
"And tomorrow?"
Wu An looks north.
Where Zhou's legions gather under moonlight.
Their numbers still vast.
Their reinforcements still coming.
Their Emperor still determined.
He speaks softly.
"The battle is not over."
"Not even close."
Shen Yue studies him carefully.
"You're planning something worse."
Wu An does not answer immediately.
But the Presence hums again.
The war has entered its final stage.
And if Ling An survives—
The horror will only grow larger.
Wu An turns toward the distant banners of Zhou.
And whispers the words that chill even Shen Yue.
"This siege…"
"…is only the beginning."