The reinforcements have arrived!
The general let out a hoarse shout, his body went limp and he half-knelt on the ground, but the next moment he hurriedly used his sword to support himself.
"Form up." he shouted, "Form a circle formation."
This formation had the cavalry advance first, while they were behind, you advance and I advance, you retreat and I advance.
The soldiers quickly formed up, and the army galloping behind had already crossed the ravines, finally allowing them to see their appearance clearly.
Indeed, they were genuine Zhou Soldiers, well-equipped.
They skillfully divided into two lines on either side of the small circle formation, taking up long knives for close combat, having put away their bows.
On the other side, the woodcutters, who had fallen into temporary chaos, also reformed their ranks and raised their scythes.
Men and horses collided, weapons clashed, and killing and crashing sounds filled the air.
People constantly fell, both Jurchen people and Zhou Soldiers, but there were more soldiers continuously charging in from behind.
How many reinforcements have come, the general standing in the formation strained to see, as if the entire night was filled with the army behind them.
Caught off guard, the woodcutters soon began to flee.
Accompanied by the sound of horns, the Zhou Soldiers, who were about to pursue, stopped and quickly formed ranks to retreat.
"Brothers, where are you from?" the general shouted.
The Zhou Soldiers passing by looked over.
"Us?" One who seemed like a leader said, "We are the Fengning Army."
Fengning Army?
The general was not unfamiliar; it was a troop that had disobeyed orders, failed to provide reinforcements, and fled.
His expression was somewhat complex.
He didn't know whether to blame them for deserting and creating a lack of reinforcements, or to be grateful for their coming to the rescue in this critical moment.
"Where is Lord Tang?" he asked.
The Zhou Soldier looked up and pointed forward.
The general looked over and saw, at some unknown time, torches lighting up in the darkness ahead, zigzagging like a long wall built into the night.
At this point, it's best not to mention previous matters and instead discuss strategies for battle, as Uncle Qinghe was still besieged. Since Lord Tang's troops were willing to come, see if they could persuade the other fleeing soldiers to come to help.
The general took a deep breath and walked vigorously in that direction, where among the torches, several flags were flying. The Fengning Army's flag was easy to recognize, indicating the presence of the commanding officer.
The general walked straight over, getting closer and closer, but suddenly he stopped, looking at the few flags in disbelief.
Because of his approach, the aligned troops made way, revealing the generals behind them.
More flags appeared in sight.
Beyond the familiar Fengning Army's large flag, there was an even larger flag waving.
The black flag blended seamlessly with the night, making the bright red characters on it appear as if they were floating in the air.
A red-lettered flag.
The general's leg instinctively bent, half-kneeling on the ground, his expression incredulous.
Duke of Chengguo.
......
.........
"What's going on?"
Uncle Qinghe also walked up the city wall, where the soldiers held their weapons, and the auxiliary soldiers held onto rolling stone cylinders, but no Jurchen people attacked.
After finishing a meal and conserving strength in the night, a scout came to report that the Jurchen people's army had moved. Although a night attack wasn't convenient, it seemed the Jurchen people wanted to use a war of attrition to wear them down.
To fight was death, not to fight was also death, there was no other choice but to fight bloodily.
Everyone rushed to the ramparts, ready to face an unknown outcome, be it life or death.
They stood firm at the city gates, but did not see any advancing Jurchen people.
The Jurchen people were deceitful, what plot were they hatching, fire attack? Water attack? Everyone's mind raced with thoughts of all possible ways to die.
It wasn't that they didn't think about the possibility of survival, for instance, if the Jurchen people withdrew, but such a thing was simply impossible; why deceive oneself?
"Listen." suddenly a general said, breaking the deathly silence on the city wall.
Listen? Was the Jurchen people's army approaching?
Everyone pricked up their ears and held their breath.
It seemed as if there was the sound of rolling thunder on the horizon.
"Is it going to rain?" a soldier murmured.
If it were to rain now, it would truly be adding insult to injury; nearly everyone was injured, and if the cold rain started to fall, many could freeze to death in one night without the Jurchen people even attacking.
"It's not thunder." A soldier next to him suddenly shouted, not knowing if it was surprise or fear, his voice changed, "It's the war drum."
War drum?
The Jurchen people and the Zhou people's war drums and horns differed, making it easy to distinguish.
The rumbling of the war drum seemed to come from the horizon, growing louder and closer, soon resounding through the night like thunder.
"It's the war drum!"
"It's our war drum!"
More people shouted loudly.
Uncle Qinghe only felt his whole body tingling.
Reinforcements!
Reinforcements have finally arrived!
This news drove the walls into a frenzy. Some shouted loudly, some knelt down and cried, and others flushed with excitement, hugging their weapons and ready to charge forward.
The generals had to bark commands for the soldiers to maintain decorum.
But they themselves were just as excited.
"How many troops in the reinforcements?" Uncle Qinghe suddenly asked.
This question was like a splash of cold water over their heads, awakening the generals, with joy transforming into deep worry.
Originally, they expected about a hundred thousand reinforcements, but news came that half had fled, and after such a delay, it was clear that external support either faced difficulty or disagreement. Now that they finally started fighting, how many troops could they really muster?
The Jurchen people have besieged here for so long; as observed, they've continuously been gathering reinforcements, currently surpassing their initial numbers.
Everyone gradually fell silent, watching tensely and angrily towards the direction of the resounding drums. The night covered everything, only the horizon seemed ablaze, fiery red.
......
.......
The sound of battle did not cease throughout the night.
When dawn jumped from the horizon, it shined on the battlements full of rigid figures like statues.
Uncle Qinghe, originally white-haired, seemed even whiter now, even his beard had turned white, covered in morning frost.
Their eyes no longer held worry; a scout had brought good news an hour ago.
The woodcutters retreated.
Yet, no one cheered, jumping off the walls. Everybody continued to stand, eyeing the rising sun intently, waiting.
Waiting for the first sight of those warriors who repelled so many of the Jurchen people.
As the daylight grew brighter, a column of men and horses finally appeared in sight. This was the scout vanguard, swiftly galloping across the plains, reconnoitering for the main army behind.
Next came squads of cavalry, flooding in from all directions like an overwhelming sky of banners.
Growing closer, those were familiar banners, familiar armor, familiar marching formations, familiar comrades.
A soldier suddenly shouted, throwing the long spear he was holding forcefully into the sky.
The spear leapt and arched, falling to the base of the wall.
Echoes of shouts rose on the walls, long knives, helmets, and even stones; everyone threw anything at hand.
This time, Uncle Qinghe did not scold the soldiers' frenzy. He himself wore a smile.
"Lord Bo, they all come," a general said excitedly.
Although still far, they knew well those banners.
The reinforcements united by orders or came back after reporting whence they fled; their flags flew among them now.
Uncle Qinghe watched the flags too, suddenly feeling tears of joy, full of heroic spirit.
This northern land, it seems, could also be his.
Thus, the purge of Duke Zhu Shan's followers ends here; the previous disobediences, Zou Jiang shall not meddle with, as for rewards... well, those will need careful consideration.
For the soldiers, they must not be overly indulged.
He twirled his beard thoughtfully, amid cheers, clouds of banners drawing ever closer. Suddenly, his expression froze.
What is that banner?
Uncle Qinghe's eyes widened.
The generals beside him saw it too; gradually, the soldiers on the wall also noticed, halting their cheers to watch the towering flag.
Among the myriad colorful banners, that flag was undoubtedly the highest and most conspicuous.
The highest, biggest flag could only be a command flag.
A command flag follows its master; whatever the master is like, the flag will be too. For instance, Uncle Qinghe's flag was blue hearted, black-bordered, steady yet elegant; while Duke Zhu Shan's banner was black with red letters, showy and vulgar.
Uncle Qinghe wished never to see that banner again in his lifetime.
But now, it still appeared in sight, at this precise moment.
Uncle Qinghe's face turned as white as his hair.
......
.......
The gates were already open, Uncle Qinghe stood in front, his figure upright as he watched the approaching man.
The man rode a horse, with no intention of dismounting.
"Lord Bo, long time no see, still as spirited as ever." He looked at Uncle Qinghe, a gentle smile on his face, "Leading a battle doesn't suit, but the endurance to hold against siege is incomparable."
Uncle Qinghe fumed.
To insult without foul language exemplifies the shamelessness of Duke Zhu Shan.
.......
.......
(Come, vote for me, come, love me, love me once more this month.)