Rise of a Lonely City: From Exiled Prince to Ruler of the Nine Provinces

The stench of blood mingled with the earthy scent of spring lingered over the wilderness for days, refusing to dissipate.

The crossbow bolts that littered the battlefield were like a forest of shame erected for the Northern Yan army, and the most "dazzling" one in the forest pierced through the silver armor, also nailing down Murong Chui's last bit of spirit and hope.

As the remnants of the army carried Murong Jie's cold body, wailing as they fled back to their camp, the entire Northern Yan army was shrouded in a deathly silence of despair and grief.

Murong Chui locked himself in the central command tent for a whole day.

Inside the tent, the body of his beloved son, Murong Jie, had been simply laid out, covered with a white cloth, and lay there quietly, as if asleep. Only the horrific hole in his chest silently spoke of the gruesome nature of his death.

Murong Chui seemed to have aged twenty years overnight. His straight back hunched over, and his hawk-like eyes lost their sharp light, replaced by endless grief, overwhelming anger, and... a deep-seated fear that even he himself was unwilling to admit.

The crossbows of Hanyuan are terrifying.

That's not a bow and arrow; that's a harvesting machine from hell.

And that terrifying weapon that can accurately snipe a commander from hundreds of steps away... Just how many other terrifying things is Xiao Chen hiding?

"General...this hatred is irreconcilable! Please send troops to raze Rock Fortress to the ground and avenge the young general!"

Outside the tent, the mournful and indignant cries of the generals urging for battle rang out.

There were indeed wise men under Murong Chui's command, but the pain of losing their son and the humiliation of repeated setbacks were equally consuming them.

Murong Chui suddenly opened his bloodshot eyes, his voice hoarse as a broken gong: "Revenge? With what? Charge in and let Han Yuan's crossbow bolts harvest us again?!"

He slammed his hand on the table, making the cups and saucers rattle. "Order the entire army to dig deep trenches and build high walls, increase the number of sentries, and anyone who leaves the camp without my order will be executed! Immediately send a fast horse back to the royal court to demand supplies; it's extremely urgent!"

He was, after all, a veteran; grief and anger did not completely overwhelm his reason.

The main losses in the Battle of Eagle Beak Cliff were the infantry of the vanguard and the son's personal guards. The main force of the central army was still intact, but their supplies were burned. The morale was low after the recent defeat, and there was no chance of winning in open battle.

The best course of action now is to hold our ground and await reinforcements, using our fortified positions to wear down Han Yuan, while urging the country to expedite the delivery of supplies, stabilize our position, and then devise a plan for the future.

As for revenge... He glanced at his son's body, his heart aching, but he could only forcefully suppress this deep-seated hatred in his heart.

The atmosphere in the Northern Yan camp became unusually oppressive.

The soldiers lost their fighting spirit and could only numbly dig deeper and wider trenches and reinforce the wooden palisades and antlers under the officers' whips.

Murong Chui patrolled the camp daily, trying to boost morale, but the undisguised grief and occasional bewilderment in his eyes only made the soldiers more uneasy.

The shadow of food shortages began to loom, and despite efforts to control distribution, whispers of discontent spread like a plague throughout the camp.

To fight or to retreat? How long can our food supplies last? When will reinforcements and supplies arrive from within the country? These questions, like venomous snakes, gnawed at the morale of the Northern Yan army.

Unlike the deathly stillness of the Northern Yan camp, a sharp edge was gathering and rising within the Rock Fortress.

"Your Highness, Night Owl reports that infighting is escalating within the Northern Yan camp, with soldiers already fighting over unequal rations. Under Murong Chui's forceful suppression, morale is increasingly unstable." Night Owl's secret report was presented to Xiao Chen.

Xiao Chen put down the frontline deployment map in his hand and turned his gaze to the model representing the Northern Yan camp on the sand table. His eyes were sharp as knives: "Insufficient supplies, recent defeat and loss of a son, the commander is at a loss, and morale is wavering... The timing, the terrain, and the people are all in my hands. Murong Chui wants to cower and wait for reinforcements? I will not give him that chance!"

He abruptly stood up: "Issue the order! Han Lie is to remain at Panshi Fortress, oversee the rear supply lines, and pacify the people. The remaining main force of Zhenbei City shall immediately break camp and march to Eagle's Beak Cliff to join forces with Wang Dashan's troops!"

"promise!"

Military orders are like fire, and are transmitted swiftly.

The 15,000 elite troops (including 3,000 heavy cavalry, 5,000 infantry, 3,000 crossbowmen, 2,000 engineers, and 2,000 auxiliary troops) who had been waiting in Zhenbei City for a long time, marched out of the city in a grand manner under the personal leadership of Xiao Chen, and joined up with the 5,000 troops of Wang Dashan outside Panshi Fort.

Twenty thousand brave soldiers from Hanyuan, their armor gleaming and their morale soaring, were like unsheathed swords, pointing directly at the Northern Yan camp thirty miles away.

With the enemy troops at their camp, Han Yuan's army did not immediately launch an attack. Instead, they chose a high ground three miles outside the Northern Yan camp and set up a fortified camp, facing off against the Northern Yan army from a distance.

What made the Northern Yan army even more uneasy was that the Han Yuan army's engineering battalion, with the help of a large number of laborers, worked day and night, felling trees and building carts. Right under their noses, they began to rush to make simple catapults and towers, and even dug trenches and earthen ramparts that extended forward!

"What are they trying to do? Are they going to besiege us for a long time?" The Northern Yan generals were filled with doubt and suspicion.

Watching those gradually taking shape siege weapons approach day by day, the psychological pressure was far more unbearable than being attacked with swords.

Especially when several heavy ballistae from Hanyuan were pushed to the front line, the occasional test shots of their thick crossbow bolts, with a mournful whistle, slammed into the wooden palisade of the Northern Yan camp, leaving holes the size of bowls, caused a series of panicked disturbances within the camp.

Murong Chui was extremely anxious, but there was nothing he could do.

Field combat outside the camp? The bloody lesson of Eagle's Beak Cliff is right before our eyes.

Hold the line? Food supplies dwindled day by day, morale crumbled, and the siege engines of Hanyuan drew ever closer.

He could only strictly order all units to guard their camps and double their patrols, while simultaneously urging the rear to provide supplies three times a day.

Three days passed slowly in agony.

For the Northern Yan army, these three days felt like three years.

Fights broke out more and more frequently in the camp over grain, and even small-scale escapes occurred.

Murong Chui killed more than a dozen rioting and fleeing soldiers, but he could not stop the spread of despondency.

Night Owl's scouts even reported that mid-level officers of Northern Yan were secretly conspiring to discuss whether to fight, surrender, or force a breakout.

Late on the third night, another secret report was delivered to Xiao Chen: "The Left Battalion Commandant and the Central Army's Grain Supervisor had a big argument over the distribution of grain, almost coming to blows. Murong Chui forcibly suppressed the argument, but the conflict has become public. Some tribal soldiers are extremely resentful and have threatened to break out and return north tomorrow if they are not given enough grain and pay."

Xiao Chen put down the secret report and looked out at the dark night sky, where the lights of the Northern Yan camp were sparse and dim.

The last trace of hesitation in his eyes vanished, replaced by a resolute determination.

"Order the entire army to prepare food at the fourth watch, eat their fill at the fifth watch, and launch a general attack at dawn!"

The order was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly igniting the entire Cold Abyss camp.

The soldiers silently inspected their armor, fed their warhorses enough fodder, strung their bows and crossbows, and sharpened their swords and spears.

The engineers pushed the last batch of trench bridge vehicles and ladders to the front line.

The heavy cavalrymen stroked their cold, heavy "bright armor" and wiped their long lances, their eyes burning with fierce fighting spirit.

This was their first large-scale mass assault since their formation, against the last elite troops of Northern Yan, on a battlefield fortified by the enemy.

The pressure is immense, but so is the glory.