On our wedding night, my wife acted strangely.

Zhang Yong gripped the bricks tightly.

Sun Fu was telling the truth, and it was the real situation.

But he was the commander of the Imperial Guard.

If His Majesty says to defend to the death, then we must defend to the death.

This is his duty, and even more so, his integrity.

"Your Excellency," Zhang Yong turned around and looked at Sun Fu, "I know your intentions are good, but His Majesty's decree is here, and I cannot disobey it."

Sun Fu sighed.

"Alas, Commander Zhang, you are indeed a man of courage, but this old servant advises you: when the fighting starts, whatever you do, don't stand on the city wall. Last time you were buried alive, you were lucky to survive, but you might not be so fortunate this time."

After saying that, Sun Fu turned and went down the city wall.

He's not going to stand here and die with these stupid soldiers.

......

Below the city wall, the fat man sat on a rock and ate a meat pie.

While munching on his food, he talked to the messenger next to him: "Hey, why are these people so slow? The incense stick has almost burned out, and they still haven't opened the door."

The messenger dared not reply, only letting out two dry laughs.

The fat man stuffed the last bite of the biscuit into his mouth, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and then got up and patted the dirt off his buttocks.

"Alright, time's up." He mounted the mule, pulled a command flag from his waist, and raised it high. "Brothers, listen up! Fully draw the crossbows for Fatty! Prepare the catapults!"

A creaking sound rang out as the winch of the Eight-Ox Crossbow was pulled to its limit.

The catapult's boom was also lowered to its lowest point, and the stone projectiles wobbled in the pocket.

On the city wall, the Imperial Guard soldiers, upon witnessing this scene, turned even paler and began to retreat involuntarily.

At the same time, Zhang Yong was also making a final struggle in his mind.

To fight or not to fight?

If we fight, how long can the three thousand Imperial Guards hold out? A stick of incense, or half a stick of incense?

If he doesn't fight, Zhang Yong will be a traitor, betraying the emperor's trust.

Just then, the fat man's voice came up again.

"Old Zhang! I'm asking you one last time! Are you opening the door or not?!"

Zhang Yong stood behind the battlements, opened his mouth, and wanted to shout "Don't open!"

But those two words were stuck in my throat, and I just couldn't get them out.

Because he knew that as soon as those two words were uttered, at least half of his three thousand-plus men would die here.

......

Just as Fatty and Zhang Yong were facing off at Xuanwu Gate, fifty figures were moving along the wall of the western corner tower of the palace.

Zhao Dongqing walked at the very front.

He was wearing a gray and brown camouflage training uniform, and his face was covered with a mask, only his eyes were visible.

He had a triangular bayonet at his waist, a repeating crossbow strapped to his arm, and training boots on his feet that made almost no sound when he stepped on the ground.

He was followed by forty-nine people, one after another, with no more than three steps between them.

Everyone was equipped with the same gear—a triangular bayonet, a repeating crossbow, a grappling hook, and a whistle.

They were lightly armed and carried no armor or long weapons.

The winter sky was overcast and gray, and the withered trees at the foot of the palace wall cast a dark shadow.

Fifty men, dressed in gray-brown training uniforms, crouched in the shadows and were almost invisible.

Zhao Dongqing raised his right hand and clenched his fist. Everyone stopped at the same time and listened intently for a few moments.

Faint shouts came from the direction of Xuanwu Gate in the distance; it was Fatty talking to Zhang Yong.

Okay, all the positive attention has been drawn to that.

Zhao Dongqing made a gesture – Go.

Two soldiers emerged from the ranks, swung their grappling hooks, and firmly gripped the brick seams on the wall.

The rope taut, and the two climbed up one after the other with great speed and agility.

Once they reached the top of the wall, one person lay down to observe, while the other turned around and gave a safety signal.

Zhao Dongqing nodded, and the fifty people were divided into five groups, climbing up the rope in turn.

The whole process took less than three minutes.

After climbing over the wall, Zhao Dongqing squatted behind an old locust tree by the palace road and quickly scanned the surrounding terrain.

To the left is a row of low guardhouses, with doors and windows tightly closed; these must be where the eunuchs lived.

To the right is a narrow passageway leading towards the inner court.

Directly in front is a plaza, and at the end is a side hall of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

"Group one, follow me through the alley and head straight for the back of the Hall of Mental Cultivation," Zhao Dongqing said in a low voice to the others. "Group two, take control of the left-hand guardhouse and don't let a single person slip through. Group three, block the retreat route to the Imperial Garden. Groups four and five, get on the rooftops and aim your crossbows at the square in front of the hall."

"Yes." The five team leaders nodded in unison.

With a wave of his hand, Zhao Dongqing caused the crowd to disperse silently, seeping into the palace corridors like water.

Zhao Dongqing led a group of ten people along the alley, hugging the wall, and quickly weaving in and out.

When he reached a corner, he suddenly stopped and raised his hand to signal the people behind him not to move.

Footsteps came from that direction.

Two eunuchs emerged from the side gate, carrying food boxes in their hands, talking quietly as they walked.

"I heard there's trouble at Xuanwu Gate again, but I wonder what happened..."

"Who cares? Just deliver the food, don't pry into anything else..."

The two were talking as they turned the corner.

Then I saw Zhao Dongqing.

No, to be precise, they saw a masked figure with only his eyes showing, crouching at the base of the wall watching them.

This scene is absolutely terrifying.

The eunuch in front had just opened his mouth to shout when Zhao Dongqing and Ma Xiaohu attacked simultaneously.

Two triangular bayonets pierced his throat with a thud.

The two eunuchs didn't even have time to let out a terrified scream before they collapsed limply to the ground, without even the food box falling to the ground.

Ma Xiaohu and another soldier dragged the two corpses into a dark corner and covered them with dry grass.

Zhao Dongqing waved again: "Let's go."

One group continued forward.

After passing through the alley and going around a rockery, the back wall of the Hall of Mental Cultivation comes into view.

Zhao Dongqing squatted behind the artificial hill and observed for a while.

There were two Imperial Guards guarding the back gate of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, but they were clearly not focused. One was rubbing his hands to warm them, while the other was leaning against the door frame and dozing off.

Zhao Dongqing held up two fingers and pointed at the two people behind him.

The two men understood immediately and crouched down to go around to either side of the back door.

With a soft thud, two Imperial Guards fell to the ground simultaneously.

Zhao Dongqing led his men forward, dragged the two corpses into the doorway, and then left two men on each side of the back door to guard them.

"Backdoor secured." Zhao Dongqing silently counted the time in his mind; less than an incense stick's time had passed since he climbed over the wall.

Then he looked up at the roof of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Groups four and five should already be in place.

Sure enough, several gray-brown figures appeared on the roof ridge, lying motionless on the tiles.

One of them glanced down and then whispered to Zhao Dongqing, "Brother Dongqing, there are at least two hundred people down there."

Zhao Dongqing also climbed onto the roof and looked down following his gaze.

In the square in front of the hall, more than two hundred imperial guards stood in several rows, holding long spears and shields. They were Zhang Yong's reserve force left in the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

But these people were in the same state as those on the city wall, standing crookedly, some whispering to each other, others constantly looking towards Xuanwu Gate.

Zhao Dongqing's lips twitched beneath his mask: "Wait for the Prince's signal. No one is allowed to move until the signal is given."

"Understood." Ma Xiaohu pushed the crossbow forward a little more and found a more comfortable position to lie down.

Fifty special forces soldiers arrived one after another, silently lying in ambush on the roof and in the shadows along the walls, completely surrounding the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

The two hundred-plus Imperial Guards were completely unaware that fifty repeating crossbows had been set up around them.

......

Outside Xuanwu Gate, the fat man's patience was running out.

The incense stick had long since burned out, but the city gate remained closed.

He mounted the mule, his smile vanished completely, tucked the command flag into his waistband, jumped off the mule, and strode to the front of the formation.

"Zhang Yong!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, "I've given you face and waited for half an incense stick's time! Are you going to open it or not?!"

There was no response from the city gate tower.

The fat man waited a few moments, then sneered, "Heh, fine, you won't open it, huh? Then I'll open it myself."

After saying that, he turned around and raised his right hand to the Shenji Battalion formation behind him.

"Prepare the eight-ox crossbows!"

With a creak, the trigger of the crossbow was pulled.

"Catapults, prepare!"

"For Fatty..."

"etc!"