Song Dynasty: Yuan Dynasty, you didn't expect this, did you? I'm still alive.

The endless stream of his compatriots' corpses below the city walls and the ever-decreasing morale of the soldiers on the city walls were like two dull knives repeatedly cutting into King Wutong's nerves.

Standing atop the city wall, looking down at the densely packed siege troops and the hesitant soldiers on the city walls, his face was ashen—if this stalemate continued, a mutiny would break out in Ayutthaya before the Song army even breached the city walls.

Although these temporarily recruited militiamen lacked training and combat capability, their advantage lay in their large numbers.

With 40,000 men against 20,000 Song soldiers, there was bound to be some chance of victory.

Taking a gamble might offer a chance to turn things around; sitting idly by and waiting for death is the only way out.

King Wutong gritted his teeth and finally made up his mind to launch a preemptive strike: "Leave 10,000 troops to defend the city in case of unforeseen circumstances, and the remaining 40,000 troops will follow me out of the city to fight the Song army to the death!"

But he soon realized that he was wrong, and very wrong.

He was not facing ordinary 20,000 men, but 20,000 Song soldiers equipped with flintlock muskets—with a maximum effective range of 500 meters and a rate of fire of two rounds per minute. Such firepower was simply beyond the capabilities of any army armed with cold weapons.

"Fire!" With the order from the Song army commander, a barrage of gunfire instantly resounded across the battlefield.

Lead bullets rained down on the Siamese army, and the soldiers in the front ranks fell one after another into pools of blood before they could even see what the Song soldiers looked like.

They didn't even manage to touch a single piece of clothing of the Song soldiers before leaving behind thousands of corpses, their blood staining the wilderness outside the city.

Such massive casualties were tantamount to annihilation for a hastily assembled, non-professional army like Siam's.

Fear spread like wildfire. The soldiers in the front ranks were the first to break down, throwing down their weapons and screaming as they fled: "Run! We can't win!"

"It's Buddha Shakyamuni's punishment! We've offended the gods!"

The fleeing soldiers surged backward like a tidal wave, and the five thousand elite troops personally led by King Utong were instantly submerged in the tide of fleeing people.

In the chaos, even many elite soldiers gave up resistance and joined the fleeing ranks.

Standing atop the high slope, Zhao Yu took in the entire scene. A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips as he brandished his sword and ordered, "All troops, attack!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he mounted his horse and led a thousand dragon riders into the fleeing army.

Where the horses' hooves trampled, screams echoed. With each swing of the gleaming silver spear, the lives of Siamese soldiers were reaped as if they were in an empty field.

Half an hour later, the battlefield was littered with corpses and rivers of blood.

Countless Siamese soldiers surrendered or died, and very few managed to escape.

King Uthong, with his remaining two thousand troops, fought desperately to retreat back to Ayutthaya, where he closed the city gates and dared not show his face again.

"Write it down quickly! The Emperor is incredibly brave; he single-handedly defeated an army of 300,000 and beheaded 100,000!"

Standing beside Zhao Yu, Ji Bai was filled with excitement and immediately instructed the scribes beside him to record the battle report.

The literati were numb to the increasingly outrageous battle reports.

Historians recorded the facts truthfully without altering a single word.

Oh, no, he wasn't a historian either.

That's fine.

King Utong, who had fled into the city, slumped on his throne, trembling all over, his face filled with terror.

The battlefield scene kept replaying in his mind, and only one thought remained: Is this even an army of this era? This is like using steel knives to cut down primitive people; there's no comparison at all!

The generals and nobles in the city were terrified by the Song army's formidable fighting power and knelt down before King Wutong, proposing to surrender.

King Uthong's gaze fell on the beautiful Queen Suphanburi beside him, and all sorts of unbearable images flooded his mind. His sharp nails dug deep into his palms, bringing waves of excruciating pain.

No, I don't want that kind of thing.

He could not tolerate such humiliation!

"No! We can't surrender!"

King Wutong suddenly stood up, a glint of madness flashing in his eyes. "The Song army has powerful long-range attack capabilities, but their firearms are ineffective in urban warfare! We can open the city gates, let the Song army into the city, and engage them in close combat through the alleyways. We will surely win!"

Upon hearing this, the generals and nobles exchanged glances, their eyes flashing with a complex light—a mixture of hesitation, fear, and a barely perceptible hint of resistance.

King Utong keenly sensed that something was amiss, and the air in the palace instantly became eerie.

The generals and nobles did not act on his orders, and King Uthong did not press further, so the two sides fell into a dead silence.

Time ticked by, and the oppressive atmosphere made it hard to breathe.

"Clang—" Suddenly, a wine glass fell to the ground, the crisp sound breaking the silence in the hall and completely shattering the stalemate.

The next moment, the nobles and generals suddenly stood up and commanded the soldiers beside them to fight against King Utung's personal guards.

In the end, outnumbered, King Utong was firmly under control and unable to move.

Soon, Zhao Yu saw the Siamese nobles escorting the bound and gagged King Uthong out of the city gates to surrender.

"Respected General of Song!" the leading nobleman said obsequiously, "The previous enmity with the Great Song was entirely King Wutong's idea, and had nothing to do with us! We are willing to submit to the Great Song and hope that the General will spare our lives!"

Zhao Yu didn't put on airs. He walked forward with a smile, circled around King Wutong, and asked, "King Wutong, are you convinced?"

King Wutong abruptly turned his head, snorted coldly, and said in a tone full of resentment, "If it weren't for the betrayal of these treacherous ministers, how could I have lost? I refuse to accept this!"

"presumptuous!"

"How dare you be so rude! How dare you speak to a general of the superior state!" The surrendered generals and nobles, fearing that King Wutong would anger Zhao Yu, hurriedly stepped forward to rebuke him.

Zhao Yu stroked his chin, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes: "Since you're not convinced, then this general will release you. Go back to the city, reorganize your army, and fight me again!"

King Wutong's eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief: "What did you say? You're going to let me go?"

"This general is a man of his word, why would I lie to you?" Zhao Yu waved his hand, ordering his soldiers to untie Wu Tongwang's ropes.

King Wutong was overjoyed and secretly vowed: "You spared me today, but I will definitely come back to make you regret your decision for the rest of your life!"

To everyone's surprise, Zhao Yu not only released King Uthong, but also, to everyone's astonishment, ordered that the surrendered Siamese generals and nobles be returned to King Uthong as well.

The surrendered generals and nobles were terrified, falling to their knees and kowtowing repeatedly, crying, "General, spare our lives! General, spare our lives!"

But Zhao Yu's mind was made up; how could they change it?

Upon seeing this, these people turned ashen-faced.

As expected, the moment they were brought back to the city, the enraged King Uthong ordered them all to be executed.

"Haha! Zhao Shou, thank you for helping me get rid of these disloyal people!" King Wutong stood beside the corpses, laughing loudly, feeling even more confident about the upcoming battle—without the traitors, the army's fighting power would definitely be greatly enhanced.

The next day, King Wutong opened the city gates, setting up a trap to lure the Song army into the city.

Seeing this, Zhao Yu was not afraid at all and immediately ordered the entire army to enter the city.

The Siamese soldiers had already hidden at the corner of the alley, gripping their steel knives tightly, ready to launch a close-quarters attack once the Song army entered the ambush zone.

But to their utter surprise, after entering the alley, the Song soldiers did not rush to advance, but instead took out cylindrical wooden blocks about the size of a forearm and threw them into the depths of the alley.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" A series of explosions rang out, deafeningly loud.

The Song army threw out hand grenades—because the explosive power of gunpowder at that time was far less than that of later generations, the hand grenades were made to be extremely large.

The explosion sent metal fragments flying everywhere, killing all the Siamese soldiers hiding in the alley without exception.

The Song army easily defeated the Siamese army, completely shattering King U Thong's hopes of winning through street fighting.

Soon, King Wutong was brought before Zhao Yu again by the soldiers.

"King Wutong, are you convinced this time?" Zhao Yu asked, leaning against a pillar with a half-smile.

King Wutong's eyes darted around, and he said with feigned defiance, "I refuse to accept this! You're only powerful because of your superior weaponry and national strength! If our positions were reversed, I would be no less capable than you!"

"Hahaha!" Zhao Yu laughed loudly. Before his laughter had even subsided, the bright silver spear in his hand suddenly thrust out and pierced through the chest of King Wutong.

King Utong's eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief—No way? Shouldn't you let me go again, like last time?

Zhao Yu sheathed his spear, thinking to himself: I was originally planning to play a few more rounds with you, but you actually want to switch roles with me? I'm not stupid, how could I give you that chance?

Since you're not satisfied, then I'll just have to ask you to die.

"Record it!" Ji Bai immediately stepped forward and instructed the accompanying scholars, "His Majesty is benevolent and righteous, capturing King Wutong eight times. In the end, King Wutong, deeply moved by His Majesty's benevolence and filled with shame, committed suicide in Ayutthaya!"

The scholar picked up his pen and began to record the events while silently calculating in his mind—in the official war report of this Siam war, it was stated that one person alone defeated an army of one million and beheaded half a million.

He truly deserves the title of "Great Khan of Heaven, Earth, and Man, the Supreme Ruler of the Eight Desolations and Six Directions"!

Zhao Yu ordered his soldiers to clean up the battlefield and wipe out the remaining rebels in the city.

Now that Siam has been conquered, the Siamese people in the city have become his assets, and naturally he can no longer squander them as he did before.

As evening approached, Zhao Yu prepared to stay at the palace of King Wutong.

At this moment, Ji Bai led in a graceful and beautiful woman—it was none other than Queen Supanwuli, the wife of King Uthong.

Zhao Yu's eyes lit up instantly.

Although his palace had young female slaves from various ethnic groups, he had never had such a charming married woman, let alone the wife of a king.

He cleared his throat and said in a serious tone, "She just lost her husband. Put mourning clothes on her."

Ji Bai understood immediately and went to make the arrangements.

That evening, he sent the queen, dressed in mourning clothes, to Zhao Yu's bedchamber.

Zhao Yu embraced Su Panwuli and slept on the bed that King Wutong had once used, spending the entire night without sleep.