In this realistic war game, only I understand the course of the battle.

Yao Chang's army completed the encirclement before dawn.

Shen Du stood behind the crenellations of the city wall, watching the Qiang army outside the city slowly unfold in the morning light. The 30,000 men were divided into three square formations—one at the west gate, one at the north gate, and one at the south gate. Beyond the east gate lay Mount Li, its narrow mountain paths hindering large-scale troop deployment; Yao Chang had only sent a small number of cavalry to monitor them. This three-sided encirclement with a gaping hole was a standard siege formation, leaving the defenders a seemingly escape route, but in reality, it was designed to cause them to trample each other in their rout. A three-sided encirclement plus an ambush on the other side—a psychological warfare tactic.

The Qiang army was better equipped than Shen Du had anticipated. The front-line infantry carried large shields looted from the Qin army's armory, the shields still bearing the black lacquer patterns of the former Qin dynasty. The archers in the rear carried quivers full of quivers—also Qin army quivers, with three-edged iron arrowheads, quite capable of piercing armor. Further away, several siege engines were being assembled, their bodies made of fresh wood cut from the Weibei forest, their wheels still clean of mud. Yao Chang's preparations for this siege were not spur-of-the-moment; he had been planning it for at least a long time.

The faces of the soldiers guarding the city wall looked particularly grim in the morning light. Someone was counting the flags outside the city, but stopped halfway—there were too many. Old Wei stood next to Shen Du, slammed his spear against a brick, cursed something, and then began piling sandbags behind the crenellations. He didn't ask what to do; he'd already passed the stage of asking what to do.

Shen Du walked around the city wall. A section of the eastern parapet had collapsed during the snowy night a few days earlier; Old Wei and his men had temporarily filled it with sandbags and broken bricks, but the repairs weren't solid and couldn't withstand the impact of the battering rams. Three crossbows on the western section were still usable, but less than a hundred bolts remained. The northern section of the wall had the densest concentration of defenders, but also the lowest morale, because the Qiang phalanx outside the city was directly facing the north gate. He lingered a while on the northern section, slamming his iron spear shaft against the bricks, then turned to everyone and said, "Move the oil to the north gate. Don't be stingy—make the first wave hurt them."

He didn't say much, but every word steadied the guards' hands. They had been guarding this city wall for some time, watching the Xianbei cavalry tents outside the city grow larger each day, and watching the Qiang scouts pacing back and forth on the earthen beams. Fear is most terrifying when it's hanging overhead; once it actually falls, it's not so scary anymore. At least now they knew where the enemy was going to attack.

A bugle call rang out from the Qiang phalanx outside the city. It wasn't a charge, but a surrender ultimatum. The call was deep and drawn-out, three long and two short—the standard signal for surrender. After the call subsided, a swift horse galloped out from the Qiang ranks, the rider carrying a white flag—not a surrender flag, but a messenger's flag. The rider spurred his horse to the city wall, reined in his horse, and shouted towards the city tower. His voice was loud and clear, every word audible to the defenders: "General Yao has ordered—only the tyrannical will be punished, the innocent will not be killed! All those willing to abandon darkness and embrace light will have the city gates opened and will be spared! Those who remain obstinate will be destroyed on the day the city falls!"

A moment of silence fell over the city wall. Shen Du felt the breaths of several soldiers around him hold simultaneously. He didn't move, but simply looked down at the envoy from the crenellation. His left hand rested on the brick of the crenellation, while his right hand gripped the iron spear shaft, the base of which gently turned against the brick. Then he turned around and spoke a sentence to Old Wei behind him, his voice soft but extremely steady.

"Shield."

Old Wei handed him a shield. Shen Du leaned the shield against the inside of the crenellation, then drew the short sword from his waist—the same sword he'd picked up in the ruins of Pengcheng, its blade nicked and the rope on the hilt loose, but he'd never replaced it. He weighed the sword in his hand, then said to Old Wei, "Have everyone lie down."

"Lie down?" Old Wei was taken aback.

"Lie down."

Old Wei turned around and roared at the city wall, "Lie down! Everyone lie down!" Although the soldiers did not understand why, they were used to obeying Shen Du's orders and squatted down or lay down behind the crenellations.

Shen Du himself crouched down behind the crenellations, leaning his shield against them, leaving only a sliver of space to observe the messenger below. He gripped his short sword in his right hand, the blade pressed against the inner brick of the crenellations, remaining motionless. He also positioned archers concealed behind several key crenellations on the northern section of the city wall. The messenger below waited a moment, and seeing no response from the city walls, assumed the defenders were hesitating. He spurred his horse forward a few more steps, his voice growing louder.

"General Yao is magnanimous; he will only pursue the crime of Fu Jian, and will not question the others! If you all know what's good for you—"

The crossbow trigger was pulled. An arrow shot out from behind a concealed crenellation, grazing the envoy's helmet and knocking off the red tassel. Startled, the envoy yanked on the reins, his horse reared up, and he lurched, nearly falling off. Clearly unprepared for a sneak attack from the city wall, he hastily turned his horse and retreated hastily back to his own lines.

Shen Du stood up from behind the crenellations, sheathed his short sword, and dusted off his hands. Old Wei also stood up from behind the sandbags, watching the envoy's departing figure, his lips twitching. A low laugh echoed from the city wall—not a relaxed laugh, but a release of pent-up emotions. Shen Du didn't laugh along. He was carefully observing the direction the envoy had retreated—Yao Chang's main force was positioned on the high ground outside the north gate, and a group of mounted generals were pointing at the city wall under their banners. The distance was too great to see their faces clearly, but he could roughly recognize Yao Chang's figure.

The bugle sounded again outside the city, but this time it wasn't a call to surrender; it was a call to charge.

The Qiang archers were the first to advance. They formed three ranks, each about three hundred men, and advanced towards the city wall from the gentle slope outside the north gate. Once the first rank was within firing range, they all crouched down; the second rank nocked their arrows; and the third rank prepared. The three ranks fired in a steady, rhythmic volley, arrows raining down on the city walls, embedding themselves in the crenellations, bricks, and sandbags with a dense, muffled thud. The defenders cowered behind the crenellations, afraid to peek out. The Qiang arrows had three-pronged iron arrowheads, which, once embedded in the sandbags, were impossible to pull out.

Shen Du crouched behind the crenellations, holding his shield above his head. Arrows struck the shield with a series of thuds, making his wrists numb. He peered out through the gap between the shield and the crenellations. The Qiang archers were suppressing the fire on the city walls, and their infantry, carrying ladders, surged up from behind the archers, numbering at least three thousand.

"Oil!" Shen Du roared. The defenders on the northern section of the city wall pushed several large iron pots out of the tower. Beneath the pots were makeshift stoves, the firewood burning brightly, and the oil in the pots boiling and bubbling. Two soldiers, using damp cloths to cushion their hands, lifted the pots and poured them over the outer edge of the crenellations. The scalding oil poured down the wall, drenching the charging Qiang ranks. Screams erupted below the wall. Those hit by the oil rolled on the ground, their flesh instantly blistering and bursting, the acrid smell mingling with the smoke. The Qiang infantry following behind were momentarily stunned by the horrific scene—only for a moment, and the archers on the wall seized the opportunity to lean out from behind the crenellations and fire rockets at the ladders. The rockets embedded themselves in the oil-soaked ladders, instantly turning them into burning ladders. The Qiang infantrymen on the ladders fell from mid-air, their bodies ablaze with flames. Some crashed onto their companions, while others twitched a couple of times on the frozen, hard mud before going still.

The first wave of attack was repelled. But the second wave of the Qiang people followed immediately. This time they had learned their lesson and spread out their ladders, spacing them several feet apart, preventing the oil and fire arrows on the city walls from being concentrated. At the same time, their archers increased the density of their fire, raining arrows down on the city walls, reducing even the gaps between the defenders' peeks to the limit. Shen Du witnessed this scene—several ladders were simultaneously placed against the crenellations, and Qiang infantrymen, with scimitars in their mouths, climbed up the walls with incredible speed, using both hands and feet.

He handed the shield to Old Wei, stood up from behind the crenellations, picked up a broken crossbow arm, and braced it against the outer wall of the crenellations. He had seen similar siege formations in Jiaozhi; when there were many people and the ladders were spread out, there wasn't enough oil to douse every single ladder. They had to change tactics—to counter an attack with many people and many ladders, they could only use firepower to create a buffer zone and disrupt the rhythm of the attack.

"Concentrate the oil, don't pour it on the people, pour it on the ground between their ladders! Crossbowmen, keep an eye on those climbing up from the front!" He quickly adjusted the direction of the oil spray along the northern section of the city wall. Boiling oil was poured down from several crenellations, burning streaks of fire between the dense ladders, and thick smoke shrouded the entire outer wall in a choking black fog. The Qiang archers' vision was obstructed by the smoke, and their accuracy plummeted.

The battle raged from dawn until noon, and from noon until the sun began to set. The Qiang people launched several charges, each time being repelled before replacing their heavily wounded troops with new ones. The defenders on the city walls were running out of arrows. Old Wei led his men to collect the arrows pulled from the bodies of the fallen enemy soldiers; many shafts were broken or arrowheads were bent, but some were still usable. They also had only a sliver of oil left, so Zhou Jing had all the lamp oil from the wounded soldiers' camp poured out to fill a pot—their last reserves. Shen Du's old left leg injury had completely worn off after half a day of fierce fighting. He leaned against the battlements, using the shaft of his iron spear for support; his lips were dry and cracked, but his eyes were still as bright as they had been that morning.

Just then, a loud crash came from the direction of the south gate—not from an oil explosion, but from the sound of wood and iron shattering. A battering ram. Shen Du turned around abruptly. A messenger stumbled in from the south, his face covered in soot. "Master Shen! The south gate—the battering ram has hit the gate!"

"Old Wei! Hold the north gate!" Shen Du, leaning on his iron spear shaft, ran towards the south gate. His left leg ached with every step, causing him to limp after a few steps, but he didn't stop. Old Wei was still throwing stones down the crenellations behind him, Zhou Jing was removing the arrowhead from a soldier whose shoulder had been pierced by an arrow, and Amu was carrying the last bundle of arrows up the city wall. Everyone was busy; no one noticed Shen Du leaving.

The battle at the south gate was even more brutal than at the north gate. The Qiang people's battering ram, a single round log with an iron head, was suspended by iron chains from a four-wheeled cart and pushed by dozens of infantrymen. It had already breached the outer panel of the south gate. The inner gate's heavy iron gate had been lowered by the defenders, its weight shaking the ground as it fell into the gate opening, temporarily halting the impact of the battering ram. However, the iron chains of the gate were rattling loudly, and several links were already deformed. The captain guarding the south gate was an old Di soldier with gray hair, who was leading his men to pile sandbags and rubble into the inner part of the gate opening as a second line of defense.

Shen Du walked over and squatted down to inspect the condition of the siege gate. There was a rusted crack at the bottom of the iron gate, and the impact of the battering ram was widening the crack, with rust and iron filings falling down with each impact. "Just piling up sandbags won't work," Shen Du said to the captain, standing up. "Take down the crossbows from the gate and set them up on the inner walls of the gate. The battering ram will retreat after two more impacts, and during that gap, fire all the crossbow bolts into the group pushing the carts. Also, go to the city tower and carry the last two pots of oil directly above the gate—if the battering ram rushes into the gate, pour it down from above. Do you understand?" The captain nodded repeatedly and turned to call for people to move the oil.

Shen Du stood up and inspected the two crossbows mounted inside the crenellations. These crossbows were old Qin army equipment; their range was short, but their close-range penetrating power was extremely strong. The bolts could pierce through two layers of leather armor, making them a perfect weapon against densely packed cart convoys. The Qiang siege ram adjusted its angle outside the gate and pushed it in again, its iron head slamming into the heavy gate with a deafening roar. The crack in the gate extended several inches from the bottom upwards, but it was still holding up. As the siege ram retreated and adjusted its angle again to prepare for a third impact, Shen Du ordered the crossbows to fire simultaneously. The bolts shot out from the hidden holes inside the gate and embedded themselves in the ranks of the cart-pushing infantry. Several Qiang infantrymen at the forefront were pierced through the chest by bolts and fell to the ground, throwing the cart-pushing ranks into chaos. Immediately afterward, the defenders above the crenellations tilted their oil cauldrons, pouring boiling oil from above onto the wooden frames of the siege rams and the cart-pushing ranks, and another scream of agony erupted outside the city gate.

The Qiang people's offensive was temporarily halted at the south gate. However, the battering ram itself was not destroyed; it was merely temporarily withdrawn.

As darkness fell, the Qiang troops withdrew. The Qiang formations outside the city slowly retreated, leaving behind a scene of devastation on and around the city walls. The muddy ground along the moat was trampled into a mushy mess, and charred remains of siege ladders and corpses that couldn't be dragged away lay scattered at the base of the walls. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning oil and blood, a stench so strong it made one want to vomit.

Shen Du leaned on his iron spear shaft as he descended the city wall. Old Wei was still alive, sitting under the crenellations wiping his spear with a rag. His face was streaked with black and white from the soot. When he saw Shen Du come down, he stood up, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then remained silent. Amu was also alive, squatting at the base of the wall, picking up the scattered arrows one by one and sorting them. On his lap was a tattered ledger—given to him by Zhou Jing to record the casualties and losses on the city wall. He wasn't very literate, and he often wrote wrong characters by drawing them, but he wrote with utmost care.

Zhou Jing emerged from the wounded soldiers' camp, tucking a new roll of bandage into his coat. He glanced at Shen Du's face, then at his left leg, and frowned, asking, "Has it been treated?"

"I didn't have time," Shen Du said. Zhou Jing pulled him to a corner of the wounded soldiers' camp and made him sit down. He rolled up Shen Du's left trouser leg to examine the wound, then re-bandaged his knee with a paste of crushed herbs. Shen Du didn't frown while being bandaged; he just leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a while. But the sound of the battering ram pounding against the sluice gate kept echoing in his mind—today he had barely held the south gate with the help of crossbows and oil, but what about tomorrow? The cracks in the sluice gate had spread to a dangerous level; one or two more blows and it would collapse. Repairing the sluice gate required a blacksmith and at least a day's time—neither of which he had.