Chapter 861: The Imperial Capital Falls! (Part II)

It was not morning, when bleary eyes opened and all things woke with the dawn.

Nor was it noon, with the blazing sun overhead, summer heat scorching the soles of men’s feet while baking their scalps.

It was dusk.

A surprise assault somehow felt as though it ought to belong to the morning. But in this world, there were very few truly perfect things.

Stealth. Circling behind the enemy. Crossing the river. Then spurring the horses into a desperate run.

Set aside the force Xue San and Chen Xiong had taken early to Xiangsi Mountain as a diversion. Set aside the ten thousand troops left beside Prince Pingxi. Chen Yang and Fan Li should originally have had at least thirty-five thousand men with them.

The soldiers selected to enter Qian had been old veterans from Sushan Camp together with elites chosen from other formations. Neither the capture of Lanyang City nor the taking of Chuzhou City had inflicted serious losses on the Yan.

Yet by the time Chen Yang’s force reached the walls of Shangjing, barely thirty thousand remained.

That meant at least five thousand men had, during this horrifyingly rapid grand flanking march, either collapsed from exhaustion, fallen behind, or simply gotten lost.

For an ordinary army, this was perfectly normal. It was one of the reasons the more troops an army possessed, the slower it moved.

But for what had once been the personal central-army elite of Prince Jingnan himself, suffering this degree of noncombat attrition showed exactly what price the Yan army had paid for this “unexpected” strike.

And yet... the moment the walls of Shangjing appeared before them... from the generals at the top to the lowest cavalrymen below, every man felt it had been worth it.

Even breathing carried the taste of blood deep in their throats.

Shangjing stood right before them.

This was a majestic imperial capital.

It was also an extraordinarily weak imperial capital.

It stood there in silence, graceful and refined.

Waiting... for them to favor it.

Chen Yang knew perfectly well that this opportunity had been bought by Prince Pingxi using himself as bait.

He also knew that so long as he managed to break into this capital, the guilt that had hung over Sushan Camp could finally be erased.

Chen Yang no longer had the mind to think about anything else.

When he had first received the order, he had indeed thought about it. But he had not been wondering whether Prince Pingxi’s almost manic military gamble could actually succeed.

What he had wondered was this: after the gamble succeeded, after all the exhilaration and the great victory, would his force and Prince Pingxi himself still have a chance to surface again and breathe?

Because this time... they had no reinforcements.

A lone army had already driven deep into enemy territory, and now that army had divided itself yet again.

Their position would only become more passive.

Prince Pingxi himself was still surrounded by Qian armies from every direction.

Even if Chen Yang took Shangjing... what happened afterward?

How were they supposed to go back and support the Prince?

Could they even avoid being smothered to death beneath the Qian people’s frenzied revenge and counterattack?

Every one of those questions remained unknown.

But perhaps that was precisely why the Qian had never predicted this move in advance.

You could analyze your opponent.

You could deduce and anticipate most of his motives and actions.

What you usually would not anticipate... was the possibility that he might choose to “go die.”

Chen Yang remembered the speech Prince Pingxi had given the entire army that night. Every Lieutenant Commander who attended had been required, according to eastern Jin tradition, to return and repeat the speech to his own soldiers.

That night, the Prince had said he wanted to lead everyone in pursuit of something.

Not wealth.

Not women.

Not territory.

But... glory.

Was this... the glory the Prince wanted?

At this point, Chen Yang no longer wished to think about gains and losses afterward.

The only thing he wanted now... was to taste the magnificent feast standing before him.

Inside the silk pouch Fan Li had opened were only two words:

“Ura!”

Their Prince was being a fussy pain in the ass again.

But Fan Li was extremely satisfied.

In a scene like this... only those two words could make his entire body tingle.

The woodcutter who had once chopped people down like firewood and piled their bones into a palace loved nothing more than killing on this scale.

Under this atmosphere...

Fan Li’s skin had begun turning an unnatural shade of red.

His armor had already been discarded somewhere along the road.

Yet now, roaring at the top of his lungs, he charged at the very front like a wild beast throwing itself into a sheep pen.

Chen Yang growled:

“Pass down my order! Charge the city!”

The dispatch officers began roaring the command onward.

Their throats had long since gone hoarse.

It did not matter.

The Central Army saw the Vanguard surging forward without hesitation and immediately understood.

The Rear Army understood as well.

This was an exhausted army.

But the temptation of Shangjing was enough to squeeze one final surge of energy from their bodies.

After all... this city quenched thirst far better than merely thinking about plums.

Years ago, Shangjing had once been attacked by Li Fusheng.

That attack had largely been an act of venting fury, but the capital had truly seen the scars of war.

At the time, however, the Emperor had been inside the city, and defenders had been brought in early. The Qian army might not have dared come outside to fight a field battle, but defending from the walls had been entirely possible.

By all logic, after Li Fusheng’s attack, Qian should have paid far greater attention to Shangjing’s defenses.

The walls could have been reinforced.

Civilian buildings outside the walls could have been cleared.

Satellite forts could have been constructed.

The Qian were extremely skilled at civil engineering.

Yet here, that skill had failed them.

Shangjing was the heart of the entire State of Qian.

Too many interests converged within it.

Turning it into a true military stronghold would require weakening some of its other functions.

The problem was that Shangjing had already been operating under unbearable pressure for years.

This enormous city housed the greatest population not merely in all Xia, but perhaps in the entire world.

Its continued existence required vast quantities of manpower, resources, traffic, commerce, and constant circulation merely to sustain itself.

Even after the Yan army swept through the capital region years ago, the population of Bianzhou Commandery—the population living beneath the Son of Heaven’s feet—did not decrease.

It swelled even faster.

After the north was ravaged by Yan troops, every northern family with the means to relocate began migrating toward the capital.

Then came the southwestern rebellion.

Then clashes between Chu and Qian in the southeast.

Wherever war appeared, waves of common people instinctively fled toward the place they believed safest: beneath the Son of Heaven.

In truth, when Shangjing had first been built, its defensive and military functions must have been important considerations.

But over time, it had become much like an imperial palace.

Every palace was built with some thought to defense. It was, after all, the final barrier protecting the sovereign.

Yet when true disaster arrived, those defenses often appeared painfully inadequate.

That was why, under ordinary circumstances, when an enemy army approached a capital, the state would assemble troops there in advance or summon forces from every region to rescue the throne.

Defending a capital did not merely mean putting soldiers on the walls.

Too many other places needed manpower.

Too many gaps required actual soldiers to fill and fight over.

Without enough troops, those gaps simply could not be sealed.

If Qian’s Imperial Guards were still in Shangjing—even if not all of them, even if only thirty thousand genuine troops remained—then after weathering the first Yan assault and mobilizing the common people, the capital might truly have held.

At the very least, an attack on the city would actually have become a siege.

But although plenty of Imperial Guards had technically been left behind, the backbone and elites of the formation had all followed the Emperor north.

Put simply... the entire Imperial Guard system inside Shangjing had already been dismantled into scattered pieces.

Within this capital, there was no single person—or even coherent group of people—capable of grasping the city’s actual machinery and making it move as one.

And there was something else to consider.

Before personally leading the army north, the Emperor had deliberately made certain arrangements.

Who would accompany him?

Who would be demoted?

Who would be sent out of the capital?

Who would simply be thrown into the imperial prison?

If something went wrong at the front and the campaign was lost, how could he ensure the rear remained obediently waiting for his return rather than erupting into chaos?

He could hardly be fighting at the front while the Crown Prince, or someone else, launched a coup behind him and respectfully elevated him to the title of “Emperor Emeritus.”

That would be a joke beyond measure.

Not everyone was like Prince Pingxi, who could personally lead an army out on campaign and toss his entire home territory into the Blind Man’s hands without hesitation.

Other people could neither understand that level of trust nor imitate it.

And even if the Emperor himself truly possessed that kind of “boldness,” the other factions at court would never allow anyone else to exploit his absence and use the Crown Prince’s regency as a pretext to stir up trouble.

Thus Shangjing’s present weakness and disunity had, to some extent, been created deliberately by human hands.

A capital whose main military strength had been stripped away and whose governing system had been intentionally disrupted suddenly found itself facing a pack of ferocious Yan soldiers.

Naturally... everything collapsed into chaos.

Beacon fires rose.

Bells rang.

It was not that no officials or military commanders loyal to the country rushed toward the walls on their own initiative.

Nor was it that no jianghu heroes fought against the tide of panicked civilians and tried to help repel the enemy.

There were such people.

There were plenty of them.

Shangjing was enormous and held a staggering population. At a moment of national crisis, it would never lack stirring acts worthy of song and praise.

But beneath the weight of the larger situation... the efforts of isolated individuals, whether points or lines, still could not stop the crashing wave.

The main gate of Zhengyang Gate had been lowered early.

Yet its two side gates failed to close in time.

Worse, outside those side gates were roads that could loop around and enter the city.

People had lived here for generations, swarming constantly through every direction like ants.

The capital itself was almost a giant anthill riddled with passages.

The commander of Zhengyang Gate personally led a force of Imperial Guards against the Yan, desperately trying to hold this sector long enough for reinforcements from inside the capital to arrive.

He failed.

He and his personal guards died there.

But most of the soldiers under him did not share their commander’s determination to face death.

They quickly collapsed and fled back into the city.

Less than half a day passed.

In truth, it took no more than a little over two hours.

The Yan smashed open the defenses around Zhengyang Gate and surged inside.

Yan troops probing for entry points elsewhere immediately abandoned the Qian troops before them the moment they heard the news.

They disengaged from their battles and simply used the opening that already existed.

The main Imperial Guard formations stationed outside the capital had been sent north with the Emperor.

So Shangjing itself had been forced to face the first wave of the Yan assault directly.

Inside the city, officials who understood how to organize a defense did not hold enough rank to command broadly.

Those with enough rank to issue commands had no idea what they were supposed to do.

This was not mockery.

It was cold reality.

Qian’s bureaucracy had become so complicated and layered that in a moment of genuine crisis, no one could seize control of the whole situation quickly enough.

By comparison, the Yan, whom Qian people had always considered crude and uncivilized, adapted far more easily.

In any Yan city—even Yanjing itself—the highest-ranking officials could still be sorted with perfect clarity into first, second, and third.

Or, if one preferred, into the crude language of a mountain stronghold:

Big Brother.

Second Brother.

Third Brother.

On this subject, Prince Pingxi’s own career provided abundant evidence.

In a crisis, Big Brother stepped forward.

If Big Brother fell, Second Brother took over.

A simple, rough system could, at certain moments, prove far more efficient than one that prided itself on sophistication and complexity.

And so... the Yan truly did continue pouring into Shangjing through Zhengyang Gate.

Meanwhile, Qian defenders stationed elsewhere did not even think to redeploy toward that point and seal the terrifying breach.

As more and more Yan soldiers entered, and as those who had entered began spreading outward, the entire defensive system of Shangjing rapidly lost meaning.

At the same time... the Imperial Palace was in even greater chaos.

At first, the Crown Prince serving as Regent was dragged by the eunuchs around him toward the rear palace.

They had heard the Yan were attacking from the west.

The southeastern corner of the palace ought, therefore, to be relatively safe.

But the two Chancellors left behind in the capital immediately led men into the palace and demanded that the Crown Prince issue an edict at once, organizing the soldiers and civilians of Shangjing to counterattack and drive the Yan out.

The men under both factions actually began fighting one another.

At this moment of mortal crisis, all the rules, rituals, restraint, and refinement that these people ordinarily valued above life itself suddenly became worthless.

Outside the palace, the Seventh Prince had long since established his own household administration. He had also traveled southeast several times to deliver imperial decrees and enjoyed a close relationship with the Zu Clan.

The moment he heard the uproar outside, he immediately put on armor, took up weapons, and prepared to lead the guards of his princely residence into the streets to stabilize the situation.

Unfortunately... before the Emperor left on campaign, he had specifically ordered the Seventh Prince confined to his residence for “insufficient diligence in his studies.”

This Prince had once touched a measure of military authority.

In the Emperor’s eyes, that made him one of the unstable elements remaining in Shangjing while the sovereign personally led the army north.

The Crown Prince’s faction, determined to ensure absolute stability, had tightened those restraints even further.

Perhaps the Emperor had only meant to paste a seal across the door.

The people below him, together with other interested factions, had taken the opportunity to hammer planks over it.

The Seventh Prince now wanted to emerge and restore order.

The Silver-Armored Guards watching his residence refused.

The two sides actually began fighting outside the princely residence first.

And elsewhere... the Yan were still pouring endlessly into the city.

Scenes this absurd repeated themselves all across Shangjing.

There was honestly little here worth dressing up in heroic prose.

Under these circumstances, this magnificent imperial capital displayed even more confusion and incompetence than Lanyang City or Chuzhou City had before it.

Yan hooves began pounding along the official roads inside Shangjing.

Unlike the Qian, who stood lost and helpless inside their own capital, the Yan had already learned from the rapid response required after entering two cities earlier in this campaign.

Which gate should be seized?

Which position should be taken?

Which district needed clearing?

The Yan army had made no detailed plan in advance.

Yet, under their respective commanders, units naturally moved toward the places that needed them.

Some efforts inevitably overlapped.

Other places were inevitably missed.

But against the Qian in their present state, even this improvised efficiency was astonishing.

“The Imperial Palace! The Imperial Palace!”

Fan Li raised his axe and roared toward the Yan soldiers following him.

Once you had broken into an imperial capital, the palace was obviously the greatest prize.

Chen Yang did not even compete with Fan Li for that glory.

He focused instead on the larger situation, leading troops to smash any Qian forces inside the city that showed signs of organizing.

“The Imperial Palace!”

“Into the palace! Capture the Qian Empress!”

“Into the palace! Capture the Qian Empress!”

The blood-boiling slogan rang out again.

The Yan soldiers felt the blood inside their bodies burning.

They feared nothing.

Nor did they believe anyone ahead could possibly stop them.

On the road toward the palace, Qian troops appeared from time to time to resist them.

There were also quite a few men wearing the uniforms of the Silver-Armored Guard, including no shortage of experts.

But beneath the organized advance of Yan troops—crossbows suppressing, great sabers harvesting—the Qian resistance rarely lasted long.

In fact...

Fan Li led the troops forward so quickly that the gates of the Imperial Palace did not even have time to close completely.

Some people were trying to get out under orders to investigate what was happening outside.

Others had received messages from important officials or palace nobles ordering them to come in and provide protection.

Everyone jammed together around the gates.

Then the Yan arrived... and the whole knot simply exploded.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

The Yan army charged into the Imperial Palace.

Bang!

Fan Li barreled forward like a mad bull and sent several men dressed as Qian Jinwu Guards flying.

He himself rolled across the ground several times.

What he had not expected was that men dressed so gaudily would possess such miserable martial skill.

Most of the force behind his charge therefore ended up smashing straight into the palace paving stones.

Crack!

Fan Li stared in disbelief.

He had actually broken his left arm in the collision.

“...” Fan Li.

And so... when Yan soldiers kept coming to Fan Li with reports afterward, the exchanges went like this:

“General Fan, those eunuchs—”

“Cut them down!”

“General Fan, those people in red robes—”

“Cut them down!”

“General Fan, those people in purple robes—”

“Cut them down!”

“General Fan, those—”

“Cut them down! Cut them down! Cut them all down! Other than the Empress and the Noble Consorts, cut down everyone else!”

“General Fan—”

“Ask me one more damned question and I’ll cut you down too!”

Meanwhile, outside the Imperial Palace, Chen Yang had given up his chance to steal the limelight and was wholeheartedly playing street sweeper.

He had just shattered yet another Imperial Guard formation.

Leaning on his saber, standing amid a pool of blood, he watched more of his soldiers gathering around him.

Then he bared his teeth, raised his face toward the sky, and laughed.

“Li Fusheng! You bragged for years, but all you ever did was piss beneath the walls of Shangjing! Your father here walked in with his back straight!”

Chen Yang wiped blood from his face.

Then he reached into the lining of his armor and took out a silk pouch.

Prince Pingxi had given out two silk pouches in total.

One went to Fan Li.

The other went to Chen Yang.

Fan Li had been told to open his the moment he saw Shangjing.

Chen Yang had been told to open his only after breaking into the capital.

Still panting, Chen Yang tore the pouch open and unfolded the sheet of paper inside.

Blank.

Not a single word.

He flipped it over.

Still blank.

“Heh. Heh-heh-heh...”

Chen Yang gave two dry laughs and swallowed hard.

Then he issued an order:

“Pass down the Prince’s—”

He stopped.

Then shouted again:

“Pass down this Count’s order! From top to bottom, no one is to sheath his blade. This Count wants the Qian capital turned into barren wasteland!”

[End of Chapter 861]