Chapter Sixty-Four: Never Afraid of Death

As Yang Xi issued the command to fire the ballistae, every ballista poised atop the eastern gate ramparts unleashed its bolts almost simultaneously. A chorus of vibrating bowstrings resounded, followed by dozens of thick, whistling bolts hurtling toward the charging rebel soldiers.

Compared to the ramparts at Han Tong Pass, the eastern and southern ramparts of Sui Tong Pass were outfitted with twice as many ballistae—twenty on each side. This meant twice the number of bolts could be fired in a single volley, but the devastation wrought upon the rebels was more than doubled.

The rebels attacking from the eastern gate were crowded together, forced by the narrow road leading to the gate. The twenty ballistae concentrated near the eastern gate tower had been precisely calibrated to target the winding stairway from the riverbank where the rebels gathered up to the city gate, ensuring high accuracy with every shot.

Witnessing the ballistae begin their deadly work, the rebel commander directing the first assault frantically ordered his troops to evade the bolts. Yet no human reflex could match their speed. As the whistling grew nearer, cries of agony erupted among the ranks.

The powerful bolts struck mercilessly into the bodies of those unable to dodge. The density of the rebels ensured devastating carnage; many bolts pierced through one soldier and continued into the man behind, wounding even a third before coming to rest. Those struck by the bolts were either killed outright or gravely wounded.

Some soldiers suffered mere glancing hits, yet had chunks of flesh torn away, collapsing in pain to writhe upon the ground. Those hit in the arm or leg often lost the limb instantly, and the unlucky were severed from their bodies entirely.

Outside the eastern gate, it was common to see soldiers with shattered limbs. Just one volley left nearly a hundred of the five hundred charging rebels dead or wounded.

The shields raised by the rebels, sturdy enough to withstand ordinary arrow fire, were little protection against the thick bolts of the ballistae; many were shattered.

Bolts that pierced shields wounded or killed the men beneath, sometimes slaying them outright. The appalling casualties and the terror of injury threw the rebels into confusion. Though the commanding officer was unharmed, he was so stunned he could only shout desperately for his men to dodge the bolts and hasten their advance, hoping to reach the protection of the eastern gate tower. Once beneath its shadow, the rebels would be in the ballistae’s blind spot. Ordinary arrows could not penetrate tightly packed shields; if the shields were held close, the defenders’ arrows would fail to break through.

Even if unlucky soldiers were hit by ordinary arrows, they rarely died on the spot unless struck in a vital area.

If enough men reached the base of the wall, they could return fire with their own bows and even raise scaling ladders to assault the ramparts.

But if they lingered far from the gate, exposed to further ballistae volleys, the five hundred—perhaps even more—would be slaughtered en masse, and those surviving would be so terror-stricken they might flee.

Perhaps it could be said that the most dreadful thing in life is not death itself, but the anticipation of death without knowing when it will come—the looming sense of fatality that saps all courage. Watching comrades die horribly beside you, knowing your own fate may soon be the same, even the bravest nerves would unravel.

After such a heavy blow, the survivors were paralyzed by fear; some collapsed to the ground, others turned to flee, until the commander’s furious shouts jolted them into action, and they scrambled toward the gate in panic.

At that moment, another volley of ballistae bolts shrieked through the air, crashing into the chaotic rebel formation. Amidst another chorus of screams, dozens more were slain or wounded.

The remaining rebels could no longer endure such horror, fleeing in all directions—toward the gate or into the rocky hills nearby. Yet their commander kept bellowing for his men to advance. Meanwhile, the next wave of rebel soldiers, urged forward by their officers, rushed in, with several more waves following close behind.

This was because Cheng Wei, overseeing the assault from behind, realized the situation was dire and immediately ordered the reserves to launch continuous attacks.

The Tang army’s ballistae were far too deadly against tightly packed squads; they hardly needed ordinary arrows to rout an attacking force of five hundred. If the assault continued with intervals between waves, thousands would be sacrificed with few making it to the gate, while Tang’s supply of arrows and energy would barely be diminished, and rebel morale would collapse.

Intelligence had revealed that the Tang defenders in Sui Tong Pass possessed vast stores of arrows, with an inexhaustible supply for the ballistae. At this rate, the rebels had no hope of scaling the walls.

Thus, Cheng Wei issued a ruthless order: all remaining soldiers and those under his command were to charge relentlessly toward the eastern gate, ensuring enough men reached the walls to raise scaling ladders. Today, Cui Qianyou had decreed that even if corpses piled as high as the city walls, the assault must not cease. No matter the cost, Sui Tong Pass must fall.

Cui Qianyou’s command came directly from An Qingxu. With such orders, no officer dared disobey. Even if the dead stacked as high as the walls, the attack would not falter, and the soldiers, under their officers’ orders, surged toward the eastern gate like a tide.

Standing atop the eastern gate tower, Yang Xi had long forgotten the sweltering heat; his entire focus was absorbed by the battle unfolding outside the walls.

After several ballistae volleys, the results were astonishing. Nearly a third of the hundreds of charging rebels had been killed or wounded, shattering the attacking force in an instant. Subsequent volleys brought near-total destruction to this wave.

Yet Yang Xi quickly observed the rebels shifting tactics after the first assault, launching relentless attacks on the eastern gate, clearly determined to take it regardless of the cost.

Their ferocity stirred both dread and excitement in Yang Xi. He could now order his men to kill the attackers without restraint, and himself take part in the fight.

His skill in arms and command would be tested and displayed in the clash to come.

He had never feared facing death, nor had he ever flinched at the sight of it.