Attack

The night wrapped the plains in a thick cloak of shadows, broken only by the distant flicker of rebel torches. These were not mere lights but fiery eyes lurking in the darkness, tracing a circle of threats around An Lu's fortresses. The walls, imposing under the waning moon, cast monstrous silhouettes over the barren land. From his elevated position on the hill, Luo Wen breathed in the cold air, heavy with the scent of burnt grass and rusted metal. Behind him, his officers waited in silence, their armor whispering with every nervous movement.

"They are not stone we are facing," Luo Wen murmured, his gaze never leaving the enemy towers. "They are men who believe in their own invincibility." His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, where Yuan Guo's belt remained coiled like a talisman. "Tonight, we will remind them that even the tallest walls crumble when fear corrodes their foundations."

Zhao Min, standing firm like an old tree to his left, drove the blade of his axe into the ground. The chipped, mud-stained edge gleamed faintly under the moonlight.

"My men are ready to scale those walls and tear the guts out of An Lu's cowards," he growled, spitting onto the dirt. "We'll give them a night they'll remember in their nightmares."

A younger officer, his angular face lined with worry, crossed his arms over his dented breastplate.

"If we fail in the first assault, their archers will cut us down," he warned, his eyes fixed on the torchlit battlements. "We need a distraction bigger than just a few ladders."

Luo Wen turned slowly, his silhouette outlined against the star-strewn sky.

"That's why Jiang Yu is underground," he answered, gesturing towards the darkness where a secret tunnel stretched like a blind serpent. "While their men focus on us, he will bring an end to their false sense of security."

The mention of the strategist made some nod in silent approval, remembering his meticulous nature. Lin Xue, leaning against her yew bow, adjusted the string with a bandaged finger.

"My arrows will cover every move," she said, her voice as soft as a feather's touch. "If they raise their heads, they will never see the dawn."

The first war horn sounded like thunder in the night. Instantly, the sky turned red—dozens of fire arrows streaked through the air, carving perfect arcs before embedding themselves in the walls. Flames licked at the wooden watchtowers, illuminating the faces of defenders shouting frantic orders. Below, Zhao Min led the charge, his axe raised as he climbed a swaying ladder.

"For Yuan Guo and freedom!" he roared, dodging a boulder hurled from above. A rebel beside him fell with a muffled scream, but three more climbed up, grappling hooks in hand. Reaching the top, Zhao Min lunged at the first defender, driving his axe into the soldier's helmet with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across his face, mixing with sweat and soot.

On the walls, chaos reigned. An Lu's soldiers, stunned by the simultaneous attack, ran in all directions. Some tried to smother the flames with blankets, while others pushed against the rebels' ladders. But for every defender who fell, two rebels took their place, fueled by years of oppression and rage.

From the hills, Lin Xue watched the turmoil with hawk-like precision. Her archers, crouched among the rocks, drew their bows in unison.

"Wait..." she murmured, calculating the wind that rustled her silver braid. "Now."

A hundred arrows whistled through the night, striking exposed necks and slipping through armor gaps. A defender raising a torch to signal reinforcements collapsed with a groan, the flame dying in his lifeless grasp.

"Second line, fire," Lin Xue commanded, never taking her eyes off the battlefield. Beside her, a teenage archer, his cheeks smudged with soot, trembled as he realized his arrow had struck a man calling out for his mother.

Underground, Jiang Yu moved through the narrow tunnel. The air reeked of damp roots and sweat. His men, wielding pickaxes and shovels, pointed at fractures in the stone foundations.

"Here," Jiang Yu whispered, pressing a hand against a decaying wooden beam that supported the wall. "Burn the supports."

Two men smeared animal fat over the beams before lighting torches. Flames hungrily devoured the dry wood, crackling in the darkness.

"Fall back!" Jiang Yu warned. The group crawled backward as the fire consumed the pillars.

A thunderous crash shook the earth. With a groan like dying stone, a section of the wall collapsed, dragging defenders with it. Dust and debris billowed into the night like a ghostly shroud.

"Now!" Luo Wen bellowed, raising his sword.

The rebels, waiting in the darkness, surged forward with ladders and logs fashioned into battering rams. On the right flank, Luo Wen's cavalry charged, their spears leveled and tattered banners fluttering like crow's wings.

Inside the fortress, all order unraveled. An Lu's soldiers, trapped between fire and crumbling walls, retreated toward the inner courtyards. An enemy captain, wielding a curved sword, attempted to rally his men into a shield wall, but Lin Xue's arrow found his throat before he could utter a command.

Luo Wen, astride his black warhorse, lifted his sword.

"Cavalry, strike the right flank!" he ordered, and a hundred riders thundered forward like wolves upon a scattered flock.

Inside the fortress, panic consumed An Lu's troops. A captain, his severed arm hanging limply, tried to regroup his forces, but Lin Xue's arrow silenced him forever. Others threw down their weapons and fled toward the stables, only to find the doors blocked by rebels.

By dawn, the fortress was a smoldering skeleton. Luo Wen walked among the wreckage, stepping over pools of dried blood and splintered wood. Around him, rebels gathered weapons and tended to the wounded. A young soldier, slumped against a crumbling wall, stretched out a trembling hand toward him.

"Was it worth it, Commander?" the boy asked, his voice weak from a wound in his side.

Luo Wen knelt, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Every step toward Guangling is worth the blood we shed," he replied, though doubt gnawed at his chest. "Rest now. We will need your courage in the battles to come."

As he lifted his gaze, he saw Zhao Min drinking from a stolen wine flask, Lin Xue counting the remaining arrows, and Jiang Yu poring over maps looted from the enemy command tent. In the distance, the next fortresses of An Lu loomed, dark silhouettes against an orange sky.

Guangling was still far away, but that night they had learned a lesson: even the most formidable walls fall when the iron of will strikes hard enough.