The leather pouches at the end of the trebuchets made a crisp crack with every stone launched.
Soldiers in the archer positions fired continuously, five or six quivers placed at each of their feet.
Arrows rained down on the battlements, and stones from the trebuchets smashed onto the defenders' heads like hail.
"Shoot! Shoot! Shred that banner!"
Kevan shouted from horseback, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the black banner with the white wolf on the battlements. He had never hated the black-and-white color scheme as much as he did now.
Soon, under the dense rain of arrows, the banner was torn into strips.
Covered by powerful firepower, Lannister soldiers had already stormed the battlements.
"Push them back! Push them back!"
Beric was still commanding the fight on the battlements. Now was not the time to let Lannister soldiers into the city.
Wait for more attackers, just a few more!
While commanding, he suddenly felt as if someone had struck his upper back with a hammer.
I've been shot.
Beric thought, but without hesitation, he continued fighting.
He saw two Lannister soldiers storm the battlements barely ten steps away and moved to lead men to block them.
Just then, a figure flashed past him.
"My Lord! I killed them! My name is—"
Beric didn't catch what the man said.
But judging by the accent, he should be a Northerner.
The Northern soldier tackled the Westerlands soldiers before they could gain a foothold, slamming into them and dragging them down the wall with him.
"—Food!"
Beric suspected he misheard, but he felt incomparably shocked.
Jon's grand principles might move "literate people" like them.
But for a mere Northern soldier to be so brave and self-sacrificing was truly beyond his expectations.
And soon, more such soldiers appeared.
Even with enemy swords stuck in their bodies, they used their weight to delay the enemy's advance.
This actually drove the surging Lannister soldiers directly off the wall.
At this moment, Beric was surprised to find that the soldiers fearlessly blocking the Westerlands army were surprisingly old.
However, soon other young soldiers seemed encouraged by them and followed suit.
Kevan, commanding from below, couldn't see the scene on the battlements clearly. He roared, sending more soldiers up.
Siege ladders almost covered the wall, with over a thousand soldiers climbing up!
"Attack! Attack!"
Kevan waved his longsword. To boost morale, he even approached the wall, entering arrow range.
His personal guards followed him closely, ready to take damage for him at any moment.
Amidst shouts of slaughter and spraying blood, King's Landing welcomed another morning.
Piles of corpses almost buried the corners of the city wall.
Westerlands soldiers, Northern soldiers, Rivermen, and mountain clan warriors.
Armor, bloody mud, shattered stones, and arrows mixed together to form an ugly, twisted abstract painting.
In the distance, Tywin stared intently at the battlements. Finally, he saw the scarlet banner fluttering.
Tywin silently cheered for Kevan in his heart, then remembered Jon's disrespectful words about his late wife at the Green Fork that day.
He decided to make Jon pay the price no matter what!
---
The sounds of killing at the Lion Gate naturally reached the Red Keep.
Joffrey, who had just been rebuked by Sansa, became agitated.
At this moment, a soldier responsible for lookout on the watchtower came to Maegor's Holdfast with a joyful face: "Your Grace, Your Grace the Queen Regent, the Lion banner has been planted on the Lion Gate!"
Hearing this news, Cersei's expression, tense for days, suddenly relaxed, and she let out a long sigh of relief.
She reflexively reached for her wine goblet, only to find her hand trembling uncontrollably.
It's finally over. Cersei thought to herself.
"Hahaha, that bastard brother of yours is finished!" Joffrey pointed at Sansa and laughed loudly.
"This time, I must punish you properly."
Seeing Joffrey like this, Sansa couldn't stop shaking. She hurriedly shouted, "Myrcella! Myrcella and Tommen are still in my brother's hands!"
Hearing Sansa say this, Cersei suddenly realized it.
Just now, she had been carried away by victory. Cersei knew her father; he probably wouldn't compromise with Jon.
What to do, what to do? Cersei looked around, wanting to find someone to consult.
Pycelle was too old; his own mind wasn't clear.
Cersei thought the only person left to consult was Varys.
Hmm? Where did Varys go? Just as Cersei felt puzzled, she suddenly felt vibrations under her feet.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
"What's happening?!" Cersei asked in panic.
Just then, a soldier suddenly reported: "Your Grace! The Northerners! The Northerners have broken in!"
Varys, secret passage, the North!
Instantly, Cersei thought of a terrible consequence.
At this moment, under Maegor's Holdfast, Jon and a group of soldiers carried a battering ram, relentlessly pounding the oak main gate painted red.
"Heave! Ram! Heave! Ram! Heave! Ram!"
The thick battering ram bombarded the gate of Maegor's Holdfast. Dust rose, red paint flaked off, and the wood inside cracked.
Seeing this, Harrion refused to lag behind. He pushed a soldier aside and personally held the battering ram to slam into the gate.
"Heave!"
With a muffled boom, the red oak gate burst open.
Everyone saw a great hall where dozens of guards formed a hedgehog-like defensive formation blocking Jon.
This was the "first floor" of Maegor's Holdfast, the largest area, known as the "Queen's Ballroom."
Harrion ordered the soldiers to drop the battering ram and prepare for battle, only to find Jon still holding the ram in his arms.
Then a scene he would never forget occurred.
Jon shouldered the battering ram weighing hundreds of pounds and charged straight at the Red Keep guards.
"Yaaaah!!!"
Seeing such a terrifying monster charging at them, the Red Keep guards' hastily formed formation collapsed at the first touch.
Harrion still hadn't recovered from his shock.
Jon only came up to his chin, but he never expected such terrifying strength to burst from that not-so-burly body.
Fortunately, he reacted in time. Seeing Jon so brave, the soldiers' morale was instantly ignited.
They quickly fought their way to the second floor.
Jon and Harrion each led half the soldiers charging upward.
To reflect royal majesty, the stairs of Maegor's Holdfast weren't narrow.
Especially for heavy armored soldiers, they were practically unstoppable here.
Just as they were fighting to their heart's content, a voice came from above: "Jon Snow! Sansa Stark is in my hands. Have your men retreat, or I'll kill her!"
"Sansa!" Both Harrion and Jon heard it.
The voice came from above the spacious, exquisite stairs, clearly a woman's voice.
"Jon Snow! You come up alone. We—we talk!" Cersei's voice trembled noticeably.
"Jon." Harrion started but was stopped by Jon. There were only about ten people upstairs; Jon wasn't afraid of a fight.
Even if a fight broke out, it would give Harrion enough time to charge up.
Cersei was currently in extreme fear. Perhaps only by going there personally could he prevent her from doing something drastic.
This was also why Jon insisted on attacking the Red Keep personally. Cersei was royalty, and he was the army commander. If she died in the chaos, the blame would fall squarely on Jon's head.
He came all this way, stopping Robb from claiming kingship and being alienated, launching a mutiny, risking everything to block a hundred thousand attackers—all to become a lord.
Since he wanted to be a lord, his reputation couldn't have too much controversy.
Moreover, he promised those veterans and mountain clans food rewards and new habitats. These could only be realized if Jon became a lord, a great lord.
Not just for himself, but for those who followed him.
"Your Grace, I have three hostages in my hands; you only have one. If Sansa suffers any harm, I will extract double from your family. A Lannister always pays his debts, right?"
"Sansa is fine. Come up!" Cersei assured Jon again.
Jon sheathed his sword and walked up step by step. Soon he reached the landing, where two white cloaks stood.
"Move aside!"
"Hand over your sword!" one of them said.
"I said move aside!" Jon shouted sternly. He was certain there were only seven or eight guards upstairs, so he disregarded them even more.
Cersei's voice came again.
"Let him up." Led by the two white cloaks, Jon entered the room. As soon as Sansa saw Jon, tears gushed out.
In an instant, all her grievances seemed to roll down with her tears.
"Jo—" Sansa choked, unable to even call out her bastard brother's name completely.
During this time, she had been forced to look at Eddard Stark's head.
Now that a living family member stood before her, her feelings were indescribable. Her blue eyes were glued to Jon, unable to look away.
Cersei cleared her throat, forcing herself to calm down. She said to Jon, "Jon, my father has breached King's Landing. As long as you hand over Myrcella and Tommen, I will let you and Sansa leave."
"Kill him! I want to kill him! Mother, we can't let him go!"
Joffrey started clamoring beside her but suddenly met Jon's grey eyes.
He felt his heart skip a beat. What kind of look was that? As if he were merely a bug that could be crushed at any moment.
"Those are your conditions?" Jon said. "Then my conditions are: hand over Joffrey, go to the High Septon and confess your crimes, admit that all three of them are your illegitimate bastards."
"You bull..." Joffrey wanted to retort but was glared back by Jon.
"Bastard, what are you saying? Do you really want to perish with me?" Cersei was getting anxious. This young man had absolutely no intention of negotiating with her.
Jon casually found a chair by the window and sat down, then said, "You don't have to decide yet. It should be soon. Your father and the Westerlands army will all perish in wildfire."
"What did you say?" Cersei seemed unable to believe it, or perhaps hadn't heard clearly.
Time passed second by second. The atmosphere in the room was oppressive to the extreme. Just now, soldiers on the watchtower saw Tywin breach the city; they thought Jon was just bluffing.
But suddenly, Cersei saw green light reflected on Jon's face.
Green light shone in from the window. Everything in the room, from the guards to Sansa, from Joffrey to Cersei herself, was tinged with faint green.
Before she could react, a rumbling sound came from the distance.
Everyone in the room seemed frozen.
They subconsciously looked out the window, remembering the Battle of the Blackwater not long ago.
At this moment, Jon spoke: "I think Lord Tywin should have perished in the sea of fire by now. Your Grace, hand Joffrey to me, go confess to the High Septon, and I will guarantee the lives of your remaining two children on my father's honor."