Zhu Ling's mood at this moment could only be described as miserable.
Chang'an was a city of high walls and deep defenses. This was a fact acknowledged throughout the realm, and it was also what Zhu Ling regarded as his greatest reliance in this battle.
When the Former Han made Chang'an its capital, the city walls had already stood three zhang and five chi tall. In later generations, because the city lay in the heart of the Three Qins, it first had to face the threat of the Xiongnu from the north, and later suffered repeated disturbances from the Qiang and Hu tribes. Under these layered pressures, Chang'an's walls were raised again and again. By today, they had reached a height of five zhang, nearly twelve meters, towering proudly among all cities under Heaven.
Because of this, even though Chang'an was short on troops and generals, Zhu Ling had never truly felt anxious.
A wall five zhang high was not something that could be taken lightly. Without three or five tens of thousands of men throwing themselves into a desperate assault, how could such a city possibly fall?
Thus, when Zhu Ling saw that the enemy numbered only a bit over ten thousand, with most of them cavalry, he found it difficult to take them seriously. While defending the city, his greater concern was not Liu Bei's army, but Xiahou Yuan, whose whereabouts remained completely unknown.
Now that Lu Zhao was dead and no longer at Xiahou Yuan's side, if that army were to suffer defeat, then the consequences would be unthinkable.
Without realizing it, Zhu Ling began to worry about his own situation. A wild thought even crept into his heart.
If General Xiahou were to die in battle, and he himself assisted Inspector Zhong in repelling the enemy at Chang'an, then perhaps…
But in less than half a day, a common stone millstone, the sort seen in any farming household, delivered a world shaking blow against Chang'an's walls. As Zhu Ling wiped the sweat from his face, he finally understood something very clearly.
He had been optimistic far too early.
He immediately sent men to inform Inspector Zhong of what had happened, while at the same time ordering the news sealed off and the area cleaned. Unfortunately, part of that millstone, weighing three or four hundred jin, had embedded itself deep into the wall and could not be moved at all.
That massive stone sat there like a magnet, drawing the eyes of the surrounding Cao soldiers to it. Almost instinctively, each of them imagined the same thought.
If that thing had hit me…
As one, the soldiers around it took a couple of unconscious steps backward.
Zhong Yao arrived very quickly. Ignoring Zhu Ling's attempts to stop him, he climbed directly onto the city wall and went straight to the stone millstone to inspect it closely.
"This millstone flew directly from the enemy camp?" Zhong Yao asked in surprise.
Zhu Ling thought the Inspector did not believe him. He hurriedly gestured and explained, swearing that he had been fully focused on defending the city at the time, and had personally witnessed the object rise from the enemy camp like a bolt of thunder and shoot straight toward the wall.
"The enemy must have ghostly spirits aiding them," Zhu Ling declared with complete conviction.
"Ghostly spirits?" Zhong Yao repeated, his tone subtle. In the end, he said nothing more.
He gazed toward the distant enemy camp. Even from here, the lights were bright, and figures moved back and forth.
According to Zhu Ling, after that single throw of the millstone, the enemy had not continued their attack. They did not take advantage of the moment to storm the city either. Instead, they seemed to have gone back to cooking their meals, as though the day's fighting was already over.
Zhu Ling cautiously voiced his guess.
"Perhaps the enemy's immortal master can only throw one giant stone per day."
"If the Inspector gives the order, I can lead a night raid tonight, find that so called immortal master, and chop him down in one strike."
Zhong Yao could not help but laugh, caught between amusement and helplessness.
He did not believe in ghosts or spirits. He had also heard of the thunder crash carts used by Cao Cao at the Battle of Guandu. Although he could not yet understand how such tremendous force was produced, he already had a vague idea in his heart.
Hearing Zhu Ling's plan, he immediately shook his head in rejection. A contemplative look appeared on his face.
"This is not an immortal," he said slowly. "It may be… a warning."
Then he spoke to Zhu Ling with deliberate care.
"Tomorrow, if Liu Xuande's forces attack the city, have the soldiers respond cautiously. If there are many such giant stones, then…"
Zhong Yao paused again and again as he spoke. The soldiers nearby strained their ears, and at last heard his final instruction.
"Then… there is no need to fight to the death."
"No need to fight to the death?" Zhu Ling repeated, his expression strange.
He watched Zhong Yao nod calmly, confirming his own words.
Looking at the Inspector's departing figure, and recalling the disciplined formations of repeating crossbows he had once seen at Wugong, Zhu Ling muttered under his breath.
"No need to fight to the death? That is easy enough."
As the defending side, there was not much Zhu Ling could do. Faced with an attacker, he could only respond move by move.
This day's assault was destined to be something Zhu Ling would never forget for the rest of his life.
The same was true for Huo Jun.
In his imagination, an assault on the city should have meant building cloud ladders like those used at Yangping Pass, then leading his troops in a direct climb to the top. As long as he could help Lord Xuande take Chang'an, even dying in battle would not be enough to repay his lord's kindness.
But what was this before his eyes now?
The four "feet" of the trebuchet were driven deep into the ground with wooden stakes, supporting the massive throwing arm above. One end was hung with an enormous counterweight, while the other, slightly longer, ended in a sling.
Just yesterday, Huo Jun had personally watched this device casually hurl a four hundred jin stone millstone onto Chang'an's walls.
That millstone normally required three to five strong men to lift with care. Throwing it was unimaginable. Yet this machine did it with ease.
And now, there were eight of these monstrous engines.
Huo Jun watched as Military Advisor Zhuge stood on higher ground, Lord Xuande's sword hanging at his waist. With his right hand, Zhuge Liang pointed his feather fan toward Chang'an and shouted.
"Prepare to fire."
The soldiers carefully lifted stone millstones, mortars, and other objects weighing several hundred jin, placing them into the slings.
When all the trebuchets were loaded, Kongming brought his feather fan down sharply.
"Fire."
Even Huo Jun instinctively held his breath.
Beneath each trebuchet stood a strong soldier. At the command, they swung their axes in unison, chopping down the hemp ropes before them. The ropes were connected to hinged iron hooks on one side of the throwing arm. Once released, the counterweights, each weighing over a thousand jin, dropped simultaneously.
The heavy sling was pulled upward with terrifying smoothness, completing a breathtaking half circle before hurling its payload into the sky.
The artillery crews did not even look up. As soon as the shot was released, strong soldiers stepped forward to turn the windlasses connected to the counterweights. With coordinated effort, the fallen weights were hoisted back up, and the sling end descended once more.
The axemen immediately reattached the hooks and secured them with hemp ropes, returning the trebuchet to its unfired state.
Watching these artillerymen move with such order and precision, Huo Jun felt an indescribable beauty within it.
Engineering could be as delicate as cloud ladders, as beneficial to the people as water powered mills, as orderly as repeating crossbow formations. And now, it could also appear on the battlefield in such a violently overwhelming form.
Zhu Ling, however, had no leisure to admire any of this.
Eight stones flew through the air, nearly all aimed at the top of the city wall, differing only slightly in detail.
Three struck the battlements as they had the day before, carving out fresh gaps and painting three brutal scenes in blood and shattered flesh.
The remaining five flew completely over the wall and plunged into the city, causing even greater devastation.
One millstone smashed through four courtyards without losing momentum, struck a stone table, and sent it flying. Stones that had once lain lifeless now became raging beasts, smashing everything in their path.
One mortar shattered a tree so thick that two men could barely embrace it, then continued rolling forward, collapsing structures until the tree finally fell and crushed a courtyard gate.
Every soldier on the wall saw this clearly. Afterward, the wall was filled only with hissing breaths.
"Again," a soldier screamed in despair.
Zhu Ling turned in panic and saw another eight stones rising from Liu Xuande's camp, flying straight toward the battlements.
One of them was aimed directly at him.
Zhu Ling felt his soul leave his body. He fled to the right with all his strength.
The stone millstone began to descend mid flight. It smashed the parapet and embedded itself deep into the top of the wall. The shattered earth fragments were hurled outward with terrifying force, sending nearby soldiers screaming in pain.
The largest chunk traveled only a short distance before slamming hard into the head of Zhu Ling, who was running for his life.
The defending general collapsed instantly. The sounds in his ears seemed to drift farther and farther away.
He heard someone shout, "The general has been killed."
Then came chaotic footsteps. Even in his daze, Zhu Ling could tell they were moving toward the stairs, abandoning the wall.
After that, he knew nothing at all.
When Zhu Ling regained consciousness, he felt short of breath. After a moment, sensation returned to his limbs. He struggled to push away the dirt, broken bricks, and half of a corpse piled on top of him, then stood up in a daze.
The helmet that had saved his life was nowhere to be found. He smoothed his disheveled hair, then immediately ran to the edge of the wall to look.
Night had just fallen. Outside the city, there was no longer the brilliant glow of last night's campfires. The enemy camp was dimly lit, and Zhu Ling's heart leapt with sudden hope.
Then he laughed bitterly at himself. How could such a weapon have failed so badly? Chang'an was probably already lost.
Despite his reluctance, he slowly walked to the inner side of the wall, took a deep breath, and looked down.
Sure enough, the lights inside Chang'an were far brighter than yesterday.
Rubbing his face, Zhu Ling felt despair rise within him.
No matter how he looked at it, there was only one answer. Chang'an had fallen.
This realization sent him pacing back and forth on the wall. What should he do now?
As he walked, he suddenly froze and rushed back to the edge, staring into the distance.
He saw a long line of fire, winding its way toward the city.
As a general, he knew at once what it was. Soldiers marching at night with torches.
Hope surged in Zhu Ling's chest.
Judging by the timing, it had to be General Xiahou returning.
The city wall was cold, and his stomach was empty, but for the sake of General Xiahou, Zhu Ling was willing to endure it.