Volume Two I Swing and Shake Heaven and Earth 1. Kou City I

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The soldiers had traveled far, but not all could rest yet.

The siege was scheduled for dawn. Except for Deng She’s main assault force, which hurried to rest, the other divisions, led by their centurions, gathered the local Koryo civilians before the trenches. He Guangxiu came forward and selected several hundred strong men, who were then escorted to the nearby hills to fell trees. Teams were dispatched to surrounding villages to collect vegetable oil, firewood, wooden planks, and other materials in preparation for the attack.

The army possessed only a few large siege engines—cannons and tower wagons—so improvised equipment like trench-filling carts, scaling ladders, assault wagons, and half-hull boats had to be hastily constructed.

Before leaving Yongping, Deng She had swept up craftsmen from the city and among the refugees, forming a battalion of forty or fifty men. He handed them to Lu Qianwu, assigned two companies to assist, and worked through the night.

Chen Hu and other generals proposed, in Mongol fashion, driving Koryo civilians to fill the trenches and shield them from arrows. Deng She refused without hesitation. He paid fair prices even for vegetable oil—how could he use civilians as meat shields and play the villain? Moreover, with Hong Jixun as the local fixer, he believed the city would soon fall.

Outside the city, the army busied itself through the night; within, the defenders were equally active. Twice, the enemy tried to disrupt preparations with cannons and fire arrows, but the distance was too great for effective range.

At the third watch, the army prepared meals; at the fourth, they finished eating; by the fifth, drums sounded, and the entire force assembled for the assault.

Twin Cities lay close to the sea, the climate damp. Though to the north, it was warmer than west of the Yalu River. Deng She chose the main gate as the focus of attack; before the wide trench, nothing but emptiness, a few cold stars hanging overhead, bleak and chilling.

Yang Wanhui and Chen Paizi volunteered for the vanguard; Deng She praised them but chose Zhao Gu, leading a thousand men, carrying half-hull boats. Without torches, they advanced under cover of darkness.

The half-hull boats resembled overturned small boats, each supported by four wooden corner posts holding up a roof. During the assault, four soldiers held the posts, shielding themselves from arrows and stones. Beneath each boat, ten men carried earth dug by Koryo civilians, filling the trench.

The enemy atop the walls shouted and lit torches, illuminating the city and its base like daylight. Centurions barked orders; arrows flew in volleys. The boats, though hastily built, were sturdy; the roof tightly joined, impermeable. Arrows could not penetrate. Soon, the first group returned, their boats bristling with arrows, but not a single casualty.

The generals, sleepless, gathered beside Deng She to watch the battle. Li Monk and Wen Huaguo laughed heartily; Chen Hu and the rest were equally delighted.

The second wave reached the trench. The Koryo defenders switched to fire arrows, but Deng She had prepared for this—each assault group had their boat tops soaked with water. The fire arrows failed to ignite; the occasional fierce flames could be calmly extinguished upon return.

The city’s cannon boomed. Twin Cities had only one, but if aimed well, its lethality was considerable. Three shots struck a group of soldiers; the boat was shattered, splinters flying. Several were hit by iron balls, falling en masse. The uninjured dragged their comrades, bent low, running back swiftly. On the way, more fell to arrows.

The artillery crew dragged the army’s two cannons into position, aimed at the city cannon, fired three or four times in reply—none hit. The cannons were too short, less than half a meter; at such distance, accuracy was elusive.

At the foot of the city walls, the enemy opened hidden bunkers; two or three hundred men dashed out, reached the lower towers and battle sheds, and slipped inside. These positions were low, nearly level with the boats. The third wave, filling the trench, found the boats shielded from above but not from the front. In moments, five or six were hit in the legs, chest, or abdomen by defenders in the towers and sheds.

“Beat the drums, boost morale!” Deng She ordered, adjusting the cannons to target the battle sheds first.

The deep, resonant drumbeat echoed through the army. The enemy replied with their own war drums, each side competing, the sound rising ever higher. Night birds on distant hills scattered in fright. The ground beneath Deng She and his companions seemed to tremble with the vibration.

Military drums possess spirit: their beat shakes enemy hearts and emboldens our courage. Those who had endured the camp defense were not transformed, but at least unfazed by this skirmish. Amid the drumbeats, they shouted loudly, advancing in succession, gradually lowering the depth of the trench.

They needed not fill the entire ten-odd-zhang trench, only four or five zhang would suffice.

In the rear camp, trench-filling carts were being hastily assembled. These served much like scaling ladders: one extends upward, the other forward. Combined, their width could reach several zhang, even dozens. Bridging the trench, they formed a great bridge, allowing soldiers to charge across.

Were it not for incomplete tools and time constraints limiting the carts to seven or eight zhang in length—any longer, and structural integrity could not be assured—Deng She would have skipped the half-hull boats and used the carts directly.

The enemy towers and sheds at the foot of the wall collapsed after several cannon blasts. Two or three hundred Koryo soldiers suffered twenty casualties; the rest retreated through the bunkers into the city.

On the city wall, Zhao Duchi appeared again. He and his peers had debated all night, unable to guess the invading army’s strategy. He shouted, “Soldiers below the walls, why not come forward to parley?”

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Deng She signaled Luo Guoqi to go out and stall for time. Yang Wanhui and Chen Paizi again requested to fight. Their followers were all former bandits, skilled in blade, spear, bow, and crossbow. Deng She assigned them a dozen half-hull boats, following the trench-filling soldiers, shooting back at the archers atop the walls. Deng She himself commanded the arquebusiers, arrayed in the rear, firing at the defenders above.

Arquebuses outranged arrows—they could shoot onto the walls while the defenders could not reply. The enemy cannon, occupied with the boats, could not deal with them. They quickly gained advantage, forcing the Koryo troops to abandon their positions atop the walls.

A few sharpshooters accomplished what the cannon could not, killing the enemy gunners. Soon, fresh gunners, fully armored, replaced them. Several enemy soldiers raised shields, protecting the area.

“General below, hear this! My city is strong, supplies abundant, over ten thousand elite troops, countless fierce generals. The art of war says: besiege with ten to one. You come from afar, your troops fatigued, barely ten thousand—how can you hope to take the city?” Zhao Duchi shouted from the wall, analyzing Deng She’s position. He concluded, “You cannot succeed; though we could defeat you, our lord will not risk distressing the people. If you lack provisions, speak up—we will provide. Then both sides cease fighting, wouldn’t that be best?”

His words openly called for peace, but covertly aimed to shake Deng She’s army’s morale.

Deng She frowned at this. Luo Guoqi, sheltering beneath a boat, replied unhurriedly, “General on the wall, your words are mistaken. Supplies abundant, ten thousand elite troops—nonsense, you cannot fool us. How could our general attack without knowing your situation? You may not realize, but among our army are members of the Hong clan from Twin Cities itself. We know your city’s strengths and weaknesses perfectly.

“Twin Cities is not truly Koryo land; it was taken unjustly. What is unjust cannot be defended with legitimacy. Our army’s swift advance since crossing the river has seen every Koryo prefecture surrender. How can your isolated city withstand our invincible force? Moreover, behind us are hundreds of thousands of Liaodong troops, ready to march. Our general promises: those who surrender the city remain in their posts; soldiers and civilians who submit will be richly rewarded.”

Amid cannon booms and rain-like arrows, the two argued fiercely, each boasting their own strength and belittling the other. After several exchanges, Zhao Duchi retreated, Luo Guoqi returned victorious. Deng She smiled—defeating the enemy’s morale in debate was a major achievement. He ordered Chen Hu to record it.

Combining Hong Jixun’s city defense map, the artillery analyzed Twin Cities’ walls, choosing the weakest point—just west of the city gate—as the breakthrough. Cannons and arquebuses were concentrated there, focusing firepower. Stones flew, walls shook, the defenders atop this section scattered in panic.

Near noon, four zhang of trench, ten zhang wide, had been filled. Deng She ordered, and from atop the tower wagon behind him, the signal officer waved flags and struck the golden gong. Zhao Gu led his men to recover the bodies of fallen soldiers and withdrew.

Next, it was Li Monk’s turn. The half-hull boats held the front; several hundred-man teams lifted the trench-filling carts, charging through the hail of cannonballs and arrows.

They unfolded the planks, dropping them heavily across the gap, raising a cloud of dust. Koryo commander Jiang Zhongxiang climbed the wall himself, Li Chenggui at his side.

They spoke quietly; the defenders operated the winch, lowering the ironclad barricade before the gate. The barricade was covered in iron plates and nails, thick and sturdy, meant to block attackers. Zhao Duchi waved his flag; a large squad of archers gathered, igniting fire arrows, launching them in dense volleys onto the carts.

The carts, too, were soaked with water, temporarily safe. Li Monk cursed and shouted, urging his men through the firestorm, crossing the trench. Two hundred-man teams remained to extinguish the arrows and protect the planks.

Yang Wanhui and Chen Paizi, intoxicated by battle, shouted and, with three hundred followers, stripped off their armor. These outlaws were all tattooed—dragons, tigers, eagles, winding across their bodies, moving with their muscles as if alive. Some were covered head to toe in ink. Amid smoke and arrows, hair wild, they looked terrifying.

By Yuan law, a bandit caught three times earned deportation to Liaoyang. Clearly, these were hardened criminals, exiled to harsh lands, growing even more savage over time. None feared death.

Deng She watched, inwardly impressed. Chen Paizi ran forward, knelt, and shouted, “General, I am willing to follow General Li in storming the city!”

He and Yang Wanhui spent months in Liaoyang on menial tasks—cleaning, sweeping latrines, stifled and frustrated. They joined Deng She out of necessity, but soon saw he differed from Sha Liu—he did not care about religious background; his army was grand, well-equipped. Having nowhere else to go, Chen Paizi convinced Yang Wanhui to stay.

When Deng She promised rewards for merit, they saw he was true to his word. Thus, they repeatedly volunteered for the assault.

Deng She nodded, agreeing. He too wished to see the outlaws’ fighting prowess.

By now, Li Monk had set up two scaling ladders. These were not simple ladders; beneath the folding rungs was a wagon with six wheels, fully enclosed and covered in rawhide. Soldiers moving the ladders hid inside, safe from arrows. The ladders were wrapped in confiscated cotton and felt, impervious to arrows and fire.

Light drumbeats signaled advance; heavy drums signaled attack. The war drums grew louder. Li Monk swung his blade, knocking aside arrows, urging his men up the ladders. Two or three personal guards raised man-high shields, protecting him on all sides.

Li Zifan led the charge, a dozen monk-centurions and squad leaders drove their men up the ladders, chaotic but determined. Facing this swarm, Jiang Zhongxiang and Li Chenggui remained calm, issuing quiet orders. From the wall embrasures, defenders thrust out several dozen forked wooden poles, pushing hard against the ladders. Below, soldiers tried to steady the ladders, clashing with the defenders, struggling to keep them upright.

A few fast climbers reached halfway up.

From the protruding bastions and towers, Koryo soldiers fired arrows, knocking several red-turbaned men from the ladders. The bastion, called a hard tower, juts out from the wall, runs for several meters, then returns, maintaining the original line. Defenders could stand on this platform, provide crossfire, and cover the wall.

Soldiers falling from high above screamed, crashing into the crowd below, dying instantly, brains splattering, blood and flesh flying. This death was more terrifying than dying in battle on level ground. The grisly sight caused several cowards to retreat a few steps.

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Li Monk rushed forward, kicking them down, threatening with his saber, roaring, “Military law: retreat one step, behead!”

The troops remembered those who died under the eyes of the inspector during the camp defense; their spirits revived, and they continued climbing. Li Monk selected archers to shoot upward, protecting those ascending. He himself grabbed an assault hook, using its iron tip to snag defenders on the wall.

A Koryo soldier, inattentive, was caught and pulled down; Chen Paizi beheaded him, raising the head aloft. The surrounding soldiers cheered, morale soaring.

Seeing the forked poles ineffective, Jiang Zhongxiang ordered another weapon. Several wolf-tooth clubs were brought, placed at the embrasures, winched up, and swung fiercely against the ladders. Studded with sharp iron spikes, the clubs instantly impaled two or three soldiers climbing near the top, blood spraying down on those below. One man’s armor caught on a spike; unable to free himself, he shrieked as the club swung back and forth, gradually falling silent.

Soon, one ladder broke.

Yang Wanhui, halfway up, howled as he fell. Chen Paizi and others threw themselves beneath him, cushioning his fall. Fortunately, Yang Wanhui had removed his armor and was slight; the impact was not great. Even so, two men coughed up blood.

Of the four ladders, one was broken, three remained. Yang Wanhui leapt up, unfazed by his wounds, waving his blade, rushing for another ladder.

Just then, the army camp outside the trench sounded the gong for retreat.

Not only Yang Wanhui, Li Monk too was unwilling to withdraw. He looked back: soldiers on the carts could not extinguish the fire arrows in time—the carts caught fire. If they did not retreat, their route would be cut off. Reluctantly, they packed up the ladders and returned to camp.

The first assault ended here. Counting casualties: over a hundred killed or wounded filling the trench, two hundred more on the ladders. The defenders, shielded by the walls, suffered about a hundred casualties at most. In front of the gate, the ground was quiet, stained with blood; the dead were collected, but some severed limbs remained, lying among the arrows, tragic and gruesome.

The Koryo defenders seized the chance to tidy their equipment and rest. Only the Red Turban’s two cannons and arquebusiers kept up the barrage.

Li Monk, face smeared with blood, returned to Deng She. His face flushed, he said, “I am incompetent! Half a day and failed to breach the city.” Furious, he bounced up, beating his chest, “General! Give me another half day—if I don’t take the tower, I’ll bring my head to you!”

Deng She shook his head, “General Li has worked hard. The city’s defenses are complete; this is not your fault.” He ordered, “Lu Qianwu, speed up equipment production. All troops rest for one hour, then resume the assault.” The whole attack, vivid in his mind, revealed the enemy general’s skill in both defense and offense—a formidable foe.

Yongping fell by inside collusion, not through hard fighting. This time was different. Deng She gazed at the city walls, listening to the cannon fire, recalling past sieges, pondering if there were any clever strategies to reduce casualties and hasten victory.

Wen Huaguo was dissatisfied with the progress; his leopard eyes scrutinized Hong Jixun, slinging an arm around his shoulder, warmly but with threat: “Old Hong, any ideas? You’re the local expert.” The tone was friendly, but the meaning clear: you instigated the attack on Twin Cities—now that there’s trouble, you must help solve it.

Hong Jixun gently shrugged off his arm, straightened his collar, and replied calmly, “General, I have an old acquaintance in the city, a man of courage. Just now, I saw him organizing the militia atop the wall. I am willing to write a secret note, shoot it into the city, and persuade him to surrender.”

“How confident are you?”

“We have known each other since childhood. Though he is Koryo, he has always admired Chinese culture. Once he receives my letter, I am certain.”

Few in the army could write; so Hong Jixun and Luo Guoqi undertook the task. For an hour, they wrote over a thousand notes, each tied to an arrow. At the order, the arrows were shot into the city. The letters promised rewards for surrender, but contained secret codes known only to Hong Jixun and his friend, arranging a time for internal disorder.

As dusk approached, the army regrouped.

After the arrow barrage, another assault was launched. This time, some progress: Yang Wanhui briefly took the wall, but was soon driven back. Deng She praised him and ordered all troops to rest, awaiting the results of Hong Jixun’s plan. City defense rules required any enemy letters to be handed to the commander, not kept privately. It was uncertain if the friend would even see the letter.

Shortly after nightfall, the city wall suddenly erupted with drumbeats, startling Deng She, who rushed out to observe. Numerous torches illuminated the walls; a dozen blood-soaked heads hung from bamboo poles, paraded around the ramparts. Zhao Duchi shouted, “Those who plot with traitors, who betray our city—this is your fate!”

Hong Jixun stared and cried out in dismay. All the heads belonged to his friends in the city, including the one he spoke of. Among them were elderly and women—their family members. It was a massacre of an entire household.

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