Chapter Forty-Four: The Final Battle for Domain City

After Zhongli Yu recaptured Hancheng, he spent three full days to restore order to the city. Although it could not return to its pre-war state, he had already done his utmost to settle the refugees. Only at sunset on this day did Zhongli Yu summon all his generals to discuss the plan for reclaiming the next city. The next target after Hancheng was Yucheng, wedged between Ningcheng and Hancheng, where Yang Qi commanded an army of three hundred thousand. Previously, an ambush between Hancheng and Yincheng had wiped out nearly a hundred thousand of Yang Qi’s troops. Coupled with his losses from taking four cities in succession, he was now left with about three hundred thousand men. Zhongli Yu commanded three hundred thousand elite royal soldiers, and with the city garrisons of Yincheng, plus the remnants who had retreated after defeat, his forces numbered four hundred thousand. Reclaiming Yucheng should not pose a problem, but news arrived yesterday that the King of Xiyuan had dispatched Zhan Tianyi, former Prince of Zhen’nan of Dongling, and in less than three days, he would arrive at Yucheng with two hundred thousand soldiers. Therefore, they had to retake Yucheng before Zhan Tianyi’s arrival, and hopefully annihilate a portion of Yang Qi’s army as well.

“Now that Hancheng is restored, we must seize Yucheng before Zhan Tianyi arrives,” Zhongli Yu said in a low, resolute voice.

“At your command, my lord,” the generals replied. After the last battle for Hancheng, their respect for Zhongli Yu had only deepened, and now they obeyed his orders without reservation.

Zhongli Yu nodded; he seemed not to need their counsel. He was determined to win this battle, confidence clear in his bearing. He began to assign each officer their tasks in meticulous detail, leaving nothing to chance. By the time he finished, night had already fallen.

“Everyone, rest well for the first half of the night. We march precisely at midnight,” Zhongli Yu said gently.

“Yes, my lord. Please rest as well,” the soldiers replied, taking their leave.

Left alone in the council hall, Zhongli Yu sat quietly, eyes closed. Perhaps he was utterly exhausted from the past days’ toil, for soon the sound of steady breathing filled the room.

Lihun entered and saw his young master asleep sitting upright, sighing helplessly. Since leaving the capital, they had traveled day and night, then rushed to reclaim Hancheng, and afterward busied themselves with resettling refugees. His master had hardly rested at all. Such exertion—how could his body withstand it? Lihun fetched a thin blanket and gently covered him. Though summer had arrived, the nights were still cool.

With about a quarter of an hour left until midnight, Lihun returned to check if Zhongli Yu was awake. Either the footsteps roused him or he sensed the hour, for Zhongli Yu woke quietly.

“Is everyone ready?” Zhongli Yu looked up at Lihun.

“All is prepared, just awaiting your command,” Lihun replied.

“Very well.”

Zhongli Yu strode briskly to the city gates, where ranks of soldiers stood assembled in the darkness. He nodded in satisfaction.

“Brothers, tonight we must retake Yucheng. Forward!” Zhongli Yu’s voice rang out.

“Yes!” the army thundered in unison, their voices shaking the very earth—a formidable force, brimming with confidence.

After an hour’s forced march, Zhongli Yu and his troops reached Yucheng. The enemy was clearly prepared; there was no panic at their arrival. Hundreds of thousands clashed fiercely in the darkness—swords rose and fell, blood flowed like rivers. Countless young warriors fell here. The chronicles record that the Battle of Yucheng was fiercer than the preceding campaigns, and the number of warriors who perished was beyond reckoning.

With Dongling’s westward army of a hundred thousand, and Zhongli Yu’s flawless strategy, Xiyuan was doomed to defeat. This battle cost Xiyuan dearly. Yang Qi, witnessing the might of Dongling’s royal troops, felt a chill in his heart. Seeing the situation lost, he quickly withdrew to Ningcheng. Thus, Dongling reclaimed another city.

Zhongli Yu ordered a pursuit, pressing his advantage all the way to Ningcheng. Yang Qi’s three hundred thousand suffered terrible losses and were no longer fit to fight, compelled to retreat further. Zhongli Yu then took another city with ease.

Looking up at the sun now high in the sky, Zhongli Yu noted it was midday. His soldiers had fought for six straight hours and must be exhausted. He ordered the army to pause at Ningcheng to regroup before launching an assault on Wangcheng. Once Wangcheng fell, all lost cities would be recovered. Then, he could drive the Xiyuan invaders back to their homeland and force them to accept terms, ending the campaign. At this thought, a faint smile played at Zhongli Yu’s lips; victory seemed within reach. His eyes unconsciously drifted toward the capital—the place where his heart’s longing remained. Was she well? Soon, he would return. He lowered his head to hide the longing in his eyes and walked into the commander’s residence in Ningcheng.

The soldiers, elated by victory—especially the royal troops—could scarcely contain their excitement. They had trained under Zhongli Yu for years; this was their first taste of real battle, and their training had proven its worth. Those who survived were grateful they hadn’t shirked their drills, or their lives would have ended today. For the first time, they truly realized the battlefield was a place where one gambled with life itself. Those who lived through this fight understood that only by being strong enough could one hope to survive, for they were soldiers, defenders of their homeland.

News of Zhongli Yu reclaiming two cities in a single battle quickly reached the capital. The people of Dongling erupted in celebration; some even set off firecrackers outside their doors. The capital was filled with joy, as if Xiyuan’s defeat was imminent. No one feared misfortune from this war anymore; they believed Xiyuan could never defeat Dongling.

Within the Prince Chun’s residence, Zhan Yan, upon receiving the news, was in excellent spirits. Though she had anticipated this outcome—knowing that as long as he led the army, failure was not an option—hearing word of his victory filled her with happiness. At this moment, she felt proud, proud to have married such a husband.

In quieter moments, she realized he had been gone for more than ten days. She tried hard to restrain herself from thinking about him, keeping busy with various tasks—playing chess with her grandfather, eating and chatting with him, managing affairs of the Prince Chun’s household, learning about the You Ran Pavilion, handling her own matters—anything to fill her days and keep her mind occupied. She feared that if she stopped, she would be unable to resist thinking of him, might even want to run to the frontier to find him. She did not know when he had come to mean so much to her.

Every day she kept herself busy, so that weariness would bring sleep. But only she knew that in the quiet of midnight, upon waking in the dark, her longing for him surged like a tide—overwhelming, unstoppable. Now, all she could do was wait, wait for his safe return. As long as he was safe, everything would be well.