Chapter 3: Five Days Later, The Siege!
One hundred and thirty thousand troops—though officially claimed to be two hundred thousand—were divided into front, middle, and rear armies. Chu Yan was with the front army. On the afternoon of the second day after setting up camp, the rear army finally arrived at their designated site.
After inspecting the front and middle armies, Chu Yan came to the rear army’s camp. Soldiers were busy digging trenches and building fences. Their tents, bedding, and armor had yet to be unloaded from the carts, and the entire camp buzzed with vigorous activity.
His tall figure, clad in armor and mounted on a fine horse, appeared at the camp’s entrance and was immediately recognized by the soldiers.
“It’s the King! The King has arrived!”
The trench-digging soldiers eagerly gathered around him, and others from afar also wanted to catch a glimpse of the true King Qian. A hundred-man officer, tasked with military discipline, tried to stop them, but Chu Yan smiled faintly and raised his hand to halt him.
More soldiers quickly surrounded him.
Chu Yan dismounted and handed his helmet to a nearby guard. He asked the soldiers, “Have you just arrived at the camp?”
“Yes, yes, Your Majesty! We are still setting up.”
“Hm. You probably won’t finish tonight. Dig the trenches tomorrow. For now, set up the tents. There are no court troops behind you; if the court soldiers in the city try to attack, the front and middle armies can hold them off.”
“Yes, yes!”
The soldiers’ faces flushed, clearly nervous.
After chatting briefly with them, Chu Yan walked into the camp. The trench-diggers, who ought not to follow, eagerly rushed after him, their eyes shining with fervent admiration.
In their eyes, King Qian stood eight feet tall, strong and imposing, wearing heavy armor yet moving with ease. He bore no arrogant airs, removed his helmet to walk among the camp without fear of stray arrows, and spoke kindly with the lowliest soldiers. He asked if they had eaten at noon and whether they were still tired after the previous battle.
His voice was thunderous, and though hundreds surrounded him, even those at the back could clearly hear every word!
“Do you want to return home? Do you have parents, a wife, and children there?” Chu Yan spoke with a soldier.
“My mother is still alive. I want to see her,” the soldier said, scratching his head.
Chu Yan smiled. “If you want to see your mother, you don’t need to go back. After we take the capital, I will give you all this land”—he gestured around—“so you can settle down in the capital. Wouldn’t that be better than returning home to farm a few acres of wasteland?”
The soldier was stunned. A battalion commander hurriedly said, “The King bestows land upon you; shouldn’t you thank him?”
Only then did the soldiers cheer.
Chu Yan mounted his horse and called out to the crowd, “Rest for five days to recover your strength. After we storm the capital, I will personally reward all three armies!”
A deputy general of the front army, who always followed him, immediately replied, “Thank you, Your Majesty. We are willing to serve you unto death!”
The crowd echoed, “Thank you, Your Majesty! We are willing to serve you unto death!”
The cheers rolled for miles, reaching the ears of the defenders atop the capital’s walls, causing them to exchange wary and horrified glances.
“Report! Report... The rebel army is stirring!”
The messenger hurriedly relayed the movements outside the city to Commander Wang, who oversaw the capital’s garrison.
Wang Zitong, over fifty years old with a long beard and the demeanor of a scholar-general, had been resting after a sleepless night. Hearing this, he quickly opened his eyes and anxiously asked,
“Have the rebels come to attack the city?”
“Not yet. They’re just making noise; no troop movements have been seen.”
“…Thank goodness.”
Wang Zitong exhaled deeply, waving his hand, “Send scouts to find out more. Do not panic. The rebel army will disperse within a few days.”
The messenger was unconvinced, his face still grim, and he left.
In truth, Wang Zitong himself did not believe it.
A few days ago, the Emperor had trusted several advisors in the Military Council and sent out two hundred thousand troops to intercept King Qian’s army, hoping to keep the rebels outside the capital.
Yet in barely half a month, that force was crushed, with only over twenty thousand returning—most either killed or captured.
The remaining twenty thousand were demoralized and deemed useless by Wang Zitong, yet he was still forced by the Military Council to defend the city!
Even counting these remnants, the defenders inside the city numbered fewer than fifty thousand. Though that seemed large, fewer than ten thousand were truly battle-ready.
Many noble sons were drawing salaries without fighting. Wang knew this but dared not act against them.
He himself was not clean; relatives like Jia Lian and Jia Rong had bought their positions with silver.
Now disaster loomed; it was too late for regrets.
Half an hour later, a soldier reported to the restless Wang Zitong, “The false King Qian, Chu Yan, has come before the city walls with over ten guards, requesting to see you, Commander.”
“See me?”
Wang Zitong thought a moment and stood. “Which gate is he outside? Lead me there.”
“Yes, sir. He is at the East Gate.”
Shortly after, Wang Zitong and several subordinates climbed the city wall. A tall figure on horseback stood a few hundred meters away, flanked by a dozen guards.
Behind him, about three miles from the wall—just beyond cannon range—the rebel camp dug earthworks and built walls, preparing for a siege that could last months.
As Wang Zitong debated whether to meet him outside, the tall figure rode forward alone, leaving his guards behind.
“What audacity, to come beneath the city walls! Sir, order the archers to shoot him dead the moment he reaches the walls!”
One man eagerly urged.
“No, no!” another quickly stopped him, face pale with fear. “The King Qian is said to have the strength of Chu Ba-wang, able to carry cauldrons and lead charges, cutting down foes like wheat. He must have some advantage to dare come alone!”
“Sir Li is right. Do not offend King Qian lightly. If the city falls…”
Everyone understood the unspoken meaning: to leave a way out.
Several generals guarding the city gates agreed.
The man who had spoken first grew angry. “You want to surrender before fighting? How can we fight like this?”
“Why fight? The two hundred thousand troops were already defeated.”
“We serve the Emperor and receive Imperial pay. How can you say such things?”
“Hmph, I speak only truth. Chu Yan captured Jinling’s Yingtian Prefecture a year ago.”
Amid the argument, the tall figure rode to the wall. The soldiers watched as he took a deep breath and then roared like thunder:
“I am King Qian Chu Yan. I come today to inform you of several matters!”
The crowd was stunned by the thunderous voice. The legendary bell-like tone was real!
Like Zhang Yide’s shout at Changban Slope, scaring off a million troops!
Wang Zitong was taken aback. The false King Qian had not come to negotiate but merely to declare.
“First,” Chu Yan’s booming voice carried over a thousand ears at the East Gate, “since taking Yingtian Prefecture, I proclaimed myself King. A year later, I marched north and crushed your five hundred thousand troops in just one and a half months, now besieging the capital. Your Emperor has no forces left!”
Gasps erupted.
Cold sweat formed on Wang Zitong’s brow. The message was clear—to break the morale of the court troops, hoping they would surrender without a fight.
Yet every word was true!
In just a few years, Da Shun’s million-strong armies had been shattered by him. The court had no soldiers left. Border troops numbered a few tens of thousands but were unreliable; those that could be called back had already been summoned. The rest wavered.
“Second,” Chu Yan continued, “those who surrender will not be killed. If you surrender, I promise no one will be harmed upon entering the city. I will confer upon the Shun Emperor the title Duke of Anle, and the Retired Emperor the title Duke of Zhongle. Officials ranked seventh grade and above may keep twenty percent of their wealth!”
Duke of Anle?
Those soldiers with some history knowledge recalled that during the Three Kingdoms, the Wei kingdom had titled the Shu Han emperor Liu Chan as Duke of Anle.
As for Duke of Zhongle, they were unsure, but roughly understood it meant: the emperor was Duke of Anle, and his father was Duke of Zhongle.
If the emperor accepted this title, few would follow him in plotting to restore the kingdom. Everyone knew Liu Chan’s famous phrase: “Here I am happy, not longing for Shu.”
On the wall, Wang Zitong and others exchanged uneasy glances.
“Third,” Chu Yan declared, “if you choose to fight, for every soldier that dies in my army, I will kill three of your nobles, starting with princes and royal kin, down to all officials of ninth grade and above!”
His words struck like a raging storm. The murderous intent radiated across dozens of meters, chilling everyone from head to toe.
Surrender, and live.
Refuse, and for every fallen rebel soldier, three princes or nobles would die. If King Qian’s army lost ten thousand in the siege, then over ten thousand officials and their families in the capital would be slaughtered!
Ironically, the common soldiers and civilians would survive.
“Lastly, in five days, we attack!”
With that, Chu Yan spurred his horse and rode back. Facing hundreds of soldiers on the city wall, no one dared fire a stray arrow. They watched silently as he left, returning with his guards to camp.
Silence fell over the city walls for a long while.
“I’ve heard Chu Yan loves his soldiers like sons. Today, I see it is true,” someone murmured.
The others exchanged looks.
This time, King Qian had ridden alone to the city gates to issue a challenge, shattering what little morale the court troops had left. Who could withstand his military might?