Chapter 132: The Ambush

Wanyan Liang took a deep breath, finally releasing the heavy burden in his heart. He reached out and roughly wiped the bloodstains from his face, then addressed the numerous soldiers before him: “By imperial decree, I have come to take command of the garrison of Wuchang City. From now on, all of you must obey my orders!”

The soldiers looked at the imperial edict raised high in Wanyan Chang’s hand. Though they did not know its exact contents, none doubted that Wanyan Liang would not dare to forge such a command.

“Relay my military order: report to His Majesty that General Sanyu Xiong died heroically in battle against the Song forces. I request that His Majesty proclaim his merit to the world!” Wanyan Liang declared loudly.

Hearing this, the soldiers exchanged glances. Whether Wanyan Liang or Sanyu Xiong was the general mattered little to them. After all, Sanyu Xiong was merely a nominal commander, lacking true military skill and without much rapport with the troops. Even with his death, no soldier stepped forward to oppose the claim.

As for Sanyu Xiong’s few personal guards, they had all been eliminated by Wanyan Liang’s own men.

“Bury them anywhere here!” Wanyan Liang ordered his guards.

Several guards hurried to carry away Sanyu Xiong and his men.

“Do you all understand what I just said?” Wanyan Liang asked the assembled soldiers.

They looked around uncertainly, unsure which words he referred to.

“If a single word of today’s events is leaked, don’t blame me for showing no mercy. You will all be executed, along with your families!” Wanyan Liang threatened bluntly.

“Rest assured, my lord. We witnessed with our own eyes that General Sanyu Xiong was struck down by a volley of arrows while defending the city. Even I was wounded by an arrow,” Yelü Hong spoke up.

Wanyan Liang admired his candor inwardly. “What is your name, and how did you injure your shoulder?” he asked.

“I am Yelü Hong, deputy commander of the Wuchang garrison. My shoulder wound was caused by an arrow shot by that Song general,” Yelü Hong replied.

Wanyan Liang nodded and gently patted Yelü Hong’s shoulder. “General Yelü, you have endured much. Has the arrow been removed? If left in too long, it could affect healing.”

Yelü Hong sighed silently to himself: despite his injury, Sanyu Xiong had abandoned him, but Prince Hailing shows concern for his men’s wounds. The difference was stark, and Yelü Hong felt deeply moved.

“Rest assured, my lord. The wound was treated by the city’s doctors and is not serious. I only need time to recover,” Yelü Hong quickly assured Wanyan Liang, knowing the concern might be partly diplomatic, but even that felt comforting.

Wanyan Liang’s tactics to win hearts were indeed effective.

“General Yelü, His Majesty has ordered me to take command of the Wuchang garrison. Now that the city has fallen, where do you think our forces should make a stand against the Song?” Wanyan Liang inquired.

Yelü Hong’s first thought was to retreat to the capital, Shangjing, where 30,000 troops still held the walls. With such forces and fortifications, they might withstand the Song assault for a time.

But since Wanyan Liang had asked, Yelü Hong dared not admit defeat outright, lest he incur his displeasure. Years of military service had sharpened his judgment; though Wanyan Liang appeared humble and harmless, defying him would mean death.

This man was ambitious and talented yet ruthless and unfeeling—a dangerous enemy.

“My lord, not far ahead lies Changqing Mountain. Our forces could ambush the Song there,” Yelü Hong proposed. “But our numbers are far fewer; this battle can only be a surprise attack, not a head-on clash.”

Wanyan Liang smiled and nodded. “Very well. Follow your plan. March swiftly to Changqing Mountain, set an ambush, and strike the Song.”

Thus, the five thousand scattered soldiers marched resolutely toward Changqing Mountain, preparing to lay in wait.

Yang Zaixing led twenty thousand elite troops, breaking through Wuchang City effortlessly. He did not leave a garrison behind—he lacked the manpower and had no intention to hold the city—so he ordered it burned to the ground.

Once the flames roared, Yang Zaixing pressed onward, pursuing the fleeing Jin soldiers without pause.

Soon they reached the foot of Changqing Mountain.

“General, beyond this mountain, traveling fifty more miles, lies the Jin capital, Shangjing,” the deputy commander reported.

Yang Zaixing nodded. The war fanatic could hardly contain his eagerness. To his officers he commanded, “Push harder. We must reach Shangjing before Wu Xiaodong.”

“General, this mountain is surrounded by primeval forest, with only a single official road through the middle. I worry there may be ambushes on either side,” the deputy cautioned.

Yang Zaixing nodded again. “Simple. You take men up the slopes on both sides. If there are ambushes, deal with them there. I will lead a force along the road as bait.”

“General, that’s far too dangerous! I should be the bait, while you take the safer routes,” the deputy urged anxiously. “The commander should not take such risks.”

Yang Zaixing waved off his concerns indifferently. “It’s no risk at all. Even if there are ambushes, what can they do to me?” Such was the confidence of a master. “Besides, if I’m in the center, the Jin will think our main force has passed. If I weren’t there, they’d suspect a trap and hold back. That would give them the advantage.”

Seeing Yang Zaixing’s resolve, the deputy knew persuasion was useless. Reluctantly, he agreed, warning the general to be cautious and not to move too quickly, promising to follow with men along the slopes.

Thus, the stage was set for the next fierce encounter.