Jiang Siming's army began its assault on the city. They had all rested for many days, building up their strength and enjoying good food and drink every day.
When the sun grew too harsh, they put up tents or went somewhere shady to train.
They were ten thousand times more comfortable than the soldiers of Pengcheng.
Under such a stark contrast, the difference in combat power was like bronze facing a king.
Liu Bei knew the siege had begun and wanted to command everyone in defending the city.
But he discovered that the soldiers were weak and listless even when defending the walls. They could barely lift a stone, and pulling their bowstrings took tremendous effort.
At that moment, one hundred soldiers of the Red Armored Army formed a tight group below, surrounding themselves with shields in an iron-barrel defensive formation. The arrows could not hurt them at all.
Only boulders could injure them.
On top of that, the speed of the two sides' movements was completely incomparable.
By the time Liu Bei's army had taken down one hundred-man squad, more than a dozen Red Armored Army squads had already reached the base of the walls and begun setting up ladders and ramming the city gates.
Liu Bei was frantic. He shouted himself hoarse to encourage the soldiers, but their bodies had been exhausted over the past few days. What good would encouragement do?
In the end, Liu Bei could only watch one Jiang Siming soldier after another climb onto the walls. He vented his fury by killing a few of them, then began retreating.
Losing Pengcheng did not matter. Xuzhou was vast and still had many cities. As long as the green hills remained, there would be no need to worry about firewood.
That was Liu Bei's life motto,