Before dawn, the walls of Alubarna were already packed with people.
The smell of gunpowder from last night hadn't completely dissipated, and the dry, cold wind unique to a desert morning was blowing in from the battlements. The defenders, wrapped in blankets, leaned against the battlements and ate their dry rations. The cooks carried loads on shoulder poles, jogging along the steps of the city wall to deliver the last bucket of hot soup to each sentry post before the battle began.
The craftsmen repairing the city wall worked all night, filling the gaps blasted open by the siege cannons yesterday with sandbags and rubble. They were now squatting at the base of the wall, hammering the last few reinforcing planks, the sound of their hammers muffled and crackling in the morning breeze.
Wolof stood on the main tower, holding a cup of tea he hadn't had time to drink.
The tea had gone cold, and a ring of dark brown tea stains had formed around the rim of the cup.
His gaze passed over the battlements and landed on the layer of grayish-yellow dust above the rebel camp in the distance. It wasn't sandstorm, but dust kicked up by tens of thousands of people marching across the same gravel beach.
The rebels are regrouping.
Yesterday's inferno destroyed their ladders, siege cannons, and thousands of men, but today their ranks are still advancing simultaneously:
The number of people was even higher than yesterday.
Prince also brought up the reserves stationed in Rainbase Yuba, determined to use their numerical advantage to overwhelm the walls of Alubarna.
Wolof placed his teacup on the stone railing, his fingers unconsciously tapping the rim of the cup.
Alubarna is now isolated and helpless, with no reinforcements and no way out. Children huddle in their mothers' arms, covering their ears, while the elderly kneel on the Nefertari sun-patterned floor tiles in prayer.
Meanwhile, the rebels controlled most of Alabasta's resources, and could continuously supply the front lines with food, ammunition, and troops.
He glanced back at what was behind him.
Barlow stood in the shadows inside the tower, his back against a stone pillar, arms crossed, eyes closed, breathing evenly and slowly.
Wolof wasn't sure if he was resting or thinking about today's tactics, but the young man had slept through the night after being slightly tipsy, and there was no sign of a hangover on his face.
Roy and Mila huddled together on the other side of the tower, whispering to each other and occasionally playfully hitting one another.
Wolof looked at the two clowns, then at the young guild president leaning against a stone pillar with his eyes closed, and suddenly let out a very soft laugh from his nose.
He picked up the teacup, not caring whether the tea was cold or not, tilted his head back and gulped it down, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned around and faced the enemy formation outside the city wall again.
The tea was cold, but a warm sensation welled up in his throat.
He muttered a sentence to himself.
Long live the Uchiha!
The rebels' war drums sounded.
The rhythm was the same as yesterday, with dozens of drums striking simultaneously from three directions, but today the drumbeats were denser, with the drumbeats intentionally overlapping and interleaving.
Charles reorganized the drummers, with different frequencies for each direction: the drums from the south were the loudest, those from the east were the most concentrated, and those from the west had the most chaotic rhythm.
He wanted to prevent the defending troops from determining the main attack direction from the sound of the drums.
Barlow opened his eyes.
He straightened up from beside the stone pillar, walked to the crenellations, and glanced out of the city. The rebels from three directions were advancing almost simultaneously, with ladders, siege cannons, and shield formations, the same configuration as yesterday.
"Their tactics today are the same as yesterday."
Roy stood up and dusted off his knees.
"I'll go to the east side first, and come back for lunch after I've finished cooking."
I'm going west.
Mila has already headed towards the west city wall.
Barlow nodded, and the three of them parted ways, each heading in the direction they had gone yesterday.
The guards on the city wall saw them coming down from the tower and automatically made way for them. As they passed each other, someone whispered, "Mr. Uchiha." Barlow nodded slightly but did not stop walking.
Outside the south city wall, Fisher's mercenaries are leading the charge today.
Charles spent a day reorganizing the remnants of his army. The mercenaries he could bring back were reorganized, and the newly recruited militia filled the vacancies.
The mercenaries no longer carried ladders today; Charles's task for them was to draw attention and use the shield wall and a barrage of musket fire to pin the defenders' firepower to the south city wall.
The muskets fired in volleys, the lead bullets hitting the sandstone ramparts and sending shards of stone flying. The defending musketeers took cover behind the ramparts and returned fire.
The mercenaries advanced back and forth along the city wall, feigning an assault. Each time the defenders unleashed a barrage of artillery fire, they would retreat, only to advance again once the fire subsided. Their rhythm was remarkably consistent.
When Barlow jumped off the city wall, the mercenary shield wall had just advanced to a position not far from the city wall.
The mercenaries in the front row saw a man jump down from the city wall, instinctively raised their short spears, and then they recognized the red eyes.
The shield wall's advance speed changed from a charge to a stop within half a second.
Someone shouted "Uchiha," and the syllable spread like a plague through the shield wall, disrupting the footsteps wherever it reached.
Charles, holding binoculars on the central command platform, saw Barlow land and his lips twitched slightly.
He lowered his binoculars, turned and nodded to the messenger behind him, "Send the signal."
The messenger raised a black flag and waved it three times forcefully toward the north.
Outside the north city wall, this is the lowest section of the Alubarna city wall. The terrain is slightly raised, and the view is not as open as the other three sides. The number of cannons mounted on the city wall is also the fewest.
Prince hid two fully-equipped regular troops, personally trained by Charles and the rebels' strongest elite force, beneath a cliff in a dry riverbed.
They didn't raise flags, didn't beat drums, and even wrapped their horses' hooves in cloth.
The moment the black flag was lowered, thousands of people at the foot of the riverbed cliff rose simultaneously, their blades forming a blinding band of light in the morning glow.
The siege team at the forefront carried two heavy battering rams, their heads encased in iron, requiring dozens of soldiers to lift them by shoulder.
The battering ram began to pound the gate. Each time the iron-clad hammer struck the gate, it produced a deafening thud, and the iron bolts on the gate panels began to deform.
From the main tower, Wolof saw smoke and dust rising to the north.
He smashed his teacup on the ground, shards flying everywhere. "Reserves, to the North Gate!"
The reserve troops of the defending army filed out from the passageway inside the city wall and rushed up the steps toward the north city wall.
This reserve force was drawn by Wolof from the other three gates last night; it has a high proportion of veterans and the best equipment.
By the time they reached the north city wall, the battering ram had already struck several times, and the city gate emitted a sickeningly loud cracking sound as the wood broke.
The reserve team leader was a veteran who was missing half an ear, and he didn't even wear a helmet when he came out of the armory.
Charles's elite troops pressed forward despite the artillery fire from the city walls.
Their individual combat capabilities far surpassed those of the militia and mercenaries. Once the siege ladders were erected, the first group of men, with scimitars in their mouths, climbed upwards at a speed far exceeding that of the militia from the previous day.
Several rebel soldiers had already scaled the ramparts and engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the defenders, the clash of blades echoing loudly at the breach.
After throwing down their grenades, the veteran reserve soldiers drew their bayonets and climbed onto the wall, exchanging blows one after another, foot to foot, neither retreating.
The battle on the north city wall quickly escalated to a fever pitch.
As Charles rode his iron-gray sand horse, watching more and more rebels leap over the crenellations on the north city wall, his hand involuntarily tightened its grip on the hilt of his command sword.
He had confidence in his troops, who were regular soldiers he had personally trained. They were a level above the garrison in terms of discipline and close combat.
The artillery on the north city wall was already scarce, and no matter how capable the reserves were, they couldn't withstand the continuous advance of the elite troops.
If the battering ram can create just one more gap, the cavalry can charge straight into the city.
A sudden explosion was heard in the distance.
It was stuffy and far away, but when the vibration traveled along the ground, all the rebel soldiers charging under the north city wall felt a tingling sensation in their feet.
Charles's sword froze in mid-air. He turned to look behind him; the explosion came from further back in the rebel camp, deep within the old trade route that led from Rainbase to Alubarna.
The second explosion followed by the third and fourth. The intervals between the explosions became shorter and the density increased, eventually merging into a continuous rumble of thunder rolling across the horizon.
The rebel supply depots on both sides of the trade route caught fire simultaneously. The Kakkō were particularly glaring against the gray sky of early morning, and thick black smoke billowed from behind the sand dunes several kilometers away, stretching obliquely into a black curtain that blotted out the sun in the morning breeze.
He recognized the Kakkō; it was the rebels' supply line.