The waters of the Yili River wound like a silken jade sash, their rippling surface glittering as they rushed across the Western Regions. Unshuang City stood beside them.
The Xianbei army's assault grew ever fiercer. There truly seemed no end to the people who could die; the entire Western Regions supplied the Xianbei with cannon fodder. It was a scene torn in two.
The people of the Western Regions wept and prayed even as they attacked with siege equipment in hand.
Militarily, Unshuang City was not a strategic hub that had to be contested in the Western Regions. Politically, however, it was the Western Regions' holy city, and Yan Hui intended to break this city that refused to submit to him.
Of course, he would not grind himself to death beneath Unshuang City's walls. Instead, he had the Xianbei army press south to seize the Western Regions Kingdoms, which had no power to resist, then used the Western Regions' immense resources of manpower and supplies to attack Unshuang City day and night.
Using sheer resources to bleed an enemy had always been an insoluble problem. Even heroes of heaven-reaching ability had met their end this way. King Xiang had won a hundred battles out of a hundred, yet under the attrition of endless assaults, he could only meet a crushing defeat that annihilated his entire army.
Years ago, Qin State had used precisely this tactic to breach Zhao City.
Moreover, the Xianbei were not spending their own resources, but those of the Western Regions. Tens of thousands, a hundred thousand people of the Western Regions died before Unshuang City, before the holy city.
But what else could they do?
Their families were all hostages in Xianbei hands. Holding soldiers' relatives to prevent betrayal and defection was a practice common to