Levels Soaring

Atop the city wall, day and night had long since become indistinguishable.

Towering flames dyed the leaden sky an eerie dark red. The thick stench of blood mingled with the smell of burning, almost enough to smoke a person's guts out.

An Imperial Guard soldier had just parried a slashing saber with his shield when, before he could catch his breath, another spear pierced his companion's chest. The man gave a short, muffled grunt and crumpled to the ground.

His eyes bloodshot, the soldier roared and drove his saber into the belly of the enemy before him, then kicked him off the wall.

As far as the eye could see, the towering wall had become a mill grinding flesh and blood.

Severed limbs and scraps of entrails lay everywhere.

It was already the seventh day of the steppe barbarians' siege.

To wear down the defenders, Yelü Boyang drove the conquered tribes and the able-bodied men seized along the way against the wall, wave after wave like the tide.

These slave soldiers, treated as cannon fodder, would die beneath the blades of the steppe wolf cavalry enforcing the advance if they retreated. If they pressed forward, they might fight for a sliver of life atop the wall.

In their desperation, they unleashed a startling ferocity, hurling themselves against the capital's defenses without fear of death.

Beneath the wall, corpses piled up like a mountain, almost level with the top.

By comparison, Chen Ye's side had suffered far fewer losses, relying on the city's towering, thick walls. But the defenders' nerves had long been stretched to their limit, and the consumption of defensive supplies such as arrows, rolling logs, and boiling excrement was staggering.

Even the men of the Eight Great Schools of the jianghu had cast off their usual attire and donned padded armor. Swords and sabers in hand, they fought alongside the defenders on the wall.

Fang Tao, the Rong Character Gate's Shaojun, kicked an enemy climbing up a siege ladder flying. He wiped the blood from his face and grinned at a Cai Character Gate girl bandaging the wounded nearby, revealing a row of white teeth.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The gong signaling the retreat finally sounded. The besieging army slowly withdrew like a receding tide, leaving devastation in its wake.

On the wall, the surviving soldiers seemed utterly spent. Many collapsed directly into pools of blood, gulping for breath.

Relieved to have survived the ordeal, everyone turned as one to look at the figure atop the gate tower.

Clad in a bright yellow dragon robe beneath a suit of padded armor, he stood quietly amid the wind and snow, like a deity who would never fall.

It was this figure who gave everyone the courage to keep going.

Chen Ye gazed expressionlessly at the carnage below the wall and sighed inwardly.

War had always been the cruelest meat grinder.

On the battlefield, living, breathing lives were nothing more than numbers.

"Your Majesty."

Tong Lei, commander of the Imperial Guard, strode over, bloodstains still wet on his armor. His voice was hoarse and weary. "Our army has suffered more than three thousand casualties, but we can still fight. It's just that the city's military supplies, including arrows and rolling logs, have been consumed at an enormous rate. If they aren't replenished in time, we can hold out for five more days at most... five days at most."

Five days.

That number weighed on the hearts of every general who heard it, like a massive boulder.

Chen Ye nodded, his expression unchanged. "Pass on my decree. Order the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Works to use every means at their disposal-even if they must tear down homes and melt down iron implements-to replenish our military supplies as quickly as possible. Also, bring up the reserves to relieve the soldiers on the front line, so they can take turns resting."

He issued his orders and deployed his troops methodically, his voice steady, as though the predicament before him had not affected him in the slightest.

His calm, composed bearing also set the surrounding generals somewhat at ease.

After attending to military affairs, Chen Ye returned to the tent temporarily set up inside the gate tower.

Dinner was simple: just a bowl of meat soup and a few steamed buns.

The eunuch serving him was visibly distressed, feeling that making His Majesty eat such food was nothing short of sacrilege. Chen Ye, however, paid it no mind and ate in great mouthfuls.

As he ate, Chen Ye opened the system panel.

[Class: Thousand-Faced Thief Saint (lv3)]

[Talent: Soul Seizing and Shadow Stealing]

[Skills: Deft Hands lv10, Swift Blade lv10, Running on Eaves and Walls lv10, Shadow Concealment lv10, Throwing lv10, Bone Alteration lv5, Sound Mimicry lv5]

The seven days of bloody battle, and his experience commanding the lives and deaths of tens of thousands from the central command, had actually raised his Thief Saint class by two levels.

Chen Ye figured this was probably related to his acting as the emperor.

Besides that, Bone Alteration and Sound Mimicry had also risen to level five, while Shadow Concealment and flying knife throwing had shot straight to the maximum level.

The rise in his strength also gave Chen Ye a little more confidence in what he was about to do next!-

Outside the city, in the steppe army's main camp.

Yelü Boyang, lord of the steppe, was deeply irritable.

He had never expected the capital to be such a tough nut to crack. He had thought that, after arriving, he would take it in a matter of days, or that the overwhelming deterrent of the steppe cavalry would make Great Zhao's emperor and ministers obediently surrender the city.

The reality, however, had turned out to be nothing like that.

Yang Zhao, the Great Zhao emperor who was rumored to cling to life and fear death, and to be addicted to wine and women, seemed like a different man. He had become decisive, ruthless, and highly methodical.

All of this made the situation extremely troublesome for Yelü Boyang.

What made him even more anxious was that, although his own elite troops had suffered few losses, the consumption of provisions was a bottomless pit.

The men of the steppe could endure bloodshed, but they could not endure hunger and endless waiting.

For now, he was holding them down by sheer force of the prestige he had built over the years. But once their patience ran out, these tens of thousands of cavalrymen, fierce as wolves and tigers, would immediately become savage beasts beyond control, and might even turn on him, their master.

"We can't wait any longer..." A fierce light flashed in Yelü Boyang's eyes.

Night fell, and the brutal fighting finally came to a halt.

Both sides ceased their attacks by unspoken agreement. Only the wall remained brightly lit, its patrols not daring to relax in the slightest.

In a blind spot they could not see, a dark figure slid from the shadows like a ghost and, with a few leaps, vanished into the vast snowy night.

Chen Ye had resumed his original appearance. Dressed in black night clothes, he sped through the snow, yet made almost no sound.

During this time, he had not merely stayed on the gate tower issuing commands. He had gone out to scout several times at night, and thus had some knowledge of the steppe camp's layout.

Chen Ye did not head for the central command tent.

He knew its defenses were bound to be extremely tight. Even with his now max-level stealth abilities, he would have difficulty escaping once surrounded.

His goal was to cause as much chaos as possible, then decide what to do next.

After skirting the heavily guarded front of the camp, Chen Ye appeared at its rear.

Security here was relatively lax, and a few drunken steppe soldiers were sitting around a bonfire, boasting.

Chen Ye soon set his sights on an unlucky fellow who had gotten up alone in the night, then quietly followed him.

The moment the man turned behind a tent, Chen Ye moved.

One hand clamped tightly over the man's mouth and nose from behind, while the short blade in his other hand slashed swiftly and precisely across his throat.

The steppe soldier's body went limp before he could even grunt.

Chen Ye quickly dragged him into the shadows, stripped off his leather coat, which reeked strongly of mutton, and put it on in a few deft moves.

At a thought, the bones throughout Chen Ye's body gave a faint series of cracks. In just a few breaths, his build and features became identical to those of the dead unlucky fellow.

Once he had done all that, he hid the corpse and adjusted his collar. Then, imitating the rough gait of a steppe man, he staggered toward a brightly lit, heavily guarded area.

That was where the lifeline of the steppe army lay-the place where its provisions and baggage were stored.