Le Jin had already prepared himself mentally for the idea of being besieged in Xiangyang.
After all, guarding a fortress was nothing new to him. Siege warfare was ugly, tedious, and soul-grinding—but it followed rules. You endured. You waited. You counted supplies and prayed the enemy made a mistake first.
What he had not prepared for…
was being pinned down inside Xiangyang by a floating fortress.
The memory of that colossal warship still pressed on his chest like a stone.
Taking advantage of a brief lull, his personal guards had already gathered and laid out the bodies of the fallen. Among them was the corpse of a trusted aide—and beside it lay the weapon that had killed him.
Le Jin personally lifted the massive bolt.
He said nothing.
Held like a spear or halberd, it was already unwieldy. Too heavy. Too dense. Too excessive. And yet this thing had been fired from across the river, pierced through four armored men in succession, and still had enough force left to embed itself deep into the city wall.
Le Jin stared at it for a long time before a single thought finally surfaced in his mind.
This is not something human hands should be able to do.
Looking around, he realized the damage from that single volley was not, strictly speaking, catastrophic. Casualties were limited. The walls still stood.
But morale—
Morale had been nailed straight into the ground.
Le Jin had lived his life charging at the front. His battles were always decided with blood on his blade—cutting banners, beheading generals, forcing open gates.
But now?
What was he supposed to do?
Drag a skiff into the river and paddle toward Guan Yu while shouting challenges?
For the first time in his military career, Le Jin felt utterly useless.
And so, inevitably, irritation followed.
We're both cavalry commanders, he thought bitterly.
So why in the world did you go and start studying naval warfare?
And Liu Bei—what tricks did that man possess to make Jiangdong willingly build such monstrous ships?
They gave him Jiangling.
They gave him a sister.
They even gave him warships.
At this rate, why not gift him the entire Jiangdong while they were at it?
Complaints aside, Xiangyang still had to be defended.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on perspective—the massive warship only fired a single coordinated volley before drifting toward Fan City instead.
Xiangyang's defenders quietly exhaled in relief.
Fan City might be a brother city, but if someone had to suffer… better it be the brother for now.
That said, everyone understood the unspoken truth:
If Fan City fell, Xiangyang would not hold out much longer.
The soldiers' emotions became… complicated.
Some of them even began avoiding eye contact with Le Jin entirely.
He noticed.
Which was precisely why he began patrolling the city even more frequently. He was searching—desperately—for an opportunity.
A moment.
A spark.
Anything that could rally morale and bind hearts together again.
As for Fan City?
That was a problem for later.
Zhao A did not understand what his general was feeling.
He only knew that this war felt nothing like the ones he had imagined.
As a child in Zigui, he had listened to old men tell stories of war—Yellow Emperor versus Chi You, thunderous battles that made children's blood boil with excitement.
Later, when Magistrate Li fled south and spoke of real wars, Zhao A's scalp had gone numb.
Cut ears counted as merit.
Civilians slaughtered and labeled bandits.
Forced conscription.
Massacres.
And more massacres.
Yet after stumbling into General Guan's navy through sheer coincidence, Zhao A had only one clear impression:
War is exhausting.
During the day, he worked below deck, turning cranks until his arms burned.
At night, he boarded small boats, ferrying those terrifyingly large crossbow bolts between Dangyang and Fan City.
His comrades said the ship's full volley was louder than General Zhang's roar—but Zhao A had never seen it himself.
He only ever saw the warship at night.
Sleeping.
Huge.
Silent.
Deadly.
Somehow… he liked it.
By day he worked aboard it.
By night he slept within it.
It felt less like a warship and more like a new home.
Back in Zigui, he'd obsessed over marrying a wife.
Now?
Not urgent anymore.
What he really wanted was to learn how to maintain the Great Triple Bow. That position paid an extra hundred coins a month.
"Great Triple Bow" was what the soldiers called the ballistae—three massive bows layered together. The name was simple, memorable, and—most importantly—easy to write.
Then one day, while Zhao A was below deck turning the mechanism as usual, a cheer erupted above.
"City's fallen!"
"Fan City has fallen!"
He didn't even know what Fan City really looked like.
But he cheered anyway.
Because fallen cities meant merit.
And merit meant reward money.
That night, when he and his comrades sailed back toward Dangyang to fetch more bolts, their boat left Fan City carrying something extra—
A deck full of prisoners, hands bound together.
Only then did Zhao A truly see Fan City.
Its riverside wall looked like a hedgehog—bristling with bolts. Sections had collapsed. Dirt ramps filled the gaps, making the climb laughably easy.
The prisoners were pale, shaken, and terrified of the great ship.
Zhao A didn't care.
He had a more important concern.
I forgot to ask…
Who pays the ferry fee for prisoners?
His disappointment over not being able to charge them never reached Guan Yu.
Atop Fan City's walls, the bearded general stood quietly, gazing at the colossal ships resting peacefully on the river.
"Sieges are still difficult," Guan Yu said softly.
"Ballistae alone cannot breach truly fortified walls or gates."
Xu Shu pointed at him and laughed.
"An easy-to-defend stronghold fell in seven days," he said.
"And you're still dissatisfied?"
Guan Yu answered seriously.
"Fan and Xiangyang have no fleets. Our ships can approach freely and fire directly at the battlements. No defender dares man the walls. Seven days is already slow."
Xu Shu leaned out to observe the damage.
"I never expected bolts could be used as climbing anchors."
Because of construction limits, rammed-earth walls were thick at the base and tapered upward, forming a steep slope.
Now, with bolts embedded everywhere, soldiers could simply grab and climb.
Xu Shu committed the idea to memory, then smiled.
"If you'd had this capability back when you flooded the Seven Armies… the outcome at Xiangyang or Fan might have been very different."
Guan Yu sighed but did not respond.
Instead, he changed the subject.
"Then Fan City will be left to you, Military Advisor?"
Xu Shu nodded. This had already been agreed upon.
He watched Guan Yu descend the tower, plant the Green Dragon Blade aside, and personally lift the body of a Jingzhou soldier, carrying it beneath a fluttering Guan banner.
Dozens of bodies already lay there.
They would all be sent back to Jiangling for burial.
Xu Shu sighed softly.
Fan City had held barely ten thousand defenders, commanded by a governor already executed.
With the warship's suppression, four days of bombardment, one day of ramp construction, and Guan Yu's assault—
Two hundred casualties.
Eight thousand prisoners.
An unimaginable victory.
And yet—
They were still common folk dying far from home.
Han killing Han.
Xu Shu slapped his cheeks lightly, forcing those "Light Screen aftereffects" aside, then loudly began organizing repairs.
Fan City would be the battlefield of something unprecedented.
They would clean the city.
And wait.
For Cao's army.
For Cao Cao, bad news came one after another this year.
Upon reaching Xuchang, his first act was to suppress certain improper thoughts from the young emperor—using several heads to make the point clear.
Xun Yu was displeased.
Cao Cao didn't care.
Because reports from Xiangyang and Fan City had arrived.
Fan City was lost.
Along with the report came Yu Jin's question:
Do we still reinforce Fan City?
After reviewing the intelligence, Cao Cao grew furious.
He had ordered Le Jin to defend Xiangyang—not to strip Fan City of grain and reserves!
The decision had made sense at the time.
But now?
Seven days.
Fan City was gone in seven days.
Whose fault was that, if not Le Jin's?
He cursed—but Xiangyang remained secure.
Which meant reinforcement was now justified.
His feelings were complex.
Relief and dread intertwined.
Because one thing was proven beyond doubt:
Cao Cao's judgment of Guan Yu was correct.
Orders were issued immediately.
Elite cavalry rode north to Ye City for grain and troops.
All but essential garrisons departed Xuchang for the Fan City front.
Supplies would last barely twenty days.
Cao Cao wasn't worried.
He'd survived worse.
Then he opened a sealed letter.
"Liu Bei confiscating land from the great clans in Yi Province… causing them to unite and seek aid to restore Liu Zhang?"
Xun Yu nodded calmly.
"The Yi clans are despicable," he said flatly.
Cao Cao thought the opposite.
Without hesitation, he handed the letter to Xun You.
"Send this north. They'll understand."
It was time for the great clans to offer grain.
And finally—
Another secret letter.
"Sun Quan remains inactive despite Guan Yu's advance… and is reinforcing Jiangxia?"
Cao Cao narrowed his eyes.
The south was becoming… interesting.