Chapter 1, Dusk (1)

Lu Ling's hero Liu Zijun drew his sword, intending to fight Zhao Shishang to the death. However, he saw Zhao Shishang jump down from the shoulder litter, staggering as he grabbed Wen Tianxiang's cloak and helmet, putting them on himself. The two attendants exchanged glances, lifted Zhao Shishang, and ran north along the mountain path.

Amidst the cheers, the blood-soaked banner of the Song Dynasty fell with a resounding crash

Capture Wen Tianxiang alive; this was the highest objective set by Kublai Khan, the emperor of the Yuan dynasty, for this battle. As an overconfident resister, the scholar named Wen Tianxiang has already caused too much trouble for the Mongol Empire. As long as he exists, the Yuan Empire's rule in the Jiangnan region will never be stable. He is not like Liu Mengyan, the Prime Minister of the Song dynasty, nor like the Confucian scholar Zhao Fu. Liu and Zhao, these elites of the Southern Song and leaders of Neo-Confucianism, understood the importance of adapting to the times and following the trends. Yet, the stubborn Wen Tianxiang, like an indestructible cockroach, has been defeated time and again, only to regroup and stand in front of the chariot of the Yuan Empire's conquest of Jiangnan.

Several young men began to weep for their teacher, who had been their enlightening mentor. He usually taught them the principles of loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and righteousness. Unexpectedly, in the end, he truly sacrificed his noble head to honor the ideals held within their hearts

Gong Xinhua shook his body, with over twenty arrows embedded in him. He let out a cold snort in mockery towards Xilimeng, staggered a few steps sideways, and then leaped down the side of the cliff.

Beside their bodies, Wu Wenbing, Lin Dong, Liu Zhu, Zhang Bian, and other heroes from various regions lie there, forever resting in the dreams of a thousand autumns of their homeland, never to awaken again

Wen Tianxiang commanded an army of 5,000 men, engaging the Yuan forces led by the Jiangxi governor in Xingguo, who was accompanied by the elite troops of 50,000 under the personal command of Li Heng from the Western Xia. The indomitable volunteers, armed with rudimentary weapons, charged repeatedly into the Mongolian cavalry, only to be overwhelmed time and again by the sea of enemies. Soon, the main formation was breached by the enemy, and the battle turned into a retreat.

Fleeing from Xingguo to Fangshishan, and from Fangshishan to Kongkeng, along the way, there were scattered soldiers who had been killed. Around Wen Tianxiang, loyal generals occasionally led their brave men to turn back and confront the enemy, attempting to buy time for their comrades to escape through their own sacrifice. However, the overwhelming disparity in troop strength rendered their sacrifices utterly meaningless. The brave men who charged into the enemy ranks were like stones thrown into a vast ocean, occasionally splashing a few drops of blood, only to be followed by an immediate silence.

Wen Tianxiang set down his sword, bent down, and together with the soldiers pushed the massive stones. One by one, stones the size of grinding wheels were thrown down, raising a cacophony of wails and howls. The surging Yuan army rolled back down the hillside, leaving behind a ground strewn with corpses

A cry of despair echoed through the crowd, the unique tone of Peng Zhenlong's Yongxin dialect. This minor official, who had once been expelled for corruption, sounded so soft and powerless even in his cries of pain. Wen Tianxiang turned his head in concern and saw his brother-in-law, Peng Zhenlong, who was leading the charge, being pinned to the ground by two Mongolian men. One of the Han soldiers from the Yuan army pulled out a rope, preparing to bind him, but he picked up a stone from the ground and smashed it against the soldier's head. Taking advantage of the moment when the two Mongolians were momentarily stunned, Peng Zhenlong hurled another stone at the forehead of a Mongolian warrior.

"We have captured Wen Tianxiang, we have captured Wen Tianxiang!" Cheers erupted from the ridge

More Mongolian warriors and Han soldiers charged up the ridge, pursuing the half-rolled banner inscribed with the character "wen." Capture Wen Tianxiang, and a reward of 100,000 cash will be granted; seize his flag, and a reward of 5,000 cash will be given. The court's bounty was clearly stipulated, and under the promise of substantial rewards, everyone surged forward with exceptional bravery.

Throwing stones

The autumn forest in Ban Gu sways in the wind, unchanged through the ages, that bold shade of red

"And they fought fiercely www.hetushucomcom, brothers, charge!" Hundreds of soldiers rushed down the hillside, charging into the ranks of the Mongols. Countless Yuan troops met them, engaging in fierce combat. Amidst the shouts and cries, the innocent voices of children echoed continuously, "One should strive to be a hero in life, and even in death, a ghostly champion. To this day, I think of Xiang Yu, unwilling to cross the river eastward... Since the Hu horses have gazed upon the river, the abandoned ponds and tall trees still loathe the talk of war. As dusk approaches, the clear horns blow coldly, yet it is an empty city..."

Wen Tianxiang brandished the Longquan sword and charged towards the enemy, following behind the soldiers. Everything should have come to an end; the defeat in the Jiangnan West Road, and the newly reclaimed territories in Fujian and the two Guang provinces were immediately facing imminent disaster. This was all due to my failure as the Right Chancellor of the Song Dynasty to effectively command the military. I have no way to retreat, and the Song Dynasty has no way to retreat either. For hundreds of years, we have retreated from Bianliang to Hangzhou, from Hangzhou to Guangzhou, and then to Qianwan (Hong Kong). If we retreat any further, we will have no choice but to plunge into the sea.

Li Hengshi of the Xixia dynasty could not recognize many characters and did not understand the meaning of this poem. However, amidst the clear and resonant voices of the children reading, even a fool could grasp the unyielding spirit within. A few Mongolian warriors panicked and swung their fists at the children reciting their lessons. One by one, the small bodies were knocked to the ground, yet the sound of reading continued unabated: "The capital of Yao, the land of Shun, the domain of Yu. Within it should be, one or half a shameful minister! With such a strong and pungent scent for thousands of miles, where are the heroic spirits of the ages? Why ask about the fortunes of the Hu, when the sun shines brightly in the sky!" One by one, the small bodies were knocked to the ground, yet the sound of reading continued unabated: "The capital of Yao, the land of Shun, the domain of Yu. Within it should be, one or half a shameful minister! With such a strong and pungent scent for thousands of miles, where are the heroic spirits of the ages? Why ask about the fortunes of the Hu, when the sun shines brightly in the sky!"

Before his eyes, corpses lay scattered around Gong Xin, yet not a single warrior stepped past him. Yuan Wanhuzhi Limen sighed, using a horn to command his subordinates to retreat, while the archers concentrated their fire.

What is going on? The general behind shouted in dissatisfaction. Wen Tianxiang was right in front; the mountain path was narrow, and the people ahead were unwilling to charge forward, thus delaying the opportunity for those in the rear to gain promotions and wealth. The unification of the Yuan Dynasty was imminent; if they did not seize the opportunity to earn military merit now, would they really wait until they retired and returned home?

"My child," a thin, bearded Song army general cried out in anguish, taking a few steps down the mountain, then forcing himself to retreat, moving forward again, and retreating once more, unsure of what to do.

A few chubby boys and girls began to cry softly. Their parents were educated individuals, and their families were well-off; they had rarely experienced such suffering. The cries continued, yet no one was willing to respond to Li Heng's call. After waiting for a while, Li Heng, feeling anxious, gestured to his personal guards. Understanding the commander's intent, the guards drew their swords and brought the loudest crying children to the front of the ranks

Kneeling at the very front of the line, a family of four was firmly held down by several Mongolian warriors. The woman in the middle, covered in mud, could hardly conceal her noble and dignified demeanor. The two children, a son and a daughter on either side, influenced by their mother, defiantly raised their heads, remaining silent under the threat of the steel blades.

That is the great banner of the Ministry of Culture, and the wives and children of the soldiers have all fallen into the hands of the Tartars. Now, they are kneeling before us, kneeling under the bright steel blades.

One by one, the guards around fell to the ground, and one by one, the aides perished amidst the chaos of battle. Wen Tianxiang's face was covered in blood, his expression fierce, as he wildly swung his sword, unable to distinguish friend from foe. Suddenly, the military officer Zhao Shishang turned his bow around and struck him forcefully on the back of the head. Wen Tianxiang staggered, took a few faltering steps, and then collapsed softly onto the hillside. In that moment, he felt an unexpected sense of relief. Wen Tianxiang staggered, took a few faltering steps, and then collapsed softly onto the hillside. In that moment, he felt an unexpected sense of relief.

The Mongols have finally retreated back to the northern desert, Zong Bai, Yuan Bo, did you and the books see this? Wen Tianxiang gazed at the drifting clouds in the sky and asked softly

"Lord Wen, do not concern yourself with us. In the future, feel free to raise an army to take revenge and eliminate this group of inhumane Tartars." An elderly man with white hair shouted loudly among the ranks of captives. Before he could finish his words, a Mongolian steel blade had already struck his head. The old man's white-haired head fell to the muddy ground, his wide-open eyes gazing unwillingly at the sky of the Great Song.

I went to Luling, where the hero Lin Mu was accompanied by several figures from the martial world. He turned and charged towards the gentle slope on the side. The figures quickly merged with the advancing Yuan army, and heavy waves of blood splashed out from the crowd, staining the heavens and the earth a deep crimson. It was impossible to distinguish which part belonged to the Mongols, which part to the Northern Han people, and which part to the Southern Song army.

Beyond the mountains, the land that had nurtured them has been irrigated with hot blood, turning it black over these days. The fields have long been abandoned, and the weeds in the meadows have grown wildly. The once peaceful village is now deathly silent; the young either enlist in the army or hide in the deep mountains to seek refuge. The elderly and frail who remain at home have become the souls lost under the blades of Li Heng's soldiers, staining the color of the uniforms of the Great Yuan warriors.

The blood of passion stained Gong Xin's battle robe. Drawing his sword, he stepped forward, turned around, and the gleaming steel blade struck at two other Mongolian warriors. One Mongolian warrior was caught off guard and became a victim of the blade. The other, quick to react, attempted to flee, but a long arrow shot from behind, pinning him firmly to the ground. The other Mongolian warriors, emboldened and eager to achieve merit, saw this and hurriedly retreated, but one stumbled over the loose stones on the hillside, tumbling and rolling down into the valley.

The answer quickly appeared before them: a Song general clad in white battle robes, wielding dual blades, intercepted the pursuers. Behind him, dozens of Song soldiers, armed with long spears, firmly secured the entrance. The fleeing Song troops were allowed to pass, while the advancing Yuan soldiers were each cut down by the general in white robes, rolling like gourds on the ground

In the midst of the chaotic battle, Gong Xin wielded dual blades like a mad tiger, fiercely blocking the Northern Yuan soldiers who attempted to pursue Zhao Shishang.

A long spear pierced his shoulder, and Gong Xin swung his knife to break the spear. With another strike, he chopped down the approaching enemy, sending them crashing to the ground. Another spear came from behind, aiming for Gong Xin's waist. In a split second, Gong Xin shouted and turned, dodging the spear's point, while his steel knife slid along the white wax shaft, severing several fingers. A blade of light rushed towards him, and Gong Xin raised his left-hand knife to meet it, while his right-hand knife thrust forward, piercing the enemy's abdomen.

Fifteen years ago, in the empty pit, that evening was as blood-red as ever

"Good, don't leave, Wen Tianxiang!" The Mongolian servants cheered loudly, applauding their master's clean and efficient killing skills. Several servants rushed forward to pick up the warm head, tying the hair into their spoils. They then continued to charge forward, collecting more achievements in killing for themselves and their master

In the second year of Song Jingyan, taking advantage of the internal turmoil in the Northern Yuan, Wen Tianxiang raised an army in Fujian and advanced into the Jiangnan West Route (Jiangxi), causing a stir in Jiangnan. It was initially believed that with the support of loyal and righteous individuals, the Song Dynasty could be reborn from the ashes. However, unexpectedly, Kublai Khan swiftly quelled the northern rebellion and then dispatched Li Heng of the Western Xia to lead an army of 400,000 to extinguish the flames of resistance in Jiangnan

The head, unable to cry out, flew into the air, watching its own body collapse and convulse in the grass. Blood flowed down the valley like a mountain stream, gathering into a river, gushing out towards the mountains.

Encountering a formidable enemy, psychological warfare is paramount. Li Heng, the proud commander of the Western Xia, confidently passed down his orders. He knew who was rallying the remnants on the opposite hillside; he had heard of Wen Tianxiang's name, but had never met him in person. From the experiences of the past few days and the accounts of several other defectors from the Southern Song, Li Heng believed he had mastered the key to subduing his opponent

Pian lifted a massive stone from the ground and pushed it down the slope of the mountain. The Yuan soldiers blocking the stone quickly dodged, but the stone rolled faster and faster. By the time it reached halfway down the mountain, it was accompanied by the sound of wind and thunder, stirring up dust and sand. Those Yuan soldiers who reacted slowly were unable to evade and were struck by the stone, resulting in broken bones and severed tendons

Wen Tianxiang attempted to intervene several times, but was unable to stop them, watching helplessly as the two brothers of the Xiao family rushed into the chaotic army. In an instant, the scholar's cap was trampled into the mud by the herdsmen

Bloodied, the severed heads of those who died with their eyes wide open were carried on the backs of their fellow Han compatriots. Meanwhile, the Han man carrying the heads was enthusiastically cheering for the Mongolian warriors, hoping to gain some rewards from their military achievements, in order to elevate his status from that of a fourth-class slave to a third-class one

Several soldiers laid down their weapons and rushed down the mountain without looking back. Zhao Shishang, seated in the sedan chair, raised his bow but could not bring himself to shoot at his own brothers. The Longquan sword in Wen Tianxiang's hand trembled, unable to be raised or lowered.

The sound of a "bang" echoed as the brain matter of the Mongolian warrior splattered, covering Peng Zhenlong's face. Enraged and humiliated, another Mongolian warrior swung his blade down, cleaving the frail Peng Zhenlong in two.

The Mongol soldiers, alongside the Han troops, shouted as they pursued the fleeing enemy ahead. "Kill!" cried the bloodthirsty Mongol warrior, striking down a Song soldier who had been caught, and with another blow, severed his head. Without pausing for a moment, he quickly chased after several other exhausted Song soldiers. He did not need to tally his own achievements; the Han army slaves following him carefully collected the severed heads, stringing them together to carry for him.

Gong Xin, several Han soldiers shouted loudly and turned to flee. The bewildered Mongolian warriors, unable to comprehend the meaning of this Chinese phrase, steeled their courage and charged forward. Just as their feet touched the stone bridge, a sharp command rang out, and two streaks of blade light, swift as lightning, descended upon them. Even seasoned in battle, the Mongolian warriors had never encountered such rapid blade work; before they could even defend themselves, they were already cleaved in two.

"Prime Minister, you go first," said a young man in brocade, who was seated in a sedan chair carried by two loyal servants, his leg injured. While shooting arrows at the enemy, he called out to Wen Tianxiang. His archery was precise, and in an instant, several Mongolian warriors had been shot down. The remaining Mongol soldiers, engaged in battle with Gong Xin, could no longer form a siege. With this strong support, Gong Xin, wielding dual blades, rallied his spirits and forced the Mongolian centurion in front of him to retreat repeatedly. The Song soldiers, armed with long spears, seized the opportunity to charge forward, forming a small spear formation with several cherry blossom spears, which immediately pierced a hole in the flank of the Yuan army's small unit.

As Wen Tianxiang led the formidable army of one hundred thousand sweeping across the world into the capital city, the setting sun was descending upon this ancient city, which had not belonged to the Han for over four hundred years. At that moment, the sky was a deep crimson. The evening glow, seizing the last rays of light before the city fell into slumber, cast its final brilliance over the ten-mile-long street. Under the blood-red glow, the buildings on either side of the street seemed to be momentarily bathed in a sea of fire, or perhaps, in blood

The capital of Yao, the land of Shun, the domain of Yu, should contain, one or two shameful ministers and warriors..." The two children of Wen Tianxiang, along with other children, raised their necks and recited, their eyes filled with smiles, as if they were in a private school, facing the rigorous examination of their teacher. "With such a strong and fishy scent for thousands of miles, where are the heroic spirits of the ages..."

"By holding our ground for just a moment, we can ensure the safety of the old camp's troops." Wen Tianxiang shouted, striving to gather the scattered soldiers across the mountains. The Yuan army, unable to breach the narrow path guarded by Gong Xin, had already changed their strategy and sought another gentle slope to charge up. He needed someone to resist them in different directions.

The capital of Yao, the land of Shun, the domain of Yu, should have, among them, a few shameful ministers and soldiers. The chubby boy, who was held captive at the front of the formation, suddenly recited the ancient poem with a straight neck, his tender voice echoing in the valley. Among those who wished to rush down the valley to reunite with their families, a few educated individuals paused in their steps, tears falling like rain.

The supervising general Zhao Shishang was being dragged by the chaotic soldiers towards the warhorse of the Western Xia slave Li Heng. Wherever he passed, the soldiers of the Northern Yuan raised their voices in cheers, celebrating this hard-won victory. Zhao Shishang smiled slightly, gazing in the direction where Wen Tianxiang had departed, his expression as calm as if he were attending a banquet

Regardless of the quality of the soldiers, the Jiangnan volunteers under Wen Tianxiang were not on the same level as their adversaries. What they possessed was merely an unwavering loyalty to their country. Yet, in the face of four hundred thousand fierce troops, this loyalty appeared utterly powerless. The numerous volunteer armies, like rainbows after a storm, shone brilliantly before meeting their end. Tens of thousands of men fell on their homeland's soil, defending the last shred of human dignity with their broken bodies and blood.

"Wen Tianxiang, will you surrender or not? Do you really want to force me to slaughter these old, weak, women, and children before your eyes?" Li Heng, the servant of the Western Xia, shouted loudly. Seeing that there was no response from the ridge opposite, he lowered his head and threatened the children in front of the horse, "Children who do not want to die, call your father down to save you; otherwise, you will all be killed to offer sacrifices to the flag soon!"

The two brothers, Xiao Jiajing and Tao Fu, who were on good terms with Peng Zhenlong, picked up the weapons discarded by the fleeing soldiers and charged forward. Both were scholars from Yongxin County, and during this uprising, they worked alongside Peng Zhenlong to restore Yongxin, devising military strategies and contributing many good ideas. At this moment, there was no distinction between civil and military among the soldiers; Peng Zhenlong could die valiantly on the battlefield, and his head could no longer fall into the hands of the Mongols to be humiliated

In the rear of the army, the sound of war drums echoed. Yuan Jiang, the envoy of the western region, personally beat the drum to rally his soldiers. In his excitement, he had long forgotten how, years ago, this group of Mongolian warriors had invaded his homeland and the atrocities they had committed there.

The layers of Yuan troops retreated, creating a gap several zhang wide in the main formation. A group of the elderly, weak, women, and children, bound by ropes, were pushed forward, kneeling on the blood-soaked ground. The executioner raised his gleaming cleaver, while Li Heng, the governor of Yuanjiang, smiled and tossed a large flag in front of the horse.

"The Prime Minister should retreat first, while I, Gong, will hold the rear." With no time to greet those behind him, Gong Xin gave a brief reminder and focused on facing the enemy. Another group of Mongolian warriors charged forward, supporting each other, and surrounded Gong Xin and his brothers.

The family of four consists of Wen Tianxiang's wife and children. In order to capture Wen Tianxiang alive, Li Heng specifically dispatched a cavalry unit to raid the old camp of Wen, abducting the elderly, weak, women, and children who were recuperating in the camp. The Han people uphold loyalty and filial piety as their family values. Li Heng wanted to see how those rebels would choose between the loyalty to their country, the filial piety towards their parents, and the love for their wives and children.

General Gong Xin, clad in a blood-stained robe, turned around and saw several familiar faces. They appeared weary yet filled with concern

A bow signifies farewell; from this moment on, Zhenlong shall forever be a subject of Song

Upon seeing the commotion in the opposing team, Li Heng's personal guards sneered and shouted: "Listen, people on the other side, your families have all been captured by Lord Li. Our Lord Li is merciful; if you lay down your weapons and come to surrender, your families will be spared. If you stubbornly follow Wen Tianxiang to the bitter end, then do not blame us for being ruthless..." The soldiers of the Northern Yuan are known for their cruelty and bloodlust; they say not to blame them for their lack of compassion, and what follows will surely be merciless slaughter. The cries of children and women on the hillside suddenly filled the air. The soldiers of the Northern Yuan are known for their cruelty and bloodlust; they say not to blame them for their lack of compassion, and what follows will surely be merciless slaughter. The cries of children and women on the hillside suddenly filled the air.

"Capture Wen Tianxiang, capture the Prime Minister of Song, Wen Tianxiang!" shouted the soldiers of the Yuan army as they pursued Zhao Shishang. Liu Zijun, with tears in his eyes, picked up the emaciated Right Prime Minister of the Southern Song, and ran towards the southeast with the fleeing soldiers.

Shoulder to shoulder, foot to foot, as if they were twin brothers sleeping in their mother's embrace

Between the two armies, a distance of several dozen zhang was created by scattered rocks and corpses. The Mongolian offensive had slightly faltered, and several captains, guided by the battle flags, reorganized their troops and formations in preparation for the next attack. The commander of this force, Li Heng of the Western Xia, having seen that the prolonged assault on the opposing hill was fruitless, had already decided to adopt a different strategy.

Seeing that the Yuan army had ceased its attack, the soldiers of the Song army, who had been engaged in fierce combat for several days, let out a sigh of relief. Before they could catch their breath, everyone stood frozen in place.

Wen Tianxiang, within the span of a single incense stick, quickly surrender. Otherwise, do not blame this commander for being ruthless. Li Heng's voice carried on the evening breeze, echoing through the valley

"Reko" Wen Tianxiang's eyes were nearly bulging with rage as he brandished his sword, wanting to avenge his brother-in-law, but several guards held him tightly. Through the misty tears, he saw Peng Zhenlong rolling on the ground, struggling, his face contorted in pain, yet his hands fought to adjust the Han attire, then clasped together, bowing deeply towards the flag of the Song Dynasty.

Wen Tianxiang shook his head, rejecting the request of his subordinates to retreat first, and arranged for a few subordinate generals to withdraw with the colored banners. He drew his sword and stood under his commander's flag. The stubborn flag, standing on the cliff, had been stained with blood and smoke to the point that its color was indistinguishable. The mountain wind battered the tattered flag, and the character for "Song" was faintly waving.

After a day of unimpeded advances, the Yuan army's offensive suddenly encountered setbacks. Caught off guard, they instinctively retreated to the sides. The Song soldiers wielded their spears in a swirling motion, creating a situation of many against few in the narrow mountain path. Under the cold, glinting spear points, several Mongolian and Han soldiers were pierced and fell, their bodies rolling down and mingling with the corpses of the Song soldiers on the ground

Fifteen years have passed, and I have finally realized the beautiful dream of restoring the Han family's rivers and mountains. No one is a slave to the Mongols anymore, and the nation no longer weeps.

The Mongolian formation paused, and the shouts rose again: "Kill him, do not let Wen Tianxiang escape"

In the span of fifteen years, how many heroes and outstanding figures have fallen, laid to rest upon the altar of national rejuvenation. The clashing of swords and the sound of drums and horns from that year surged into Wen Tianxiang's heart.

In that battle, the Song Dynasty lost without any doubt

Amidst these cheers, the Mongolian warriors grew increasingly fierce. A few Southern Song soldiers at the rear of the ranks broke down mentally, discarding their weapons and kneeling by the mountain path, hoping for the enemy's mercy. Several Mongolian soldiers rushed forward, their steel blades glinting in the sunset, spilling forth streams of hot blood

The sound of "bang" was as if the waves had crashed against the rocks. The Mongolian soldiers at the forefront paused for a moment, scattering in all directions, falling down. Several servants retreated, running back in a tumble, even abandoning their weapons in the process