Prefect Shang directed the craftsmen and soldiers to follow Zhu Ping’an’s instructions, installing the cranes, front-facing arrow shields, and overhead arrow shields. The benefits to the defense were immediate and profound, making their efforts twice as effective with half the strain.
With the cranes in place, the efficiency of transporting ash, stones, and other supplies from below to the walls increased tenfold.
Supplies piled up like mountains along the battlements. The defenders could now freely hurl stones and logs, scatter ash, and pour boiling water and scalding oil without restraint. The screams of the attacking pirates below rose in waves, unrelenting and piercing the sky.
Once the front and overhead arrow shields were installed, the defenders’ casualties became negligible.
The pirates’ archers were already suppressed by the Zhejiang troops, and now, with the shields’ oxhide blocking the few stray arrows that made it up, the pirates’ archery inflicted virtually no harm on the defenders.
With their safety assured, the defenders’ spirits soared. No more aching backs or trembling legs—their courage surged. Soldiers who’d once been timid now eagerly competed to rain stones, boiling water, and oil onto the pirates below.
Some even began chatting and joking as they fought, bragging to their comrades about their feats.
The pirates’ casualties below multiplied.
Zhu Ping’an’s other commands proved equally effective, their impact clear to the naked eye.
The boiling water, scalding oil, and ash needed no explanation—half the pirates’ ceaseless screams were thanks to them.
Long-handled weapons became the nightmare of pirates nearing the top of the ladders. Still two meters from the walls, they’d be met with meter-long blades and spears thrusting down. Clinging to the ladder with one hand and wielding a weapon with the other, they couldn’t fend off the seven or eight weapons stabbing from above. Blocking one was futile against two—they’d curse, scream, and plummet to their deaths.
The wolf-tooth flails were even more devastating.
Made of elm and locust wood, five feet long and four feet wide, they were like massive door panels—heavy and unyielding. Studded with gleaming blades along the bottom and fitted with iron rings at the corners, they hung from pulleys with ropes. With a creak, they’d rise and fall, rise and fall…
Each drop crushed the ladder-climbing pirates like flies, their screams echoing as they were swatted down.
No matter how brave or skilled, no pirate could defy the wolf-tooth flails—only death awaited.
After just a few swings, the blades gleamed red, dripping blood as if pulled from a pool.
The yasha rollers, equally infamous, rolled down with lethal force, leaving a trail of pirate corpses.
Then there were the battering poles. The pirates’ hastily made ladders had flimsy hooks at the top. Once craftsmen weakened those hooks, soldiers used the poles to ram the ladders, occasionally toppling them. Each success meant no pirate on that ladder survived the fall.
As for the Zhejiang troops, their contribution was unmatched. The rhythmic volleys of their arquebuses tolled like a death knell for the pirates. They also wielded small tiger squat cannons—iron artillery far more powerful than arquebuses. Capable of firing solid shot or wide-ranging lead pellets, a single blast could fell a swath of pirates below.
In short, compared to Prefect Shang’s command, Zhu Ping’an’s leadership turned defending the city into a night-and-day difference.
Watching Zhu Ping’an direct the defense, Prefect Shang felt as if he were witnessing the Tang dynasty poet Du Fu marveling at Lady Gongsun’s sword dance—an artistic masterpiece. Zhu’s grasp of the big picture, his agile and decisive seizing of opportunities, his pinpoint strikes at the pirates’ weaknesses—all left Shang in awe.
“They say a thousand soldiers are easy to find, but a general is rare; a thousand generals are easy to muster, but a commander is scarce. A scholar-commander like Zhu Ping’an—capable of calming the realm with a pen and securing the universe with martial talent—is a once-in-a-lifetime rarity, impossible to seek out,” Prefect Shang couldn’t help but exclaim.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the pirate bodies piled beneath the walls in layers, blood flowing like rivers.
The pirates sounded the retreat but hadn’t yet withdrawn—like a wounded wolf, limping yet reluctant to leave.
“Brother Xu, should we keep attacking Suzhou? This evening’s assault cost us at least 3,000 men,” Ma Ye said bitterly.
“The 3,000 dead aren’t even the main issue. The real problem is there’s no hope of taking the city. Since that Zhu took command, Suzhou’s become an iron fortress—no flaws to exploit. At this rate, we could throw all our men at it and still fail,” Chen Dong added, equally grim.
“It’s our lack of heavy siege weapons. We planned to sneak into Suzhou, not storm it. If we’d brought the two Franji cannons we bought from the red-haired barbarians or the three big guns we took from Songjiang’s walls, I’d be confident we could take Suzhou—capture that Zhu Ping’an who keeps ruining our plans and cut him to pieces!” Ma Ye slammed the table, his voice thick with regret and fury.
Chen Dong turned to Xu Hai, gnashing his teeth. “How about we send men to fetch those cannons? Bombard the gates tonight and take Suzhou!”
Xu Hai was tempted, but after a moment’s thought, he shook his head. “No. Those are our lifeline for holding the lair. Losing Suzhou is a setback we can handle, but if our base falls, we’re done.”
“Then what’s next? Keep throwing lives at a hopeless gamble? Or, as they say, ‘a gentleman’s revenge can wait ten years’—preserve our strength for another day?” Ma Ye asked Xu Hai, trailing off but making his intent clear.
He wanted to retreat.
Chen Dong shared the sentiment.
Xu Hai closed his eyes briefly before speaking slowly. “We’ll watch tonight. If no opportunity arises, we withdraw at dawn.”
Truth be told, Xu Hai was more ready to retreat than Ma Ye or Chen Dong, despite his reluctance. But he held back, waiting for them to suggest it first. That way, he could pin some blame for Suzhou’s failure on them—a flimsy excuse, but better than none. *They wanted to retreat, and I had no choice. Who knows—if we’d stayed, we might’ve turned it around.*
“Fine. We’ll see if there’s a chance tonight. If not, we return to the lair at dawn. Suzhou’s not going anywhere—we’ll settle the score another day,” Ma Ye and Chen Dong exchanged a glance and nodded.
