Chapter Seventy-Four: The Rat Demons Lay Siege to the City

Weasel demon. A wild demon of the seventh rank. Its flesh and blood rival that of an old seventh-grade medicinal herb; should an ordinary person indulge excessively, it would likely result in ruptured meridians. Yet if only a single bowl of broth is taken, further diluted, it would do no harm. After all, the medicinal properties reside in the flesh and bones, and the broth itself contains little of the essence; to the average person, it is nonetheless a fine tonic for strengthening the body. Once the weasel demon has been stewed, its meat can be eaten directly; its bones, ground to powder and combined with aged herbs, could be refined into medicinal pills—but lacking a recipe, one can only find ways to consume it directly, whether mixed with water or incorporated into food, for nothing must be wasted.

“That weasel demon’s meat is tough; it will likely need to simmer until dawn. Everyone should return and rest for now. We shall rise early to drink the broth,” Su Yang announced. With that, the maids helped their respective mistresses out of the room and back to their own quarters.

“My son-in-law, tonight was fraught with danger. Thanks to your presence, disaster was averted. It grows late—why not rest in Chunxiao’s chamber?” Liu Wenxiang rose from her chair, her voluptuous form reminiscent of a blooming begonia; though past thirty, her allure had not faded, offering a myriad of charms.

“Mother-in-law, you should rest as well,” Su Yang said, stepping forward to assist her. “Allow me to escort you back to your room.”

“My dear son-in-law… you and Chunxiao must treat each other well. A day as husband and wife is worth a hundred days of affection,” Liu Wenxiang advised, her soft, fair hands gripping Su Yang’s as she walked toward her chamber.

A day as husband and wife, a hundred days of grace. There was truth to the saying. Yet between himself and Wang Chunxiao, it was more a partnership than a marriage; where had they ever known the joy of a single night as husband and wife, let alone earned a hundred days’ affection?

After seeing his mother-in-law to her room, Su Yang returned to Wang Chunxiao’s chamber to rest. Inside, Wang Chunxiao still lay asleep on the bed, undisturbed by the recent commotion. Her sleep was sound indeed, but that was just as well—he was spared the need for conversation with the proud woman. Closing the door behind him, he lay down on the bedding prepared on the floor and quickly fell asleep.

On the bed, Wang Chunxiao was roused by the sound, a flicker of anticipation in her heart. Her elaborate mask of makeup had long since been removed, revealing a face of breathtaking beauty. Yet Su Yang did not spare her a glance; upon entering, he went straight to the floor and lay down to sleep. Wang Chunxiao felt a pang of resentment, glancing toward Su Yang’s bedding from time to time, unable to sleep the entire night.

...

After consuming all the stewed weasel demon, Su Yang found himself one step closer to the sixth rank, perhaps even able to cross the threshold with his current store of incense merit.

In the courtyard, a large cauldron blazed fiercely. Four household servants kept the fire fed, carefully tending the heat to prevent the pot from boiling dry. Wang Han and Ma Chao took turns overseeing the process.

...

Beyond Yanggu County, inside a tattered tent, nearly ten thousand organized rebel soldiers drove the common folk, mere cannon fodder, toward the eastern gate of Yanggu under cover of night. The mass of humanity surged forward in a dense, unstoppable wave.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!” The sentry atop the city wall soon spotted the oncoming rebels and hastily sounded the alarm. Government troops and constables herded the civilian militia up onto the walls, preparing for a desperate defense.

“Commence the assault!” At General Liang Panxiong’s command, the rebel cannon fodder charged first, intent on exhausting the defenders’ wooden poles, rocks, and arrows.

The walls of Yanggu County, though not in disrepair, belonged to a small town—less than four meters high, rammed earth thick and sturdy. With a single ladder, the enemy could scale it, and only the lives of the militia could hold them back.

A martial artist of the ninth rank did not even require a ladder to leap atop the wall and join the assault.

The cannon fodder, burdened with heavy ladders and unarmed, had but one task: set the ladders against the wall, then withdraw once the regular troops charged up behind them. Yet as the pressure of these assaults had mounted, even these poor souls now wielded weapons—wooden clubs, shovels, hoes. The lucky might even receive a blade or spear, forced to storm the walls and kill.

Atop the wall, the civilian militia stood at the fore—ordinary townsfolk pressed into service, wielding spears over five meters long, braced on the parapet, easily able to stab at the heads and bodies of those who approached.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” The rebels roared as they surged forward. The defenders of Yanggu quickly nocked arrows and loosed volley after volley at the attackers.

Arrows rained down; a single shaft striking home would pierce flesh and leave a bloody hole. The rebel cannon fodder had no armor, not even leather, only the fortunate wearing thickened clothing with wooden planks sewn in for some small defense.

The two sides clashed in an instant. Spears thrust like vipers. One rebel, unable to dodge, took a spear through the eye, its tip bursting out the back of his skull. He screamed in agony before collapsing as the spear was wrenched free, trailing shredded flesh, blood, and the remains of an eye.

A gaunt body writhed briefly before death claimed it. Worse still, some were pierced through the belly, entrails and viscera spilling onto the ground. Terrified, rebels frantically tried to stuff their insides back into their bodies, muttering, “Why are they all coming out… go back… go back… you can’t come out… please…”

...

In the darkness, a pack of black-furred rats, each the size of a wild dog, seized the opportunity amid the rebel onslaught to scale the city walls.

“What are those things?” a defender cried, transfixed with terror at the monstrous, red-eyed rats. Sweat broke out across his back.

With faces twisted and grotesque, reeking of rot, the creatures’ claws tore open bellies with ease, scooping out hearts and viscera to devour hungrily, their fur matted with human blood and filth.

“They’re demons… monsters… monsters!” came the terrified cries.

“No, the rebels have brought demons… so many… so many demons!”

“Mother, run!” The militia at the front, seeing the horde of rat demons, turned pale with fright. One man in his thirties dropped his sword and tried to flee. A constable behind him brought a sharp blade down, severing head from body. The head thudded heavily to the ground as the executioner shouted angrily, “Anyone who retreats or tries to escape will be executed on the spot!”

“Summon the martial artists—kill the rat demons!” The appearance of demons on the battlefield was quickly reported to General Zhao Mangong, who dispatched his fighters to reinforce the line. A group of blade-wielding martial artists joined the fray.

Yet there were simply too many rat demons. Chaos reigned on the walls. Some slipped through the battle and entered the residential districts beyond, their crimson eyes burning with greed.