Chapter 29: Breaking the Stalemate

The Song army had deployed forty of these fierce fire-oil cabinets, spaced three meters apart.

On the ramparts, flames erupted in a chaotic dance, instantly engulfing the Jin soldiers who had just managed to climb up. Some, their clothes ablaze, tumbled down while still burning; others, singed by the searing heat, plummeted to the ground, their internal organs shattered by the violent impact.

Yet, the Jin forces continued to swarm upward in an endless stream, undeterred by the presence of the fire-oil cabinets. This served as a testament to their stubborn tenacity. While the fire-oil cabinets were of limited offensive use, they were more than sufficient for defense. For over an hour, the two sides locked in a brutal struggle atop the city walls.

The Jin death toll had already exceeded five hundred. The Song forces, too, had suffered heavy losses; as defenders, they had over a hundred severely wounded and more than twenty dead. A steady flow of people carried the casualties off the ramparts. Near the gate towers, physicians stood ready, rushing forward with medicine and the help of local civilians as soon as the wounded arrived.

"Quickly, take off their armor!"

The soldiers and civilians labored to remove the heavy armor from the men. In some cases, where stone projectiles had struck, shards of the armor had been driven deep into the flesh, slicing to the bone. As the armor was pried away, the soldiers let out agonizing, blood-curdling screams, their faces turning deathly pale as cold sweat poured down their foreheads. Those watching were struck by a trembling dread, tears streaming down their faces. Others had been struck in the head; though protected by helmets, the immense force had deformed the metal. When the rescuers carefully removed these helmets, they revealed long, gruesome cracks in the scalp, matted with blood.

Those who had fallen in battle were covered in white cloth and carried away. Their remains would be returned home to their families—perhaps a child losing a courageous father, or a mother, still stitching clothes at home, losing her son who had only just reached manhood. The civilians remaining throughout the city fell into a heavy silence as they watched the white-shrouded bodies pass by.

Humanity is easily deceived by prosperity, believing peace to be the natural state of things. It is only when war arrives that we realize how close destruction truly is. The battle raged on; the thunderous war drums and the clamor of shouting from outside the city walls pressed down on everyone’s heart like a massive, suffocating palm. Time itself seemed to crawl. Another hour passed, yet it felt as if an entire century had gone by.

The relief of the guard began on the ramparts. The soldiers being replaced walked down with great difficulty, collapsing at the foot of the towers, completely drained of strength. Sweat had soaked their inner garments, and as the civilians helped remove their armor, they discovered the sweat had frozen, bonding the fabric to the metal.

The fighting on the walls showed no sign of abating. The Jin soldiers continued to climb as if possessed. Their trebuchets launched a relentless barrage, gouging countless notches into the parapets, while flying stone fragments and exploding iron fire-bombs wreaked havoc. Song soldiers fell incessantly, only to be replaced by others moving up to fill the gaps. The trebuchets on the Song corner towers returned fire without pause.

When the supply of stones was exhausted, the battle descended into brutal close-quarters combat. Both sides were clad in heavy armor, wielding axes, iron maces, and hammers; no one used swords, for they were utterly ineffective against such plating.

An hour and a half had passed since the Jin began their assault. The Song army had replenished their fire-oil countless times. Jin soldiers were driven off the walls, only to climb back up again—a cycle repeated four or five times until the base of the ramparts was carpeted in Jin corpses.

Wanyan Yinshuke was just about to mobilize more troops when the order came from the rear: "The Commander-in-Chief orders an immediate retreat!"

Before Yinshuke could respond, the sound of gongs and drums echoed from behind—the signal to break off the engagement. Yinshuke’s face darkened as he roared, "Withdraw!"

The Jin forces assaulting the city receded like a tide. Yinshuke galloped on horseback to the main command post. "Commander, why the retreat?"

Wanyan Zonghan’s expression was grim. "This is not the time for an assault!"

"We were halfway there! We were on the verge of breaking through..."

Wanyan Zonghan snapped angrily, "What makes you think we were on the verge of breaking through?"

"This..."

The arrogant and self-assured Yinshuke was naturally displeased; he was, without question, a fierce warrior. He was a master of field battles, cavalry charges, and infantry formations, but siege warfare was a different matter.

Wanyan Zonghan added, "Go to the West Gate and order Zongwang to withdraw."

"Understood!"

"Commander, I do not understand."

"The situation has changed." Wanyan Zonghan offered only those words before, surrounded by his personal guard, he returned to the main command tent.

The situation at the West Gate, where Wanyan Zongwang’s troops were stationed, was no better. The continuous assault had already cost them over a thousand lives.

In ancient warfare, those charging at the forefront were by no means the cannon fodder many imagine. The vanguard consisted of seasoned, battle-hardened veterans. War is not a duel; it is a complex discipline encompassing social psychology, individual psychology, organizational behavior, finance, logistics, and management.

Above all, morale is paramount. Every great commander, throughout history and across the globe, has prized it. The *Sima Fa* notes: "In war, endurance is won by strength, victory by spirit; firmness maintains the long struggle, while alertness secures the triumph."

The Western classic *On War* also discusses the elements of conflict: the moral, the physical, the mathematical, the geographical, and the statistical. Among these, the moral element—which encompasses all that stems from the spirit—is primary. It permeates the entire sphere of war, inextricably linked to the will that drives and dominates all material forces, as if fused into one.

Clausewitz, the author of *On War*, is revered as the father of modern warfare, and he, too, held the power of the human spirit in the highest regard—a view that perfectly aligns with the interpretations of morale in ancient Chinese military strategy, such as the principles illustrated in the *Zuo Zhuan* account of the Battle of Changshuo.

Even the most formidable army will suffer a decline in morale. The reason you see units fight to the very last man is that their commanders and military philosophy allow for the rapid restoration of that morale after a temporary lapse. But for such recovery to occur, the army must be given a moment to breathe.

Zongwang had also signaled the retreat. He had realized that the Song defenders' morale was currently at its peak—a stark contrast to their state in recent days. To press an assault while the enemy’s morale was high was not a decision a competent commander would make.

Once the Jin forces retreated, the news reached the ramparts, and the stifling tension within the city finally began to ease. The Jin commanders and high-ranking officers gathered in Wanyan Zonghan’s tent.

"I was within a hair's breadth of leveling the West Gate!" Wanyan Shemu shouted as he sat down. "What is the meaning of pulling back now?"

"The situation has changed."