Chapter Fifty-Two: When It Comes Down to the Final Gamble

Pang Zhong had already exhausted three quivers of arrows. The number of rebel soldiers he had slain was in the dozens, making him one of the defenders atop the city walls with the highest kill count. His shots were precise, never fired blindly; each arrow was loosed only after careful aim.

He wielded a heavy bow with tremendous force. Anyone struck by his arrows was either killed outright or gravely wounded. After shooting dozens of arrows, he was noticeably fatigued, yet showed no intention of stopping. He immediately received a fresh quiver from his personal guard and continued the assault. Spotting a rebel officer who appeared to be a general, Pang Zhong did not hesitate. He nocked an arrow and took aim.

This officer, likely of middle-rank or general status, wielded a shield and sword, directing his troops in a frenzied charge. His head was mostly hidden beneath the shield, and the rest of his body was protected by a bright armor, leaving little exposed for arrows to find their mark.

Pang Zhong knew well that only officers of considerable rank could don such armor; at least middle-ranking generals were required. Judging by the scene below, this officer was likely commanding the vanguard in the assault. If Pang Zhong could kill him, it would surely throw the rebels into chaos, possibly causing their entire attack to collapse.

But striking down such a leader was no easy task. The armor’s protection was formidable; unless struck by a ballista, it would be difficult to penetrate—even a powerful bow would struggle. Pang Zhong’s bow could launch arrows with the force of two and a half stone, but unless he hit an exposed area, it would be hard to injure the officer.

To kill him, Pang Zhong needed to wait for an opportunity. He drew the bow halfway and watched for the rebel officer to slip.

Meanwhile, Pang Zhong’s guards and other soldiers on the wall kept up a relentless barrage, with arrows raining down faster and thicker than before. The number of attacking rebels had increased; if they maintained their tempo, many would soon reach the base of the wall, set up ladders, and begin climbing, with squads able to return fire at the defenders.

But Pang Zhong was focused only on his target, leaving the direction of fire to his deputy. He waited patiently for the rebel officer below to reveal a weakness.

No matter how careful one is, mistakes are inevitable. After Pang Zhong waited with his bow drawn for a while, the officer, commanding his troops with wild gestures, inadvertently turned his head and exposed it beyond the shield.

Pang Zhong reacted instantly, seizing the fleeting chance. He drew his bow to full and released the arrow.

The arrow sped toward the rebel officer, about one hundred and fifty paces away. The officer, unaware he was being targeted, continued to direct his troops with fervor, moving vigorously. Only as the arrow neared, did the shouts of his bodyguards alert him, but it was too late.

Compared to the movement of the body, the arrow was much faster. It struck the officer at the side of his neck and jaw. He was lucky; his instinctive twisting spared him from a mortal wound—the arrow entered below his neck and exited through his face.

With a cry of agony, the officer collapsed. His bodyguards quickly raised their shields and used their bodies to block any further incoming arrows.

Pang Zhong knew he had not managed a fatal shot, and waved his bow in frustration, displeased with himself.

The officer was standing at some distance from the wall and kept moving, making him hard to target. Had he been closer, Pang Zhong could have taken him down with a single shot.

"This fellow is truly fortunate," Pang Zhong muttered, both frustrated and impressed.

Still, he knew that such a wound would require a long recovery, and whether the officer would return to battle was uncertain. Pang Zhong did not dwell on the officer’s fate, instead nocking another arrow and firing into the mass below.

Despite not killing the officer outright, the fierce shot had its effect: the rebel attack lost momentum, their morale wavering without a commander. Pang Zhong realized that the largest rebel assault had likely been repelled.

With their commander wounded, the rebels faltered. Yet as the injured officer was carried away under guard, another took command—the deputy, who had been assisting previously.

The deputy stood within range of the defenders’ bows, brandishing his sword and rallying his men to attack the wall with renewed ferocity. More rebels surged forward, undeterred by the deadly hail of arrows from the Tang soldiers above.

The defenders’ arrows grew thicker and faster, but the rebels pressed on in greater numbers. Many climbed over the bodies of their fallen comrades to reach the wall.

At both the east and south gates, heaps of rebel corpses piled up, but the assault showed no signs of abating.

The Tang soldiers atop the wall, at both gates, were nearly exhausted. Many could barely shoot their arrows any farther. Even those they managed to fire inflicted little harm.

Ladders rose at the east and south gates of Hantong Pass, and arrows flew relentlessly towards the defenders.

As soon as a ladder was set up, soldiers with shields scrambled up. Yet the defenders quickly pushed the ladders away; in the midst of screams, the ladders and the soldiers climbing them tumbled backward, crushing those behind. More ladders kept coming, and rebels continued their relentless ascent.

But each ladder was swiftly overturned, and hundreds of soldiers who had been resting rotated back into the fight at Pang Zhong’s command.

Their return made the defenders’ arrows even denser, and more rebels fell.

Yet the rebel assault only intensified. Near and far from Hantong Pass, rebels charged in dense waves.

"Prepare straw and hot oil! Ignite the fire arrows!" Pang Zhong shouted from the gate tower.

Both Pang Zhong and Li Fude knew the rebels were mounting a desperate attack, hoping to storm the walls in one final push as the defenders’ strength waned. The moment for their last gamble had come.

Bundles of straw were hurled from the walls, and buckets of boiling oil poured down after them...