Chapter 320 Humiliation

Chapter 320: Humiliation

On the city wall, the drummer swung his drumsticks with all his might, sweat soaking through his clothes and streaming down his body.

Each heavy strike on the drumhead sent a thunderous boom echoing across the walls, spurring the entire army on.

Yet, just as the next drumbeat was about to fall—

"Thud!" A dull, gut-wrenching thud of a weapon sinking into flesh abruptly interrupted the rhythm of the drums.

The drummer's body jolted violently, his swing freezing mid-air. He lowered his head in disbelief, staring at his chest.

A pitch-black arrow had already buried itself deep, leaving only the fletching quivering.

Hot blood gushed out around the arrow shaft, quickly soaking his sweat-drenched chest crimson.

He opened his mouth, but could only manage a few choked gurgles.

His eyes still held shock and defiance, then his body crashed backward like a felled tree.

"Thud...!" The war drum let out one last, muffled groan of lament, then fell utterly silent.

The drumbeat that had been propping up the defenders' morale cut off abruptly.

That one arrow didn't just kill a drummer—it felt like it punched straight through the courage of every soldier in the Cui Family Army.

Urkhan's archery was legendary—unmatched not just among the Northern Di, but across the whole of Great Zhou, where almost no one could rival him.

The army even whispered that he could snatch your soul from a thousand paces away.

In that moment, that arrow didn't just kill a drummer—it stabbed into the heart of every Cui Family soldier.

Beside the great war drum, a new drummer gritted his teeth, arm muscles bulging as he swung the drumsticks with everything he had.

Sweat ran down his back in rivulets, glistening in the torchlight.

The drumhead shuddered, booming again and again, trying to drown out the din of battle and weld the army's spirit back together—the spirit that Urkhan's arrow had nearly shattered.

As the drumbeat resumed, the Northern Di Army's assault did not falter—instead, it seemed infused with a savage, frenzied force.

The attacking Northern Di soldiers appeared to have utterly forgotten what death meant, surging madly toward the walls beneath the ceaseless rain of boulders, logs, and arrows.

"Crack! Boom—!" The iron hooks atop a scaling ladder finally bit into the crenellations, emitting a grating screech.

A second ladder, a third... In an instant, countless Northern Di soldiers' heads appeared at the wall's edge.

Biting curved blades between their teeth, they clawed and scrambled, howling as they climbed onto the battlements.

The defenders on the wall, led by their officers, rushed to these breach points. Spears sank into flesh, and the beast-like roars of both sides erupted across every inch of the wall.

Figures kept plummeting from the high wall with shrill screams, crashing heavily onto the growing pile of corpses below with dull thuds.

Those behind even trampled over their comrades' still-warm bodies, climbing desperately upward.

The battering ram slammed against the city gate again and again with ever-increasing ferocity.

The gate shuddered violently, dust cascading from the walls around the hinges.

From the enemy's rear, the sound of footsteps grew nearer—the main force of Northern Di infantry had arrived.

They had calculated that Cui Ji was absent, seizing this very opportunity to attack.

Zhao Cheng's eyes were bloodshot, sweat mixed with soot trickling down his temples.

"More fire oil! Bring up all the boulders and logs!" he shouted hoarsely, his voice already raw.

"Cavalry company, prepare! Archers, full cover! Exit the barbican and destroy the ladders and the battering ram!"

"At your command!" The officers acknowledged with solemn resolve, and the war drums on the wall suddenly quickened, becoming frantic and piercing, nearly deafening.

Heavy winches began to turn, groaning with teeth-grating screeches.

The outer gate of the barbican protecting the main city gate slowly rose, pulled by ropes and gears, revealing the pitch-black passage beyond and the bloody battlefield outside.

The elite cavalry of the Cui Family Army, long waiting within the barbican, spurred their horses forth.

Iron hooves pounded the solid stone floor. The lead cavalry officer charged ahead, his saber cutting through the drifting smoke.

All the crossbowmen poured their bolts toward both sides of the gate, suppressing the surging Northern Di infantry.

The Cui Family cavalry burst out, while arrows rained down from the walls like water, trying to clear their path.

The riders swung their blades, hacking recklessly at the ladder shafts, throwing their flesh-and-blood bodies against the massive battering ram.

Below the walls, an even more brutal melee erupted, cavalry and Northern Di soldiers locked in a tangled slaughter.

Blades flashed, blood sprayed, and every moment someone fell, blood seeping into the ground.

Urkhan watched the scene before him, a bloody frenzy flickering in his eyes.

He drew another arrow, the bowstring snapped, and a cold streak tore through the night.

This time, the arrow passed clean through the new drummer's neck.

The drummer's body stiffened, the drumsticks slipping from his hands as he clutched futilely at his gushing throat, then crashed to the ground.

The drums fell silent once more!

This time, it brought not just stillness, but a suffocating oppression that seeped into the bone.

Urkhan, with his godlike archery, was shattering the Cui Family Army's will again and again.

This was the most naked provocation, the most heart-piercing psychological warfare!

The faint morale that the drums had just rekindled among the Cui Family Army plummeted in an instant.

And Wuliji, who had been silently biding his time, finally seized the moment he had been waiting for.

He swiftly led his vanguard heavy infantry, charging straight at the embattled Cui Family cavalry outside the walls.

The first to bear the brunt was a Cui Family cavalry officer, who, seeing this god of death closing in, instinctively thrust his spear forward.

But Wuliji didn't even bother to look at the incoming spear tip. His massive hammer swung upward in a simple arc—

"Clang—squelch!!!" First came the explosive ring of metal striking metal, the fine iron spearhead shattered into pieces in an instant.

Then came the sickening crunch of flesh and bone bursting apart as the hammer's momentum carried through.

Arm, spear, and half a chest—all crushed together into a twisted pulp.

Men and horses were shattered, severed limbs mixed with broken armor, hurled backward like debris in a whirlwind, instantly clearing a swath of ground.

Wuliji's steps did not falter, the massive hammer in his right hand cutting through the air with a vicious howl.

He mowed them down with unstoppable force; not a single man could stand against his strikes, and wherever the heavy hammer landed, both horse and rider were crushed.

Three cavalrymen charging side by side, horses and riders alike, were caught mid-body by his swing.

The warhorses toppled sideways, and the riders on their backs, without even a chance to scream, had their bodies folded at grotesque angles.

The crack of breaking bones rang out, and blood seeped through the gaps of their shattered armor.