Chapter 1016 – Surrender is Not an Option (Part 3)
The Third Prince’s words left the officials blushing, not from shame but from anger.
If they surrendered, at least they would have a chance at survival — they’d be labeled as savvy for recognizing the situation — so how could they be called spineless?
Yet, none dared voice this thought, fearing the Third Prince’s wrath and the prospect of being killed on the spot.
Once the court was dispersed, the officials left in small groups, their faces unusually grim.
Even in their dire hour, the royal family demanded they accompany them to the grave; how could they possibly be in good spirits?
As dusk settled in, the once vibrant royal city now felt cold and lonely, enveloped in a chilling atmosphere of despair.
In the Northern Border, the daytime heat was searing, while the nights brought a frigid moonlight like ice.
The Seventh and Eighth Princes, both injured, were now cruelly bound and hanging from the high arrow tower. Not to mention their severe wounds, the enemy offered them neither water nor food—after being pampered for over twenty years, even their iron-clad bodies were nearing their limit.
Weakly, the Eighth Prince called out, “Seventh Brother… are you still awake?”
He had been unconscious for most of the day, and now his head felt heavy and muddled, his body alternately hot and cold, the images before him flickering erratically.
Suspended in the air, the Seventh Prince hung his head, showing no signs of life.
But his body was still warm, so he must not be dead.
A wave of desolation washed over the Eighth Prince as he hung there, vaguely able to see the scenes within the royal city over the high walls.
Not long ago, he had been a gallant prince of the Northern Border, but now he was a prisoner in chains.
Bound tightly and displayed for ridicule—what a tremendous humiliation!
In his youth, he often dreamed of his future.
In the grand vision he crafted, he always envisioned himself as a majestic figure of high standing; he never imagined he would end up as a captive.
Under normal circumstances, having to endure this level of humiliation, he would have sought a way to end his own life, rather than linger on in this world.
However, both he and the Seventh Prince knew about the precarious strips tied around their necks; they understood their fate was tied to the siege led by the Liu Thief.
If they could just hold on a little longer, perhaps the officials of the royal city would devise a countermeasure?
Maybe, just maybe, they could find a sliver of a way out?
The possibility felt extremely slim to the Eighth Prince, but it was still better than having no hope at all.
For both him and his brother, they had to survive; they absolutely could not fulfill the enemy’s wishes.
Thus, seizing the flickering awareness he had left, the Eighth Prince desperately tried to rouse the Seventh Prince until he succeeded in waking him.
They couldn’t afford to sleep; it was possible that if they fell into slumber, they might never wake again—
As the long night dragged on, the two of them shivered until their skin turned blue. When the sun finally rose, casting warm light over them, they nearly cried in gratitude.
Was it cruel?
Compared to the wicked acts they once committed, Jiang Pengji had been exceedingly merciful.
She hadn’t treated them like pets, forcing them to fight beasts; she did not make them mate with animals for amusement; nor did she allow their wives and daughters to be publicly humiliated before their eyes while they listened to their agonized screams for entertainment—
She had done nothing of the sort, yet they had done everything.
The Northern Border had pillaged countless border civilians, men and women alike—who among them met a good end?
The Seventh Prince had run a mercantile business and had traded countless Han women; how could any of those girls escape unscathed or untainted? The brutal and depraved aristocrats of the Northern Border were numerous, and how many Han slave girls were played to death every day?
Indeed, the position of women in the Northern Border was elevated, but only for their own barbaric women; Han Family Women were treated worse than dogs.
The Seventh Prince was a butcher, and the Eighth Prince bore his share of responsibility too.
One year, when the Seventh Prince fell gravely ill and his condition showed no sign of improving, the Young Doctor of the Northern Border suggested that, to be cured, he needed to acquire the honeysuckle of ten pure young maidens, boil it into a fragrant meat paste, and consume it with the Young Doctor’s prescribed medicine for ten days.
So, the Eighth Prince spent a fortune buying a hundred delicate maidens, no older than fifteen and no younger than seven or eight.
Following the Young Doctor’s instructions, after ten days, the Seventh Prince did indeed recover.
Upon learning all that the Eighth Prince had done for him, the Seventh Prince not only felt no resentment but was instead grateful for the brotherly bond.
Compared to their past deeds, could Jiang Pengji’s act of hanging them up in the air be considered cruel?
“Are they dead yet?”
Jiang Pengji had slept soundly and awoke the next day refreshed, looking nothing like someone who had fought on the battlefield all day.
The civil and military officials looked on, enviously awed.
Their master was bursting with vitality, her stamina unlike that of an ordinary person.
Sun Wen sneered and responded, “They are still drawing breath—what luck they have; hanging like this and still alive—”
This battle in the Northern Border had dragged on long enough; he hadn’t seen his dear grandson in over half a year.
Jiang Pengji tapped her fingers on the table and asked Sun Wen, “Let’s wait two more days, and let the soldiers recuperate properly.”
Sun Wen chuckled and inquired, “What if the Northern Border surrenders?”
Jiang Pengji replied, “If the Northern Border is to surrender, it will depend on whether I am willing to accept them.”
From the very beginning, she never intended to accept the Northern Border’s surrender; her act of having Wen Zheng write that letter was merely a game to toy with them.
The Seventh and Eighth Princes clung to their breaths in defiance, hoping merely to buy time.
If they realized their suffering was in vain, the bitterness they would taste would undoubtedly be overwhelming.
“The common folk of the Northern Border are innocent, but their wealthy aristocrats are not—keeping them around is nothing but a disaster,” Jiang Pengji’s gaze turned icy, shimmering with cold killing intent. “The civilians are manageable; as long as we ensure they have food and clothing, they will be grateful. But those aristocrats are different; their greed and desire are insatiable. Should we accept their surrender, managing them in the future will be troublesome. It’s better to eliminate them early, so we don’t have to worry about them causing trouble.”
Sun Wen deeply agreed with her.
If they kept the Northern Border’s noble families alive, they would inevitably stir up mischief under the pretense of their past legacies.
As long as they had that foundation, a resurgence would be relatively easier, which was indeed a threat.
Their master had her sights set on the world; how could she waste energy on petty villagers?
Jiang Pengji told Sun Wen, “If, by the time we’re ready, they still refuse to expire, let’s grant them a swift end — send them on their way.”
Sun Wen nodded in acknowledgment.
Time sped by, and another day passed.
Jiang Pengji’s army had completely surrounded the royal city, and while there were no shoutings or cursing, they were under endless pressure.
The imperial court had yet to make a decision, and the Seventh and Eighth Princes were clearly reaching their breaking point; the Northern Border’s aristocrats were becoming restless, unable to hold back any longer.
Just as Jiang Pengji meant to take a rest, familiar footsteps approached from outside the tent, followed by a familiar voice.
“Is the Lord resting well?”
Jiang Pengji stood and lit a candle, saying, “Zixiao, come in; what’s the matter?”
Having received permission, Wei Ci stepped in, lifting the tent’s curtain.
He saw his master holding a lamp, half of her face lit up with a warm orange glow from the flickering candlelight, making her features appear even softer.
Noticing she was still somewhat presentable, Wei Ci slightly lowered his head and reported, “There’s been some activity in the Northern Border royal city.”
