Li Shimin faked his death? Then I will be powerful enough to conquer the world!

In the third year of Yonghui, the early autumn wind, carrying the sweet smell of blood, swept across the walls of Constantinople, and the withered yellow leaves were trampled into powder under countless pairs of heavy boots.

Outside the city, in the Tang army camp, the damaged military flags fluttered in the wind, silently telling of the brutal fighting in recent days.

The intermittent sound of Hujia came from afar, like crying and complaining, adding a bit of sadness to the battlefield filled with gunpowder smoke.

The walls of the Byzantine Empire stood majestically, their bricks and stones soaked in the vicissitudes of a thousand years, and glowed a cold, hard blue-gray color under the overcast sky.

This fortress, known as the strongest in the West, is now welcoming the Tang army coming from afar with a cold attitude.

The city wall is dozens of feet high, with arrow towers and watchtowers at regular intervals, overlooking everything below the city like giants.

On the city wall, Byzantine soldiers held shields and spears, their eyes filled with determination to defend their homeland.

The feathers on their helmets swayed gently in the wind.

Behind them, the flags of the Arab Empire and the Indian coalition forces fluttered in the wind, and people of all races mixed among them. The dense figures seemed endless, adding a bit of deterrence to this already impregnable city.

The Arab soldiers, wearing turbans and holding scimitars, shouted the name of Allah loudly.

The Indian soldiers wore light armor and held bows and arrows. Different languages ​​and costumes intertwined together to form a powerful force.

On the other hand, although the Tang army was well-equipped, with their Mo Dao flashing with a cold light and their Ming Guang armor still glowing faintly in the dim sky, the fatigue of the long expedition had already been engraved on every soldier's face.

Their armor was covered with dust, and their faces were filled with fatigue that was hard to conceal.

Pei Xingjian stood on a high point in the camp, looking at the city wall in the distance with a frown on his face.

He was clad in heavy armor. From the outset, this war was fraught with hardship and danger. The Tang army, setting out from the Western Regions, overcame numerous obstacles along the way, traversing vast deserts and climbing over snow-capped mountains. Countless soldiers fell on the expedition.

Now, facing an enemy force that is fighting on home soil and has an absolute numerical advantage, the situation is becoming increasingly serious.

At the moment the siege began, the sky was filled with lightning and thunder, and the dark clouds were extremely low. The Tang army soldiers shouted and rushed towards the city wall, their voices resounding through the sky.

Their shouts reflected their desire for victory and their longing for home.

The siege ladder was pulled by thick ropes and placed heavily on the city wall, making a loud noise.

The soldiers gripped their weapons tightly and climbed up the shaky ladders.

The Byzantine coalition forces on the city wall showed no mercy. They poured boiling oil down, instantly drowning the soldiers on the ladders, and screams rang out one after another.

Arrows rained down on the dense crowd. Many soldiers were shot before they could react, falling from the ladders and hitting the hard ground heavily, dying instantly.

Some soldiers fell on sharp wooden spikes, while others were crushed by the bodies of their companions. The scene was horrific.

The corpses of the Tang army covered the land under the city wall, and their blood dyed the dry ditches red.

The water in the ditch had long since turned scarlet and emitted a pungent smell.

There is no turning back in war. Pei Xingjian suppressed the grief in his heart and continued to organize the attack for the next day.

He personally went to the camp to boost morale. Looking at the tired faces of the soldiers, his heart was filled with pity, but he knew that they could not retreat.

The Byzantine coalition's resistance became increasingly tenacious. Relying on their familiarity with the terrain and sufficient supplies, they repelled the Tang army's offensive time and time again.

They set up various traps and fortifications on the city walls, making the Tang army pay a heavy price for every attack.

At the end of the battle on the second day, the Tang army suffered even heavier casualties. Many soldiers' bodies were covered by new battles before they could be collected.

On the third day, when the final horn of the general attack sounded, the Tang army soldiers dragged their exhausted bodies and launched another charge.

Pei Xingjian stood in front of the formation, looking at those young faces, feeling mixed emotions.

Most of these soldiers had just reached adulthood, and there was still childishness in their eyes.

Two years ago, they were laughing and playing in the fields of their hometown and growing up under the care of their parents. Now they are far away from their homeland and set foot on this battlefield full of killing.

After a simple training, they embarked on the Western Expedition without hesitation, full of loyalty and passion for the Tang Dynasty.

The battle was extremely fierce and both sides tried their best.

The Tang army's Modao team fought bravely under the city wall. They wielded huge Modao and cut the approaching enemy troops into two.

But the Byzantine coalition's catapults continued to throw huge stones at the Tang army camp, and many soldiers were hit and turned into bloody pieces in an instant.

The fierce battle lasted for a whole day, and when night fell, the battlefield finally returned to a brief calm.

Pei Xingjian, surrounded by his personal guards, walked into the smoke-filled battlefield.

The moonlight shone on the corpses on the ground. He bent down to examine each body. Many of them were familiar faces.

The young man who always told jokes to everyone during breaks was now lying there quietly, with a look of fear still on his face.

The young man from the Western Regions once proudly said that he would bring glory to his hometown, but now he has closed his eyes forever.

Pei Xingjian's eyes couldn't help but become moist. He remembered when he was going to the war, those parents held his hands and tearfully asked him to take good care of their children.

But now, he can't even let these young lives return to their roots.

Back at the camp, the soldiers sat together exhausted, their eyes filled with despair.

As they watched their comrades-in-arms, who were constantly decreasing in number, the desire to retreat grew stronger and stronger.

Some soldiers sobbed quietly, while others wiped their weapons silently with empty eyes.

A young soldier held the helmet of his dead comrade and kept repeating: "Let's go home, let's go home..."

Pei Xingjian stood in the center of the camp, watching this scene, his heart as if it were being cut by a knife.

A siege is a brutal tug-of-war, which tests the patience and willpower of both sides.

Whoever loses momentum first will give the other a chance to breathe, and all previous sacrifices will be in vain.

But looking at these young lives, how could he have the heart to let them continue to die?

At this moment, a roar came from afar, and the reinforcements led by Wu Tianyan finally arrived.

Thanks to the efforts of countless civilians, the rails of the troop train are constantly extending towards the front line, and the steel tracks are illuminated by the setting sun.

Boxes of coal from Shanxi Road were also shipped to the Western Regions to provide power for this protracted war.

The train whistle pierced the sky, bringing a glimmer of hope, but also made this cruel battlefield even more tragic.

Wu Tianyan strode into Pei Xingjian's military tent and looked at the haggard face of this veteran who had fought all his life, feeling puzzled.

"General Pei, His Majesty has ordered you to lead the vanguard to attack the city. Why hasn't Constantinople been taken yet?"

Wu Tianyan was wearing brand new armor, and the sword at his waist was shining coldly.

Pei Xingjian slowly raised his head, looked at Wu Tianyan with deep eyes, and motioned him to sit down.

There was an oppressive atmosphere in the tent. The flame of the oil lamp swayed in the breeze, making the shadows of the two people flicker.

Some battle maps and documents were scattered on the ground, showing the hardships of the fighting in recent days.

"I know, and I understand what Your Majesty means," Pei Xingjian paused, his voice a little hoarse. "But, General Wu, look, of the 500,000 men I commanded, do you know how many are left now?"

The wrinkles on his face seemed to deepen a little.

Wu Tianyan frowned and said nothing, waiting for Pei Xingjian to continue.

A sense of uneasiness began to well up in his heart. Looking at Pei Xingjian's appearance, he seemed to realize that the cruelty of this battle was far beyond his imagination.

"Back then, I led them from the Western Regions and traveled all the way here."

Pei Xingjian's thoughts seemed to go back to the day when he set out on the expedition, when people from the five regions of the Western Regions gathered at the city gate to see them off.

The old people had tears in their eyes, the children waved their hands, and the young wives held their husbands' clothes tightly.

"When we went out to fight, their parents and relatives held my hands and told me to bring them back safely."

"I agreed to all of them. Most of these children are from the five regions of the Western Regions. They are the vanguard of our Great Tang."

"We overcame all the difficulties step by step."

Pei Xingjian's voice choked up when he said this. "By now, more than half of them have been lost."

"A general on the battlefield is not bound by the king's orders. If I and my entire army were to be annihilated here, how would I face the people of the five regions of the Western Regions?"

"General Wu, please leave a seed for the people of the five regions of the Western Regions!"

His voice gradually lowered until it was almost a whisper.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

Wu Tianyan was silent. He looked at Pei Xingjian's old face, and the questioning in his heart was gradually replaced by understanding and sympathy.

He walked out of the tent and looked at the young soldiers in the camp. Some of them were bandaging wounds, while others were wiping the bodies of their dead comrades, their eyes full of sadness.

A soldier was bandaging his comrade's leg wound with a tattered piece of cloth. His comrade gritted his teeth in pain but tried hard not to make a sound.

At this moment, he finally understood that this war was far more than a fight for territory, but also a test of countless young lives.

It was late at night, the walls of Constantinople still stood silently, and the lights in the city flickered sporadically.

In the Tang army camp, Pei Xingjian and Wu Tianyan sat opposite each other, discussing their next plan.