We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

The Tibetan army surged across the snow-covered plains like a tidal wave, their battle cries forming a powerful roar as they steadily advanced towards the city walls.

Li Che stood on the south city tower, calmly calculating the distance to the enemy.

The cold wind whipped his dark cloak high into the air, yet he remained as still as the city wall beneath his feet.

"Two hundred paces!"

The lookout screeched out the distance.

Li Che issued the order: "Artillery, target the enemy's rear siege ladders and battering rams, fire three-wheeled rapid fire! Ballistae and catapults, coordinate the bombardment and destroy their equipment!"

The few light mortars on the city wall had already been loaded and their muzzles slightly adjusted.

These small cannons carried by the army had limited firepower and were short of ammunition, so they could not be used to attack personnel but could only strike strategic targets.

"Boom! Boom!"

The cannons spewed orange-red flames and thick smoke, and the shells whistled as they crashed deep into the Tibetan army's territory.

The first round of artillery fire had limited accuracy and missed its target, but it did hit the enemy's battle formation.

Wherever the bullets landed, men and horses fell to the ground.

The Tibetan soldiers surrounding the siege equipment scattered in panic, but were caught up by the supervising team behind them and killed on the spot with a single blow.

The remaining Tibetan soldiers were all intimidated and dared not flee any further. They could only muster their courage and continue pushing the cart forward.

Just then, the next round of bombardment arrived.

A siege ladder that was being pushed was hit directly, and it fell askew amidst flying wood chips, knocking down a group of soldiers around it.

On the city wall, ballistae were also firing in succession, specifically targeting the slow-moving battering rams and towers.

The stones launched by the catapult traced parabolic arcs, and although their accuracy was poor, they still caused a stir when they fell.

As more and more siege engines were hit, the Tibetan army's formation became somewhat chaotic, but they quickly regrouped under the officers' whipping.

"One hundred and fifty paces! We're within archery range!" the sentry reported again.

Li Che slowly gave the order: "Archery squads, fire in sequence! Elevation angle 45 degrees, fire!"

The Qing army archers, who had been waiting in ambush behind the battlements, rose from behind the battlements upon receiving the order.

They were the backbone of the city's defense; although arrows were consumables, they were relatively easy to replenish.

The first wave of arrows hummed as they rose into the air, tracing dense arcs before swarming down on the Tibetan army's vanguard like locusts.

"Raise your shield! Raise your shield!"

Shouts also came from the Tibetan army.

The swordsmen and shieldmen in the front row hurriedly raised their large shields to stabilize the line.

However, the arrows were projectiles with a very high angle of impact, and many still flew behind the shield, causing a chorus of screams.

The charging formation became uneven, and the speed was once again hampered.

"One hundred steps!"

The arrows were fired more densely, almost continuously.

The Qing army's archers were divided into two teams, taking turns nocking and firing to keep the rain of arrows flowing continuously.

Every step the Tibetan army took forward came at a price.

However, the Tibetan army ultimately had an absolute numerical advantage.

One group falls, and another surges in, like an endless tide, crashing against the city wall.

Li Che's gaze swept over the inner side of the city wall.

A row of musketeers stood there waiting for orders, while Ying Bu stood in front of them with a solemn expression.

The musketeers fell silent, their guns pointed at the ground.

There was a squad of these musketeers behind each city wall, but they wouldn't appear at this time.

Refined gunpowder and projectiles are limited, making them trump cards for turning the tide in critical moments.

"Fifty paces! Thirty paces! Close to the city wall!"

The Tibetan army's charge had finally reached its final stage.

The shields were placed at the front, protecting the Tibetan slave soldiers who carried makeshift ladders on their shoulders.

The Qing army's crossbows could not penetrate the shields directly; the arrows clanged and clattered against the iron-clad shields.

"Rolling stones! Hammering logs!" Li Che's voice suddenly rose.

Behind the crenellations of the city wall, the soldiers, who were already prepared, shouted and worked together to push the stones and sharpened logs off the wall.

These heavy objects fell with terrifying potential energy, crashing down on the shields one after another, breaking the shields and the Tibetan soldiers behind them.

If it were to hit a crowd, it would send flesh and blood flying everywhere; flesh and blood simply could not withstand such a force.

There were also special yaksha rams used for defending the city, which were thick logs studded with iron spikes and controlled by ropes, and lowered down from the crenellations.

This thing would roll and crush along the surface of the city wall, killing or injuring any Tibetan soldiers it passed through, with screams echoing everywhere.

"Golden juice! Boiling oil! Pour it over!"

Several large iron pots, steaming hot, were lifted onto the stack. The pots were tilted, and the foul-smelling 'golden juice' and scalding oil poured down like a waterfall!

"what--!!!"

"It hurts!"

"Kill me, kill me!"

A bloodcurdling scream, so shrill it was inhuman, erupted instantly.

Those struck by the wounds were invariably left with torn flesh, collapsing to the ground and writhing wildly, their wounds emitting a nauseating stench.

They lost all their fighting ability, which ironically blocked the path of subsequent attacks.

Being scalded by boiling oil is already an extreme form of torture. The thick, scalding hot liquid can cause severe burns over a large area instantly when it gets on the skin. Even more deadly is the serious infection that follows.

Li Che stared expressionlessly at the carnage below the city.

He had never personally commanded a city defense battle, but the military books and strategies he had read and the battle case analyses he had heard were now transformed into clear instructions in his mind.

When to use long-range suppression, when to use close-range attacks, and what equipment to use in what situation—these are all clearly defined and handled systematically.

Under his command, the Tibetan army's seemingly fierce attacks were all neutralized beneath the city walls.

The intensity of the battles at Yueyun and Yingbu in the west, Luo Yueniang and Yu Daliang in the east, and Ma Zhong and Dorje Tsering in the north varied slightly, but the basic defensive rhythm was largely the same.

The Qing army relied on the city walls to defend themselves, managing to keep the numerically superior Tibetan army outside the city.

The first wave of siege lasted for nearly an hour, but apart from leaving a large number of corpses at the base of the walls, it failed to shake the city of Chuima in the slightest.

The Tibetan army's banners couldn't even touch an inch of the city wall.

The sound of retreating troops came from the rear of the Tibetan army, and the black tide slowly receded, leaving behind a mess and a strong stench of blood.

Taking this opportunity, the Qing soldiers caught their breath, moved the arrows and logs, and treated the wounded.

Everyone knew that this first siege was merely a probe, and the Tibetans' attacks would not be limited to this one wave.

As expected, the continuous siege lasted for three days.

Three days of relentless attacks and defenses exhausted the last batch of usable arrows in the city.

Even with artisans working through the night, they couldn't keep up with the rate of consumption.

At dawn, Li Che ascended the south city wall, gazing at the smoke rising again from the Tibetan camp outside the city, and expressionlessly issued his orders:

"Order all four gates to cease firing their bows and crossbows, and allow the enemy to approach within thirty paces, then use rolling logs and stones to defend against them."

"As for the musketeers... they should not be moved unless the enemy breaches the city walls."

He sighed and said, "Tell the brothers to prepare for hand-to-hand combat."

This means that the Qing army must use their own flesh and blood to make up for the lack of long-range firepower and bring the enemy closer before attacking.

This would inevitably lead to the enemy scaling the city walls and engaging in an even more brutal battle.

The archers on the city wall silently put away their bows, replaced them with swords and axes, and mingled with the shield-wielding swordsmen and axemen, crowding behind the crenellations.

The soldiers stared intently at the approaching Tibetan army formation; the air was so still it was almost suffocating.

Dorje immediately stood under the banner and saw that the continuous rain of arrows that had lasted for three days on the top of Chuimacheng had stopped. His bloodshot eyes immediately flashed with joy.

"Hahaha! The Qing people are out of arrows, they can't hold on any longer!"

Dorje brandished his sword and roared, "My men! Today we will take this city! The first to scale it will be rewarded with a thousand pieces of gold and promoted three ranks!"

"Anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot! Charge!"

"Waaaaah—"

The call to attack grew more ferocious than ever before, like the roar of a wild beast before it feeds.

The Tibetan army charged forward like madmen, their soldiers shouting as they surged towards the city walls like a raging torrent bursting its banks!

Taking advantage of the defenders' lack of long-range firepower, they charged recklessly, at a speed significantly faster than in the previous days.

"Hold on! Get closer! Get even closer!"

On the city wall, officers of all ranks were shouting at the top of their lungs.

Eighty steps, fifty steps, thirty steps!

The ferocious faces of the Tibetan soldiers and the gleaming scimitars in their hands were clearly visible!

"Roll logs! Bombs! Drop them!"

The defenders, having mustered all their strength, pushed the defensive structure down with all their might.

Although a large number of enemy troops were also knocked down, the ability to withstand casualties was greatly enhanced after the enemy vanguard was no longer weakened by the continuous arrow rain.

One group fell, but more fearless Tibetan soldiers stepped over the corpses of their comrades, roaring as they pushed the siege ladders against the icy, slippery city wall.

The hook rope was thrown up like a venomous snake, biting firmly onto the edge of the barricade.

After three days of bloody fighting, the heat of battle had melted the ice armor of the city walls, making them less difficult to climb.

"Golden juice! Boiling oil! Pour it over!"

The scalding liquid poured down, bringing with it a scene of agonizing screams that resembled a living hell.

But this time, the Tibetan soldiers seemed to have seen a glimmer of hope for victory. Some of them, despite being scalded and steaming from their bodies, continued to climb frantically upwards!

"They've come up to the city! The Tibetan dogs have come up to the city!"

Exclamations of surprise rang out simultaneously from several of the battlements.

In an instant, the city wall turned into a boiling millstone of flesh and blood.

"kill--"

The western city wall defended by Yueyun was the first to bear the brunt of the attack.

His spear tip flickered, instantly felling three people.

But more Tibetan soldiers swarmed up the city walls like ants, using ladders and grappling hooks.

Yueyun can hold onto one place, but it cannot hold onto everything.

Caught off guard, a section of the city wall was found to be filled with Tibetan soldiers.

The musketeers were forced to fire two volleys at extremely close range, filling the air with smoke and temporarily clearing that section of the city wall.

The spearmen on both sides formed small formations and pressed forward, while the swordsmen and shieldmen fought fiercely with the Tibetan soldiers who had rushed in, and only then did they recapture that section of the city wall.

Amidst the flashing blades and flying blood and flesh, roars and screams filled the air.

On the east city wall, Luo Yueniang's iron spear flashed, stabbing a Tibetan centurion who had just appeared off the wall, shield and all, but enemy soldiers climbed up the flank.

Fortunately, Yu Daliang roared and swung his broadsword, sweeping it like a door, cutting two Tibetan soldiers who were trying to ambush Luo Yueniang in half at the waist.

Amidst the spray of blood, his ribs were also slashed by a spear thrust from the side.

Yu Daliang grunted, then with a backhand stroke, he severed the spear shaft and tumbled to the ground with the Tibetan soldier, engaging in hand-to-hand combat.