The heads were each neatly severed. Because the effects of the drugs hadn’t worn off yet, these nobles had genuinely demonstrated the concept of "entertainment leading to death" through their actions.
As for the other prisoners kneeling in the government office, Zheng Fan didn’t order them to be beheaded as well.
Although Yan highly valued military achievements and adhered to the method of counting military merits by tallying severed heads, honestly, not many people had actually been killed during this storming of the city.
Compared to the quantifiable military merits from beheadings, returning with the heads of high-ranking officials, led by the Prefect, held far greater symbolic significance.
It would also lend more flair to your boasts back home.
As for how to make such boasts sound somewhat believable, Zheng Fan knew he would have to consult the blind man after he returned.
For instance: "Commander Zheng led four hundred Tiger Guards and obliterated Mianzhou City!"
Look at the severed heads of the city’s elites he brought back. As for the others, so many were killed that it was impossible to carry all their heads, so they were left behind!
Of course, sparing the people in the government office had another important reason: this era had no internet or social media.
Whether it was a renowned scholar cultivating prestige or a prince projecting an image of virtue, it all relied on word-of-mouth and human dissemination. Zheng Fan believed that Yan State surely had its own intelligence network within Qian State. Furthermore, trade between the two nations was very close; even during wartime, it was likely that such smuggling routes would be difficult to completely sever.
Therefore, as Zheng Fan walked out of the government office, he thrust his saber into the stone pavement and loudly declared, "The conqueror of this city—Zheng Fan!"
To prevent any homophonic errors by these human propaganda machines from affecting the transmission of his glorious achievements back to Yan State, Zheng Fan even took a brush and personally wrote on a pillar at the entrance of the government office:
"Commander Zheng Fan of Yan State’s Green Willow Fortress was here!"
After finishing, he dusted off his hands and looked over his handiwork. He found the phrase a bit cliché. However, compared to something like, "Reject Pornography! Reject Gambling! Reject All Vices! — A Message from the Yan State Green Willow Fortress Public Security Office," he thought the former was much better.
Once done, Zheng Fan waved his hand. "Retreat!"
Entering the city, storming the government office, regrouping the troops, and then exiting through the same northern gate they had entered—everything had happened very quickly.
Zheng Fan could not afford to give the city time to react, nor could he give any nearby Qian State armies a chance to respond.
Ultimately, they currently numbered just over three hundred men.
Furthermore, even though the Qianese had given Zheng Fan a great deal of confidence, he would never be naive enough to believe that all armies in Qian State were as incompetent as these.
If that were truly the case, Zheng Fan wouldn’t even consider returning. He would march south, all the way to the imperial capital, burn down the ancestral temples of Qian State, and capture the three Yang Family sisters alive!
Now, the next task was to return safely. The thrill-seeking was over; the fun had been had. Of the three great vices—pornography, gambling, and drugs—he’d managed to disrupt two.
At this moment, returning safely was the top priority. After all, he who laughs last, laughs best.
Before leaving, while at the city gate, Zheng Fan sat on his horse, looking back at the city. He felt he should say something, leave behind a memorable line. Otherwise, if future history books recorded today’s events without any of his own words to accompany it, how dull and monotonous that would be.
After thinking for about ten seconds, Zheng Fan slowly declared, "Farewell, city with only one man..." ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel•fire.net
The sentiment, the mockery, the flair, the stance—it was all there.
Zheng Fan was quite satisfied with this sentence. It was a pity, though, that Liang Cheng’s bootlicking skills were so lacking that he failed to offer any compliments. If Xue Three or the blind man were present, they would have surely showered him with flattery by now.
In the whole of Mianzhou City, apart from that one defiant old man armed with a spear who charged forward, everyone else had essentially turned their backs on their own city’s defenses.
However, one man seemed unsatisfied. And he appeared intent on expressing his dissatisfaction through action.
High up on the city tower, a disheveled man appeared. In his hand, he held a crossbow.
No one knew when he had appeared on the city tower. In fact, no one had even expected anyone to still be on the northern city gate tower. Moreover, this man was preparing to resist.
The invaders were leaving, and he could have survived. Yet, he still wanted to resist, to retaliate. He wanted to do something against the invaders, even if it cost him his life.
Liang Cheng saw the crossbow bolt. Other soldiers nearby also spotted it. They instantly reacted: some drew their bows, others prepared to charge their horses towards the tower, and a few moved to shield Zheng Fan.
But it was all too late.
The crossbow bolt had already been fired, striking Zheng Fan directly in the chest.
Zheng Fan fell from his horse, crashing heavily to the ground.
"Kill him!" Liang Cheng roared, and a group of soldiers immediately charged back.
After shooting the crossbow bolt, Sun Jianming immediately ducked his head back as arrows whizzed past the crenels above him. Ignoring the danger, he silently reloaded the crossbow.
He didn’t choose to escape because he was alone on the city gate tower. Although there were many people left in the city, he had no one to help him.
His father had been killed outside. Through a gap in the main gate as it was being closed, he had seen it—seen his father’s head sent flying high into the air.
But the city gate, in the end, had not been completely closed.
However, it ultimately didn’t matter whether the gate was closed or not. Everyone was too busy fleeing; no one was organizing a defense at the gate. Even if they had managed to close it, the invaders could have leisurely scaled the walls to enter.