Daylight returned, but there was no peace in it.
As the sun rose on Sai, it revealed the same truth as the day before: blood on stone, corpses in piles, and faces drawn thin from exhaustion. No sleep. No food. Barely enough water to keep the men upright.
And yet they stood.
The Zhao army attacked again — and again — and again.
On the southern wall, Shin heaved for breath, his sword arm numb from overuse. Beside him, Karyoten leaned against the battlements, trying to focus despite her clouded vision.
"They're coming again… That's the fourth wave today," she rasped.
Shin wiped blood from his brow. "Let 'em come."
The Hi Shin Unit, what remained of it, had been pushed to the edge. Many hadn't eaten in two days. They had fought from dawn to dusk yesterday and were woken through the night by Zhao shouting and drums, meant to rob them of rest. Riboku's strategy was brutal — not just in numbers, but in mind.
Still, they fought.
To the east, Ren stood atop the walls, eyes sharp despite the weight dragging at his shoulders. The Gu Ren Tai had held this side since the battle began. Their section hadn't fallen once, but the price was steep. Blood soaked the steps behind them. Three men had collapsed from exhaustion just that morning.
Kai leaned heavily on his spear. "This isn't war… it's torture."
Ren didn't respond. He just stepped forward, striking down another Zhao soldier trying to climb over the parapet.
"We hold until we can't," Ren muttered. "Then we hold some more."
To the north, Kai Oku and the 1,000 officers he'd brought fought beside farmers and tradesmen. There were no clean formations, no perfect lines — just bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, hacking and shoving to keep the enemy off the wall.
The civilians of Sai, those 30,000 who had taken up arms after seeing their king stand among them, were proving themselves in fire. They gripped pitchforks and hammers, repurposed lumber axes and even kitchen knives. Every face was pale, every hand blistered. But they didn't run.
Because they had no place left to run to.
And because of what they'd seen in that king's eyes.
Night came. But there was no rest.
As soon as darkness fell, the drums started again.
Far outside the walls, Riboku's men shouted nonsense chants into the air, banged their weapons, and rolled wheels across the plains to mimic marching. Fires were lit and put out in strange patterns. Shadows shifted. Sleep became impossible.
The defenders tried to rest in shifts, but most lay awake, eyes twitching at every sound, hands clutched around weapons even in their laps. The younger men wept quietly. Older veterans simply stared into the dark.
The second night passed without sleep.
And morning broke with horns.
Day Three.
It was worse than the second.
The Zhao's siege towers were moving faster now. They had adapted, targeting weak points in the walls. On the south, two towers reached the battlements. Shin and his men clashed against Zhao elite troops, blades ringing louder than the screams.
"Shin!" Karyoten cried. "They're pushing—!"
Shin surged forward, body moving on instinct. "Then push back!!"
He struck down one enemy, then another. Then another. His legs felt like stone. His lungs burned. But he did not fall.
On the eastern wall, a section buckled under a sudden rush. Ren was there in an instant, swinging through three men to hold the breach.
"Gu Ren Tai! Forward!" he roared.
His men responded with gritted teeth and steel. They formed around him, holding the wall like a dam against floodwaters.
"We're not breaking today," Kai growled. "Not while Captain's still standing."
Across the city, Shoubunkun managed the dwindling supplies and rotated units with brutal precision. He had barely slept either — none of them had — but his voice still rang clear.
"Water to the north! Rotate with Kai Oku's line! I need bandages to the south now!"
The civilians kept fighting. Some collapsed. Some never stood again. But more kept coming, taking up the weapons of the fallen.
By the time the sun dipped again toward the mountains, Sai still stood.
Barely.
Men vomited from exhaustion. Some fainted where they stood. Arrows had to be passed out sparingly. The wounded filled every hall, every home, every alley.
But the walls had not been breached.
Ren sat with his back against a stone pillar, a gash on his leg wrapped in a bloodied cloth. He stared at the blood in the grooves of his blade, unmoving.
Shin leaned against the battlements, hands shaking, too tired even to speak.
Karyoten handed out water with trembling hands.
And in every heart… the same question echoed:
Can we hold one more day?