A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

When Du Heng slammed the seventh letter pleading for help onto the table, his fingers were trembling.

"Didn't reply?"

The scouts knelt below the hall, their heads bowed low.

"Your Highness, there has been no reply from Bianzhou, no reply from Chenqiao, and no reply from Liangzhou. As for Hedong, Jingxiang, Lingnan, and Donglai... they have only received letters but have not sent any messengers."

Du Heng's face twitched.

No envoy was sent.

These words are even harsher than simply calling him stupid.

He paced back and forth in the hall, his boots making a clattering sound on the floor tiles.

Seven letters seeking help were spread out on the table, each stamped with the seal of the King of Huainan, and each one conveying the most succinct and pertinent message.

"Your Highness!"

Another scout rolled into the hall, his knees hitting the threshold, and when he got up, his forehead was covered in blood.

Du Heng suddenly turned around.

"explain!"

The scout's throat was dry.

"The new Wu Emperor in white, Wei Zhao, has personally led an army of one million and has already passed through Guiping South Road, and is about 100 li away from Huainan City."

No one spoke in the hall.

The cups and saucers clattered against the corner of the table, the sound clear and jarring.

Du Heng stopped in his tracks.

"Your Highness..."

The aide whispered something.

Du Heng's legs went weak, and he slumped back into his chair.

He wanted to curse, to flip the table, to dig up the ancestors of those bastards who didn't reply, but the words stuck in his throat, and he could only manage a laugh after a long time.

"Okay, okay."

He looked at the seven letters on the table, and the more he looked, the more irritating they became.

"When I delivered grain, salt, and lent them boats, they all called me Brother Du."

"Now that Wei Zhao has arrived, he can't even bear to write a reply."

The staff member lowered his head and remained silent.

No one dared to respond to that.

Because it's useless to answer it.

Huainan has a strong navy, lucrative salt trade routes, and numerous shipyards.

These were Du Heng's sources of confidence in the past.

But Wei Zhao is not going to compete with him in water now.

He led a million-strong newly armed army, pressing in from the north bank. The salt road was blocked, and even the largest water fortresses would starve.

Even worse, the morale of the people in Huainan City has collapsed.

The salt farmers are afraid.

The boatmen were afraid.

The young men and women who were forcibly conscripted were even more afraid.

They feared Du Heng, and they also feared Wei Zhao. But their fears were different.

They were afraid of Du Heng because they were afraid of being beaten to death.

He was afraid of Wei Zhao because he was afraid of missing out on the path to survival in Xinwu.

Three mu of land.

These three words have spread like a plague to every water village in Huainan.

Du Heng beheaded several people who were spreading rumors, but after he did, the camp became even quieter.

It was so quiet that he couldn't sleep soundly.

That night, the Prince of Huainan's mansion was brightly lit.

Du Heng summoned all his generals, staff, and water fortress leaders into the main hall.

"Speak."

He sat at the head of the table, his face pale.

"Wei Zhao is a hundred li away, and the other kings have no reinforcements. How can Huainan be defended?"

A strategist in a green robe was the first to step forward, cupping his hands in greeting:

"Your Highness, the walls of Huainan are strong, the water fortresses are dense, and the granaries still have two months' worth of supplies. Although Wei Zhao's new army is large, most of them are refugees and surrendered soldiers, and they may not be able to forcibly attack the city."

Du Heng stared at him.

"Two months?"

The strategist in the green robe was sweating profusely, but he still forced himself to speak:

"We can hold out for at least half a month. As long as Your Highness adopts a scorched-earth policy, burns down the pontoon bridge outside the city, blocks the docks, and cuts off their waterways with fire ships, Wei Zhao's million-strong new army will inevitably run out of food."

Du Heng believed.

He was too inclined to believe.

When people are at their wits' end, even if someone offers them a rotten blade of grass, they'll still think about whether they can pull it up.

But another voice inside him was cursing.

fart.

When did Wei Zhao ever fight a war in the usual way?

If Golden City could hold out for a month, how could these young men forcibly conscripted from Huainan possibly last half a month?

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

"Your Highness! A secret letter!"

A royal guard knelt down in the hall, presenting an unsigned letter with both hands.

Du Heng squinted.

"Where did it come from?"

The guard whispered, "Someone brought it into the city from the direction of Bianzhou. It is said that... Liu Suan, the military advisor of the King of Han, personally reported to the King of Huainan."

Liu Suan?

Several staff members in the hall looked up at the same time.

The strategist in the green robe's eyes lit up.

"Liu Suan, the Hermit of Heavenly Dragon? He's currently Han Dashan's strategist; the Eighth Prince's strategic retreat was devised by him!"

Du Heng snatched the letter and opened it.

The letter contained few words.

But he read faster and faster, and his fingers started to tremble.

In his letter, Liu Suan said that the Battle of Golden City was not a defeat, but rather a time for the anti-king coalition to conserve its strength, and that the alliance meeting in Bianzhou was already set.

If Du Heng can hold off Wei Zhao for half a month, Han Dashan will, in the name of the leader of the Eight Kings Alliance, unite all the armies and head south to attack the Xinwu army from both sides.

After the matter was accomplished, the title of Prince of Huainan would be hereditary and permanent, the salt route would remain with the Du family, and the eight princes would form an alliance to protect it together.

半月。

Another half month has passed.

Du Heng stared at the two words, and his eyes slowly began to light up.

He knew the letter might not be credible.

No.

He knew very well that the letter was probably just a bait to get him.

But it gave him a reason.

One reason not to surrender.

One reason to continue being the King of Huainan.

Humans are just that despicable.

Even knowing there's a pit ahead, as long as the words "way out" are hanging by the edge of the pit, I'd still want to stick my foot out and try it.

The strategist in green robes quickly said, "Your Highness, Heaven has not forsaken Huainan! Since Strategist Liu wrote this letter as the strategist of the King of Han, it must be true. As long as we hold out for half a month, the Eighth Prince will march south, and Wei Zhao will be attacked from both sides, forcing him to retreat!"

The captain of the personal guard was deathly pale.

"Your Highness, you must not trust them anymore!"

Du Heng looked up at him.

The captain of the personal guard gritted his teeth and said, "If they really wanted to rescue them, they should have sent troops long ago, not just sent a letter! Half a month? It's uncertain whether these people in the city can even last three days!"

That's so true.

That's really jarring.

Du Heng's face immediately darkened.

He doesn't want to hear the truth right now.

The truth will shatter his last hope.

He suddenly drew his sword and slashed it at the corner of the table.

Click!

The corner of the table broke and fell to the ground.

Everyone in the hall knelt down.

Du Heng gripped his sword, his voice fierce.

"Order the entire army to fight to the death at Huainan City!"

The strategist in the green robe immediately kowtowed.

"Your Highness is wise!"

Du Heng stared at everyone and said, word by word:

"All grain and provisions in the city shall be seized by the Prince's Palace. All ships in the naval camps shall be registered; anyone who dares to desert shall be executed. All able-bodied men shall be encamped on the walls, and women and children shall be allowed into the inner city. Anyone who discusses surrender shall be executed!"

The captain of the guard looked up, and his lips moved slightly.

Du Heng saw it.

"Do you have something to say?"

The captain of the guard clenched his fists and finally lowered his head.

"Your subordinate... obeys."

Du Heng sneered.

He knew this person was not convinced.

But that doesn't matter now.

What he needs is not submission, but fear.

Wei Zhao won people's hearts by offering them land, but Du Heng couldn't offer land, so he could only use force to suppress them.

If it can be suppressed, it will last for half a month.

If we can't control it, we'll all die together.

That night, the four gates of Huainan City were tightly closed.

The prince's personal guards stormed into each neighborhood, smashing doors with wooden sticks and locking people up with iron chains.

Boatmen, salt workers, dockworkers, and unregistered young men from the city were all dragged to the drill ground.

Someone is crying.

Some people are criticizing it.

Some people clung to a pillar and refused to leave, but were knocked down by the back of a soldier's knife.

"By order of the Prince! Any male member of the household who disobeys will be executed!"

Bundles of long guns were distributed.

Some spearheads weren't sharpened, and some shields had cracked edges, but no one dared to challenge them.

The military officer, holding the roster, roared until his throat bled, forcibly cramming these men, who had been carrying salt, rowing boats, and working hard the night before, into the city defense team.

Du Heng stood on the city wall, looking down at the sea of ​​people below, his palms sweating profusely.

Lots of people.

There are so many.

But he felt uneasy at all.

These people are not soldiers.

They had no will to fight, only fear.

When he looked up at the large banner with the character "卫" (Wei) outside the city, his face was ashen, like that of a dead man.