The fourth day had begun in silence.
No one spoke of it aloud, but the truth hung in the air: Sai was crumbling.
Four days of endless battle had drained every last reserve. The city's defenders—civilians and soldiers alike—were ragged, sleepless, and bloodied. Bodies littered the walls. Even seasoned warriors like Shin and Ren staggered rather than strode.
Zhao drums echoed again.
Another wave.
The people's hearts began to wither.
But then—
A figure stepped forward.
Climbing the city's central rooftop, unarmed and unguarded, his robes stained by smoke and grit—
King Ei Sei.
The city stilled as he rose to the top.
"Raise your heads."
The words were soft, yet unwavering.
"Raise your heads, and look upon your king."
All around the city, eyes turned.
"You have fought not as warriors… but as fathers, daughters, and craftsmen. And still—you have not fallen."
He stood tall against the wind.
"This is no longer a battle to defend a wall. It is a battle to define Qin."
His voice rose.
"If we fall, the dream dies here. But if we endure—Qin lives on!"
The people gasped as a Zhao arrow whistled through the air and struck just beside the king's foot.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he stepped forward again.
"I am your king. And I will not leave this place."
A silence settled. And then—
A roar.
It began with a single voice, then a second, then dozens.
"Protect the king!!"
"For Qin!!"
Weapons rose again.
The people of Sai surged back to their stations with renewed purpose.
Even Ren, breathless on the east wall, stared up and whispered, "He's… standing in the fire with us."
Shin grinned through the blood on his face. "That's our king."
—
But the chaos hadn't ended.
As Sei descended, still moving among the defenders, offering words, water, and hands—
The Zhao broke through a small gap near the north gate.
Steel clashed. Screams rang out.
In the middle of it all, a lone Zhao soldier, crazed and bloodied, lunged at a stunned civilian.
Sei stepped in instinctively.
The blade slashed across his side.
Time froze.
"SEI!!"
Shin's voice ripped through the air as he bolted toward the collapsing figure.
Sei dropped to one knee, blood soaking into his robes. His hands trembled, clutching his wound.
Before the soldier could strike again—Shin arrived.
His blade flashed.
The Zhao soldier fell in two.
Shin dropped beside Sei, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Don't do this. Don't you dare die here."
Sei's eyes fluttered open.
"They… rose," he murmured. "They're… still fighting…"
Then he collapsed.
Nearby civilians screamed. More soldiers rushed in.
Ren arrived moments later, jaw clenched. "He's alive?"
Shin nodded, barely. "But he needs help now."
As Sei was lifted and carried to safety, word spread like wildfire:
"The king shed blood with us!"
"He took a blade for us!"
Morale surged again.
Sai—wounded, exhausted, outnumbered—stood defiantly tall.
They were not defending the king.
They were fighting with him.