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#314 - Chapter 48: The Savage’s Dilemma (I)

"Dong~ dong~ dong~!" The deafening sound of war drums suddenly erupted, and the wildling tribes outside the Great Wall had already positioned themselves to attack the city. While one couldn't expect these barbaric enemies to form neat and orderly ranks, their advantage lay in their sheer numbers, putting immense pressure on the defending forces. A vast, dark mass of people filled the open land before the Haunted Forest like a tide, packed together densely as if an endless ocean. They faced the defending soldiers on the Great Wall from a distant vantage point of over a thousand paces, hurling insults and curses. This offensive launched by the wildlings was unprecedented in scale, stretching from Westwatch-by-the-Bridge in the west to Oakenshield in the east, spanning a long front of nearly a hundred miles, with over forty thousand participants!

At this moment, Jon stood atop the wall, his gaze fixed on the surging wildling army below, a sense of indescribable helplessness washing over him. Since the onset of winter, this was the fourth large-scale attack launched by the wildlings. After each battle, hundreds, even thousands of wildling corpses littered the battlefield, yet they had consistently failed to achieve any substantial gains, forced to retreat in dejection. Having infiltrated the enemy ranks as a spy, Jon knew very well who the truly terrifying enemy was and what kind of horrific monsters they would soon face.

However, Jon, now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, was no longer the naive boy he once was. Tempered by years and the fires of war, he deeply understood the sacred mission he bore – to defend the Wall to the death, ensuring the safety of the people south of it. This heavy responsibility allowed him no room for complacency, no matter how treacherous the road ahead.

If these hundreds of thousands of rapacious wildlings were to breach the Wall, the destruction and slaughter they would inflict upon the North would be no less devastating than that of the dreaded Others. Jon had already made up his mind: If Mance Rayder was willing to lead his people to surrender, all wildlings must obediently relinquish their weapons; women and children could be settled in various fiefdoms to make a living, but the men, even the gray-haired old ones, must remain on the Wall, vowing to resist the Others' army to the death, never retreating a single step!

However, if these wildlings refused to surrender, Jon would not hesitate to order his Night's Watch to defend the Wall to the death, never allowing any armed wildling to cross south. Even if it meant watching those hundreds of thousands of lives perish before his eyes, becoming part of the Others' army, he would have no regrets.

Undeniably, Liu Yuan's teachings in his early years had been remarkably effective. Jon Snow had matured into a seasoned leader, no longer clinging to those ethereal fantasies and pointless acts of mercy. He deeply understood his position and the responsibilities he bore, knowing full well who deserved his unwavering protection.

The wildlings below the Wall roared and howled, charging forward madly, having already entered the range of the crossbows. Jon calmly raised his arm, his eyes firm and composed, patiently waiting for the enemy to draw closer before forcefully swinging it down.

At his signal, the crossbowmen on the wall responded in unison, quickly unleashing their attack. In an instant, countless arrows rained down like a dense torrent, hurtling towards the wildlings below with fierce momentum. Standing on this two-hundred-meter-high wall, facing the howling, bone-chilling winds, accurate aiming was nearly impossible.

Therefore, these crossbowmen could only rely on their experience and judgment, firing in the general direction. Nevertheless, due to the powerful impact generated by the arrows falling from such a height, their lethality was not to be underestimated. The wildlings wore thick furs, but they provided little effective protection against such an assault. Whether hit in a vital spot or elsewhere, being struck by an arrow could very likely lead to death or serious injury.

Looking out, as far as the eye could see, the ground was littered with wildlings who had fallen, struck by arrows. Some were not yet fully dead, still writhing in agony, emitting miserable wails! More wildlings had reached the base of the wall, densely packed together like a swarm of ants, beginning their arduous climb. In these harsh, snowy conditions, attempting to scale the sheer Wall with bare hands was incredibly difficult. Shouts of agony rang out intermittently as some fell from the heights, the dozens of meters being fatal, the only difference being whether they could preserve an intact corpse.

Under the command of the wildling leaders, they lit bonfires about a hundred paces from the base of the Wall. Simultaneously, the men in black on the wall seemed to understand each other tacitly, refraining from attacking those starting the fires. As the raging flames rose, billowing smoke drifted towards the Wall under the force of the biting wind. Countless wildlings continuously threw wood and other fuels into the fires. Moreover, those who had died or were not yet fully dead were also thrown into the flames. They even "thoughtfully" tore off the animal skins and cloths from the dead to wrap themselves in to ward off the cold.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of roasting flesh, which made the Night's Watch soldiers feel extremely uncomfortable. At that moment, they only wanted to eat something light to alleviate this discomfort, at least as far as tonight's dinner was concerned, they couldn't muster the slightest interest.

As the fire grew fiercer, the smoke gradually blurred the vision of the defending soldiers. Many were choked by the dense smoke, coughing incessantly, but Jon seemed unaffected, showing no concern for such an intense siege. He knew that the bodies of those who died in battle had to be burned as soon as possible, otherwise, if they were resurrected and used by the terrifying Others, defeating them again would not be so easy!

Jon's gaze never strayed from the small hill in the distance. Through the billowing smoke, he could vaguely see a group of figures gathered at the summit, and the flags used to direct the battle were fluttering in the wind. The King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder, was among them at this moment, constantly issuing orders, driving the wildlings wave after wave towards the wall, practically sending them to their deaths! What good could this possibly do? It was truly perplexing.

Looking into the distance, on the distant mountain peak, Mance Rayder's face, as stiff and cold as a sculpture, remained utterly expressionless. The many free folk chieftains surrounding him all wore somber and grave expressions, clearly in low spirits.