Chapter 98: You Flatter Me

The carriage was decorated far too brightly.

Whether it was the carvings on the exterior or the colorful canopy draped over it, everything looked exquisitely crafted.

That suited Qian tastes perfectly.

When it came to pursuing art and quality of life, the people of Qian could be said to stand unrivaled among the four great states of the East.

The current Emperor of Qian’s beautiful Slender Gold calligraphy had even become something scholars throughout Shangjing—and indeed the entire country—rushed to imitate.

And this was not simply sycophancy, nor a case of “the King of Chu loved slender waists, so everyone starved themselves.”

Because Qian treated its scholar-officials with exceptional favor, its literati often possessed little fear of their “Imperial Sovereign.” Nor would they readily tarnish their own reputations merely to curry favor and gain imperial attention.

Which meant the present Emperor of Qian genuinely was a master calligrapher.

Much like how, in later generations, most small red cars seemed to have women behind the wheel there was a very high chance that the person sitting inside such a carriage was also a noblewoman.

The instant the barbarian soldiers came galloping over and spotted that carriage, every last one of them became wildly excited.

Truthfully, the deaths of clansmen and comrades had long since become commonplace to them.

In the desert, the penal tribes were cannon fodder controlled by the great tribes to begin with.

So they would not grieve too deeply over such deaths.

They also believed that sooner or later, they too would die in battle and reunite with their fallen companions at the end of the Eternal River.

But stealing women was an entirely different matter.

To the barbarians of the desert, that was practically a grand festival!

The desert barbarians had always maintained a tradition of bride-stealing.

It was much the same principle as other people’s food always seeming tastier than your own.

Other men’s wives somehow seemed more alluring too.

Bride-stealing, in barbarian eyes, was a symbol of courage and virility.

It was also considered essential to whether a tribe could flourish and grow.

At the root of it all was the brutal living environment of the desert.

Out there, women were less like people and more like property.

Even today, the desert still retained traditions where, upon the father’s death, the son inherited from him, and upon the elder brother’s death, the younger brother inherited from him.

And what was inherited was not merely property.

It included one’s “mother” and one’s “sister-in-law” as well.

Zheng Fan found it difficult to understand why the barbarians beneath him were suddenly as delighted as children celebrating the New Year.

The reason he had chosen to lead his men over here was simply to try his luck.

Anyone who could travel through Qian’s northern frontier in such a luxurious carriage, accompanied by so many guards yet carrying no merchant goods, was obviously someone important.

If they captured whoever was inside, Zheng Fan would have another hostage in his hands.

“Master, take a hundred men and hold the rear.

“This subordinate will lead the others and kite them.”

Truthfully, Zheng Fan did not particularly enjoy being protected like some princess.

But he had no better choice.

Keeping one force in reserve to watch the surroundings was important too.

The last thing they needed was to encircle someone else only to discover that they themselves had been wrapped up like dumplings.

Besides, Zheng Fan knew perfectly well that if he personally led a cavalry charge, his entire tactical repertoire basically amounted to one thing:

Swing the saber.

Strike a pose.

Shout—

“URA!”

Then charge!

So Zheng Fan could only nod in agreement.

There were two kinds of people in this world who needed enough self-awareness to stand aside when real work was being done.

The first was people without ability.

The second was leaders.

Station Chief Zheng happened to be both.

“OOOOOOOOOH!”

Liang Cheng brandished the long saber in his hand and began roaring.

The surrounding barbarian cavalrymen waved their sabers as well, answering him with thunderous shouts.

Zheng Fan immediately sensed that Liang Cheng seemed very different from the Liang Cheng who had commanded troops before.

Perhaps it was because he intended to change tactics.

Zheng Fan had guessed correctly.

Leaving one hundred riders with Zheng Fan, Liang Cheng led more than two hundred cavalrymen straight toward the carriage.

The guards around the carriage reacted immediately.

These men were clearly no ordinary household guards.

Faced with a cavalry force that had suddenly appeared and begun charging them, they did not collapse.

Instead, they swiftly formed up around the carriage and prepared for battle.

Drawing bows and nocking arrows was one thing.

Some of them even took military crossbows from their backs!

Liang Cheng immediately recalculated the distance in his head.

When the gap between his cavalry and the carriage formation had narrowed sufficiently, he abruptly raised his long saber and swept it in a circle.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

More than two hundred barbarian cavalrymen roared together.

Then, they split apart.

Those on the left wheeled left.

Those on the right wheeled right.

Right in front of the carriage, the entire charging force executed a massive turnabout.

“Loose!”

And that was precisely when the commander of the carriage guards ordered his men to fire.

Unfortunately, most of that volley of arrows and crossbow bolts struck nothing.

Aside from one unlucky barbarian rider whose horse was hit in the leg, sending him crashing from the saddle, the volley inflicted almost no meaningful casualties.

After completing their turn, the barbarian cavalry on both sides immediately surged forward again, sweeping along the flanks of the carriage formation.

Then, they drew their bows.

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

Guard after guard was struck by arrows and tumbled from horseback.

Chaos immediately spread through their formation.

By the time their commander finally managed to reorganize his men and order a return volley, the barbarian cavalry on both sides had already wheeled away at exactly the right moment and opened the distance again.

Another volley fell uselessly short.

The next instant the barbarian cavalry swept in once more.

Bows were drawn.

Arrows flew.

More guards were hit and fell from their horses.

This was the truly terrifying aspect of barbarian cavalry.

Mounted archery!

Their horsemanship was better than yours.

Their archery was better than yours.

They refused to fight you head-on.

Instead, they carved at you with a soft knife layer after layer until they cut your entire formation apart.

A century ago, when the Barbarian Royal Court launched its western campaigns, the heavily armored knightly corps of the western states had suffered horribly against precisely this sort of barbarian horse-archery and kiting tactic.

Zheng Fan understood why Liang Cheng had chosen to fight this way.

He wanted to minimize their own casualties as much as possible.

These guards were indeed competent.

At the very least, both their combat ability and their will to fight were vastly superior to the garrison soldiers in Mianzhou City last night.

But no matter how elite a force might be, nobody could endure standing in place, unable to hit the enemy, while the enemy kept shooting them.

So after glancing back at the carriage, the guard commander left ten men behind to continue protecting it.

Then he personally led the rest of his men in a mounted charge toward one wing of the barbarians.

But the barbarian soldiers still refused to meet them head-on.

There was no glorious cavalry collision.

The moment the guards charged, the barbarians simply withdrew.

The guard commander did not dare pursue too far.

Seeing that the enemy refused to engage, he ordered his men to slow down and prepared to return to the carriage.

But the instant the guards began turning back the barbarian cavalrymen who had withdrawn wheeled around even faster, looped back toward them, and began shooting.

Another dozen or so guards were struck from their horses.

The guard commander roared furiously and prepared to chase them again.

The barbarian cavalry withdrew again.

On the distant high ground, the barbarian riders beside Zheng Fan could not join the fighting.

So all they could do was raise their arms and roar like cheerleaders.

It was obvious that they were extremely excited.

Because for them it had been far too long since they had witnessed their people use this signature tactic to slaughter an enemy while suffering almost no losses themselves.

In the desert, when fighting among tribes, everyone knew mounted archery.

You could shoot from horseback.

Did you think the other tribes could not?

And when fighting outsiders their opponent was the Zhenbei Army!

Better equipment than theirs.

Better fighting spirit.

Better morale.

Better tactics.

Even mounted archery that was not remotely inferior to their own.

Fuck.

That was not war.

That was despair!

Now, at last they had rediscovered the joy of bullying noobs.

Zheng Fan rubbed his chin.

One thought filled his mind:

This tactic was dirty as hell.

The guard commander could only watch helplessly as one comrade after another fell around him, while he himself could not even touch the enemy.

He was so furious that green radiance kept flaring from his body.

A Ninth-Grade expert.

There was little he could do about the situation.

Qian’s northern frontier had enjoyed peace for a hundred years.

True, the southwestern Tusi rebellion had erupted some years earlier.

But what kind of cavalry tactics could those Tusi forces hiding in mountain ravines possibly employ?

They had fought little more than guerrilla warfare.

And ever since Qian stopped fighting Yan, it had been far too long since Qian had tasted the iron fist of massed cavalry.

These guards were household retainers.

Their quality was naturally high.

But they too lacked any experience facing this kind of mounted-archery battle.

All they could do was be kited to death.

As for the Ninth-Grade expert his fate was even more miserable.

By the time almost all of his men had been shot dead and the horse beneath him had also been killed, he stood there like a maddened lone wolf, roaring and raging without end.

Then, arrow after arrow struck him until he resembled a porcupine.

From beginning to end, this Ninth-Grade Martial Artist never landed so much as a single saber strike on the enemy.

Watching the scene, Zheng Fan suddenly remembered the ending of Zhang Yimou’s *Hero*—

Jet Li dying beneath a storm of arrows.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the barbarian cavalry charged the carriage.

This time they did not shoot.

First, there were barely any guards left around the carriage.

Second they had come here to steal a bride.

If they shot the bride dead, what the fuck would be left to steal?

The remaining guards caused the barbarians little trouble.

The riders swarmed them and butchered them in moments.

Liang Cheng dismounted, climbed onto the carriage, lifted the curtain, and leaned his head inside.

A young girl’s tear-streaked face appeared before him.

Delicate.

Pitiful.

Enough to stir anyone’s protective instincts.

“Please...

“Please don’t hurt me...”

The girl sobbed and begged him.

Liang Cheng raised one hand.

The girl widened her eyes and stared at him.

Seeing his hand move closer and closer she drew a breath.

Then slowly closed her eyes, as though resigning herself to her fate.

SLAP!

Liang Cheng slapped her aside.

“............” The girl.

With the girl no longer blocking his view, the noblewoman seated farther inside the carriage was finally revealed before Liang Cheng.

Women in this era gave birth young.

Her daughter was already this old, yet the noblewoman herself was only in her thirties.

Feng Siniang’s figure and bearing immediately surfaced in Liang Cheng’s mind.

Naturally, the woman before him could not compare with The Fourth Lady’s mature allure.

But his Master did seem to have always preferred the more refined, ladylike type.

Liang Cheng extended a hand and pointed at the noblewoman.

“Don’t hurt my mother!

“Don’t hurt my mother!

“You can do anything you want to me, but please, please don’t hurt my—”

The girl scrambled up and wrapped both arms around Liang Cheng’s hand.

Then, SLAP!

The girl was slapped down again.

Her eyes rolled upward.

Still filled with profound shock and incomprehension, she fainted inside the carriage.

Liang Cheng glanced at her.

Back at the residence in Tiger Head City, there had been so many young women around, yet his Master had never touched any of them.

That proved his Master had no interest in little girls or lolis.

Liang Cheng pointed toward the noblewoman again.

The noblewoman snatched up a dagger and pressed it against her own throat.

She shouted fiercely:

“I would rather die than allow you people to defile my chastity!”

Liang Cheng showed neither surprise nor panic.

In truth, he was a zombie.

Cold indifference toward humans was his natural state.

If restoring his strength did not depend upon Zheng Fan, he probably would not even bother acknowledging Zheng Fan.

When the noblewoman revealed her determination to die, Liang Cheng merely pointed at the unconscious girl.

Then said:

“Go ahead and die.

“In exchange, she’ll be ravaged by these barbarians.”

The noblewoman’s hand began trembling with rage.

She looked at her daughter.

Then, slowly lowered the dagger.

She cursed Liang Cheng:

“You’re a demon!

“A shameless demon!”

Liang Cheng nodded.

“You flatter me.”

(End of Chapter)