Chapter 142: Charge!

Zheng Fan gripped the armor of the barbarian soldier seated in front of him with one hand, looking back over his shoulder again and again.

He hated this feeling.

Because he knew perfectly well that the hundred cavalry Huo Guang had led into the city were finished. There was almost no chance any of them would make it back out.

Perhaps this was the true cruelty of war.

You struck me, I struck you.

I could cut you down, but you could cut me down right back.

This was not a game. In a game, once a battle ended, you could leave a unit somewhere, replenish it for a few turns, and restore its strength.

It was not that manpower could never be replenished.

But watching his own soldiers get swallowed up before his eyes, watching his own capital go down the drain that feeling was unbearable.

And if he let himself think about it emotionally, those were living, breathing people.

At dusk, he had still been speaking to them, telling them he would bring them home, telling them he would help them earn as much military merit as possible and keep as many of them alive as he could.

All the swagger and high spirits from earlier had now been beaten away by wind and rain.

Perhaps this was a threshold every novice had to cross.

Zheng Fan had once believed he was mentally prepared.

Only now, with it truly happening before his eyes, did he realize how flimsy that preparation had been.

At this moment, he suddenly understood the Princess somewhat better.

To secure victory, she had once used more than two thousand laborers as bait.

If people were going to die no matter what, then let some of them die deliberately—as long as it created an opportunity worth seizing.

Zheng Fan was like the owner of some tiny family business.

Before this, he had always dealt in small ventures. His capital was limited and his profits were modest, but at least things were steady. Every night after closing shop, he could go home, sit on the bed with a cigarette dangling from his lips, pick at his feet, and happily count his money.

He had admired those big-shot businessmen who could throw fortunes around without blinking.

But now that he finally had a chance to put on that sort of display himself, he discovered that his mentality simply was not there yet.

He could not afford to lose.

He could not stomach a loss.

Zheng the Skinflint.

That was how Zheng Fan defined himself.

Reason was something you could control.

Emotion was not.

Until Zheng Fan looked back again.

And saw those Wolf Native Troops actually pouring out through the city gate on foot, howling "Wuuuuuu!" as they pursued them.

Zheng Fan's eyes narrowed.

His heart gave a hard thump.

But he immediately turned his gaze forward, toward Liang Cheng.

Zheng Fan did not issue an order. He did not overstep.

Because he trusted Liang Cheng to make the correct choice.

Professional matters were best left to professionals.

At that moment, only one thought remained in Zheng Fan's mind.

They had made him lose money.

So he was going to kill them all!

...

Because Liang Cheng had ordered the retreat in time, aside from the hundred cavalry under Huo Guang who had been lost inside the city, the rest of the force had suffered few casualties.

Compared with Zheng Fan's agitation, Liang Cheng was extraordinarily calm.

This was war.

People lived. People died.

Veterans fell, newcomers took their place.

There was nothing more ordinary.

This defeat had simply been bad luck.

In war, you could never expect Lady Luck to favor you forever.

The infiltration had gone smoothly.

Taking the gate had gone smoothly.

Opening the gate had gone smoothly.

Who could possibly have known that so many Wolf Native Troops were hidden inside the city?

As for saying they had been careless and should have scouted the place more thoroughly beforehand—that was meaningless.

This had been a surprise attack.

A surprise attack inherently involved risk.

And it was impossible to send men inside to investigate every detail before committing. First, the longer infiltrators remained inside, the greater the chance the garrison would discover them. Second, if they delayed long enough for dawn to break, then what kind of damned surprise attack would it be?

As far as Liang Cheng himself was concerned, losing only Huo Guang's detachment did not count as a major loss.

He still had nearly fourteen hundred cavalry under him.

In fact, with Huo Guang dead inside the city, things might become even easier for him.

As the leader of the Huo Clan contingent at Green Willow Fortress, Huo Guang's death would make the remaining members of the Huo Clan easier to control.

The thought was undoubtedly dark.

It was also true.

Throughout history, there had been countless examples of men borrowing an enemy's blade to remove inconvenient people on their own side.

Liang Cheng had commanded armies since ancient times. Naturally he understood such things.

Once Huo Guang was dead, the remaining six hundred Huo clansmen would be leaderless. They could quickly be divided, broken down, and absorbed.

Before long, the deepest mark on them would no longer be "Huo Clan."

It would be "soldiers of Green Willow Fortress."

Only...

The corner of Liang Cheng's eye drifted toward Zuo Jiqian, who was galloping on his left.

Zuo Jiqian had no idea that an ancient zombie had just glanced at him.

If he had known, he probably would have been terrified out of his wits.

"Wuuuuuuuu!"

At that moment, Liang Cheng heard the long cries behind him.

He turned his head.

Then froze.

What was he seeing?

The Wolf Native Troops had actually chased them out through the city gate.

They had actually pursued them outside the walls.

A group of infantry... was chasing cavalry?

This development was so baffling that for an instant Liang Cheng fell into intense self-doubt.

Was this... a trap?

Because what the enemy was doing was simply beyond his comprehension.

It was like a mathematics prodigy sitting an Olympiad competition against someone else.

He suffered a setback in the first round.

Then the second round began, and he suddenly discovered that his opponent had written the answer to one plus one as three.

Very quickly, however, Liang Cheng understood.

The intelligence war between Qian and Yan had started long before their armies ever openly crossed blades.

Thanks to the trade flowing along the Silk Road, both sides had planted who knew how many spies inside the other's territory.

The Sixth Prince's intelligence network had already passed word to Green Willow Fortress that Qian was transferring Wolf Native Troops from the southwest to the north.

The Wolf Native Troops were soldiers belonging to the native chieftains of southwestern Qian.

They were exceptionally fierce.

Several decades ago, forces like theirs had plunged whole swathes of southwestern Qian into chaos.

But they had a problem.

And this problem had very little to do with the men themselves.

It was not about courage.

It was not about equipment.

It was about their understanding of war.

Their entire mode of thinking about it.

Like Sengge Rinchen's cavalry in later history charging the gun lines of the Anglo-French forces.

Like Polish winged cavalry brandishing sabers as they charged Nazi German armored tanks.

Like Charles de Gaulle climbing out of a tank and watching German Stuka dive bombers cripple his French tanks one after another.

It was a gulf in military understanding.

And such a gulf could sometimes create consequences even more terrifying than a disparity in weapons and equipment.

Southwestern Qian was mountainous.

It was not that they had no horses there, but their horses were small.

They could carry riders, yes, but more often they were used as pack animals.

Back when the native chieftains of the southwest had rebelled en masse, Qian's armies had repeatedly failed to suppress them and suffered devastating losses.

The situation had deteriorated step by step because, in the mountains and forests, the native troops could use their familiarity with the terrain to harass, divide, ambush, and whittle down Qian's forces until the imperial armies were in a miserable state.

Warhorses were never easy to use effectively in mountains and forests.

And Qian's cavalry was not very good to begin with.

Because of that, Lady Daxi and the Wolf Native Troops under her had never received a true education in what cavalry could do.

That was why they had made the decision to chase cavalry with infantry.

They certainly were not unfamiliar with cavalry.

They had cavalry of their own.

Perhaps, in their eyes, cavalry was simply... this.

But Yan horses were not the horses of the southwest.

And Yan's understanding and application of cavalry tactics was something neither Qian nor its native chieftains could match.

For centuries, the people of Yan had possessed an excellent teacher.

That teacher had relentlessly instructed them in the art of cavalry warfare.

And over the past hundred years, Yan had finally surpassed the master and beaten that very teacher into the ground.

The teacher, naturally, was the barbarians.

The barbarian tribes of the desert were undoubtedly the people in this world who understood cavalry best.

But the strongest cavalry in the world today belonged to Yan.

A flicker of baleful light flashed deep within Liang Cheng's eyes.

He knew perfectly well how much pain his Master must be feeling right now.

So... let him give his Master the finest consolation possible.

Liang Cheng raised one hand.

All these days, there had been one thing Green Willow Fortress's troops had been learning above all else obey orders.

At Liang Cheng's signal, the fleeing cavalry deliberately began slowing their horses.

Since you were stupid enough to chase us out here then run a little farther.

No matter how fast you can run, can two human legs outlast a warhorse's four?

...

Atop Mianzhou City's north gate tower, Meng Gong gripped the battlement with both hands.

He was desperately anxious.

Because he could see that the Yan cavalry were not routing.

They were withdrawing.

A withdrawal and a rout were two entirely different things.

And they could very well lead to two entirely different outcomes.

Meng Gong shouted for the soldiers around him to beat the gongs.

He screamed for the Wolf Native Troops to come back.

It was useless.

The Wolf Native Troops had gone mad.

And besides on the battlefield, they had never been a force that followed detailed commands.

More than a thousand Wolf Native Troops remained inside the city. They were busy tending to their wounded clansmen while gleefully cutting off Yan heads, stripping Yan armor, and collecting Yan weapons.

They heard the Qian soldiers atop the walls shouting and beating gongs.

They merely laughed.

They paid no attention.

When they looked at these Qian men, there was obvious contempt in their eyes.

You Qian people are useless.

The Yan have frightened the courage out of you.

But before us, the children of the great mountains the Yan are nothing special!

Meng Gong's shouting failed to make Lady Daxi turn back.

Meng Gong knew that, once upon a time, there had indeed been one man capable of making the native chieftains and their warriors obediently follow orders.

The Tattoo-Faced Chancellor.

When the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor was still alive, Qian's western armies had undergone a period of tremendous improvement.

Even the native chieftains he had subdued had not dared overstep the slightest before his command banners.

At the time, a voice had even arisen within the imperial court:

If the Great Qian gave the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor its full support, perhaps the dynasty could finally wash away the humiliation inflicted upon it by the first Marquis of Zhenbei!

But very soon there was no "afterward."

Under Qian's conciliatory policies over the years, the native chieftains had indeed remained reasonably peaceful.

But Meng Gong understood that without the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor suppressing them, that peace was only a thin layer of skin covering the surface.

Did they truly believe the Yan were the same as the cavalry-starved armies of Qian?

Did they truly believe this would be like the peasant rebels they had helped suppress a few times before?

If the Yan were really that weak would the Great Qian not have launched its northern expedition long ago?

Would the barbarians not have swept south long ago?

Meng Gong felt helpless.

And lost.

All he could do now was hope that the commander of this Yan force had also been frightened senseless.

This battle had clearly opened with a "victory."

Yet Meng Gong could not feel even the slightest joy.

All the fear and unease in his chest transformed into a roar.

Meng Gong slammed his fist viciously against the battlement.

"Motherless bastards!"

...

Naturally, the Wolf Native Troops could not feel Meng Gong's fury.

But they could feel... that they were getting tired.

They were still human.

Their endurance might be excellent, and they might be exceptionally good runners, but they had already chased the enemy for a very long distance.

So far that Mianzhou City behind them had begun to blur into the distance.

They were human beings yet they were trying to use their own two feet to chase prey mounted on horses.

Truthfully, if the distance between the two sides had not been shrinking little by little if the Yan force had not spent the entire time fleeing without showing any sign of counterattacking the Wolf Native Troops would never have pursued this far.

Lady Daxi might not truly understand the terror of cavalry, but she was a widow who ruled an entire mountain stronghold. She was hardly incompetent.

She noticed that her men were growing tired.

At that moment, some instinct as a commander urged her to order a retreat.

If they truly could not catch them, then forget it.

Or perhaps... grit her teeth and chase just a little farther?

Just a little?

What Lady Daxi did not know was that during this bizarre spectacle of infantry chasing cavalry, Liang Cheng had already ordered the riders at the very front to turn back in batches and begin circling around both flanks.

Zheng Fan noticed the change in formation too.

By now, the barbarian soldier who had originally carried him had already jumped onto an empty riderless horse, allowing Zheng Fan to control his own mount.

They were about to strike.

Zheng Fan knew it.

We should stop.

Lady Daxi was thinking the same thing.

Because she had suddenly realized something.

The prey she was chasing... seemed to have grown considerably fewer in number.

"Wuuuuuuuu..."

The long cry sounded.

The Wolf Native Troops began slowing down.

Some were panting.

Others were cursing.

Those damned Yan could run far too fast. They had cost them so much silver!

Then, Liang Cheng, up ahead, slowed down completely.

He led the cavalry around him in turning their horses directly around.

His gaze was utterly calm as he looked at the Wolf Native Troops not far ahead.

And at the only woman among those troops who was riding a horse.

Liang Cheng had to admit that this was a very brave army.

Their blood courage and their nerve were far stronger than those of the Qian armies he had encountered.

War often did require courage and the willingness to shed blood.

But there were also times when certain gaps simply could not be bridged by courage alone.

No armor.

No fine weapons.

No disciplined formation.

And you intend to face fourteen hundred cavalry under my command like this?

Liang Cheng pointed his saber forward and began urging his horse into motion.

The enemy had come far enough from the city.

Now it was time to let them taste the true terror of cavalry.

A shadow suddenly fell across Lady Daxi's heart.

She did not know exactly what was happening.

But the feeling of doom grew heavier by the instant.

Thud-thud-thud! Thud-thud-thud!

Suddenly, two cavalry detachments appeared on the flanks of the Wolf Native Troops.

Their horses thundered forward.

The riders took out crossbows and bows.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Arrows came streaking in.

One native soldier after another was struck and fell.

The Wolf Native Troops were stunned.

They had never expected the prey they had just chased away in panic to dare turn around and bare its fangs at them again.

They became furious.

So they returned fire.

Every Wolf Native soldier was an excellent hunter in the great mountains.

That meant they were fine archers.

But the cavalry of Green Willow Fortress were no longer the trapped targets they had been inside the city, unable to maneuver.

Now they were galloping.

And at the same time, they were carefully maintaining distance.

After loosing one volley, they would pull away again, avoiding the Wolf Native Troops' counterattack.

Then the next group would press in from another side and loose another volley.

Forced to endure incoming arrows while aiming at fast-moving targets, the Wolf Native Troops were no longer as sharp as they were when hunting in the mountains.

And even when their arrows hit, the distance often robbed them of killing force.

The shafts struck Green Willow Fortress's cavalrymen's armor and bounced away.

Zheng Fan was among the riders as well, bow in hand.

Thanks to A'Ming serving as his training partner, Zheng Fan's archery had improved considerably during this period.

He still could not compare with the barbarian soldiers, but he could infuse his arrows with qi and blood.

That allowed him to shoot farther.

And hit harder.

One Wolf Native soldier was struck by Zheng Fan's arrow.

The force of the impact spun the man sideways and sent him crashing down.

Zheng Fan did not cheer excitedly, "I hit him! I hit him!"

Because on television, most characters who started shouting with delight about hitting something were usually being set up to have their heads blown off or die violently in the next scene.

At this moment, Garrison Commander Zheng was like a gambler who had just lost a hand.

Now he was utterly determined to win it back.

Lady Daxi soon realized just how terrible the situation had become.

She immediately ordered her troops to retreat.

But how could two human legs possibly outrun a warhorse's four?

More importantly the Wolf Native Troops were already tired.

Liang Cheng did not order a charge.

Instead, he continued directing the cavalry to harass and provoke the enemy in the same manner.

A soft knife.

Slowly slicing flesh away.

Perhaps because of the influence of films and television, most people imagined cavalry as iron hooves rolling forward, smashing headlong through an enemy line.

Afterward, the cavalrymen were essentially sitting on very tall stools while hacking at the enemies around them.

In reality, unless commanders had no other choice or circumstances were extreme, most generals would never use cavalry that way.

The reason was very simple.

Too expensive.

The people of Yan had always relied heavily on cavalry.

That was why more than half of Yan's annual tax revenue had to be funneled into the Marquis of Zhenbei's estate to maintain its armies.

That was also why the Jingnan Army had to be divided into a Front Camp and Rear Camp.

And why successive emperors of the Great Yan Dynasty had never launched a full-scale southern invasion.

Maintaining troops was already ruinously expensive.

Once a great war erupted, Yan's treasury simply could not sustain it.

It was not as though Yan's ancestors had failed to realize infantry was cheaper.

They had simply had no choice.

With the barbarians living right beside them, were they supposed to send men on two feet into the desert to hack at barbarian cavalry?

In the age of cold weapons, cavalry was an absolute money-burning monster.

And if you did not want your cavalry to be merely decorative it burned even more money.

Just think about it.

When the Marquis of Zhenbei was young, he had actually fought Ji Runhao—then still an imperial Prince—over chicken legs.

That alone showed how severely the Li Clan had tightened its belt to maintain the three hundred thousand iron cavalry of the Zhenbei Army.

It was not that there was no corruption within the Marquis of Zhenbei's estate.

But unnecessary losses were kept to an absurdly low level—far lower than almost any frontier command in history could imagine.

If you dared embezzle military funds, then you had better imagine what would happen when the Li Clan, already living frugally themselves, found out.

Qian had attempted horse-administration policies as well.

But the investment was enormous.

And due to Qian's national circumstances in the end, they had never managed to build a proper supply of warhorses.

At best, they maintained enough to preserve appearances.

The Wolf Native Troops now found themselves in an extremely awkward situation.

They wanted to retreat.

But they could not retreat freely, because the cavalry around them clung like sticky plaster, darting in to tear away a mouthful of flesh before pulling back again.

They wanted to advance.

But they could not catch the enemy at all.

Lady Daxi's expression was dark as water.

She understood.

The commander of this Yan force was teaching her a lesson.

But the tuition for this lesson was more than she could afford.

A soft knife cutting flesh was terrifying in its own way.

Because a person's mental endurance had limits.

Especially while being surrounded, toyed with, and harassed by cavalry.

That sense of despair would slowly magnify.

Then magnify again.

And again.

Even a superbly disciplined army could easily collapse in a situation where there was no support inside or out and no visible hope of escape.

Let alone Wolf Native Troops whose fighting strength relied almost entirely on raw blood courage.

Their courage came fiercely.

But when they broke they would break even more completely.

In truth, they resembled a mob.

In the mountains, they could use a hunter's instincts and familiar terrain to exploit their strengths.

But outside that environment, they were not much different from a peasant rebel army.

They merely possessed higher morale and greater ferocity.

At last, they began to collapse.

Someone turned and fled without caring about anything else.

Instinctively, they wanted to return to the city.

Because they remembered that inside the city these Yan people had not seemed so terrifying!

They wanted back inside.

Back inside!

One man ran.

Then two.

Then entire groups.

Lady Daxi's long cries could no longer rally her clansmen.

The Wolf Native Troops had never possessed much of a formation to begin with.

Now they lost even that.

They scattered.

And at that moment—

Liang Cheng raised his long saber and issued a new command.

Every cavalryman put away his bow or crossbow.

They drew their sabers.

And they stopped holding their horses back.

The full power of their mounts was unleashed.

The prey had already been broken by their careful handling.

Now it was harvest time.

Liang Cheng's saber chopped downward, leaving an afterimage in the air.

He roared:

"Charge!"

(End of Chapter)