Chapter 168: No Life, Only Death!

“Master Zheng’s Art of War?”

Li Fusheng smacked his lips.

He might have been an uneducated roughneck, but even he knew how weighty the honorific “Master” was.

Putting “Master” after your own surname was rather like introducing yourself by saying:

Hello, my surname is Zhang. I’m a genius. You may call me Zhang the Genius.

There was a certain shamelessness to it.

But military men naturally carried a streak of opposition toward civil officials, and they believed arrogance was simply part of a warrior’s nature.

So in Li Fusheng’s imagination, merely from the title *Master Zheng’s Art of War*, the book radiated the absolute confidence of a military man—an arrogant declaration that trampled all that cultured, refined faith of the scholars beneath its boots!

He loved it.

“Good. Once this battle is over, I’ll have to read it myself.”

Zheng Fan still felt somewhat dazed.

Truthfully, nearly a year had passed since he woke in this world, and he really had not done much of the classic transmigrator trick of plagiarizing famous works.

At most, he had tossed a few memorable lines at the Sixth Prince.

Of course, that was also because Yan’s circumstances were completely different from Qian’s.

There was not much of a market here for literary plagiarism.

Most importantly—

Liang Cheng, who was normally silent to the point of barely speaking, seemed unusually talkative today.

Still, this was hardly the moment for private whispers.

The earlier probing attacks were already over.

They needed to decide their next move quickly.

Li Fusheng looked at Liang Cheng.

“Did your Master ever teach you what the true key to victory on a battlefield is?”

At those words, countless images surfaced in Liang Cheng’s mind.

To put it unpleasantly—

Li Fusheng was infamous across the desert for slaughtering entire tribes.

But Liang Cheng had massacred more cities than Li Fusheng had fought battles.

This question was rather like a child asking an old man:

Do you know what the meaning of life is?

Naturally, Liang Cheng had an answer.

But today, he had already stolen enough of the limelight no.

His Master had already stolen enough of the limelight.

If this continued much longer, it would begin looking monstrous.

As for the so-called *Art of War* even copying *The Art of War* word for word in the future would not really matter.

Only the truly naive believed that reading *The Art of War* automatically taught someone how to command armies.

It was no different from claims that “half the *Analects* can govern the realm,” or that Huang Taiji and Dorgon learned warfare by reading *Romance of the Three Kingdoms*.

Anyone who believed such things was simply too innocent.

If that military text were eventually presented to the court, it would probably cause a fair amount of discussion.

But the reaction should remain controllable.

In the eyes of veteran generals, the book would simply be an interesting collection of concise, penetrating summaries.

“Please enlighten me, my lord,” Liang Cheng replied.

Li Fusheng threw back his head and laughed.

“Nothing else.

“Strong soldiers and strong horses!”

War was often wrapped in politics.

Economics.

Culture.

Schemes.

Grand strategy.

The momentum of the age.

But strip away all those external factors and look only at this battle before them.

Who won?

Who lost?

In the end didn’t it still come down to whose soldiers were stronger and whose horses were better?

“Formation-Breaking Camp—form ranks!”

At Li Fusheng’s command, the central force split open.

A thousand cavalry moved forward into formation.

Every rider held a horse lance.

The horse lance looked somewhat similar to an ordinary spear, or to the long lances favored by Western knights.

But in reality it was more complex.

And vastly more expensive.

In ancient warfare, a good horse lance could become a family heirloom.

Ordinary people could neither afford to use one nor afford to equip one.

A horse lance consisted of the blade and the shaft.

The blade alone could reach fifty or sixty centimeters in length, far longer than that of an ordinary spear or pike.

Its shaft was usually made from cudrania wood.

Thin strips were soaked in oil, dried, and then laminated together using fish-bladder glue.

When a cavalryman charged at full speed with a horse lance in hand, the weapon absorbed the terrifying momentum of the galloping horse.

Combined with the rider’s horsemanship and practiced technique, that momentum turned the lance into a brutally powerful cutting edge one capable of tearing through whatever stood ahead.

Against cavalry, its value was enormous.

Against infantry it was equally terrifying.

It was not unlike the bed-crossbow bolts the Qian formation had fired earlier.

Once these thousand riders began their charge, it was as though a thousand weapons even more terrifying than bed-crossbow bolts were being launched at once.

One horse lance could skewer several men like candied hawthorns on a stick.

Of course, after the initial collision, the lance generally had to be abandoned temporarily.

The rider would then draw his saber and continue fighting at close range.

“I don’t care what trick the Qian commander across from us is playing.

“I don’t care what calculation he has made.

“I don’t care what he is thinking.

“There is no need to care.

“Wherever the iron hooves of the Zhenbei Army pass—all becomes dust!”

Li Fusheng’s words were magnificently domineering.

And yes regardless of what scheme the Qian commander was using, Li Fusheng intended to smash directly through the strongest section of that three-part formation.

Let every clever plan go to hell.

No matter how many schemes one possessed no matter how confidently one believed victory was already grasped in one’s palm before absolute strength, all of it became pale and ridiculous.

What was absolute strength?

Earlier, six thousand Yan cavalry blocking the road had been enough to force a Qian commander with thirty thousand men under him to stop and form ranks rather than move.

Li Fusheng extended one hand.

A personal guard beside him immediately brought over a horse lance.

Li Fusheng gripped it in his left hand.

He did not ask Zheng Fan to join him.

He understood perfectly well that someone with Zheng Fan’s talents had no business dying in some battlefield accident.

At the very least he should not be thrown into the first formation-breaking charge.

Instead, Li Fusheng looked at Liang Cheng.

“Do you dare ride with me?”

Liang Cheng did not answer.

He simply urged his horse forward.

That arrogance seemed born into his bones.

Li Fusheng’s eyes brightened.

He could not help turning toward Zheng Fan.

“Garrison Commander Zheng, would you give this man to me?”

Zheng Fan merely smiled.

He said nothing.

I’d give him to you if I could.

But he certainly wouldn’t follow you.

Li Fusheng had only been joking anyway.

A household general like this almost never changed masters.

The most important quality expected from such men was loyalty.

At Li Fusheng’s gesture, one of the personal guards handed his own horse lance to Liang Cheng.

Liang Cheng took it.

Li Fusheng rode forward until he reached the head of the thousand-rider formation.

Apparently he intended to lead the charge personally.

No one dared stop him.

No one said anything about the Commander’s life being precious, or how he still needed to command the whole army and therefore should not expose himself to danger.

That was simply Li Fusheng’s style.

He loved slaughter.

Loved the screams of his enemies.

Loved the warmth of their blood splashing across his body.

Even now, as a full Commander he still loved fighting at the very front.

Zheng Fan looked left.

Then right.

Li Fusheng had gone forward.

Liang Cheng had gone forward.

A personal guard nearby was now looking at Zheng Fan.

The man seemed to be waiting for the slightest gesture before handing over his own horse lance.

The guards nearby had heard the earlier conversation among the three of them.

They did not quite understand it but it sounded impressive.

Zheng Fan glanced at the guard.

Then immediately shifted his eyes away and began studying the clouds in the distance.

Let Garrison Commander Zheng ride along with the cavalry and cut a few people down with his saber?

Fine.

His Eighth Grade Martial Artist strength, combined with the horsemanship he had trained over the last half year, made that entirely manageable.

But a horse lance?

Garrison Commander Zheng had never practiced with the damned thing.

Of course, the more important point was they were about to charge a formation!

Looking at the Qian battle line ahead, dense with spearpoints like a hedgehog if he plunged straight into that a man could disappear in a single instant.

Garrison Commander Zheng was afraid of dying.

He admitted defeat.

No.

He had to remain alive for the sake of the other Demon Kings.

He had to take responsibility for them.

That left the personal guard beside him feeling awkward.

The man wanted to ask directly but could not quite bring himself to do it.

In the end, he could only grit his teeth, ride forward, and fill one of the positions in the Formation-Breaking Camp himself.

“ZHENBEI ARMY!”

Li Fusheng roared.

“TIGER!”

Behind him, the thousand riders lowered the butts of their horse lances in unison.

Clang!

The weapons struck the frozen earth together.

There was no need for messenger riders.

Every part of what was about to happen had already been drilled countless times.

When their Commander intended to personally lead the Formation-Breaking Camp in a charge every other unit knew exactly how it was supposed to cooperate.

The barbarians had been the finest training partners imaginable.

Every maneuver here had already been tested in real battle on the desert countless times.

And so in the next moment—

Mobile General after Mobile General began ordering his troops to shift position.

Commands spread rapidly across the field.

This revealed two things.

First—

Li Fusheng really was reckless by temperament.

He had clearly led charges like this more than once.

Second even if Li Fusheng suddenly died in the coming assault, his subordinates would not collapse into leaderless chaos.

They were already accustomed to operating without him.

For a time apart from the thousand-man Formation-Breaking Camp standing motionless beneath its horse lances nearly twenty thousand Zhenbei Army cavalry across the outer battlefield began to move.

Dust surged outside the Qian formations.

Hooves thundered.

The pressure felt like a storm rolling down from the mountains.

Zheng Fan could see the tension on the faces of the Qian soldiers in the front ranks.

Silently he placed one hand on the hilt of his saber.

His other hand rested against his chest, sensing the Demon Child within.

He did not need to join the initial charge.

But he would probably still ride forward afterward.

Haa...

Looking at the hunger in the eyes of the surrounding Zhenbei Army soldiers—

Zheng Fan suddenly felt like a husky mixed into a pack of wolves.

Most of the time, he blended in well enough.

There was no obvious difference.

But at moments like this the cowardice showed.

A gust of wind swept through the field, driving the newly raised dust even higher.

Yet in an extremely short time, the twenty thousand Zhenbei Army riders had already completed their deployment.

Not counting Li Fusheng’s thousand-man Formation-Breaking Camp, seven cavalry formations now surrounded the battlefield.

The two Mobile Generals who had originally cut off the Qian retreat remained responsible for the rear.

One formation stood to the east.

Another to the west.

Two more stood on either side of the Formation-Breaking Camp.

And one more formation stood directly behind it where Zheng Fan waited.

As the wind gradually began to settle the battlefield became quiet.

Not truly silent, of course.

But the stillness was enough to make men tense.

Even the warhorses merely scraped their hooves against the frozen earth from time to time and otherwise made little sound.

And this stillness carried several times the pressure of the earlier chaos.

Li Fusheng raised his horse lance.

Then let out a long howl.

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

The thousand riders of the Formation-Breaking Camp began striking the butts of their hanging lances against the frozen earth in rhythm.

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

Then the cavalry formations on either side began beating weapons against armor, passing that rhythm outward.

The formations to the east and west joined them.

Finally like a human wave rolling through a stadium the two rear formations blocking the Qian retreat began shouting the same cry.

If one ignored the earlier seizure of Chuzhou City through its gate then this was the Zhenbei Army’s first true battle after entering Qian territory.

The finest cavalry force of the age.

Its glory.

Its terror.

Its bearing.

For the first time, all of it would be displayed on the soil of a neighboring state before Qian soldiers.

They had waited a hundred years for this moment.

At last, the wind rose.

Dust lifted.

And the cavalry moved.

...

“Brother Dongcheng, those bed-crossbow shots earlier were damned satisfying!”

At the central core of the Qian army’s three-part formation, a young general spoke to another young general riding a white horse.

The first speaker was named Zhong Mao.

A member of the Zhong Clan.

In terms of generation, he stood one generation below Zhong Tianlang.

He was the grandson of Zhong Wendao’s third younger brother, Zhong Wenqin.

Yet like Zhong Tianlang, Zhong Mao was considered one of the leading talents among the Zhong Clan’s younger generation.

Military families had something in common with civil-official factions.

When cultivating the next generation of successors they needed praise.

They needed reputation.

They needed momentum.

But military circles possessed their own special rules.

Without actual ability, it was difficult to carry the weight placed upon you.

The soldiers under your command would not obey a useless man.

It was true that since the large-scale southwestern native-chieftain rebellion had been suppressed, Qian had not suffered another disaster of equal scale.

But the realm was hardly all singing and dancing.

Qian was rich.

Vast.

Abundant.

And peasant uprisings still erupted again and again.

The southwestern native chieftains and Northern Qiang tribes also caused trouble from time to time.

There were still battles to fight.

A civil official with an inflated reputation could always be sent to some leisurely yamen to hold a ceremonial post.

If his family had enough influence, he might even spend several years at the Hanlin Academy polishing his credentials.

But clay-idol civil officials were common.

Clay-idol generals were rare.

Any military officer truly made of mud would probably have died in battle long ago.

Of course, as Zhong Wendao’s son, Zhong Tianlang naturally received the greatest possible support from the Western Army.

Compared with him, Zhong Mao received far less.

Otherwise he would never have been assigned the dull job of leading rear-echelon troops north.

Everyone understood one simple principle.

Reach the front early.

Find battles early.

Gain fame early.

Accumulate merit early.

So Zhong Tianlang had accompanied old Lord Zhong in the first wave north.

He had already ridden into Yan on a snowy night, breaking several fortified camps in succession and winning fame for himself while greatly raising Qian morale.

Zhong Mao meanwhile had been left behind to command eight thousand Western Army infantry while escorting equipment and additional grain forcibly assigned to them along the road by Chu Commandery’s Military Commissioner.

He had been creeping north at a leisurely pace.

Truthfully the young general in front of him had received much the same treatment.

But the other man’s future prospects were clearly better.

And the deployment he had arranged earlier had genuinely impressed Zhong Mao.

The young man’s surname was Zu.

His name—

Zu Dongcheng.

His father was the founder of the Zu Clan Army—

Zu Zhuming.

Known to others as Grand Marshal Zu.

Zhong Mao knew that the Zu Clan Army now possessed enormous influence across Qian’s southeast.

Given enough time it might very well become another regional military power, similar to the Western Army, only based in the southeast.

In the past the Chancellors at court might never have permitted such a development.

The Emperor would not have agreed either.

But now, with Yan constantly creating military pressure in the north and the situation growing increasingly tense, even the most foolish civil officials would not choose this moment to suppress military authority.

Of course, they would still try to divide military power.

But they would not deal with the Zu Clan the way they had once dealt with the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor first raising him high, then finding an excuse to cut him down.

If the Zu Clan Army truly became a regional military bloc the young Zu Dongcheng before him would inevitably become the next generation’s leader of that southeastern power.

Behind Zhong Mao and Zu Dongcheng stood another young general wearing silver armor.

His name was Dou Guoming.

The Dou Clan descended from meritorious founding generals and possessed deep influence inside the Imperial Guards.

This time, Dou Guoming had personally led ten thousand Imperial Guards north.

Behind Dou Guoming stood two men.

On the left a long-bearded man around thirty years old.

Lean and powerful like an ape.

Exceptional on horseback.

His surname was Han.

He ranked fifth among his brothers.

Everyone called him Old Fifth Han.

On the right a square-faced general slightly younger than Han but older than the other young heirs present.

His surname was Yue.

His given name—

Huan.

He was especially skilled with the spear.

Old Fifth Han had originally served in the Western Army.

But in his earlier years, he had not done particularly well there.

He had even been suppressed badly enough that he eventually left the Western Army and joined the local garrison troops of Beihe Commandery.

It was practically the equivalent of leaving a field army for the reserves.

Only because the Three Frontiers had now fallen into crisis did his fortunes change.

The Military Commissioner of Beihe Commandery knew perfectly well how useless the local garrison troops were.

So he had ordered the strongest men among them screened out.

That was how Old Fifth Han finally caught his attention.

Then, through some strange twist of fate the Beihe Military Commissioner took a personal liking to him.

Ignoring the usual gulf between civil and military circles, he married one of his daughters to Han.

Old Fifth Han instantly transformed into the Commissioner’s favored son-in-law.

A perfect example of how moving a tree killed it while moving a man brought him to life.

Now the newly formed five-thousand-strong Beihe Dare-to-Die Troops were under his command.

As for Yue Huan his teacher was Wang Beishan.

He was also Wang Beishan’s adopted son.

Wang Beishan had been a scholar-general.

After the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor’s bleak downfall, signs of renewed unrest had once appeared across the southwest.

Wang Beishan had gone there carrying the title of Imperial Commissioner and overseen military and civil affairs for seven years.

By the end the southwest was stable.

Wang Beishan had long since retired.

Most of the political resources he left behind had been invested in this adopted son.

Yue Huan now served as a Commander in the Imperial Guards.

One could say this was an army almost entirely composed of second-generation military elites.

They had just happened to gather together from east, south, west, and north and then happened to travel north together.

Calling the entire thing a coincidence would make the coincidence absurdly large.

More accurately the crisis along the Three Frontiers had given every military power bloc in Qian the same opportunity.

They were all quietly doing things.

Qian had suppressed military men under civil officials for far too long.

The military class desperately wanted to loosen those restraints and recover greater status.

So after the main forces departed for the Three Frontiers the follow-up contingents were naturally led by these young heirs.

They traveled together.

Stopped together.

Gathered together.

On the surface, it looked accidental.

In truth, it resembled a meeting of the younger generation of Qian’s major military factions.

An early chance to build relationships.

The disastrous precedent of the Tattoo-Faced Chancellor remained fresh.

Since then military men had begun understanding the importance of standing together.

Fortunately, once these young heirs gathered, there was no foolish jealousy or petty competition.

They were talented members of the younger generation.

None were ordinary.

Naturally, they had no interest in embarrassing themselves with childish stupidity.

The Imperial Guard soldiers might have been arrogant.

But Dou Guoming, Yue Huan, and the other military-family heirs who had come with the Imperial Guards were rather modest.

They knew their own household best.

The supposedly eight-hundred-thousand-strong Imperial Guards were missing nearly half their paper strength.

And of the remainder many spent their days laboring on the docks of Upper Capital just to earn food.

When it came to socializing, entertaining guests, and building connections—

Imperial Guard scions were absolutely first-rate.

But commanding troops?

Dou Guoming and Yue Huan at least possessed some family or teacher inheritance.

The other heirs of Imperial Guard military families knew very clearly what level they actually stood at.

Old Fifth Han might have become the Military Commissioner’s son-in-law.

But in background and status he still could not compare with these true military heirs.

The two highest-status men here were Zhong Mao of the Zhong Clan and Zu Dongcheng of the Zu Clan.

The Western Army was vastly stronger and older than the newly risen Zu Clan Army.

If Zhong Tianlang had been present, there would have been no question who stood highest.

But Zhong Mao was only from a collateral branch.

So among the group—

Zu Dongcheng naturally held the highest standing.

More importantly—

Zu Dongcheng truly possessed ability.

At fifteen, he had already followed his father through campaigns across the southeast.

At this point, calling him merely a talented heir understating the matter.

Ignore his age and he could already be called a veteran commander.

The young heirs had gathered according to the intentions of their families and teachers.

Then they headed north together.

Along the way they had done more than simply build friendships.

At their age, ambition still burned hot.

They still possessed dreams.

Yue Huan and Old Fifth Han were the finest horsemen among them.

But when it came to training and commanding troops—

Zu Dongcheng stood above the rest.

At one point the others even handed their own troops over to Zu Dongcheng for combined training.

Everyone studied and tested methods of drilling troops and forming battle arrays together.

The Zu Clan’s methods of troop training were famous throughout Qian.

When the Zu Clan Army first rose, Zu Zhuming had built it from men he personally recruited.

There had been no ready-made army to inherit.

In only half a month the young heirs clearly saw changes in the bearing and spirit of their troops.

Since Zu Dongcheng had the highest status and the greatest ability naturally, everyone became convinced by him.

That was why, when Yan cavalry suddenly appeared, this complicated “combined army” had actually been able to form proper battle arrays so quickly.

Whenever cavalry faced infantry what cavalry most loved seeing was scattered infantry fleeing in disorder.

Had these thirty thousand Qian troops truly lost formation or begun collapsing earlier the two Mobile Generals commanding those six thousand Yan riders would absolutely have ordered a charge.

Six thousand cavalry against thirty thousand scattered infantry.

The numbers looked badly unequal.

Yet the cavalry still would have possessed an enormous chance of victory.

Before today while marching through their own territory they had received no news that Yan cavalry had already bypassed the Three Frontiers and penetrated deep into Qian.

Naturally, the precautions during the march had become somewhat ceremonial.

After all if a man walked from his own sitting room to his bedroom every night, would he really carry a kitchen knife in one hand and hold his phone ready to call the police with the other?

Fortunately—

Zu Dongcheng had been alert.

He noticed something wrong.

The army’s “eyes and ears” seemed to be disappearing.

That was why he immediately ordered the force to move toward Qingshan County instead of continuing toward Chuzhou City.

Without Zu Dongcheng this mixed army might very well have marched beneath Chuzhou City’s walls by sunset.

Still when Yan cavalry truly appeared, everyone had been shocked.

Had the Three Frontiers already fallen?

Had the north collapsed?

How could it happen this quickly?

What had happened to their fathers and uncles?

Fortunately—

Zu Dongcheng immediately roared at everyone to stabilize morale.

He declared that this was only a Yan cavalry force that had infiltrated deep into Qian.

Military merit had delivered itself to their doorstep!

Six thousand Yan cavalry that was certainly no small force.

But to these young heirs it did not sound terrifying either.

Yan and Qian had not truly fought each other blade-to-blade in nearly a century.

They were young men who had not yet been beaten by reality.

Naturally, they carried a mysterious confidence.

Then more Yan cavalry continued appearing.

And everyone went numb.

Motherfucker.

Why are there so many Yan dogs?

Even Zu Dongcheng felt a chill.

If the thirty thousand men under him had all been Zu Clan troops he would have possessed the confidence to fight while retreating in formation.

As long as they could reach Qingshan County and use the walls the situation would stabilize.

But Zu Dongcheng knew perfectly well that Zu Clan troops were not even the majority here.

Forming ranks and holding ground was one thing.

Trying to fight while retreating some gap or disorder would almost certainly appear.

Once Yan cavalry seized that opening and smashed into it the whole army might collapse.

Messengers requesting aid had already been sent in every direction.

Once twenty thousand Yan cavalry arrived everyone understood there was no road left except holding their ground and waiting for reinforcements.

If they wanted to blame anyone they could only blame their elders along the frontier for somehow allowing twenty thousand Yan cavalry to penetrate this far south.

Of course, if they knew the true number was not twenty thousand but two hundred fifty thousand they might have collapsed on the spot.

For now, however the situation remained stable.

“Dongcheng, do you think the Yan will attack that side?” Zhong Mao asked.

Zu Dongcheng drew a deep breath.

“They will.”

Their three-part formation appeared mutually supporting.

But each section also possessed considerable independence.

The formation directly facing the Yan the one under the greatest pressure was built around Zu Clan troops reinforced by three thousand Western Army soldiers.

It possessed the finest troops and discipline.

The western formation consisted of Beihe Dare-to-Die Troops and Western Army soldiers.

The eastern formation was composed entirely of Imperial Guards.

During the earlier probing attack, the Yan had clearly been testing the quality of all three formations.

Zu Dongcheng believed the Yan had already seen it.

The eastern formation made up of Imperial Guards had performed the worst under pressure.

That left Dou Guoming and Yue Huan looking somewhat embarrassed.

When the troops under your command failed to uphold your face naturally, the commanding generals lost face as well.

But hidden inside that eastern formation were more than a hundred war carts.

These were not the ancient chariots used by states that once boasted thousands or ten-thousands of chariots.

They were battlefield machines designed by Zu Zhuming specifically to counter Yan cavalry.

In open battle the carts could provide a mobile wall, slowing and neutralizing part of the cavalry advantage.

At the same time the finest archers and crossbowmen had all been placed in the center of the Imperial Guard formation.

And although several bed crossbows had already fired earlier nearly forty more remained hidden inside the eastern formation!

If the Yan truly intended to devour them they would naturally bite into the place that looked easiest to swallow.

And there—

Zu Dongcheng had prepared a grand gift.

He turned toward Dou Guoming and Yue Huan.

“Brother Guoming. Brother Huan.

“Please return to the formation and steady your men.

“I’ve kept our cavalry in reserve for you.”

“Understood!”

“Understood!”

There was no formal superior-subordinate relationship between them.

Strictly speaking—

Dou Guoming’s noble rank was even higher than Zu Dongcheng’s.

But they were intelligent men.

At a moment like this they would not behave foolishly.

Stories from later history about pampered idiots, or jokes like “why don’t they eat meat porridge?”— most of the time, they really were best treated as jokes.

So now all the young heirs directly acknowledged Zu Dongcheng as the overall commander and obeyed his orders.

No matter what the situation had become dangerous.

They had to endure.

They had to hold.

They had to wait for reinforcements or wait for the Yan to withdraw.

“General Han.

“Please enter the cavalry reserve and await my command.”

“Understood.”

Old Fifth Han cupped his fists.

Among the entire thirty-thousand-man army there were only three thousand cavalry.

And even those cavalry varied greatly in quality.

Sending them out to directly collide with Yan cavalry was impossible.

They could only be kept as a mobile reserve.

“Everyone says Yan’s iron cavalry is unequalled beneath Heaven.

“At first, I didn’t believe it.

“I always thought the Xishan Camp cavalry under my Second Uncle would never lose to the Yan.

“But after seeing them with my own eyes today—

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Zhong Mao said.

The military bearing of the Yan cavalry was genuinely shocking.

Zu Dongcheng shook his head.

“The battle hasn’t even begun.”

Zhong Mao looked at him curiously.

“You don’t believe it, Brother Dongcheng?”

“No.

“The Western Army’s Xishan Camp has always used the Northern Qiang as a whetstone.

“But along the desert frontier—the Yan have always fought the barbarians.

“Compared with the barbarians—what are the Northern Qiang?”

Zhong Mao shook his head and gave a bitter smile.

“Not comparable.”

Then he asked, “Brother Dongcheng, you believe the cavalry before us is the Zhenbei Army?”

“My father loves military equipment.

“He has collected armor and weapons from every Qian army—as well as from other states, and even from distant lands in the west.

“The armor worn by the Yan before us is dark, muted, and austere.

“It is completely different from the bright armor of the Jingnan Army.

“And their warhorses remain calm while facing battle.

“Brother Zhong understands the temperament of horses better than I do.

“On a battlefield filled with killing intent—horses can feel that pressure too.”

“Indeed.”

“So from all this—the Yan cavalry before us should be the force they are proudest of.

“The Zhenbei Army.”

Zhong Mao inhaled deeply.

Then slowly exhaled.

“Don’t laugh at me.

“I’m scared.

“Really scared.

“But when you said this was the Zhenbei Army—somehow I also became excited.

“Like those years when I had just first slept with a maid at home, then went out on campaign for several months without tasting meat.”

“Heh.”

Zu Dongcheng smiled.

The Zhong Clan had sat atop the Western Army’s many military families for decades.

Naturally, that position had not come from pure luck.

Zhong Mao’s words alone proved that the blood of the Zhong Clan’s younger generation had not cooled.

“If only Qian’s horse administration hadn’t rotted.

“If only we had enough cavalry of our own...”

Against pirates.

Against southwestern native chieftains.

Against domestic rebels.

The existing government armies had actually been enough.

Train properly.

Learn to kill.

Maintain morale.

Satisfy those basic requirements and ordinary domestic warfare was easy enough.

But now, standing here and feeling the vast pressure created by enemy cavalry a man could not help feeling powerless.

Cavalry.

Cavalry.

Without enough cavalry this battle was humiliating from the very beginning!

Zhong Mao sighed.

Truthfully the excuse that “Yan has good horse country while Qian has nowhere to raise horses” might fool outsiders.

It could not fool men who had grown up inside armies.

In earlier years the court had invested heavily in horse administration.

The result had been a complete disaster.

And even setting cavalry aside if military pay had simply been issued in full if the discrepancy in troop numbers had remained within ten or fifteen percent rather than becoming absurd then the Three Frontiers alone should still have had more than six hundred thousand soldiers.

The Imperial Guards could casually have sent three or four hundred thousand troops out of Upper Capital.

There would have been no need to mobilize the Western Army.

No need to transfer troops from the southeast.

No need to recruit Dare-to-Die Troops.

Qian could casually have fielded an army of one million.

Then, so what if Yan’s iron cavalry was unrivalled beneath Heaven?

“The Yan have come fiercely this time.

“My father and our elders along the frontier must be under enormous pressure,” Zu Dongcheng said.

“Brother Dongcheng.

“Shouldn’t the two of us spend more time thinking about whether we can survive what’s right in front of us?”

“If we can’t hold, then we can’t hold.

“What good does thinking about it do?

“We can’t think another army into existence.”

“Brother Dongcheng really is carefree.”

“If you ever get the chance, Brother Zhong—come visit the southeast.

“Look at the sea more often.

“It changes a person.”

“Why do I feel like you’re mocking me?”

“At a time like this—we ought to talk a little more.

“Otherwise, we may not have another chance.”

“That makes sense.”

Zu Dongcheng said, “Western Pass bumpkin.”

Zhong Mao immediately answered, “Sea turtle bastard.”

“I’ve wanted to say that for a long time.”

“So have I.”

Those were the kinds of nicknames their elders normally threw at one another.

A nickname did not feel right unless it carried a little regional contempt then got tossed into hot oil and fried until the flavor truly came out.

“Hahahahahaha!”

The two young generals laughed together.

The soldiers around them who had worn tense expressions only moments earlier also calmed somewhat.

“Brother Dongcheng.

“The Yan are moving!”

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

“TIGER!”

The Yan cavalry began to move.

Around them the thunder of countless hooves rolled like ten thousand war drums struck at once.

The sound was thunder.

The momentum wind.

“Motherfucking Yan dogs!

“Come on!

“Your grandfather is waiting for you!”

Zhong Mao roared.

Under pressure this terrifying, maintaining a calm heart was almost impossible.

Shouting abuse was one way to vent.

Zu Dongcheng urged his horse forward.

He raised his long saber.

Then shouted, “PINGNAN ARMY!”

Every Zu Clan soldier in the formation ahead roared together, “TEN THOUSAND VICTORIES!”

“TEN THOUSAND VICTORIES!”

“TEN THOUSAND VICTORIES!”

Naturally, the Zu Clan Army could not formally call itself the “Zu Clan Army.”

Everyone with eyes knew perfectly well whose army it was.

The Zu Clan mark had already been burned deeply into the force.

Even the Chancellors at court and the Emperor himself would find it difficult to divide the army in a short time.

But openly shouting “Zu Clan Army” before battle in front of thousands of witnesses would be far too politically dangerous.

This was where their treatment differed enormously from that of the Marquis of Jingnan and Marquis of Zhenbei when they passed Nanwang City.

Those two Marquises could accept the kneeling worship of hundreds of thousands of Yan soldiers and commoners while laughing and chatting without worrying about imperial suspicion.

These men could not.

Even old Lord Zhong and Zu Zhuming would never dare behave with that level of arrogance.

Dust rolled across the battlefield.

Before long everything became still again.

A battlefield could never truly be silent.

But at this moment the stillness made every man tense.

So tense that some could seemingly hear nothing except their own breathing.

Finally the Yan moved!

“Brother Zhong.

“Quickly take five hundred Western Army axemen to the eastern formation.

“Help them stabilize the ranks in case—”

Zu Dongcheng’s words stopped.

Because he saw the true direction of the Yan attack.

It was not the eastern formation filled with Imperial Guards.

Instead the Yan were charging the main formation built from Zu Clan Army and Western Army troops!

“How...

“How dare they!”

Zhong Mao was stunned as well.

“The Yan are actually charging the front formation!”

...

Li Fusheng’s eyes had already filled with blood-red threads.

He raised his horse lance.

Pointed it toward the most heavily defended Qian formation.

Then roared, “MOMENTUM OF THE CHARGE!”

Behind him the thousand riders of the Formation-Breaking Camp answered as one, “ADVANCE—

“NO RETREAT!”

Li Fusheng lifted the horse lance high.

“WILL TO BREAK THE FORMATION!”

All around them thousands upon thousands of Zhenbei Army riders urged their horses into the charge and thundered, “NO LIFE—

“ONLY DEATH!”

---

(End of Chapter)