Chapter 57

Bai Lang slept soundly in the wagon pulled by horses during the day, and at night he rode around killing deserters; within three days no one dared to flee. However, Xiangyang was already near; Bai Lang looked at his troops and said, 'Nominally we still have about four thousand five hundred men... subtract the empty rolls, and here we have at most three thousand seven or eight hundred. Enough! After all, it's just a one‑time army.' Bai Lang finished arming himself, leapt onto his horse, and rode back and forth in front of his own troops.

His eyes fell upon that place, and the soldiers and commanders there shrank back slightly; even their warhorses snorted and stepped backward. Bai Lang raised his head to look at the raised banner—it was the Flying Tiger banner with wings, though the tiger was white. Bai Lang turned his horse, gazing toward Zhang Xianzhong's main camp in the distance, while the few soldiers who had followed him from the start were over to one side beheading the captured scout of Zhang Xianzhong, blood flowing onto his horse's hooves.

Bai Lang lowered his head, glanced, and hummed a little tune to himself—others couldn't hear it, but he knew it clearly: 'The five‑star red flag flutters in the wind... how loud the victory song is.' Alas, behind him there was neither a five‑star red flag, nor was the Ming Dynasty a state he knew well, 'Still better than the Tartars, and also better than the Roving Bandits.' He muttered, squeezed his legs lightly, and the horse let out a sudden long neigh, breaking into a trot.

At this point they were still ten or so li from Zhang Xianzhong's main camp, Bai Lang had already spurred his horse forward, without bothering to organize the troops, assign routes, or even say who would go first or second in which wave of attack—in his view it was merely a matter of charging the formation; if he were to command it, Bai Lang truly lacked experience in this, and rather than haphazardly allocating forces it would be better to simply lead them in a single wave. The hoofbeats thundered; because they were trotting, the infantry could keep up by marching quickly.

Beforehand, men and horses had already eaten their fill of rations; these days, under Bai Lang's orders, they had eaten and drunk to their heart's content, so the ten days' worth of supplies was gone in just five—precisely the moment before this sudden assault. If they did not want to starve, they would have to obtain food from the enemy camp. Yet even so, as Bai Lang led his men forward, infantry and cavalry continued to slip away in secret...

The leading White Wolf naturally knew this, but he merely smiled and dismissed it. After ten or so li, a little more than an hour later they were nearly there. 'Halt! Follow me in attack after a moment!' White Wolf let those still with him rest their feet; there were probably still about three thousand men. Meanwhile, Zhang Xianzhong's army ahead had already left camp and formed up; this Eight Great Kings, a veteran of many battles, had long prepared to besiege the city and relieve it.

However, Bai Lang's march was too swift; the troops he had deployed on the outskirts had not yet taken position when they arrived a half‑li before the camp. 'Is this government army throwing everything into one gamble?' a rebel commander said.

White Wolf held his blade at the very front of the army, making no mobilization preparations; when the time seemed about right he signaled the surrounding soldiers to sound the horn, then he charged ahead to begin the assault. 'Men and horses all wear heavy armor, and nothing can stand before them.' This ought to be the wording of later records of this battle. White Wolf continued to wear his usual inner mail shirt, outer scale armor, a tiger‑mouth phoenix‑wing helmet with a red cape at the back, wielding the Blue Dragon Swallow Moon Blade, his warhorse still clad in half barding, and he plunged straight into the enemy ranks.

The four‑foot blade swept sideways with inconceivable force; bolstered by Internal Force, this strike smashed the spear array meant to resist the horse charge into powder—indeed, it did not merely cut off the spearheads but shattered them outright under the overwhelming power. When the warhorse's massive body crashed into the battle line, a sound of breaking bones rang out at once—man wearing double armor, horse wearing barding, and this horse being a northwestern steed, the combined weight of man and mount had already exceeded a thousand catties; the force of this impact, even if the horse's speed was not great, could not be withstood by mortal flesh.

Zhang Xianzhong had been a Roving Bandit for many years; setting aside other matters, his elite armored troops could still be muster ed in a few sets. These armored troops were basically equipped for his adopted sons and trusted aides, yet before White Wolf what use were they? The Blue Dragon Swallow Moon Blade is not only a sharp weapon for killing; its weight of eighty‑two catties is enough to be used as a club to beat men to death—so White Wolf had no fear of chipping the blade on hard armor. White Wolf charged into the formation; his warhorse collided and trampled, throwing the battle line into utter chaos. And White Wolf's speed in killing was shocking to hear.

Now he had become quite adept at wielding the long‑handled great blade; the skill honed by feeding on human lives and the pressure of the battlefield allowed Bai Lang's technique to grow rapidly. With one hand as a pivot and the other applying force, both hands shifting at any moment could easily alter the blade's path, making its use far smoother and easier than brute hacking—as for power, the blade's weight alone suffices; once swung it yields overwhelming might. Hence his killing speed is truly swift; the blade's flowers swirl left and right, turning into rolling waves of blood.

At that moment a roar rang out; ahead, a man on a black horse came charging, looking as sturdy as an iron tower on his mount, wielding a pitch‑black iron spear aimed at Bai Lang. 'Oh, I did not expect that among these bandits there would be such a daredevil!' Bai Lang laughed loudly, spurred his horse to meet the blade, holding it inverted in his left hand; as the two horses crossed, Bai Lang's right claw shot out, seizing the shaft behind the spearhead, and he jerked it backward and downward. The warrior among the bandits was pried up from his saddle... the two horses passed each other, and this man was dragged bodily from his horse.

He too was a big man, weighing about 180 catties; now both hands gripped the spear shaft firmly, the slightly bent shaft with one end held in Bai Lang's right hand while he grasped the shaft aloft. Bai Lang's warhorse beneath him could take no more; Bai Lang keenly sensed this and immediately let go. The man fell together with the spear but did not hit the ground—because Bai Lang had seized his head. 'What is your name? Never mind... you are merely a bandit; your name would only bring shame to your parents!'

Having spoken, White Wolf clenched his claw and instantly crushed the man's skull, just like a real tiger's claw, leaving a shattered gouge on the cranium. Then White Wolf flicked his hand, tossing the corpse aside, while at the same time picking up the iron spear the man had been gripping. 'This iron spear weighs about twenty catties, worthy of a brave commander.' White Wolf handed the spear to his left hand; his right held the Blue Dragon Swallow Moon Blade, left hand the iron spear, and he resumed the charge.

At that moment the Ming troops had also hacked into the disordered vanguard of the Roving Bandits—Bai Lang's bravery likewise awed them, while the chaotic rebel vanguard before them stood for military merit—so far the government forces still had confidence they could crush tens of thousands of bandits, and this sort of thing had happened more than once or twice. The nameless man Bai Lang slew appeared to be quite notable among the rebel ranks, likely a rare brave commander, yet before Bai Lang a single clash turned him into a corpse; consequently the rebel army, without waiting for Bai Lang to press forward, had already begun to rout.

Then it's simple—drive the defeated soldiers to charge forward...