Chapter 178: 176: A Desperate Charge (For Alliance Leader

Seeing the rebels halt far away, Yang Jiamo's lips curled into a cold sneer. He abruptly took up his bow and aimed.

With a hiss, an arrow flew out, and a rebel was seen falling.

"Good!"

"The General's divine archery!"

The government troops cheered in unison, but it was the rebel leader, standing at the very front, who had been struck in the shoulder.

Yang Jiamo's single arrow from this extreme distance sent several peasant soldiers turning and fleeing in terror — after all, they had only been training for two months.

The regular squad leader who was hit was named Xiao Zongxian. He came from a prominent Luling clan, but one that had fallen into decline for several generations. He had enlisted in the army at the Ji'an prefectural city as a drifter, a dock laborer just like Zhang Tieniu.

"Fall back! No running!"

Xiao Zongxian shouted, enduring the pain as he scrambled up, and was supported by a propaganda officer as he retreated.

"Chase down the rebels!"

Yang Jiamo was highly experienced in this. Trash rebels like these would rout if you just kept chasing them.

Several hundred armored government troops charged out, weapons in hand, while the guard-station soldiers continued hauling the plundered goods.

However, neither the pursuers nor the fleeing men could form ranks; all of them were forced onto the narrow ridges between the flooded paddies.

The scene was utterly bizarre. There were three paddy ridges in total, and the two sides formed six long, running lines.

The peasant soldiers truly collapsed, and their collapse was inexplicable.

At first, they were retreating as ordered, but then they saw the men beside them fleeing, and so everyone just knew to run. Some, finding the ridges blocked, simply kicked off their shoes, stepped barefoot into the flooded paddy, and cut diagonally toward another ridge.

Xiao Zongxian, retreating through the pain, shouted hoarsely: "Don't scatter! Don't break apart!"

These were peasant soldiers from several nearby villages, over six hundred men in total. Today was the first time they had ever assembled together; normally, they trained village by village.

No one heeded Xiao Zongxian's orders. Never mind kicking off their shoes to run — some had even thrown away their weapons.

The wolf-brush spears were especially troublesome, clumsy and awkward, utterly unsuited for flight.

Clang, clang, clang, clang!

After a brief pursuit, Yang Jiamo ordered the gongs sounded to recall the troops. There was simply no way to keep chasing them. His own household retainers were all wearing iron armor — how could they possibly catch lightly equipped peasants?

Ah, if only this were the north. With warhorses, he could annihilate the rebels completely.

Though Hu Dinggui was also fleeing, he kept twisting his head back to observe the enemy. The moment he saw the government troops halt their pursuit, he immediately shouted: "The government troops have stopped chasing! Halt, quickly!"

"Tweet, tweet!"

The propaganda officer blew a bamboo whistle. Because there weren't enough suonas to go around, village drills all used bamboo whistles.

Two months of training had conditioned the peasant soldiers. Hearing the bamboo whistles, they stopped one after another, and many began running back to regroup.

Xiao Zongxian ordered a headcount and found over thirty men missing. Who knew where they had run off to.

"We're going back! Follow my orders — no more running wild!"

Enduring the pain, Xiao Zongxian pulled out the arrow. Because the distance had been so great, the arrow had not sunk deep into the flesh, but the barb still tore out a clump of bloody tissue.

"Regional Commander, those rebels are coming back."

Yang Jiamo glanced back and sneered: "Ignore them. Get the rest of the goods onto the boats quickly. The rebel reinforcements may be arriving soon."

"Tweet, tweet, tweet!"

Another burst of bamboo whistles came from the south — peasant soldiers from a neighboring town were rushing to support them. But pressed for time, this unit had only mustered a little over a hundred men.

The propaganda officer beside Xiao Zongxian suddenly raised the peasant army banner, which had an extra embroidered hoe compared to the regular army's standard.

"Great Unity under Heaven!" the propaganda officer roared, brandishing the flag.

"Great Unity under Heaven!"

The peasant soldiers echoed the cry.

The propaganda officer shouted again: "We till the land and eat!"

"We till the land and eat!"

The peasant soldiers rushing to the rescue from the neighboring town also raised their banner.

"Great Unity under Heaven!"

"We till the land and eat!"

The peasant soldiers began to form ranks. Many stepped into the flooded paddies, advancing slowly, one foot deep, one foot shallow.

Those peasant soldiers coming to support from the south took a detour, jogging over to merge with them.

Before long, the two groups of peasant soldiers converged, their strength swelling to over seven hundred men.

Yang Jiamo paid them no heed. He led his troops in a gradual withdrawal toward the riverbank, covering the guard-station soldiers as they boarded the boats with the plundered goods.

Or rather, it could not be called covering them — he was simply steadying their nerves.

These guard-station soldiers were far too weak, and they had been thoroughly traumatized. The mere sight of rebels terrified them, and hearing the rebel slogans made them want to flee.

"Speed up the pursuit! Don't let those damned officials escape — that's our grain!"

Yang Jiamo stood expressionless on the paddy ridge. Once the peasant soldiers entered bow range, he loosed another arrow at Xiao Zongxian.

This shot went slightly wide, striking an ordinary peasant soldier nearby.

"Pu Er is dead!"

That peasant soldier collapsed, hit by the arrow, and the sight sent the nearby peasant soldiers recoiling in terror.

The formation fell into complete chaos, showing signs of collapse once again.

"Raise shields, raise shields! Wave the wolf-brush spears to block the arrows!"

Xiao Zongxian bellowed.

A few rattan-shield bearers lifted their wooden pot-lid shields, while others just stood there, frozen and dumbstruck.

"Tweet, tweet!"

The propaganda officer shouted: "Fellow villagers, if we don't stop these damned officials today, they'll bring troops to raid us again. They'll steal our grain, steal our fields. Don't be afraid — shout with me: Great Unity under Heaven!"

"Great Unity under Heaven!"

"Farm the land, fill our bellies!"

"Farm the land, fill our bellies!"

The peasant soldiers, on the verge of collapse, miraculously rallied, reformed ranks, and resumed their advance.

Yang Jiamo finally took them seriously. He summoned his several hundred household retainers to his side, arrayed them along a horizontal paddy ridge, and had them all raise their bows, ready to shoot.

Most of the Great Ming frontier army's cavalry were equipped with the Kaiyuan bow.

This was a soft bow, not very powerful, but convenient for mounted archery. The tips of the bow had hooks; if two cavalry forces exchanged fire until their arrows were spent, the hooks could be used to pluck arrows stuck in the ground.

The arrows were specially made long arrows, to prevent overdrawing the bow during mounted shooting.

"Halt!"

"Whoa!"

The peasant soldiers, who had trained for only two months, stopped advancing in perfect unison and simply watched the government troops from a distance.

Their objective was not to fight a pitched battle, but to tie the government troops down!

"Thwip thwip thwip!"

Several hundred household retainers loosed their arrows in unison. Only a dozen or so found their mark; all the rest fell short.

The distance was too great, beyond effective range, and there were wooden shields and wolf-bristle spears blocking the way.

Moreover, even if hit, as long as no vital point was struck, there was essentially no danger to life. This combination of soft bow and long arrows, though highly accurate, had very poor arrow velocity retention, and its killing power at long range was severely lacking.

Its advantage was that, while riding at a gallop, the rider could quickly draw the bow and accurately hit the target.

As for killing power, that was not a consideration for mounted archery.

"Carry the wounded, fall back five paces!"

From the start of the engagement until now, three peasant soldiers had been shot dead and over a dozen wounded.

Xiao Zongxian broke out in a cold sweat down his back. Had he halted a moment slower, the casualties would likely have multiplied several times over.

Even so, the peasant soldiers showed signs of breaking, for suffering a ranged attack was deeply damaging to morale.

Yang Jiamo was equally astonished. He had already seen that these were all raw recruits, rebels who had joined not long ago. Yet after that volley, which would have routed many government troops, these rebels had only fallen into disarray.

"Doo doo doo doo doo!"

From the river to the south, the sound of a suona horn suddenly rang out — that was the scout boat Yang Jiamo had dispatched.

He had sent out several in total, scattered across ten li, all small sampans that could hold only two or three men.

"Retreat! Abandon any goods not yet loaded — rebel reinforcements are coming."

Yang Jiamo was extremely decisive. Having led troops for over a decade, he could be described as swift as the wind.

When there was advantage to be seized, swift as the wind; when danger loomed, equally swift as the wind.

In his eyes, infantry and allied forces were all expendable, to be thrown away to their deaths at any time. Only his own household-retainer cavalry mattered.

Xiao Zongxian shouted with fervor: "Reinforcements are here! Advance!"

The guard-station troops dropped the goods and instantly fled at top speed.

Yang Jiamo's household retainers, however, ran slowly — they were weighed down by their armor and carried bows and arrows. Each man bore thirty long arrows; that was the standard kit.

And this wretched terrain — they could only run along the paddy ridges; running too fast made it easy to stumble into the flooded fields.

With only two li left to the riverbank, the rebels behind were closing in, which made Yang Jiamo furrow his brow.

"Halt! Nock your bows!"

Unable to form ranks, the government troops stood single-file along the ridge and loosed a volley on command.

"Halt! Shields up, shields up! Wave those wolf-bristle spears too!"

"Thwip thwip thwip!"

Wooden pot-lid shields were raised, and the wolf-bristle troops brandished their long bamboo poles with branches attached, but the distance was simply too close. Over forty men were struck at once.

The peasant-soldier formation collapsed in an instant, one after another fleeing.

"Kill!"

Hu Dinggui suddenly roared and charged out, slogging through the muddy water of the fields. Of his ten-man squad, six had already fled; the rest followed him in the charge.

The propaganda officer, his face twisted in agony, clutched his chest and shouted: "Great Unity under Heaven! Farm the land, fill our bellies! Our fields — don't let the curs take them! Kill the rebels, quickly! Kill... cough cough cough..."

He coughed repeatedly, vomited blood, and collapsed.

"Mr. Yang is dead! Mr. Yang is dead!"

The peasant soldiers cried out. Many who were fleeing turned back to look when they heard this.

"Mr. Yang is dead! Waa-woo-woo-woo-woo~~~~"

Several peasant soldiers actually broke down weeping on the spot.

Xiao Zongxian, burning with fury, bellowed: "Avenge Mr. Yang! Follow me, kill!"

Of the seven hundred-odd peasant soldiers, only a little over three hundred remained; all the rest had routed.

Those who had not fled now charged forward, heedless of death. With their crude weapons, they attacked government troops who outnumbered them, were better armed, and wore full body armor.

"They've all gone mad!"

Yang Jiamo's face filled with terror. He ordered another volley.

"Thwip thwip thwip thwip!"

This time, nearly a hundred men were struck by arrows. Some fell to the ground at once; others charged on with arrows still embedded in their bodies.

"Withdraw, quickly!"

Yang Jiamo could already see the rebel warships. This place was too close to Linjiang Prefecture; the main force of the rebel fleet was stationed there.

If he did not flee now, it would be too late. This band of rebels before him had wasted far too much of his time!

Even now, Yang Jiamo could not fathom why a random raid on a village had encountered a large force of rebel soldiers. Could it be that every village and town had rebel troops garrisoned? That was too terrifying — just how many troops did the rebels have?

Being delayed until now was completely outside Yang Jiamo's plans.

On receiving the order to retreat, the several hundred household retainers turned and ran. They could only run along the field ridges, because the gear on their bodies was too heavy — if they stepped into the paddy fields, they simply could not move.

As they ran, some of the soldiers turned back to shoot arrows. Their bows could shoot very rapidly.

One after another, over ten more peasant soldiers were struck by arrows. Hu Dinggui charged at the very front; of his ten-man squad, only two remained, three counting himself. Yet the slowest-running soldiers were now only a dozen or so paces away from him.

Abruptly, Hu Dinggui leaped onto a field ridge. His speed instantly increased, and barefoot, spear in hand, he charged forward.

The ridge was far too narrow, allowing only one person to pass.

Hu Dinggui thrust his spear into a soldier's lower back, but try as he might, it would not penetrate — because beneath the cotton armor was a layer of chain mail.

For these frontier generals, after plundering wealth, their first priority was to equip their household retainers. Every single retainer had vast sums of silver poured into him.

That soldier drew his blade and turned to slash. Hu Dinggui abandoned his spear, ducked low and rammed forward, tumbling into the field together with the soldier. He pulled a long arrow from the soldier's quiver, stabbed it down into the man's eye socket, swiftly pulled it out and stabbed again, and finally drove one arrow into the throat.

When Hu Dinggui stood up, he found that one of the men under him had already been hacked to death, and the other was grappling hand-to-hand with a soldier in the field.

Hu Dinggui picked up his own spear, charged over, and thrust it at the enemy's throat.

Xiao Zongxian also charged into the fray. The peasant soldiers could jump into the fields to surround and kill, but the government troops could only fight alone on the ridges.

A few soldiers also jumped into the paddy fields, but their boots sank into the mud and water, making every movement extremely labored. They practically became living targets for the peasant soldiers to surround and slaughter.

Gradually, these peasant soldiers, who had trained for only two months, killed over forty household retainers in total. The price they paid was over 160 dead and wounded, of whom more than twenty died on the spot, and some who had suffered fatal wounds had not yet breathed their last.

Hu Dinggui's eyes were completely red, half from fury, half from grief.

With the sole remaining man under him, he chased madly toward the riverbank, only to see that the government troops had already all boarded the boats.

"Cast off, quickly, cast off!"

Yang Jiamo shouted in panic. The rebel warships were drawing closer and closer.

Yang Jiamo seemed to have forgotten that the several boats he was on were loaded with goods that had taken two shichen to carry aboard!

And it was not only the guard-station soldiers doing the carrying — they had also seized some mules and plow oxen. One trip by a plow ox could haul two or three dan of grain.

The boats were far too heavily laden with cargo and simply could not move fast.

(End of chapter)