Chapter 453: Outer Courtyard

The deafening boom of cannon echoed over Thirty-Li Post, the crackle of fire lances popping like firecrackers outside the walls, an anthem sound rising from the south, while from the north of the town came the blast of the Qing army's conch horns.

In the inner courtyard, where blood sprayed sideways, hoarse battle cries drowned out every sound beyond; the fierce fighting inside the Horse God Temple still raged on.

Above the heads of the crowd outside the courtyard gate, wolf tooth clubs, blade staffs, and axes rose and fell in waves. The first few Qing soldiers who had charged in lay on the ground, and the five or six survivors were packed into a tight cluster, besieged by all manner of heavy weapons. The two outermost Qing soldiers had their waist sabers broken; the one on the left raised his left arm, trying to block with the pang pai strapped to it. Such a small shield could normally only fend off arrows and waist sabers, useless against heavy troops like these. Under the pounding of a wolf tooth club, wood splinters flew everywhere, the wooden shield face shattered to pieces, and that Qing soldier's left arm bone was smashed into several sections. The iron-inlaid cotton armor he wore was utterly worthless against blunt weapons; the savage battering was absorbed entirely by his body. With each blow he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood, his eyes glazed over, his whole body limp, and he collapsed backward onto the Qing soldiers behind him.

Two Qing soldiers beside him raised double-handed shields, straining to block the heavy weapons as the Iron Armor Soldiers hammered them fiercely. The cowhide on the shields was torn to shreds. In their panic, they retreated toward the gate; the two limp Qing soldiers in front immediately toppled to the ground. The remaining Qing soldiers fell back to the threshold, where a furious roar erupted from the rear — a group of Qing soldiers was already jammed up behind them, among them quite a few elite guard in bright armor.

Xu Squad Leader strode at the very front, his wolf tooth club swinging violently down at the nearest Qing soldier. The club head had already caught the roof tiles above the gate, sending them clattering down before his eyes. A line spear thrust from the rear was struck dead-on, its shaft instantly snapping into three pieces that flew apart. One section of the shaft got impaled on the wolf tooth club and, along with the club, smashed into the waist saber another Qing soldier had raised to parry.

Xu Lengzi lifted his wolf tooth club, the head crashing against the door lintel. Neither side could swing up or down anymore, so both switched to thrusting and stabbing back and forth. The soldiers behind attacked through the gaps, and those who couldn't reach stabbed wildly over shoulders. A horse-slaying saber blade came over the top of a shield and stabbed repeatedly into Xu Lengzi's chest armor; the heavy blade edge broke open several gashes. Xu Lengzi let out a furious roar, shoved the wolf tooth club with both hands toward the faces of the Qing soldiers in the back row, freed one hand to grab the shield in front of him, and with a surge of strength the Qing soldier lost his grip — an iron face armor appeared before Xu Lengzi's eyes.

That White Armor Tartar held a guardless short smooth blade in his right hand and stabbed straight for Xu Lengzi's neck. Xu Lengzi raised his left arm, using his iron arm guard to deflect the smooth blade, then dropped his wolf tooth club, seized the wrist of the hand holding the smooth blade, and twisted the lower edge of the man's face armor with his right hand. After prying open a small gap, he drove his iron-gloved fingers up from below, gouging and stabbing fiercely at the man's face and eye sockets. Blood instantly streamed out from beneath the face armor, and the White Armor Tartar let out a harrowing, wretched howl.

At the threshold, the Bright Armor Soldiers of both sides were jammed inside the gate, all manner of blades clanging loudly against the doorframe. A shattered round shield was shoved up against the door lintel; broken weapons slid back and forth across helmets and shoulders. The exposed scale armor of both sides pressed tightly together, emitting a piercing scraping sound amid the grappling and shoving. Weapons from the rear rows struck their helmets with sharp, ringing clangs. Horrifying screams and furious roars mingled together.

Blood formed dense speckles all over the scale armor. The gate area was packed solid with men; the moment one fell, the person behind was instantly shoved to the front. In this sudden, caught-off-guard encounter, even the most death-fearing man could not retreat. Neither side had the slightest semblance of tactics, nor was anyone in command. The orders the team leader shouted were utterly ignored in the chaos.

Yang Guangdi gripped his sword, unable to squeeze in at all from the rear. Before his eyes were only the backs of his comrades. Amid the frenzied howls, the sound of powerful crossbows firing cut in intermittently. It seemed like someone was shouting something — it sounded somewhat familiar — but Yang Guangdi had no energy to spare to make it out.

The packed backs before him shifted forward from time to time, then paused again. Occasionally, splattered blood flew out from the crowd and sprayed onto his head and face. His feet trod on uneven, bumpy things, but he had no time to look down.

A fierce, impassioned shout rang out ahead, and the formation suddenly loosened. The backs before him all surged out through the courtyard gate. Yang Guangdi followed at the very rear, and just as he reached the gate he tripped and fell to the ground. Bodies were everywhere around him. He fell onto a man's stomach. The man's helmet was gone; on his bare forehead was a huge wound. His eyes kept blinking, and his left hand was still raised. Without a second thought, Yang Guangdi slashed his waist saber straight at the man's face.

The Qing soldier's head lolled sideways, the blade edge piercing into his left cheek. But the distance was too close, and Yang Guangdi's strike was not a straight thrust; the blade merely sliced a gash across the cheek. Blood immediately streamed down the Qing soldier's face. The Qing soldier seemed utterly oblivious, his expression not even changing.

Yang Guangdi hacked wildly again, not caring whether the man was dead or not, scrambled to his feet, and continued charging out the gate. Seven or eight men were piled up at the threshold; Yang Guangdi stepped over their bodies and jumped into the outer courtyard.

The outer courtyard was already a scene of utter chaos. Dozens of men fought in a tangled melee, and horses galloped among them, tearing the battle lines of both sides to shreds.

At first glance, Yang Guangdi spotted the most conspicuous figure — Xu Squad Leader. He was locked in a grapple with a towering White Armor Tartar, stabbing his short blade at the Tartar's back, but it seemed unable to pierce the scales. The White Armor Tartar ducked low and wrapped his arms around Xu Lengzi's waist; with a furious roar amid the struggle, he yanked Xu Lengzi into a stagger. Seizing the moment when his opponent's center of gravity was off, he then kicked hard at Xu Lengzi's right leg, sending the exhausted Xu Lengzi crashing to the ground. The Tartar pounced on top and pinned Xu Squad Leader down.

Yang Guangdi had no time to think. He lunged onto the Tartar and hacked at his throat guard with his waist saber, but the saber was too long to put any force into it. The Tartar blocked with his arm guard. The three men twisted together. Xu Squad Leader, breathing in heavy, ragged gasps, strained to wrench the Tartar's face armor askew while stabbing at his throat guard with his short blade. The Bright Armor Tartar pressed his helmet forward, denying Xu Lengzi a strike at his neck, all the while howling and battering Yang Guangdi's head with his iron arm guard.

The Bright Armor Tartar possessed immense strength. After just a few blows, Yang Guangdi's head was battered into a daze. With a shriek, he shoved his head forward, getting it under the Tartar's armpit, and drove his shoulder upward with violent force, lifting the Tartar's left upper arm.

"Stab! Stab him!"

Yang Guangdi's face was pressed against the Tartar's chest armor, his mouth howling without pause, both hands and his head bracing against the Tartar's left arm. Xu Squad Leader was still hammering at the man's helmet. Yang Guangdi kept screaming, and at last he heard the blade stab into the man's armpit, the blade edge pressing deeper inside with a wet, squelching sound.

The Tartar let out a shrill scream. Blood sprayed from his armpit, drenching Yang Guangdi's entire head and face. The Tartar's strength vanished almost instantly, yet Xu Squad Leader's short blade kept stabbing inward with all his might.

Yang Guangdi released his grip and smashed the man's face twice with his sword hilt. Feeling that the Tartar had gone limp, he staggered unsteadily to his feet. He reached to pull Xu Squad Leader up, but Xu Squad Leader, lying on the ground, was impossibly heavy. Yang Guangdi exerted all his strength to almost no effect whatsoever.

He abandoned the attempt, took a step forward with his sword raised, but before he could even distinguish who was on the ground, a horse suddenly galloped past before his eyes, knocking over someone — he could not tell which side. The horse stopped, twisted its hindquarters, and kicked backward repeatedly.

A low, muffled thud rang out. A large club smashed violently onto the horse's head. With a mournful cry, the horse collapsed sideways, its four hooves trembling and kicking at the air.

Before Yang Guangdi could see which side the person belonged to, a tiger tooth blade suddenly appeared ahead, sweeping across at him with tremendous force. Yang Guangdi instinctively blocked with his waist saber. The three-jin tiger tooth blade was unstoppable; Yang Guangdi was swept off his feet and crashed onto his back. A sharp pain lanced through his chest, and he instantly lost his breath. He could feel liquid flowing across his chest.

A Tartar wearing chain mail appeared in his field of vision. Yang Guangdi could not move. He watched as the man raised the tiger tooth blade high, about to bring it down.

Twang! A loud snap rang out. An armor-piercing bodkin arrow shot from the rear; its spinach-leaf-shaped arrowhead slammed violently into the Tartar's chain mail. Under the strike of the heavy, razor-sharp arrowhead, the interwoven iron rings fractured into fragments. The Qing soldier staggered backward with a cry of agony, the heavy blade tumbling from above his head.

Yang Guangdi lay flat on his back on the ground. A figure strode swiftly closer, stopping just two steps from that Qing soldier, practically standing right in front of him. The Qing soldier's chest had just suffered a heavy blow, the searing pain rendering his body immobile. He could only watch helplessly as the man's bow was drawn full and released in a flash — another armor-piercing arrow flew out like lightning, burying itself into the unarmored spot at his throat.

The Qing soldier's head snapped violently backward, his body retreating two steps before falling straight and rigid to the ground.

Only then did Yang Guangdi recognize the archer — it was Qin Jiuze. Qin Jiuze's right hand reached down, his fingers plucking a light arrow from his quiver, and he loosed it at a Dark-Armored Soldier nearby. Yang Guangdi hurriedly propped himself up. Twang! A bowstring snapped beside his ear, an arrow flew over his head, and an Anqing Iron Armor Soldier cried out and crumpled sideways to the ground.

Yang Guangdi turned his head to look. A Bright Armor Tartar was right at his side, already drawing his bow again, an armor-piercing bodkin arrow nocked on the string and aimed at Qin Jiuze. Ignoring the pain, Yang Guangdi desperately flung his waist saber upward. The saber struck the bow's body; the Tartar's hand slipped, and the armor-piercing bodkin arrow shot past Qin Jiuze's side. Qin Jiuze hurled his bow at that Dark-Armored Soldier, then ducked low mid-run and lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into the Qing soldier's abdomen. The two of them tumbled to the ground together.

Yang Guangdi tried to stand, but pain shot through his chest again. He grimaced, baring his teeth. Once the pain had eased slightly, he sucked in a breath and drew the small blade from his waist.

The courtyard was filled everywhere with the figures of men locked in combat. Frightened horses neighed in the corners by the walls. Wounded soldiers from both sides writhed and screamed in pools of blood.

Qin Jiuze was nearby, not far away, grappling on the ground with that Tartar. Both held short blades. Yang Guangdi, not bothering to get up, crawled through the blood toward them. Just then, someone rolled over right beside him, blocking his path. The man's body and head were smeared thick with blood; Yang Guangdi could not tell whose side he was on. He crawled up to him, grabbed the outer rim of the man's helmet, and yanked his face upward.

The man, suddenly seized, cried out in terror. Yang Guangdi still could not see his face. Pressing down on the man's back, he wrenched the helmet askew, exposing a patch of dark-bruised scalp. Without a word, Yang Guangdi stabbed his small blade into the back of the man's neck, then pulled it outward with a savage tug.

The small blade left a massive wound. The man clutched his neck, making gurgling sounds, blood gushing wildly through his fingers. Yang Guangdi's face was a mess of blood and sweat. He shoved the man's head aside and continued crawling forward. His chest still ached, but it was lighter than before.

One more crawl and he reached Qin Jiuze's position. The two were still wrestling, each trying to control the other's short blade. Yang Guangdi crawled to the legs and stabbed his blade into the Qing soldier's calf. The Qing soldier screamed. Qin Jiuze seized the opening and drove his blade into the Qing soldier's exposed neck.

Yang Guangdi released the knife handle and collapsed onto his back on the ground, his limbs almost completely drained of strength. From the corner of his eye, he saw Qin Jiuze spring up swiftly, take a step forward, and loose an arrow — he had no idea who it hit.

"Kill all the Tartars!"

He did not know whose voice it was. Yang Guangdi stirred, then with a violent effort flipped his body over. Propping himself up with both hands, he slowly got to his feet.

Blood dripped continuously from Yang Guangdi's body. The outer courtyard was a floor of blood. His ears were filled with agonized groans. Only a few figures remained standing. The surviving Anqing soldiers were drenched in blood, breathing in violent heaves, finishing off the Qing soldiers on the ground who were not yet dead.

The courtyard gate facing the street stood wide open. Riderless horses on the street collided with one another; from time to time, the silhouette of a mounted rider flashed past, but no one so much as glanced inside. Beyond the courtyard walls, the din of battle shook the heavens. Only now did Yang Guangdi notice it — several more cannon blasts sounded in succession, and scattered gunfire crackled on and off, not far beyond the courtyard.

The street was thick with white gunsmoke, which drifted over the courtyard gate and walls into the compound.