Chapter 281: Ambush Battle

"Kill!"

Just as they withdrew from the camp, shouts of battle rang out beside their ears.

Looking in the direction of the noise, they saw a group of Yu soldiers charging in from the flank.

Seeing this, Erdun's soul nearly fled his body.

Only a few of the soldiers beside him, on night watch, were fully armored.

Most had been focused only on fleeing and had no time to don armor; many didn't even have weapons.

The Tartar soldiers were indeed brave and skilled, but asking them to fight barehanded against the Yu army was too much to ask.

"Retreat!"

Erdun swiftly issued the retreat order.

They had already abandoned the camp; a little more running didn't matter.

The battle was already lost; now they needed to preserve as much strength as possible, not clash head-on with the enemy.

Deep inside, Erdun was already panicking.

All he could hope for now was that most of his soldiers could escape the camp.

In the small Tartar tribe, if his subordinates suffered heavy losses, his position as myriarch would be over.

Even if the Great Khan didn't hold him accountable, Erdun had no face left to return to his elders.

This defeat was too unjust.

They didn't even know what had happened before they were overrun by cavalry and their camp burned to ashes.

If it weren't for the chaos, and if he could find the officer in charge of night watch, he'd have flayed him alive on the spot.

Unfortunately, the world had everything—except regret pills.

Erdun led his men running ahead, while the Yu soldiers chased close behind, turning it into a race.

Though they had discarded their armor and should have moved faster, the soldiers behind them were elite troops, spurred on by the prospect of battlefield merit.

In the Yu dynasty's military merit system, severing a Tartar's head was the highest reward.

It brought the largest silver bounty, the fastest promotion, and was a status symbol to flaunt.

…

In the King's Relief Army's camp, senior officers stayed awake all night, anxiously awaiting news.

"Report!"

"Your Excellency the Provincial Military Commander, Your Excellency the Viceroy—a victory report from the front!"

Our troops successfully raided the enemy camp; the Tartar camp is now a sea of fire, and the northern barbarians are fleeing in all directions.

Assistant Regional Commander Qin is leading his troops in pursuit of the remnants…"

Everyone was lost in the joy of victory, utterly unaware that the order of official titles had been misstated.

As the one directly responsible, Li Mu was cursing inwardly.

He must emphasize discipline to his men—otherwise, someone with ill intent could use this mistake to bring down a great trouble.

"Marquis, dawn is coming—time to deploy the cavalry!"

Li Mu spoke up to remind them.

The Guangdong-Among Guangxi cavalry had little chance against northern barbarian cavalry.

But against northern barbarian cavalry without horses and unarmed? That would be a massacre.

"Good!"

"Issue orders: after dawn, the cavalry will charge to pursue the remnants!"

Marquis Marquis Wuyang exclaimed with delight.

Crushing ten thousand northern barbarian cavalry shattered the myth that "ten thousand are invincible"—a feat unmatched in the entire Yu dynasty.

The hereditary title that had slipped from his grasp now beckoned again.

With several thousand northern barbarian heads severed, the Emperor would have to grant him a hereditary title—or face public outrage.

Especially during the King's Relief campaign, such a victory carried immense political weight.

To boost morale, the court would surely publicize it widely.

Under these circumstances, even if they didn't exaggerate the victory, the court would deliberately inflate the results.

Similar manipulations had occurred countless times in history.

Upon receiving the commander's orders, Li Mu quietly arranged men to gather the captured horses.

Though the south also bred horses, their overall quality was inferior.

Especially these northern barbarian cavalry horses—they were top-tier, each worth dozens of taels of silver.

Some of the finest could fetch over a hundred taels.

Even the lowliest nag was still valuable to Li Mu.

Guangdong and Among Guangxi had so much military farmland, yet the garrison's livestock was utterly insufficient.

The shortage was enormous; even with money, acquiring more in the short term was nearly impossible.

Now was the time to get rich—these captured horses were his personal spoils.

The Yu dynasty didn't strictly regulate spoils; officers routinely divided them among themselves.

As long as they didn't report it, the court pretended not to know.

Most importantly, over decades of fighting the northern barbarians, no imperial force had ever captured so many horses.

…

"Myriarch, hold on just a little longer—once we link up with the Ghost Fang cavalry, we'll be safe!"

Qige wa said, urging him.

After such a crushing defeat, someone had to take responsibility.

If Erdun died on the battlefield, the blame would fall on these battalion commanders.

If lucky, they might lose their posts but still earn redemption through future merit.

If the Great Khan was in a bad mood, they'd get their heads cut off on the spot.

The only silver lining: the Tartar tribe was small, so even if they committed crimes, they didn't have to fear clan extermination.

"No need. You go.

I'll stay behind to hold the line and buy you time."

Looking back at the men behind him, Erdun spoke bitterly.

Nothing is sadder than a dead heart.

After the long chase, only a few hundred men remained with him.

There were surely other stragglers elsewhere, but this was Yu territory.

A lone straggler was just a head for the enemy to collect.

The lucky few who might survive and rejoin the main force would be few indeed.

With the main force destroyed, the Great Khan would never forgive him.

Better to die on the battlefield than return to face punishment, preserving at least his dignity.

"Myriarch, defeat and victory are common in war—don't give up.

We lost this battle; we'll win the next.

If we earn great merit, the Great Khan will show mercy.

We can just prepare more gold, silver, and jewels to bribe his close ministers and persuade other myriarchs to plead for us."

Qige wa pleaded earnestly.

Like the Yu dynasty, the Tartar tribe's power structure was bound by blood ties.

All those in high positions were relatives.

Erdun became myriarch not only through ability, but primarily because of his lineage.

Since they were all family and core members of the founding group, there was room for negotiation.

As long as the profit was sufficient, everything could be discussed.

If manpower was lost, they could draft more from vassal tribes to fill the ranks.

As long as the myriarch's structure remained intact on paper, everyone could pretend not to notice.

"Qige wa, you're thinking too simply.

If we had captured Jinan, perhaps the plan could still work.

But now? Even the wealth we seized so far won't cover the compensation for fallen soldiers.

Feeding them all is impossible!"

Erdun shook his head.

Even a team made of family had internal conflicts.

His rise to myriarch was the result of internal power struggles.

After such a devastating defeat, someone would surely exploit it.

Silencing them wouldn't be easy.

Even those who once supported him would now change their stance.

"Myriarch, the Ghost Fang cavalry is coming!"

As the two spoke, the sight of the Ghost Fang cavalry in the distance gave this fleeing force renewed hope.

…

"Cease pursuit! Form a line on the left slope to meet the enemy!"

Seeing enemy reinforcements arrive, Qin Qin Tianrui swiftly issued the order.

Before the campaign, the Royalist Army had been specially trained to counter cavalry.

Now, their drills had become real combat.

Watching the Ghost Fang cavalry draw ever closer, Qin Qin Tianrui frowned slightly.

The enemy arrived too quickly; if only he had another half-hour, he could annihilate this band of Northern Bandit fugitives.

According to the original plan, he should not have pursued this far.

But the temptation of "slaying a Northern Bandit Wanhoo" was simply too great.

Achieving this feat would bring the revival of his family's fortunes within reach.

A moment of greed had plunged his force into a desperate predicament.

Fortunately, he had promptly alerted the rear; reinforcements were already on the way.

If they could withstand the enemy's first assault, the tide of battle would turn.

"Firelock troops, ready—fire!"

Seeing the enemy cavalry close to two hundred meters, Qin Qin Tianrui ordered calmly.

Cavalry advances too fast; they must strike first.

At this range, the firelocks' lethality was relatively limited.

Hit rates were pitifully low, and bullets couldn't pierce armor.

But that wasn't the issue—so long as they hit the enemy, it was enough.

Most Ghost Fang cavalry were former steppe herders; few wore armor.

A single bullet might not kill, but it would hurt.

The concentrated volleys compensated for the poor accuracy.

The front-line Ghost Fang cavalry soon paid for their carelessness.

"Aaah!"

A chorus of screams erupted as over a dozen wounded Ghost Fang riders tumbled from their horses.

Before they could cry out further, they were trampled underfoot by those behind.

Before they could adjust, the second and third volleys followed in quick succession.

Without orders from their commander, soldiers in the front rank fired, then stepped back as those behind stepped forward.

Under this anachronistic assault, casualties piled up in moments.

A few cavalrymen broke through to the front line, only to face a wall of spears.

After brief struggle, they quickly fell dead on the battlefield.

The bloody spectacle unfolded endlessly across the field; Er Dun, now a mere spectator, wore a grim, terrifying expression.

The enemy's discipline was far beyond anything the Great Dayu Army had ever shown.

Infantry held firm against cavalry charges, using their firearms to inflict heavy losses.

Even when cavalry reached the line, they showed no panic—this utterly surprised him.

The enemy had pursued them without bringing heavy weapons specifically designed to counter cavalry; otherwise, the battle would have been even more devastating.

"Wanhoo, the Ghost Fang cavalry's tactics are flawed."

"Continuing this frontal assault to crush this enemy force will cost us dearly!"

Qi Ge wa warned, frowning.

Cavalry fighting infantry, yet suffering greater losses than the infantry.

Such a record, if spread, would be laughed at by all.

"Hmm."

"This Yu army is clever—they chose their formation position atop the slope."

"Surrounding them are scattered rocks and shrubs; only a few dozen meters of ground allow cavalry to deploy."

"Flanking maneuvers are nearly impossible."

Er Dun nodded.

Though he knew his ally's tactics were flawed, he made no move to warn them.

The Ghost Fang were nominally his subordinates, but in truth, they were not obedient.

The Tatar clan had only recently subdued them and had not yet won their loyalty.

It made no sense for him to suffer heavy losses while his ally remained unscathed.

"Chief, we've lost two hundred cavalry—we can't keep charging!"

The middle-aged man pleaded urgently.

The Cuncao Tribe was only a second-rate steppe clan, with no more than three thousand able-bodied men.

For this raid, they had sent most of their able warriors.

They had hoped to impress the Tatars, so they could claim a larger share of the spoils later.

They never imagined that, at the very start of battle, they'd met an iron-hard bone to chew.

Lacking armor, the Cuncao soldiers had paid a terrible price the moment they engaged in this restrictive terrain.

"Order a halt to the attack!"

Wu Ma Yanyang gave the order with a look of helplessness.

He had no doubt that continuing the assault would annihilate this enemy force.

But in doing so, the Cuncao Tribe would be crippled as well.

The steppe had never known peace.

Suffer heavy losses on the battlefield, and your fate would be absorption.

Either by your own kin, or by another tribe.

(End of Chapter)