Chapter 422: Chapter Twelve: Father and Son

In the morning, the drizzling rain grew slightly more urgent. Amidst the lush greenery, the clearly directional, ear-splitting shouts of battle reminded everyone that on the west side of the Stone Bridge heights, upstream along the Taiping River, the fighting had already begun in full force.

The Song Army's Imperial Left Army numbered twenty thousand, plus the Tangut light cavalry of fifteen thousand under Li Master from the Imperial Cavalry, the Khitan-Xi light cavalry of ten thousand under Yelu Yu, and the Western Mongol light cavalry of fifteen thousand, for a total strength of sixty thousand.

The Jin Army, having noticed from the start that the Song Army was extending its forces upstream, had correspondingly deployed four Wanhu units.

Among the Song forces, Han Shizhong's Imperial Left Army, both cavalry and infantry, was unquestionably the elite and the main force. Li Master's troops from the Imperial Cavalry, though all light cavalry, were still Imperial battle troops, well-equipped and well-trained, making them a highly reliable auxiliary force. But the Mongol light cavalry and the Khitan and Xi light cavalry, from their equipment to their discipline, seemed somewhat inferior... Of course, no one expected them to actually inflict casualties or break through. Their task was more to contain and harass the Jin Army, using the mobility of light cavalry to disrupt the entire battlefield, allowing a second main Song Army battle group to cross the river and engage.

By the same logic, the Jin Army's combat effectiveness was also uneven. Their cavalry could never be on the same level as their infantry, and one Wanhu unit could never be equated with another.

The winding battle line ran roughly north-south, stretching a straight-line distance of a full eight or nine li from the riverbank to the rear of the heights. The actual engagement line had likely already exceeded twelve or thirteen li. However, for a battle scale theoretically involving a hundred thousand troops on both sides, this battle line length was still too short, far too short.

Overall, the troop concentrations on both sides were still too dense.

But this was precisely the reason Han Shizhong's banner appeared on the battle line. The Great Song needed this sharpest blade to cut through everything.

"Where are you going?" Amidst the thunderous shouts of battle, Pusan Beilu, one of the four Wanhu on the western line, stationed by the river, suddenly grabbed his son and demanded.

"I'm going to that banner and behead Han Shizhong!" The tall and sturdy Pusan Wuzhe pulled down his faceplate and shouted back, his face flushed red. "A feat without equal is right before us today!"

"Is Han Shizhong someone you can just behead?" Pusan Beilu was speechless. "Don't gamble with your own life so easily!"

"Father!" Wuzhe replied angrily. "The Grand Ancestor had our Pusan tribe guard the Goryeo border, preventing you from earning merit by attacking the Liao or Song. Later, the Third Prince (the Third Prince, Eriduo, was born of the Pusan clan) made you Commander-in-Chief of Longde Prefecture, but you voluntarily yielded it to Bendu and became just an ordinary Wanhu. And those people, instead of being grateful, only say behind your back that you're incompetent..."

"Wuzhe." Pusan Beilu was full of helplessness. "The Grand Ancestor had our Pusan tribe guard the Yalu River out of goodwill. As for being Commander-in-Chief, what difference does it make whether I am one or not? I've been stationed in the rear for years and truly lack military experience... As for what others say behind my back, what's there to argue about with words? The most important thing is to preserve the tribe."

"Even to preserve the tribe, shouldn't we fight to the death today?" The young Pusan Wuzhe was still indignant. "What the Fourth Prince said at the end made some sense, didn't it? Without the skin, what can the hair adhere to? If the Great Jin is defeated today, the nation will be crippled. Will the Pusan tribe fare well then? We should be fighting to the death to repay the country."

"No one is stopping you from repaying the country, but today's battle doesn't require you to repay it in this way. You must understand, we are on the defensive this time. The Song Army has no foothold on this side of the river. So as long as we hold the line without collapsing and endure until dusk, when the Marshal leads several thousand elite cavalry out to sweep the field, then it will already be considered a victory." Pusan Beilu spoke with earnest sincerity.

Pusan Wuzhe was about to reply when suddenly, a burst of shouting came from the upstream direction to the west, directly interrupting the father and son's conversation.

They both turned their heads to look and saw Han Shizhong's peerless banner moving forward towards their position. In front of the banner, a wing of several hundred Jin cavalry could no longer be called retreating; it was more like a rout. Some fleeing cavalry, panicked and reckless, even crashed directly into the infantry line, causing a momentary tension.

"Wuzhe, I permit you to go to the front line and take command." Pusan Beilu turned back, suppressing his inner unease for one final effort. "Take your own Meng'an, and I'll give you an additional ten Mouke to take with you. But just watch the line. Don't expose yourself, and don't you dare launch a reckless attack like before... Your earlier attack towards the river delayed the advance with Tuhesu, and Bendu is already very displeased... Can you give me your promise?"

"I understand!" Wuzhe was filled with deep resentment, but he hurriedly raised his faceplate, turned his horse, and rode off.

Seeing this, Pusan Beilu felt a sense of powerlessness in his heart.

You see, compared to himself, who had been stationed near the Yalu River for years, his son had gone to the front lines with a tribal Mouke at the age of sixteen, seven years ago. He had been fighting under the care of his nephew Eriduo, and had once followed Elubu and Ali across the river to participate in the attack on Luoyang during the Battle of Yaoshan, forcing the Song Chancellor Wang Boyan to his death, and had long since recorded military merits in the Marshal's headquarters.

This difference in experience and age meant that the father and son's concepts of warfare were completely different, and also meant that their actual influence within the army was slightly misaligned.

Otherwise, why would Pusan Beilu be so worried? And how could Pusan Wuzhe command the troops at the front?

Enough of this digression. Pusan Wuzhe left the infantry behind and led ten Mouke plus six Mouke from his own Meng'an forward. He had ten of the Mouke advance in two alternating waves to brace against the Song offensive again, while he used his own six Mouke to restore discipline on the spot, rallying the routed troops. He managed to stabilize the situation with ease.

There was no helping it.

After the upstream battle line was fully engaged, this section, where a gap had appeared, was where Han Shizhong personally drove his Beiwei Army forward. It could be said to be the fiercest point of the Song offensive, and it could also be said to be the battlefield where the Song Army held the overall advantage.

But having the advantage didn't mean the Song Army could sweep through everything like a whirlwind.

There were casualties, but for the heavy cavalry and heavy infantry on both sides, as long as their formations didn't collapse and their morale didn't crumble, large-scale casualties were almost a joke. Especially since the drizzling spring rain, while not yet seriously affecting the movement of horses and pack animals, had already rendered one of the main armor-piercing methods for both armies—heavy arrows and hard crossbows—completely ineffective.

Just as Liu Yan had said, after three shots from a Ke Di Bow, the range and accuracy were no longer those of the same weapon. And it was the same for the Jin Army's traditionally relied-upon close-range hard bows and heavy arrows.

There was also advancement. Han Shizhong used the Beiwei Army as his vanguard, had Xie Yuan use another elite unit of his own as a flanking pincer to hold off Tuhesu, and then brought Li Master up as support. It could be said that he had elites where elites were needed, troops where troops were needed, and morale where morale was needed. There was no reason he couldn't overpower the enemy.

But the army formations on both sides were too dense. So the battle often unfolded like this: the Beiwei Army, using cavalry against cavalry, would rout one wave of the Jin Army's Guaizi Ma tactic's repeated advances, pressing forward over a hundred paces. Then a new Jin cavalry unit would advance again in the Guaizi Ma formation from the gap, while the original routed troops could catch their breath in the rear, and then, displaying the characteristic resilience of Jurchen cavalry, they would reorganize slightly and rejoin the reserve battle line.

This kind of scene was a classic stalemate.

By now, the Jin Army's goal was to maintain the stalemate, while the Song Army's goal was to break it.

This was a test for both sides.

The rain was clearly coming in fits and starts. Amidst the frustrating stalemate that irritated both sides, the rain eased again. In the chaos, within the dense battle line that had just been pushed back over a hundred paces by Han Shizhong's banner, Pusan Wuzhe suddenly noticed several dozen elite Jurchen Iron Pagoda cavalry approaching from the direction of the distant heights.

Pusan Wuzhe recognized the distinctive horse armor and knew it was Wanyan Bendu's personal guard. He then gritted his teeth and went to meet them, expecting to be scolded again for his side's repeated retreats, which had surely displeased Bendu.

"Does the Commander-in-Chief (Wanyan Bendu) have any orders?"

Irritated, Wuzhe's tone also became agitated.

"It's not the Commander-in-Chief." Somewhat unexpected yet reasonable, the one who answered was a familiar voice. The man pulled down his faceplate, and sure enough, it was Pusan Wuzhe's friend, Pucha Asa. This man was indeed one of Wanyan Bendu's direct trusted guards, currently only a Puli Yan. "It's the Prince of Wei."

"What does the Prince of Wei say?" Wuzhe, who had relaxed slightly at his friend's arrival, tensed up again.

"The Prince of Wei knows that Han Shizhong has come through your father and son's sector. He's worried you won't be able to hold, so he sent someone to ask the Commander-in-Chief (Wanyan Bendu) about the battle situation. But the rain just came down harder for a bit, making it hard to see, so the Commander-in-Chief sent me down to have a look." Pucha Asa's tone was relaxed.

What do you mean, 'knows Han Shizhong has come through your father and son's sector, worried you won't be able to hold'?

Wuzhe was immediately furious, but he couldn't very well vent his anger on a simple brute like Asa.

On the other hand, Asa asked a few questions and observed for himself for a while. He saw that the Jin Army was indeed losing ground step by step, only able to rely on the resilience of the Guaizi Ma to continuously cover the line's retreat in layers. He finally frowned.

"If this continues, I'm afraid Han Shizhong will be able to push you all the way to the foot of the heights before noon?"

"That's right." Wuzhe replied helplessly.

"Should I report this to the Prince of Wei?" Pucha Asa asked tentatively.

"What else can be done?" Wuzhe blurted out.

Asa didn't argue. He just pushed up his faceplate and prepared to turn back.

But just then, another roar erupted from the front. Asa turned back in surprise and saw the Jin battle line ahead, driven by the peerless banner, being scattered and disordered once again by the Song iron cavalry. He was momentarily stunned, but Wuzhe, already accustomed to it, quickly issued a series of orders to maintain the line.

After issuing the orders, Wuzhe withdrew his gaze from the banner several hundred paces ahead. He was about to send someone to have his father muster another batch of fresh reinforcements from the rear to relieve the front troops, whose morale was gradually sinking to a hopeless level. But when he turned his head and saw Asa standing there, watching curiously, his mind stirred slightly.

"Asa." Wuzhe spoke up.

"What is it?"

"To be honest with you, I originally wanted to go and take Han Shizhong's head myself. But I have a heavy responsibility, and I promised my father I would oversee the front line and not launch a reckless attack..."

"You want me to go?" Asa, though a simple brute, was no fool.

"Aren't you the self-proclaimed 'Number One Warrior of the Longde Prefecture Marching Army'? Can't you kill an ox with one punch? Didn't you, on the march, single-handedly lift a supply cart stuck in the mud right in front of the Fourth Prince? Now is a perfect opportunity. Han Shizhong may be a divine general, but he's old and has been fighting all morning. How could he be a match for you? I'll give you five Mouke as support. If you succeed, it will be a tremendous merit..."

"Don't you want this merit?" Asa suddenly interrupted him.

"I am the young master of the Pusan tribe, the Grand Ancestor's nephew. Am I lacking in promotion opportunities? When the time comes, glory and wealth will naturally come... I am thinking of the country, of the battle situation... If we can kill Han Shizhong here, the Song offensive will be cut short!" Wuzhe replied with effort. "As for you, Asa, don't tell me you weren't trying to curry favor when you deliberately lifted that cart in front of the Prince of Wei that day... How could I possibly contend with you for the credit?"

Asa was silent for a moment, then looked back towards the heights.

Wuzhe understood and immediately added, "Even if things don't work out, and the Commander-in-Chief blames us afterwards, my father and I will protect you in front of the Prince of Wei! If it really comes to it, you can come to my side, and there will still be a marching Meng'an for you... So, are you going or not?"

Asa took a deep breath, looked at the great banner just a few hundred paces away, and suddenly laughed: "I'm just a lowly platoon commander, losing me is no great loss. But if I succeed, it will be a deed without equal... why wouldn't I go?!"

Wuzhe was overjoyed.

"Wait a moment. Let's hold here and wait a little longer. When Han Shizhong exerts himself in the next push and gets closer, then I'll strike!" Asa was rough but meticulous, quickly settling on a battle plan. "Han Shizhong is after all a divine general of this age. Though he's old, we must still be cautious... any decapitation strike must be unexpected and catch him off guard."

Wuzhe had nothing more to say.

The opportunity came as promised. In less than half an hour, the frontline once again played out the same scene that had already repeated five or six times:

The two sides barely held their lines. Suddenly, Han Shizhong's great banner advanced, driving his elite Beiwei Army to surge forward from both flanks. The Jin Army's flank cavalry could not withstand the momentum, lost formation in a small area, and retreated in disarray, causing the central infantry line to hastily pull back.

At this moment, Wuzhe, as the frontline commander, should have done as before: rotate troops on both sides, supervise the battle in the center, then smoothly guide the routed troops to the rear for reorganization, preparing for the next rotation.

But this time, after spotting the great banner positioned forward and slightly to the right near the river, Wuzhe made a slight change... the left flank remained as before, but what moved up to replace the right flank was none other than his own five *mouke* units that had never been committed to battle. And concealed among these five *mouke* were fifty of Wanyan Bendu's personal Iron Pagoda heavy cavalry, led by Pucha Asa.

As the flank cavalry switched, the left flank immediately tried to join with other cavalry to stabilize the line and shield the infantry. But the five hundred-plus riders on the right, instead of stopping, used the momentum to accelerate past the routed troops, charging straight for the "Peerless Under Heaven" great banner.

The Song Army, having just won a small victory and pressing forward to gain more ground, was caught off guard by this sudden counterattack from fresh troops. They were thrown into confusion, allowing this cavalry force to pierce their formation and close to within a hundred paces of the great banner.

But that was as far as they got. As surrounding Song troops realized what was happening and turned back, pressing in from all sides, the five-hundred-strong Jin cavalry attack was quickly contained. The Song Army assumed it was just a tactical counterattack by the Jin to stabilize their line and regain control, and they began to relax again... but at that moment, the cavalry formation suddenly split open. Fifty fully armored Iron Pagoda riders, having already completed their acceleration, burst out from the formation and, with unstoppable momentum, charged straight at the great banner less than a hundred paces away.

The Song cavalry in front were caught completely off guard and were scattered by this elite Iron Pagoda force, allowing the latter to truly reach the base of the great banner.

By now, the rain had briefly paused, and visibility had improved. When the Song frontline soldiers witnessed this, panic and chaos spread instantly across the entire line.

To make a long story short, Pucha Asa charged to the base of the great banner, wild with excitement, but quickly forced himself to calm down and look for Han Shizhong... However, all the riders around the banner were Song cavalry in bronze-faced lamellar armor. None wore any distinctive great cloak, cape, or jade belt. How could he easily identify him?

Still, he soon noticed one rider who was out of the ordinary... First, this man was powerfully built, matching the legendary Han Shizhong's physique. Second, his martial skill was extraordinary and his strength remarkable—with a single blow from his large iron spear, he knocked an Iron Pagoda rider off his horse. Finally, this man had been standing closest to the great banner from the start. When the Jin launched their surprise attack, he didn't flinch but instead made small, commanding gestures.

Asa hesitated no longer. He spurred his horse forward, brandishing his heavy broadsword for battle.

Three Song Beiwei cavalrymen on his flank saw this and abandoned their own opponents, leveling their spears and charging together to stab at him. But he raised his arm and swept them aside, tucking all three spears under his ribs. The three Song riders were shocked to find themselves held fast by his strength alone. But Asa simply swung his blade backhand, cutting all three spears cleanly in half, then ignored them and charged straight for the rider he had already identified.

The Jin general had displayed such divine strength, yet the burly Song rider beneath the great banner was not alarmed. Instead, he calmly raised his iron spear to meet him. As their weapons clashed, Pucha Asa became completely certain—this man had to be Han Shizhong. Who else could possess such divine strength and martial skill? He focused his spirit even more, vowing to cut down his opponent in battle and achieve an unparalleled feat.

Seventy or eighty paces from the great banner, behind a bronze faceplate, dressed no differently from the rest of the Beiwei Army, Han Shizhong shifted his gaze from the duel between that Jurchen brave and Wang Shixiong, and turned to look at his side, at the Beiwei Army Commander Cheng Min:

"Where did this cavalry come from?"

"From the riverbank side," Cheng Min blurted out.

"That's not what I'm asking," Han Shizhong said, his tone unhurried. "I'm asking you—where did he and his covering force originally start from?"

Cheng Min was taken aback. After a moment's thought, he pointed his blade toward a position behind the Jin lines: "That spot, right next to that *meng'an* unit's banner!"

"I was wondering why the front lines were advancing and retreating so methodically when the ten-thousand-household banner was still far to the rear directing things," Han Shizhong said, looking in that direction and letting out a laugh. "There must be a Jin frontline commander there who commands enough respect... This is an opportunity!"

As he finished speaking, Han Shizhong suddenly raised his hand and pointed toward the riverbank—the very route the Jin decapitation force had taken. Because they had sent a decapitation unit charging straight for the great banner, and that unit was now pinned down by the Song Army on all sides and unable to retreat, the gap on this flank had not been sealed in time.

Cheng Min had originally been Han Shizhong's personal adjutant before taking command of the Beiwei Army. He immediately understood, but couldn't help glancing back toward the great banner.

"Don't worry about that. In the midst of a great battle, how can you be distracted by such trivial matters? Besides, Wang Shixiong is actually a bit stronger than that Jin general—he's just slightly less experienced in battle. If he drags it out, he'll eventually finish that Jin general off." Han Shizhong didn't even look back. He fixed his gaze on the formation ahead, or rather, on the area far beyond it. "Sound the horns. Mobilize the entire Beiwei Army forward. Then you lead five hundred riders along the gap this Jin force just opened, and drive straight to that *meng'an* banner. I'll lead another five hundred riders as your rear support. We must crush the enemy in front of us in one blow and push the battle line forward!"

"Yes, sir!"

The sound of war horns suddenly rang out, pulling the anxious Wuzhe back from his speculation about the battle at the distant great banner. He looked around in confusion and saw the Beiwei Army of the Imperial Guard Left Army pressing forward in force toward his position.

At first, he thought the Song Army was making this move to rescue Han Shizhong and the great banner. But soon, as a column of Song cavalry rapidly counter-charged along the channel his own decapitation force had just used, this young Jurchen noble—who had joined the army at sixteen—finally awakened his battlefield instincts. He understood his mistake now. His rash attack had disrupted the dynamic balance of the battle line, exposing a fatal flaw.

For a moment, Pusuan Wuzhe thought of pulling back to avoid the danger. But as he turned his head, he saw his father's banner waving in the faint rain a few hundred paces behind him. Shame welled up, and he refused to look back again. Instead, he hastily gathered his troops, trying to meet the Song Army's fierce assault head-on.

But the cavalry unit he hurriedly dispatched, not yet properly formed up, was like a piece of driftwood meeting a flood—instantly scattered.

What truly horrified Wuzhe was that the Song cavalry, having pierced through the gap on his right flank by the river and achieved an unprecedented depth of penetration, did not take the opportunity to attack the infantry line in the center to expand their gains. Instead, they charged straight toward his own position, which was now somewhat exposed.

They weren't just borrowing Asa's path—they were turning the tables, trying to decapitate him in return?

His move to send Asa hadn't just disrupted the rhythm of the battlefield—it had also exposed himself?

He had gone to decapitate Han Shizhong, and now the Song Army was coming for him?!

In his terror, Wuzhe, who had been boasting to his father about personally killing Han Shizhong, completely panicked. He turned his horse and tried to flee... But after riding just a few dozen paces, he suddenly realized something... On the battlefield, to guard against the unexpected, everyone wore lamellar armor and faceplates. Unless someone displayed a silver waist token, how would the enemy know if he was a platoon commander or a *meng'an* commander?

But by fleeing, he had drawn everyone around him to follow, completely exposing himself!

Acting on instinct, Wuzhe made another wrong choice. He tried to rein in his horse and stop. But since his identity was already exposed and his surroundings were empty, what use was stopping now except to waste time? So he paused only briefly, realized his mistake again, and tried to flee once more... This was what it meant to lose one's head. Not just on the battlefield—where hasn't a young man had a similar experience?

But on the battlefield, one such experience is often all it takes. There is no need for a second.

Cheng Min led his troops charging straight in. Wuzhe ordered his banners thrown down and lay flat on his horse to flee. After desperately breaking through a few riders blocking his way, he caught his breath and prepared to escape to the rear army. But then another wave of Song troops followed through the riverbank channel. At their head was a tall Song rider in bronze-faced lamellar armor, who spurred his horse in from the side. Guided by the Song riders who had arrived first, he made straight for Wuzhe.

But just as he reached him, the Song general reined in his horse and turned, trying to face Wuzhe.

Seeing this, Wuzhe dared not delay. He quickly squeezed his horse's flanks and raised his spear, planning to fight while fleeing, taking advantage of the fact that his opponent's horse had just turned and had no speed.

However, the other man did not raise his spear. Instead, he lifted a large iron-backed bow.

There was no time to think. The horses crossed at a slow speed. The Song general raised his hand slightly, using the back of the bow to deflect Wuzhe's spear with a light block. Wuzhe failed in his attack but was overjoyed—he only wanted to escape now, why would he care about that?

But the joy had barely appeared beneath his faceplate when, in the next moment, he felt something grab the neck guard of his armor, pulling him backward with tremendous force.

Under that force, his feet immediately lost their grip, and his entire body was lifted from the horse.

Not only that, but having fallen from his horse, Wuzhe was not thrown to the ground. Instead, he was dragged continuously by that immense force, pulling him by the neck guard through the muddy, chaotic ground.

In the chaos, Pusuan Wuzhe's mind was already blank with terror. He had no idea and could not think about what was happening.

Of course, to everyone else, the matter was simple. The Song general possessed divine strength and was as agile as a demon. As the two horses crossed, he first used the back of his bow to knock aside Wuzhe's weapon, then smoothly hooked the bowstring around Wuzhe's neck, even twisting his hand to lock the string tightly around it.

The only reason Wuzhe wasn't strangled on the spot was that his neck guard was intact and tight.

Even so, Wuzhe was doomed. The Song general dragged him all the way to a Song troop concentration by the riverbank. When he released his bow, Wuzhe, dazed and disoriented, couldn't even turn over, let alone stand. He simply lay in a puddle of water, at the mercy of others.

The Song soldiers did not hesitate. Several of them swarmed forward. There was no need to pin down his limbs. One man flipped open his faceplate, while another drove a blade straight down through his face, easily finishing off this heir of the Pusuan clan.

Poor Pusuan Wuzhe—who in another timeline would have risen all the way to Left Grand Councilor and Marshal of the Realm, leading a hundred thousand troops to invade Song from without, and manipulating politics as a consort clan member from within, wielding the military and political power of an entire nation—died in a muddy puddle by the Taiping River because of a small flaw on the battlefield.

He was twenty-two years old.

He died without even knowing that the man who pulled him from his horse was Han Shizhong himself.

Still, it must be said that although Pusuan Wuzhe was not yet the Jin state's ruling minister wielding the weight of an entire nation as in another timeline, even now, as just a young consort-clan general, his death triggered a massive chain reaction... The Pusuan tribe's ten-thousand-household vanguard army, already teetering on the edge, now lost its frontline commander while under heavy Song assault and breakthrough. It quickly collapsed into a complete rout.

Han Shizhong did not hesitate. He drove his entire army forward, with the Beiwei Army in the vanguard and Li Master's Tangut cavalry in the rear, swarming ahead and driving the routed troops before them.

Blood and mud, carried by the rain, spread downstream, painting the green earth.

On this part of the battlefield, the Jin Army's situation collapsed entirely. Pucha Asa, who had been locked in combat with the "Han Shizhong," finally panicked and tried to flee. But Wang Shixiong seized the opening, knocked him from his horse, and the Song troops swarmed in, finishing him off with ease.

Similar to Pusuan Wuzhe, Pucha Asa, this so-called "Jurchen Divine General" from another time and space, never had the chance to shine with his own brilliance. Like Pusuan Wuzhe, he fell worthless into the mud... The man who killed them had no interest in learning their stories. Wang Shixiong, tasked with guarding the great banner, couldn't even be bothered to cut off their heads, and hurriedly urged the banner forward.

On the high ground, Wanyan Bendu, watching the battle from afar, naturally had no idea that his trusted Puliyan had just died, nor that the Third Prince's cousin had followed the Third Prince himself to the afterlife. But he saw clearly how the Song army had shattered Pusuan Beilu's ten-thousand-man vanguard in one blow, then pressed forward with irresistible momentum, gradually closing in on the high ground.

Bendu's mouth felt dry as he immediately sent a messenger to the rear.

The messenger spurred his horse down the slope. As he crossed the empty hollow behind the high ground, both he and his horse stumbled and fell, looking utterly disheveled. Fortunately, there wasn't much mud here; the lush green grass kept him from being completely covered in filth.

Further back at the camp, riders quickly surged out and rescued him. At a shouted command, they brought him into the camp. Under the gaze of countless soldiers sitting densely beneath wooden shelters, they swiftly led him to a tall watchtower erected for the battle.

"Has Pusuan Beilu's army lost half its momentum?"

Wushu, sitting idly on the watchtower, repeated the words in a low voice, then looked down at Marshal Bolisu, who sat in a daze beneath the Five-Colored Sun-Holding Banner. "What does the Marshal say?"

"Isn't this expected?" Bolisu snapped back to reality, responding calmly. "Did you really think any of the four ten-thousand-man units on the western line could behead Han Shizhong and end this battle outright? Just now, Heshilie Taiyu reported that his unit had killed the Western Mongol king, Wang Huer Zhahusi, but instead the Western Mongols went berserk and attacked even more fiercely, nearly breaking his formation. Even the Western Mongol light cavalry can't be stopped, let alone Han Shizhong."

Wushu finally smiled bitterly at this. "True. In this situation, even if Han Shizhong really died on the battlefield, it probably wouldn't stop the Song army's advance."

Bolisu said nothing more, only raised his head to look at the Five-Colored Sun-Holding Banner... The rain had eased for a moment, but water still slowly seeped from the banner.

From his elevated position on the watchtower, Wushu replied to the messenger: "Go back and tell Bendu his task is this: when the Song army crosses the river from the front, apply as much pressure as possible to inflict casualties. When the western line collapses, he is to gather his troops, form a large formation to shield the main camp and defend the high ground. If absolutely necessary, die before the army, loyal to the state and the Grand Ancestor. Don't come panicking to ask me if we should attack early to support him just because half a ten-thousand-man unit has collapsed... Tell him this: if he can't steady his nerves, let him come back to guard the main camp, and I'll go take his place!"

The bedraggled messenger said nothing, only kowtowed a few times on the ground before hurrying back.

"Hong Ya!" Inside a tent several li from Wushu, Yu Yunwen, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back, finally lost patience. "There's no one outside now, so I'll speak plainly. I know who you are. I saw your name on documents that Controller Yang showed me..."

"So what?" Hong Ya sat on the couch with his hands tucked into his sleeves, replying coldly. "Even if I had left some written record back then—which I didn't—so what? Do you think this is a storytelling session? That you can convict me, a Grand Council Secretary and Vice Minister of War of the Great Jin, based on a few words from seven or eight years ago? If candle-shadow axe-sound were proven true, could you convict Emperor Taizong for it? If you want us to give you something crucial, you need the overall situation, not leverage... Qin Hui doesn't even care about his own son, and you think you can manipulate me so easily today?"

Yu Yunwen understood this perfectly well, but the death of Bei Yan had left him anxious and irritable. "What do you want, then?"

"It's not about what I want," Hong Ya sighed from the couch. "It's that, in this situation, I've just realized there are some things you probably can't give me anymore. Even a captured commander is certain the Song army will win this battle. So naturally, everyone in the Song army thinks victory is a foregone conclusion. Whatever I say or do now, won't I just be discarded like a worn-out broom after the war?"

"Just tell me what you want."

"Just wealth, rank, and peace of mind."

"If you can provide something useful, how can we not give it to you?"

"How so? Just as I can disregard my promises today, how can I trust you to keep yours in the future if you come to power?" Hong Ya's smile grew colder. "Worse still, precisely because I'm negotiating with you today, I might end up losing even my life..."

"How would you lose your life?" Yu Yunwen grew even more agitated.

"Let's not even mention other things. Take someone like you, who wants to become a Grand Councilor. If you actually become one, wouldn't you worry that I, a former puppet official, might go around boasting that I saved your life? You'd probably send me straight to Shameng Island and finish me off on the way, wouldn't you?"

"Absurd." Yu Yunwen was completely speechless. "I understand now. You're the kind of person who's used to judging others by yourself. It's only because you're shameless that you make such guesses..."

"Who isn't someone who judges others by themselves?" Hong Ya replied darkly.

Yu Yunwen looked up with a cold smile, but for some reason, he suddenly calmed down. He turned to study the other man. "I understand now."

"What does Tanhua Yu understand?" Hong Ya became alert.

"I've just realized," Yu Yunwen forced himself to speak slowly, pressing his interrogation, "that for someone like you, the best outcome is, of course, to enjoy wealth and rank in Jin. But in the grand scheme, you're not someone who can take responsibility. You can only go with the flow, not dare to defy the tide. And your evasiveness today can't be because you're worried the Great Song won't keep its promises later—because even if they couldn't promise, would you dare to refuse? I'm afraid it's because what I just pressed you on is too important. Once you speak here, you'll lose your best chance of survival, lose your foundation for wavering. That's why you're hesitating and struggling... Am I right or not?"

Hong Ya fell silent.

Yu Yunwen also said nothing, only stared fixedly at him.

After a moment, Hong Ya sighed softly and spoke first, but asked about something completely unrelated: "Tanhua Yu, you came from Taiyuan with His Majesty. Dare I ask, the ten-thousand-man commander Salihe, who was left to guard Xihe—did he surrender, or did he die for the state? Over here, they're arguing about it endlessly."

Yu Yunwen replied calmly: "Director Hong, you came from Yanjing with the reinforcements. Dare I ask, Hong Ya, the County Magistrate of Xinzheng who passed the Nanyang palace examination back then—did he surrender, or did he die for the state? Over in his hometown of Jinan, they're also debating it endlessly."

Hong Ya stared blankly at the other man for a long time before finally shaking his head. "Tanhua Yu, why must you be so aggressive?"

The rain grew heavier again. By the Taiping River, the elite troops of the Imperial Guard Left Army pressed forward under their commander's great banner, while the Jin army opposite them actually launched a frontal assault!

At that moment, the moment Pusuan Beilu learned of his eldest son's death, he immediately thought of Wanyan Talan.

Everyone knew that Wanyan Talan, after witnessing an entire ten-thousand-man unit of his collapse at Changshe, and then watching his son-in-law, who had covered his retreat, being hunted down and killed by the Song army by the river, had never fully recovered. Before that, he was called the Dragon-Tiger Prince by the Song, the military representative of the late ruler Wuqimai's faction, always eager for military action, one of the main advocates for the southern invasion.

But after Changshe, he was completely unwilling to discuss military matters anymore.

Everyone had laughed at Talan behind his back. Pusuan Beilu, then outside the passes by the Yalu River, had probably vaguely laughed at him too.

But when he learned that his own eldest son, Wuzhe, had died just a few hundred paces from his position on the front line, this Jin general, a member of the imperial clan by marriage, long known for his sincerity and steadiness, understood Talan in an instant... So it was true: the life or death of someone close could change everything about a person in an instant.

Of course, Pusuan Beilu quickly corrected this thought... His reasoning was simple: Talan had only lost a son-in-law, while he had lost a son. Talan was not worthy to be compared with him.

Next, this Jin general of the imperial clan entered a strange state. He quickly issued orders: on one hand, he commanded the entire army to advance, vowing to kill Han Shizhong to avenge his son; on the other, he openly declared that anyone who retreated past his personal banner would be killed without mercy.

His own meng'an detachment sent out six hundred cavalry, forming a line under Pusuan Beilu's personal command to serve as executioners. They beheaded fleeing soldiers one after another. The Jin army, unable to advance or retreat, mustered their remaining courage and turned to counterattack the Song army.

The scene was extremely fierce. Han Shizhong's unit also encountered obstacles in their advance.

But Han Shizhong was ecstatic!

Li Master, following closely behind, was also ecstatic!

Every major Song commander on the opposite bank who witnessed this scene was ecstatic!

The reason was simple: when Pusuan Beilu ordered his own unit to attack head-on, it was equivalent to abandoning the battle line they had been struggling to maintain. The originally continuous, interconnected line finally opened two thin gaps on either side of Pusuan's unit... The gaps were small, but they were enough. With Li Master's almost trembling voice, over ten thousand light cavalry under his command surged forward under their respective officers, then charged through the gaps between Pusuan's formation, the riverbank, and the high ground.

Then they reached the foot of the high ground, reached the western side of Ali's unit, and continued to surge along Ali's rear.

For Li Master's unit alone, this was almost a suicidal move. But for the needs of the entire battle, this was precisely the opportunity that Wu Jie, Li Yanxian, and all the Song troops before the Stone Bridge had been waiting for.

Having the light cavalry cross the river with the Imperial Guard Left Army—this was exactly the purpose!

And now, long before noon, it had succeeded directly because of a son's impulsiveness and a father's collapse.

Wu Jie didn't hesitate for a moment. He moved his great banner forward and simultaneously ordered a full-line drumbeat to advance.

Amidst the rumbling drums, Li Yanxian's great banner also moved forward. Before the two commanders, Dong Xian and Niu Gao led the way. The massive heavy infantry formation of the Imperial Guard Central Army's Shaan-Luo troops and the Imperial Guard Rear Army, totaling forty thousand battle-ready soldiers, began to move together... Their armor and rain-soaked outer garments, under the increasingly dense spring rain and against the backdrop of lush green grass, formed a heavy hue with a certain sheen—neither black nor red, neither bright nor dark.

But without a doubt, when the entire formation rolled forward in one direction, it was very much like a torrent, a torrent that could devour everything, its hue indistinct.

With the Song army's large-scale movement, the Jin units on the high ground and east of it seemed to be awakened by the rain. They immediately reorganized their formations. Countless scout riders shuttled back and forth between units, preparing for battle.

Clearly, Wanyan Bendu on the high ground was attempting to arrange an overall, unprecedentedly massive Guaizi Horse formation.

By the Stone Bridge, Wang De's unit, which had been fighting bitterly for so long, was overjoyed. Wang De's two sons, Wang Qi and Wang Shun, also felt relieved. Even the Poxi Army finally breathed a sigh of relief... In just this half-morning, more than half of their camel cannons had been destroyed by continuous firing. There was a reason why torsion catapults made of animal sinew were gradually being phased out by the times.

Yet, just as the entire army was feeling relieved, Wang De, already exhausted, turned to look at the small slope's flank edge, beyond the reach of the camel cannons. He looked back at the magnificent Song army formation advancing toward him from the opposite bank of the Taiping River, then looked at Ali's command flag a few hundred paces away. He suddenly smiled wryly at his two sons:

"Are you two tired?"

No one knows a son better than his father, and no one knows a father better than his son.

Wang Qi and Wang Shun immediately straightened their expressions. The elder son, Wang Qi, replied calmly: "Father, are you feeling unwilling because the reinforcements have crossed the river and Ali will surely retreat?"

"Not bad." Wang De raised his somewhat sore arm and pointed at Ali's banner, speaking seriously. "Although we, father and sons, have seized the initiative in this battle, our troops are already exhausted. It will be difficult to achieve great merit in the fighting to come. In such a situation, if no general makes a capture, how can it be said that we have truly established the Wang family's name? And now Ali has not yet withdrawn, but his troops already show signs of wanting to retreat, with no one willing to fight hard... This is an opportunity."

His eldest son, Wang Qi, hesitated for a moment.

His second son, Wang Shun, did not hesitate at all, cupping his hands in reply: "Father, I will clear the way for you."

Wang Qi then nodded: "Father, I will cover the rear for you."

Wang De nodded, then unhurriedly, with his two sons and several dozen personal guards, nearly all wounded, and his own banner, walked toward a spot in the center of the formation sheltered by camel cannons... as if, seeing the large-scale advance of their own reinforcements, they were preparing to rest there, quietly awaiting the reinforcements.

But Wang De himself immediately looked around continuously, pointing out trustworthy knights from his own unit within sight along the way, signaling them to follow quietly.

Before reaching the front of the Stone Bridge, they had already successfully gathered two to three hundred riders.

"Leave the great banner here, unmoved." The meticulous Wang Qi took the initiative to instruct the standard-bearer.

Not far away, Ali, taking advantage of the slope of the high ground, watched this scene coldly, but after only a moment, he too, weary from age and prolonged command, turned his head to look at the western flank of his position. There, Tangut light cavalry from the Imperial Guard Cavalry had already reached the front, directly engaging his exhausted troops, and were continuously surging toward his rear.

In fact, these Tangut light cavalry truly flowed like water, directly 'flowing' into the gaps in the Jin army's formation. As for the Jin army's mobile forces, those iron cavalry, besides losing their hard bows—their main ranged weapon—in the rain, their mobility loss was also far greater than that of these light cavalry. This put both sides into a ridiculous situation where neither could do anything to the other... These light cavalry could not harm the Jin army's heavily armored cavalry and infantry, and the Jin army's heavily armored cavalry and infantry could not catch up with these light cavalry.

But Ali knew that as long as the Song army's heavy infantry group on the opposite bank crossed the river, or if the Jin army on the high ground behind him tried to press down, these light cavalry would do their utmost to delay and obstruct his unit's movement... This was the strategic role of this large light cavalry force: to split battle formations, hinder support, contain advances, assist in outflanking, and possibly conduct large-scale mopping up and head-hunting after the battle.

Therefore, the situation his troops faced was already very dangerous. He had to make a choice quickly: either wait here for Bendu on the high ground to organize properly and then charge down from a position of height, or abandon this small slope, withdraw as quickly as possible, and return to the high ground to participate in Bendu's formation-building action.

As a veteran founding general of the Jin army who had experienced many battles, Xiemao Ali did not take long to make a decision—circumstances had changed. Forcing a stay here now would likely result in the complete annihilation of these troops under his command.

At fifty-seven years old, Ali truly did not care about his own life or death anymore, but he had to fulfill a soldier's duty: to diligently execute his superior's military orders and diligently protect his subordinates.

So, retreating back to the high ground was the better option.

Of course, a major negative consequence of this was that the Pusan Beilu unit, which had already been pushed by Han Shizhong to the riverside area in front of the high ground's flank, would likely be completely annihilated under Song army encirclement.

Therefore, although he had already heard that Pusan Beilu's eldest son had died in battle and that Pusan Beilu had gone mad with rage, Ali still took the initiative to summon his personal guard and send a message to Pusan Beilu, insisting that he must follow him in the retreat to the high ground... With the Song army's light cavalry having crossed the upstream defense line and the heavy infantry group on the opposite bank advancing on all fronts without any hesitation, maintaining the battle line in the riverside area no longer had strategic value.

Having given these instructions, Ali was about to issue further orders for his troops to prepare for an orderly, rolling retreat. But before he could speak, he heard a commotion ahead. Looking up, he saw his own infantry and cavalry, already somewhat disordered and uneasy, parting to both sides in confusion, like a wheat field trembling as a hare runs through it, the wheat stalks swaying as they opened.

Amidst the parting wheat stalks, the hare quickly revealed itself: several hundred Song cavalry riders. They raised no banners, shouted no war cries, only charged forward with heads down, attacking him with all their might.

Ali's combat experience was immense. With just one look, he understood what was happening. Furious and alarmed, he remained true to his temperament, gripping his cavalry hammer and advancing instead of retreating. The surrounding personal guards also came to their senses, each striving forward to shield him.

However, this Song army surprise attack had truly seized the perfect moment when Ali's troops were on the verge of retreating but had not yet done so. As a result, the attack encountered minimal resistance and progressed extremely rapidly. By the time Ali and his personal guards reacted, it was already too late—in but a moment, a valiant Song general had already reached him, letting out a roar, driving the Song cavalry behind him to join in the shouting and killing.

The leading personal officer of Ali met him without fear, but was knocked off his horse with a single spear thrust.

Yet this Song general, having succeeded with one blow, did not attempt to attack Ali, who was only a dozen paces away. Instead, he directly swung his iron spear, forcefully sweeping aside several riders on Ali's flank, and tried to cut down the command banner behind Ali's right side, drawing several knights to block him.

Ali knew full well what this man was doing, but it was too late to warn anyone. Instead, he tightened his grip on his cavalry war hammer.

Sure enough, in the blink of an eye, a tall knight, far larger than the other Song soldiers, galloped forward from behind the previous Song general. His long axe, gleaming wetly in the rain, was already raised high, just like a Yaksha descending to the mortal world.

With a single glance, Ali knew that this must be Wang De, Wang the Yaksha, in person. This scoundrel had indeed relied on sheer courage to fight his way to him, and Ali knew that there was no hope of survival now.

But in that flash of lightning, Ali's face behind his visor was ferocious, still unafraid. He did not try to block the giant axe descending upon his head; instead, he mustered his remaining strength and swung his cavalry hammer toward the other's shoulder.

An instant later, the outcome was decided.

Ali's war hammer flew past Wang De's shoulder, but only struck the shoulder socket of Wang De's eldest son, Wang Qi, who was behind him... It was not a mistake; it was intentional. As for Ali himself, Wang De's axe cut from his left shoulder all the way to his right abdomen, his internal organs spilling out... If the long axe had swung a moment later, he might have been cleaved in two.

But all these details no longer mattered.

Ali was dead.

Unlike Pucha Asa and Pusan Wuzhe, who died before in their youth without fate's favor, Xiemao Ali joined the army at seventeen following his father, beginning with his participation in the Wanyan Aguda-led Jurchen tribal unification wars. Up to this day, his military career spanned forty years, enough to overshadow the vast majority of people on this battlefield.

Unifying the Jurchen tribes, breaking Goryeo, pacifying Bohai, destroying Liao, invading Song... This man had participated in almost every major battle of the Jurchen founding and rise. In the destruction of Liao, he swept through the towns of Liaodong and attacked and killed the punitive army of Yelu Yudu, his merits ranking first in both campaigns. He was among the first batch of direct-line marching meng'an from the Wanyan main clan, of non-imperial surname.

By the time of the invasion of Song, he had already become a solid wanhu in the Eastern Route Army, meaning he was a recognized founding meritorious official of the Jurchens.

Even Zhao Jiu could not forget this man's name!

In the first year of Jianyan, Xiemao Ali followed Wushu in pursuing the imperial traveling court on the Huai River, nearly driving the Zhao Song court into a corner. In the second year of Jianyan, he led a detached force of the Eastern Route Army, broke through Nanjing, and forced Zhang Suo and Xin Daozong to their deaths. In the third year of Jianyan, coordinating from Yaoshan, he crossed Mengjin, broke Luoyang, and forced the councilor Wang Boyan to his death.

It can be said without a doubt that his achievements, his fame, and his experiences were all completed without regret on this day, at the age of fifty-seven.

Though this villain died, he could be said to have no regrets.

Even before his death, he still managed to strike Wang Qi with his hammer.

Of course, the more Ali had no regrets, the more it demonstrated that the Song army had successfully achieved the first indisputably great result of this battle.

For Wang De, this was also a remarkable feat. As the saying goes, 'Crossing the river to slay a general, his spirit undiminished. A hero rising, who in ancient or modern times can compare?'

Before noon, with the first phase of the battle successfully completed as planned, the Song army's main force crossed the river in force. Wang De, Vice Commander of the Imperial Guard Central Army and Military Governor, seized the opportunity, slew the Jin Eastern Route Army wanhu, Prefect of Jizhou, and Duke of Korea, Xiemao Ali, in formation.

Returning to the present, Ali was dead as dead could be. But unexpectedly, or perhaps it was déjà vu, the first reaction of his unit was not to scatter and flee, but instead to go mad and attack this Song force from all directions with all their might.

Having swung his axe once, Wang De realized that he was indeed getting old. Moreover, with his eldest son wounded and having trouble controlling his horse, he was unwilling to waste his life here. So he ordered his second son, Wang Shun, to cover the rear while he personally looked after his eldest son, Wang Qi, as they withdrew.

But after going no more than seventy or eighty paces, Wang De suddenly heard a cry of alarm behind him. Turning to look, he saw his second son, Wang Shun's, horse slip. With just a stumble, Wang Shun fell from his horse and was swallowed without a ripple into the frenzied Jin army formation.

Wang De's mind went blank on his horse. The ecstasy of slaying Ali vanished in an instant. He had the urge to turn back, raise his axe, and take revenge, but his instinct made him look at his wounded eldest son on the other side. Then, urged and pulled by his personal guards, he returned to his formation in a daze.

No sooner had he returned to the small slope before the Stone Bridge than Wang De had not even come to his senses. On both sides, the Song army units of Niu Gao and Dong Xian had already successfully crossed the river and established a foothold, and were eagerly attempting to encircle the two wanhu units of Ali and Pusan Beilu.

The battle formations of the two Jin army units finally collapsed completely.

Ps: Thanks to the big shot 'Dreaming with a Sword at the Horizon' for becoming the 206th alliance leader of this book, and also thanks to 'Wolong Sanren' for the tip!