Chapter 248: Section Five: The Cornered Rat

The two Later Jin niru who had pursued all the way to the walls of Ningyuan Fort today had also come with the mindset of taking advantage. If sacrificing a few men could trade for a large number of heads and equipment, the niru were still very willing to do it. But there was really no benefit in gnawing on the troops of Changsheng Island, unless... the Later Jin niru turned his head to glance at the banner behind him — unless they could cut off Huang Shi's head, otherwise the reward would absolutely not match the losses.

However, this niru also knew this was wishful thinking on his part. If he really turned back to kill Huang Shi, even if he had the luck to earn it, who knew if he'd have the luck to spend it. Now he could only spur his horse faster, hoping to shake off the pursuers behind him as quickly as possible. It was a pity that this group of Later Jin troops had come from a long-distance pursuit, and just moments ago had been circling around Ningyuan with Assistant Regional Commander Jin and the others. Now that the hunters had become the hunted, their horses' strength was no longer sufficient to guarantee their safe escape.

They had only rounded a small part of Ningyuan Fort when more Later Jin cavalry whose horses were nearly spent began to fall behind. Several men's mounts had already collapsed from exhaustion, and the men were caught up and hacked to death by the Ming troops. So afterward, those soldiers who fell behind, in order to shake off the pursuers, many of them ran outward, hoping that the main force would draw away the Changsheng Army's primary attention.

Huang Shi and his party, relying on their superior numbers, every time they saw a straggling Later Jin soldier trying to flee outward, Huang Shi would wave his sword to signal the subordinates behind him, sending twice the number of Changsheng Island cavalry to break off and pursue, while the main body kept biting tightly behind the main force of the Later Jin niru, relentlessly and stubbornly continuing the pursuit.

The distance between Huang Shi and the several Later Jin soldiers before his eyes kept shrinking, and he kicked his horse again forcefully, making this closing process just a little faster. The Later Jin soldier closest to Huang Shi had still not thrown away his nail-spear. Now, controlling the reins with one hand, he half-twisted his body to thrust the nail-spear backward, his face bearing the desperate expression of a cornered beast still fighting.

The single-handed nail-spears used by the Later Jin soldiers were generally made very long, mainly to balance the weight at both ends. In battle, because they were too heavy, they could only be gripped at the middle of the shaft and had to be clamped under the armpit to stay level. Generally speaking, the attack range of a four-meter nail-spear was roughly equivalent to a two-and-a-half-meter horse lance or cavalry spear, but since horse lances and cavalry spears were two-handed weapons, they were more flexible in thrusting. Of course, the manufacturing process for the latter two was more complex and more expensive.

Because it was very difficult to adjust the thrusting direction of a nail-spear, Huang Shi had previously not thought highly of its mounted combat effectiveness. But now he discovered that this thing was quite good for hindering pursuit — at the very least, it posed a real threat to Huang Shi, who had only a sword in his hand. He had been in the attack position on the left rear side of that enemy soldier for a while now, but several attempted attacks had been blocked by the nail-spear, and he had not been able to successfully close in and cut the man down.

"You've got skill. I'll admit I can't play this game." Huang Shi pulled out his hand cannon from his waist. The power of this new-style weapon was still not too great, roughly equivalent to a foot bow. Although the hand cannon's attack range was not small, riding on a violently jolting horse's back, beyond twenty meters, heaven only knew where the shot would go.

In the mounted battle just now, a distance of twenty meters was a matter of a single second for two men crossing horses in a clash. Huang Shi naturally could not use this thing then, and moreover, horse speed was the guarantee of safety. Huang Shi dared even less to slow his horse to improve accuracy and get hacked. Besides, shooting at a high-speed target from the back of a galloping horse — Huang Shi felt his marksmanship was far from capable of that. Now, in this kind of pursuit battle, using the hand cannon seemed just right.

However, the main problem with matchlock firearms was the trouble. After putting away the hand cannon, Huang Shi still needed to use flint to light the match cord. He let go of the reins with both hands to prepare the firearm, and his horse's speed consequently slowed considerably. Just as he was busy lighting the match cord, he suddenly heard a great roar come from an angle. Behind him, Zhang Minghe spurred his horse to cut in front of Huang Shi's mount, seized the attack position on the left rear side, and with one thrust of his horse lance, skewered that enemy soldier off his horse.

Today, Zhang Minghe's mood was very bad. By all rights, he had made his name several years ago, having long been famous in the Vanguard Camp for his superb horsemanship. After being selected as a retainer by General Zhang Feimao, the entire camp, from top to bottom, regarded him as the Vanguard Camp's thousand-li colt, believing his future was limitless. After Zhang Feimao fell in battle at the Nanguan, Zhang Minghe, living up to everyone's expectations, became the new leader of the Vanguard Camp. At that time, he was barely past twenty years old.

But from then on, Zhang Minghe's days went from bad to worse. Aside from Zhang Guanshui and those few old brothers, few inside or outside the camp were convinced of his ability. If Huang Shi had not always backed him up, Zhang Minghe knew he would have been unable to keep going long ago. In the Battle of Fuzhou, the Vanguard Camp had utterly disgraced itself. Gritting his teeth, Zhang Minghe gave up his independent authority and threw in his lot with Changsheng Island, becoming a subordinate under Huang Shi's banner. He Dingyuan had always been the model in his heart, and Zhang Minghe hoped to rely on his loyalty and martial valor to become a figure like He Dingyuan.

Huang Shi indeed treated him quite well. Zhang Minghe was, after all, the first camp commander in the Changsheng Island system. In this Battle of Juehua, the two companies of the Vanguard Camp had performed very bravely. Although Zhang Minghe's authority and influence over the camp were already very small, this battle merit still had to count as a share for him.

Thinking of his decisive choices and his splendid future prospects, Zhang Minghe had originally been quite happy at heart. He had not expected that yesterday, after being flattered by Jin Guan and the others, he couldn't resist drinking a few extra cups, and ended up causing such a huge disaster. When setting out this morning, Zhang Minghe had deliberately picked a horse lance over ten feet long to follow Huang Shi into battle, fully intent on skewering a few more Later Jin soldiers to vent his anger.

In life, what you're anxious for never comes. In the head-on clash just now, Zhang Minghe hadn't managed to skewer a single man, leaving his full-bellied fury with nowhere to vent, and it burned even more fiercely. Seeing Huang Shi dawdling and still not having skewered that Later Jin soldier, Zhang Minghe could no longer restrain himself. He leaped his horse in front of Huang Shi and thrust with his lance. After scoring the hit, the gratification in his heart was truly beyond words.

Another Later Jin soldier ahead, knowing he could not escape, drew his cavalry bow to try to wound his foes with arrows. Zhang Minghe kept his eyes fixed on that man's movements. When the Later Jin soldier released both hands to prepare to shoot, Zhang Minghe seized the moment his horse speed slowed slightly, let out another great roar, and thrust his lance forward, striking the Later Jin soldier right under the ribs...

The Later Jin army swept toward the north gate of Ningyuan like a gale sweeping away clouds, charged onto the official road, and fled northward for their lives. Their front riders had just rushed past the north gate tower when, right on their heels, Huang Shi's group came charging over. By now, the two sides were already very close. Earlier, when Huang Shi saw that this pursuing force was small and its formation lacked discipline, he had originally planned to beat back the pursuers and rescue those Guan-Ning officers. After hearing that Hu Yining had fallen behind, all he had in mind was to drive off the enemy troops, then search the path back to see if he could find Assistant Regional Commander Hu.

But once he saw the enemy troops fleeing in panic before his eyes, the primal hunting instinct within him revived. Huang Shi and his subordinates grew more and more excited, pressing tightly after the fleeing enemy. Their swords and blades swung ceaselessly, more blood spraying forth with each stroke. The Changsheng Island party kept letting out excited shouts, desperately urging their warhorses forward.

Seeing the enemy troops fleeing in panic just two or three hundred meters before his eyes, and their numbers growing fewer and fewer, the exhilarated Huang Shi kicked his mount fiercely again. At this moment, the warhorse beneath him strained to lift its head and charged forward faster.

That Later Jin niru, watching his companions dwindle continuously around him, truly felt like weeping but had no tears. He turned his head once more to look at the pursuers behind him and was somewhat startled to suddenly discover that the pursuers close on his heels were originally not that many either. From this niru's experience, the dust cloud kicked up by these pursuers looked to be only about thirty men.

Huang Shi, Zhang Minghe, and the others, pressing the pursuit relentlessly, had no time to look back. They only stared fixedly at the enemy before them, their hearts full of the hope of quickly catching up and hacking down a few more. But in fact, just like the Later Jin troops who kept falling behind, some of the Dongjiang Army's men also had horses whose strength was nearly spent, and they gradually fell to the rear. And each time scattered Later Jin troops broke away and fled, Huang Shi would dispatch twice the number of troops to pursue the escapees, so gradually they no longer held any numerical advantage.

Seeing the Later Jin troops suddenly charge off the official road and begin circling around, Huang Shi could not help but laugh three times. "Is this a cornered dog jumping over the wall?" He waved his longsword and led his subordinates straight forward, following behind the Later Jin troops and circling twice.

The enemy cavalry ahead darted up a hill and then, one after another, disappeared behind the slope. Huang Shi, chasing the tail of the enemy troops, rode up the slope and was the first to leap onto the highest peak of the earthen mound. The moment he first saw the enemy's deployment behind the slope, Huang Shi's forward-leaning body instinctively jerked backward, and his pointing longsword also suddenly retracted sharply, as if about to give an order to halt.

That Later Jin niru had originally only been pained by the loss of his own men, but when he saw that the pursuers were only about thirty men, the thought of ambushing Huang Shi stirred in him again. The men around him were now only forty left, and at this rate of flight, at least half of them would still be lost to the Ming troops.

What the art of war calls "do not press a desperate foe" speaks precisely of this situation. Since fleeing meant death anyway, that Later Jin niru resolved fiercely to fight to the death. If he could kill Huang Shi, then no matter how many men he lost, the banner and the Khan would certainly replenish them for him. The Later Jin niru was not certain that his own mount definitely had enough stamina to let him escape. Since death was death either way, it was no big deal — better than falling behind and being hacked down in humiliating fashion, being sliced away piece by piece by Huang Shi like this.

So he led his troops fleeing off the official road, heading straight for the hilly terrain by the roadside. At this moment, he harbored a sliver of wishful thinking, hoping that Huang Shi, seeing the complex terrain, would let him go. But the Later Jin niru's hopes were dashed once again. The Dongjiang Army seemed completely unaware of the danger before them and also charged off the official road, pursuing them all the way into the hills.

At this, the Later Jin niru finally made up his mind for a fight to the death, where either the fish dies or the net breaks. He spotted this relatively high hill at a glance. After leading the charge over the slope, he immediately reined in his horse, was the first to jump down, and began preparing an ambush. Though the bondservants behind him were still somewhat panicked, seeing this posture, they understood their master's plan. They too pulled up their mounts and, at top speed, formed a defensive line.

By the time the last few Later Jin soldiers fled past the highest point of the hill, over twenty Later Jin warriors were already standing firm on the ambush line on the rear slope, and the Later Jin niru was rapidly issuing them orders. This group of Later Jin soldiers turned their horses sideways to form a crude field fortification. The few who had stopped earliest also took down the thick felt blankets from their horses' backs and held them in front as shields.

At the center of the defensive line formed by the horses, ten Later Jin soldiers had picked up iron-core foot bows and already drawn their bowstrings into the shape of a full moon. They had just completed this preparation when Huang Shi, leading the charge on his horse, leaped out from the hilltop. The Later Jin niru saw him clearly, thrust his arm forcefully toward him, and bellowed: "Loose!"

As he leaped over the highest line of the hill, Huang Shi, still in midair, had already seen the enemy formation at the foot of the rear slope. Seeing those bows aimed at him from twenty meters away, Huang Shi first instinctively jerked backward, then immediately yanked the reins sharply to the left, while at the same time shrinking his body and leaning toward the left flank of his mount. His violent pull nearly tore the bridle off the horse's head. The horse's neck was forcibly wrenched leftward into a great arc. At this moment, a volley of sharp arrows came howling and shooting toward him. As Huang Shi's right leg left the stirrup and he leaned leftward, he saw two arrows streak past above his head in succession, and his mount let out a painful, mournful cry.

The horse's chest was struck by four arrows at once, and its neck was hit by two more. Before it collapsed limp to the ground, Huang Shi had already pulled both legs from the stirrups and landed in a sorry tumble, rolling away on his rear. As he frantically dodged aside to avoid being crushed by his mount, only one thought had time to flash through Huang Shi's mind: "When I have money, I must equip the horses with chest armor and neck armor."

Seeing Huang Shi fall from his horse, the Later Jin niru urgently urged his archers to restring their bows. Just as they were about to draw their bows again, the rear echelon of the Ming troops had already charged before their eyes. The ten arrows loosed felled two more Ming cavalrymen. The Ming warhorses refused to crash into the defensive line the Later Jin troops had formed with their horses; they automatically carried their riders around through the two flanks. The clash between the two outermost Later Jin soldiers and the Ming cavalry ended in a one-to-one draw: one Ming soldier was speared off his horse by a Later Jin nail-spear, while another had his skull split open by a Ming soldier who slashed as he galloped past.

The Later Jin niru immediately arranged for half his cavalry to tie up the Ming cavalry. He knew the Ming troops would grow more and more numerous, and Huang Shi's hundred-odd subordinates would all soon arrive. His only chance was to kill Huang Shi before that, then hope that the enemy's morale would collapse and they would retreat. This was also the only chance of survival for these few dozen Later Jin soldiers.

Over thirty Ming cavalrymen had instantly charged past, twenty of them, while several others had already jumped off their horses and gathered at the spot where Huang Shi had fallen. The Later Jin niru knew the chance to live was fleeting. He made a prompt decision and shouted orders for his men to charge, then also pushed aside the horse in front of him and, brandishing a great axe, lunged toward Huang Shi's position.

After falling from his horse, Huang Shi scrambled back two steps on all fours. He had been struck by an arrow on the outer front of his right chest and another on his right thigh, but neither arrow had caused injury. The frontal defense of armor was inherently very strong, its average thickness roughly two to three times that of the back armor, and the right chest area was also one of the thickest parts of the entire suit of armor. The arrow that struck there had simply failed to penetrate his mountain-pattern armor.

In fact, the thigh armor of a general's suit was also one of the important protective pieces. Huang Shi estimated it was about one millimeter thick, but this arrow, perhaps because the distance was too close, had actually struck the mountain-pattern armor plate so hard it deeply caved inward, and the arrowhead was embedded straight into the armor. Huang Shi yanked hard with his left hand and pulled it out. He rapidly scanned the arrowhead — good, there was no blood on it. The armor carefully selected by Eunuch Wei was indeed of fine quality.

By the time the Later Jin soldiers charged over, Huang Shi had already risen to his feet. He forcefully hurled the arrow aside, then drew the long dagger from his waist. Huang Shi looked at the Later Jin officers and soldiers at the foot of the slope who had ambushed him, his right hand casually twirling the longsword in a circle, slowly coming to rest before his chest, pointing diagonally forward. From his mouth came an icy sentence: "Well come! Truly, a cornered rat bites the cat, a desperate dog jumps the wall."

Before encountering this small ambush, Huang Shi had already vented quite well. The accumulated resentment of these days had also been mostly washed away by the joy of the hunt. After being shot by two arrows, falling from his mount, and rolling twice on the ground in a sorry state, Huang Shi instantly felt the fury in his chest already blazing fiercely, nearly about to erupt from his throat.

Before the enemy troops began their charge, Huang Shi gripped his longsword with both hands, planted his feet firmly on the ground in a wide stance, and even had the leisure to roll his neck left and right, settling into an attacking posture. His eyes leered down at the Later Jin warriors below, his heart filled with contempt and disdain: "Barbarians, barbarians, you have no culture, no creation, no art, no history. You don't even have ancestors — you don't even have ancestors and have to randomly claim them everywhere... truly you have nothing at all... you can only flaunt your ability to kill, plunder, and destroy civilization... Can't win in water battles, so you compete on land; can't win at range, so you compete up close. Today in mounted battle you lost again — do you still want to rely on foot combat to save face?"

Huang Shi stared at the mortal enemies charging close before him. As he swung his longsword, he roared curses: "What other skills do you Tartars have? Bring them all out! Your grandpa is right here waiting to see."

Facing him, charging forward, was a ferocious, burly man, swinging his long-handled axe with fierce, imposing power. Huang Shi gripped his sword with both hands and parried an overhead downward slash from the man.

Following that came another downward slash, swift as a thunderclap. Huang Shi again parried with force, only to feel a great surge of power rush over him. He was driven back a step, and the sword in his hands flew from his grip. The enemy had clearly also exerted his full strength; the sweeping long axe traced a great arc, making him unsteady on his feet, his body spinning with it to the side.

When Tianqi bestowed the Imperial Sword, he had instructed Huang Shi to always keep it by his side, but Wu Mu and many others felt it was better not to carry out this order. Wu Mu had once advised Huang Shi that he should, like everyone else, enshrine the Imperial Sword — that was the most proper approach. Huang Shi, however, felt that Tianqi's words were in earnest.

Huang Shi retreated one step, steadied his stance, gripped the hilt at his waist, and pulled hard with a sudden jerk... The Son of Heaven's sword had already left its scabbard, the cold light flowing over its crystalline body like a clear, pure spring.