Chapter 111: Beneath the Walls of Shule (II)

Zhang Zhao finally understood another reason Li Shengtian had insisted on foisting these people onto him. Looking at the motley assortment before him — tall, short, fat, thin, all shapes and sizes — he had a splitting headache.

The so-called Buddhist underground operatives from Ya'erkan (Shache) to Pianzhou City (Yingjisha) were in fact nothing more than a bunch of poor wretches desperate to flee to Khotan for a peaceful life.

They were indeed natives of those places, but because they refused to convert to the Tianfang faith they had been oppressed by the Karakhanids. They had originally thought of simply fleeing to Khotan and being done with it, but Li Shengtian would not take them in.

Because if they left, the stretch from Ya'erkan to Pianzhou City would surely be occupied by Karluks and Uyghurs whom the Karakhanids had recruited and converted.

If that happened, the pressure on Khotan would be enormous. This time, instead of fighting the Battle of Shule, they would probably be fighting a defensive battle at Ya'erkan itself.

And these people were no fools. Li Shengtian had refused them entry to Khotan again and again, only granting their leader a minor official post and a little salt, grain, and cloth. Why? They surely knew.

Could they really harbor no resentment in their hearts? Could there really be none among them who had secretly converted but said nothing?

If they managed to infiltrate the Khotan army, it was entirely possible they would voice grievances or even leak intelligence. So Li Shengtian simply dumped them on Zhang Zhao, let him manage them, and out of sight, out of mind.

So the moment Zhang Zhao understood the situation, he decisively changed tactics. With personnel this mixed, pretending to be an elite force probably would not last long. He simply made camp three li outside Shule and settled in for a hard-fought, grinding stand.

He would turn himself into a nail driven beneath the walls of Shule. Itihad wanted to form a pincer with Yusuf Fort and Iskesa Fort, did he? Then he, Zhang Zhao, would lodge himself outside the south gate of Shule. Unless they pulled out this nail of his, Shule and those two forts could never form their pincer.

Besides, he only needed to hold out for a few days. Throw up a simple defensive work, and with a mix of intimidation and fighting, it should be doable.

So the earth-carrying, tree-felling, and timber-hauling that Itihad saw from the city wall was not actually for filling in the moat or building siege engines — it was for erecting a stockade.

A shrill copper whistle sounded, and the standard-bearer hurriedly waved the Zhang recognition banner left and right.

The small square formations on either side of the recognition banner, upon seeing it wave left and right, shouted slogans to one another and merged from three scattered small squares into one large square.

Boom, boom, boom! The drums atop Shule's walls sounded too. A very inconspicuous small gate creaked open, and a cavalry force of roughly four or five hundred men rode out in a steady stream.

Never think about rushing to seize such a gate. These gates are always set in very secluded spots, with protruding bastions on both sides and corner towers at the turns, all packed with archers.

Even if you did seize it, inside there is usually a barbican or very narrow, complex passages. Going in would most likely mean death.

This was different from the siege warfare Zhang Zhao had imagined before his transmigration. In his imagination, a siege always meant the attackers swarming the walls like ants while the defenders hurled down logs, rolling stones, and boiling filth without regard for cost.

But in reality, that kind of assault was rare. It mostly happened only at life-or-death moments, or when the attacking side held an overwhelming advantage.

Most of the time, it was like today: the attackers first cleared the enemy outside the city, then made camp somewhere.

The defenders would send out troops to harass them at that point. If the harassment failed, they would then use strong bows and heavy crossbows from the walls, plus small bands of cavalry that could sally out, to pull and tug at the attackers in combat. Satellite forts outside the city would also coordinate with the city itself.

As for sealing all four gates and grimly holding the whole city — that was only the last resort when there was no other choice. That passive feeling of isolation, with the enemy threatening at any moment, was a severe test of morale.

Historically, many cities reached that point and simply could not keep fighting. That was why a lone city holding out for several months was so celebrated in the histories — because it truly was extraordinarily difficult.

Five or six hundred cavalry charging still made an impressive sight. The very earth trembled, dust flew, and what you saw was not warhorses and riders sprinting at you, but demons flickering in and out of the dust.

Twang! Yan Jin loosed a long arrow with bright tail feathers, its head emitting a sharp whistle that instantly drew everyone's attention.

"Forty paces!" he shouted. This marked the distance: when the enemy cavalry reached that point, the square would unleash a volley of ten thousand arrows.

Adumu also saw the marker, but he paid it no mind.

At this time, the crossbow had not yet spread to the west on a large scale. They knew the Taohuashi possessed a crossbow of terrifying power, but exactly how terrifying, they had no feel for it.

"Armored ones to the front, charge through with your long spears! Unarmored ones, take out your bows and shoot together on my command! The fifty at the rear, dismount and switch to foot bows with heavy arrows. If we can't break through, we'll use heavy arrows to take their lives!"

Adumu's arrangement was sound. Five or six hundred cavalry charging carried tremendous momentum. Against an ordinary force, a few dozen infantry facing several hundred cavalry might well break without a real fight — the sheer spectacle of the charge could scare them out of their wits. Then the armored riders in front, spears leveled, would charge and drive, and the formation would collapse.

While the armored riders charged, the light cavalry behind would circle the infantry square in a semicircular running route, loosing arrows ceaselessly to harass and sap enemy morale. Against those without full armor, they could inflict considerable casualties.

Usually by this point, an isolated infantry square would likely rout. If it still had not, then it was time for the remaining fifty men with foot bows and heavy arrows to do their work.

These heavy arrows, loosed in an arc, did not kill by piercing armor but by sheer weight, smashing down on people. An iron lump slightly smaller than a baby's fist falling from the sky — hit a hand and the hand swelled; hit a head and the head split.

But all of this was built on Adumu's fond imaginings. The template he was simulating was the infantry of the Persian Samanid dynasty, already in decline.

This Persian in his thirties had never once witnessed the heavy infantry of the Great Tang!

With a hum, just as Adumu and his cavalry crossed the marker arrow, a sound like a swarm of bees leaving the hive arose.

Several armored riders at the front, wearing Great Food iron-plate armor, toppled straight to the ground. Adumu even saw the jet of blood spurting from the chest of the foremost rider.

The Taohuashi crossbow — it had this much power? This was not just piercing armor; the bolt was nearly passing clean through the body!

In his alarm, another humming sounded — the second wave of crossbow bolts had arrived!

This time, with four or five armored riders at the front down, the charging cavalry formation fell into some disorder. Many light cavalry who should have been at the rear were exposed, and in an instant men and horses were sent tumbling.

Wounded warhorses neighed and bolted wildly in all directions. Riders struck by arrows groaned and screamed. Some of the fallen men and horses on the ground blocked those behind from continuing the charge, and the formation fell into complete chaos.

Seizing the chaos, Ma Yaozi shouted and led the fifteen archers behind him in their first volley.

The ones who had just fired were the sixty Divine Arm crossbowmen, using a two-stage firing method, thirty men per volley. The gaps caused by reloading had to be covered by the archers.

"Spread out! Disperse to both sides! Get in close and trade shots with them!" Seeing this latest volley of arrows kill another dozen or so of his men, Adumu, eyes splitting with rage, bellowed.

He had not had many armored riders to begin with, and now nearly all of them had been shot down by the enemy crossbows. A charge was no longer possible. The only option was to rely on superior numbers and overwhelm the enemy with sheer volume of arrows.

Moreover, because horse bows lacked power, they could only trade shots at close range. To trade shots at long range would be little short of suicide.

It had to be said that the Karakhanid state was indeed an empire on the rise. No wonder they would later seize all three of the precious lands of Anxi and Transoxiana.

Though they were now in such chaos, having suffered thirty or forty casualties without firing a single arrow, the remainder still obeyed Adumu's orders with relative composure.

The light cavalry began dispersing to both flanks, bypassing the central route now blocked by the corpses of men and horses. They formed a pincer-shaped charge route and swept toward the enemy infantry square.

And the fifty men at the very rear, holding stiff bows and heavy arrows, were also preparing to dismount and form ranks under their officers' shouts.

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