Chapter 232: You Really Are a Loyal Minister

This was the easiest battle Zhang Zhao had ever fought, and also the cruelest battle he had ever fought. Yes—

cruel, not brutal, because his opponents could not make the warriors of the Fengtian Army feel brutality.

The only surprise was that the war elephants' fear of the fire-spraying pear-blossom spears far exceeded everyone's imagination.

At the very start it set off panic in the six war elephants at the front, and then the trumpeting of these elephants in turn affected the other three war elephants in the formation.

Apart from the one elephant that fell off the cliff, the remaining eight war elephants all turned and fled in a collective frenzy.

It was simply a disaster! This was also why Zhang Zhao considered it the cruelest battle he had ever fought.

Because apart from the initial crossbow volley, the warriors of the Fengtian Army had not fought the enemy hand to hand again. They simply followed behind those panicked war elephants, frightening and driving them as they charged into the army of the Shahi dynasty.

On a mountain path where only ten men could walk abreast, eight maddened war elephants were no different from tanks.

Once they started running, almost nothing could stop them. Countless people were trampled into pulp, and even more were shoved off the cliffs.

At first the Fengtian Army warriors followed behind, stabbing with spears and hacking with blades, but later even they could not bring themselves to strike.

The ground was covered with dark, gaunt wretches, drenched in blood and screaming. The luckier ones had only had their minds shattered by terror; the unluckier ones had broken arms and legs, or even chests caved in by trampling, and many of them had still not breathed their last.

By the end, as long as a man lay on the ground and did not rise, and had no weapon in his hands, the Fengtian Army basically did not kill him.

No one knew how long they had pursued. It must have been more than half a shichen when, one after another, several mournful trumpetings of war elephants rang out, and only then did Zhang Zhao order the Fengtian Army warriors to halt their pursuit.

It turned out they had already followed the road down from the mountainside into the river valley. The Kabul River bent here, and the riverbed was fairly broad.

Zhang Zhao ran up to the front in a few quick strides and looked. At the river bend, no fewer than twenty thousand soldiers of the Shahi dynasty were crowded together in chaos.

Though they were in disorder, it looked as if their formations had still been preserved.

In front of these twenty thousand soldiers, the eight maddened war elephants had all collapsed to the ground.

As long as no infantry followed behind the war elephants to press the attack, it was actually easy to deal with these big fellows, even without using fire attacks or anything of the sort.

The simplest method was to hide a warrior of immense strength among the crowd and have him smash the elephant's head directly with a great iron hammer. Or perhaps throwing spears would also work.

Of course, all this only applied when dealing with the war elephants alone. Otherwise, the infantry behind the elephants and the archers on their backs could successfully defend against any attack on the elephants at any time.

"Great King, it must be their central army coming back to reinforce them! That banner is the command banner of their central army!"

Yan Jin said, pointing at a war banner painted with a golden elephant. When the central army had passed earlier, it had flown this very banner, so the great white-elephant banner not far away should be where Modhapala himself was.

"Form ranks on the spot! Ma Yaozi, pull one of your du up to the front. Everyone else, rest, eat and drink where you are, and wait for the enemy to come to us!"

Zhang Zhao quickly made the adjustment. He was not about to charge straight in now. This was a killing ground, and the enemy was clearly already in a state of extreme terror. If he attacked now, he would only force them to fight to the death.

But if they faced off a while longer, their morale would plummet wildly, and in the end they would come forward to their own deaths.

Ma Yaozi's du had been at the very rear just now and had not come forward, so its men still had relatively ample strength.

After completing the rotation, the fellow looked at Zhang Zhao and said in a muffled voice, "Great King, lend me all the sharpshooters from your Hanshan du, especially the ones with divine-arm crossbows. Let's use this time to shoot at them with strong bows and hard crossbows."

Right! The scene must not be allowed to go cold. Zhang Zhao beckoned with his hand.

"Fan Shun, take some men and go with Captain Ma. Shoot accurately, and pick out their officers!"

Among the defeated Shahi army, King Modhapala was covered in mud, and the turban wrapped around his head was a sheet of blood-red.

The poor fellow's war elephant had also just gone mad and thrown him from its back, nearly snapping Modhapala's neck outright.

In the end he only split his head open with a big gash. He could count himself lucky.

Beside Modhapala, the old general Kalimakha was also in a sorry state. After receiving Modhapala's plea for help, he had led his troops back at full speed, and had only just reached the river bend when he saw the maddened war elephants. By the time they had dealt with the elephants, the pursuers had arrived.

Kalimakha looked at Modhapala, whose eyes were full of questions, and shook his head with difficulty.

"Your Majesty, we have most likely fallen into a trap. We also met fierce resistance at the valley mouth. No—it cannot be called resistance. It was a thrashing.

Because our eighteen thousand men were beaten into a wretched state by their six thousand or so. When I led the troops back to reinforce you, General Simha's force had already been surrounded. As for the ten thousand troops I left at the valley mouth, I do not know whether they can hold out."

"Then who is it? Who is ambushing us? How can they have held out to ambush us under such harsh conditions?"

The Shahi king Modhapala's head was full of question marks. The enemy's military ability had already exceeded the scope of his understanding.

In particular, five days earlier he had sent scouts to reconnoiter and control this area. For those people behind them to appear at this time, there was only one possibility: they had been lying hidden in this valley for more than five days.

To lie hidden for more than five days in a valley this cold and windy—Modhapala slowly shook his head. He had never seen, had never even imagined, that such an army could exist.

Just as the two men were exchanging helpless glances, screams rose one after another again. Although this river bend was broad, their twenty thousand men were packed together, and at the slightest disturbance they easily affected one another.

"Your Majesty, the enemy's sharpshooters are constantly shooting our officers. Several centurions have already been shot dead!" A guard rushed over hurriedly to report.

Modhapala kicked the guard to the ground in fury. "Do you need to report such a trifling matter to me? Tell the chiliarch Vishnu to organize a counterattack, and send out all our sharpshooters!"

The old general Kalimakha paid no attention to Modhapala's tantrum, but instead carefully moved a little closer to Modhapala.

"Your Majesty, these people are of unknown origin and their fighting strength is formidable. I fear some formidable figure has arisen on the northern grasslands again. We must withdraw early, first hold Nalanda and Peshawar, and make plans for the future!"

When Modhapala heard the words "withdraw," his eyes lit up involuntarily, and he too quietly moved a little closer to Kalimakha.

"Now that we are blocked here, how are we to withdraw?"

"We still have some dry rations. Distribute them all so the men can eat and drink their fill. I will then gather the Kshatriya cavalry from the various armies; I estimate we can muster about two thousand.

After they have eaten and drunk their fill, have the army launch a fierce assault on the enemy over there. They number only two or three thousand. When the fighting has worn them down to exhaustion, suddenly charge with the iron cavalry. Two thousand iron cavalry charging two or three thousand exhausted foot soldiers—we can certainly break through!"

Modhapala silently rose to his feet. This was asking him to abandon the army and flee alone!

But if he lost the thirty thousand troops here and the ten thousand or so laborers, even if he returned to his kingdom, where would he find the troops to defend it?

Just as Modhapala was sinking into hesitation, the sharpshooters he had sent out earlier came running back in panic.

It turned out that when they went out to exchange shots, they had been shot to pieces by just a few volleys of arrows from the other side. Even their commander, the chiliarch Vishnu, had been shot dead.

"By decree of the Khagan of Khagans, the Gur Khan, to the lord of the Shahi kingdom: surrender at once and your life may be spared. Resist stubbornly, and you shall surely be annihilated!"

Modhapala, who was still hesitating, turned pale. Khagan of Khagans? Gur Khan?

As a descendant of the Western Turks, memories from ancient times seemed to awaken in an instant.

He knew all too well what those two titles meant. Another overlord like Jieli Khagan had arisen on the steppes!

"Old general, gather the men! If I can return to Udabhandapura, I will never treat you poorly!"

Zhang Zhao rubbed his chin. What was going on? He looked at the Shahi army, which was already preparing to launch an attack, his face full of confusion.

How is it that sending people to urge surrender only made them more resolute?

Forget it! They're just weaklings anyway — easy to crush. It's just a pity: every extra one I kill is one less laborer for me!

Great Khagan Zhang had already come to regard the twenty thousand men in the river bend as his spoils of war.

An hour later, Modaboluo and Jia'ermohe, already fully armored, stood there dumbfounded.

Before they could even launch their charge, the infantry in front had already collapsed. Routed soldiers fled all across the river bend, many of them simply leaping straight into the icy waters of the Kabul River.

That black-armored army of the Ju'er Khan was like a giant serpent charging and ramming its way through — wherever it struck, the people scattered in all directions. Two or three thousand men had sent twenty thousand fleeing in every direction.

"Do we still charge? Old General, it seems..." Modaboluo said from atop his warhorse, looking at Jia'ermohe. He wanted to say the distance seemed no longer enough — just a few dozen paces, and the horses could not even get up to a gallop.

"Father, do not hesitate!" Jia'ermohe's son shouted at his father, looking extremely anxious.

Modaboluo heard this and was so moved his eyes reddened. What a fine loyal subject! Even now he was willing to shed his last drop of blood for him.

"Very well! Your Majesty, please do not blame me!" Jia'ermohe said to Modaboluo, full of apology.

Modaboluo was still immersed in emotion and did not sense anything wrong with these words — he only felt that the old loyal subject's expression seemed somewhat off.

"General, why say such a thing? As..." The self-moved Modaboluo had not finished speaking when he suddenly felt a tremendous force upon him.

He tumbled from his horse, the world spinning, and then someone pressed a short blade against his neck.

"Strike!" Jia'ermohe's son let out a great shout, and the Kshatriya knights surrounding him suddenly drew their blades and hacked at the personal guards beside Modaboluo.

"Great Ju'er Khan, Khan of All Khans, Your Majesty! We wish to surrender!"

It was Jia'ermohe's aged voice. Modaboluo's vision went black and he passed out on the spot.

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