Chapter 390: The Bloody Battle of the Hun River

"Dong dong dong!" The Khitan war drums began to beat as well, and the Pishi Army advanced with the drumbeats.

They had no choice but to advance — the Guiyi Army infantry opposite them was exerting too much pressure. If they simply watched the enemy push forward like a moving mountain and made no change, there was a very high chance the Guiyi Army could drive Khitan morale straight into the ground.

Yet these Pishi Army troops were better off not moving at all. Once they moved — how to put it — although they could form ranks and fight as infantry, they were, after all, a semi-nomadic fishing and hunting people.

They still had not mastered this kind of Han battle formation, or rather, the Khitan had barely practiced it at all. Compared especially with the two thousand Guiyi Army troops, they were not on the same level at all.

"Dong! Dong dong! Dong! Dong dong dong!"

The moment he saw the Khitan begin to shift formation, and somewhat crookedly at that, Zhe Deyi ordered the drums to beat this one-two, one-three pattern — the drum signal for attack preparations.

Hearing this drumbeat, each squad leader set down his small drum, took up his bow instead, and drew from the quiver at his waist an arrow with white tail feathers.

Then dozens of squad leaders stepped out of the ranks together, ran thirty or forty paces forward, and shot their marking arrows into the open ground between the two armies.

"One hundred fifty paces!"

"One hundred fifty paces!"

The marking arrows flew out with a sharp whistle, and after shooting, the squad leaders shouted out loud — this was to mark the range.

According to Guiyi Army regulations, every soldier under a squad leader's command had to remember exactly where his squad leader's marking arrow had landed. The area they would concentrate their volleys on was right there.

"Dong! Dong!" The command drum sounded twice more, meaning that at two drum rolls, they must advance forty paces. With the enemy also closing in, this distance was where crossbow bolts could reach.

Thirty paces left!

Twenty paces left!

"Woo-wah! Woo-wah! Woo-wah!" After twenty paces, all the soldiers plucked arrows from their quivers and began howling like apes. The entire battlefield instantly surged with agitation.

Ten paces! The crossbowmen at the very front raised their Divine Arm bows and horn crossbows in unison, bolts already drawn!

"Loose!"

"Loose!"

Officers on both sides shouted at the same moment, and in an instant, the sky was filled with a dense mass of arrows and bolts.

At a distance of roughly fifty-six paces, the armor-piercing effect of crossbow bolts was especially astonishing.

Wearing only a single layer of armor meant you simply could not withstand it, but you could not wear more, because heavy armor would inevitably slow the speed of drawing the bowstring.

At this very moment, the advantage of the Guiyi Army's padded armor showed itself at once.

The Pishi Army opposite could only wear a single layer of lamellar armor, but the Guiyi Army could wear padded armor and then a layer of ring-mail over it, greatly strengthening their defense.

Amid the rising and falling screams, relying on their thick armor, the Guiyi Army immediately achieved a one-to-three casualty ratio against the Pishi Army.

And at the same time, the hundred Divine Arm bowmen in the very center, led by Murong Xinzhang, achieved at least a one-to-six casualty ratio.

The speed at which the Divine Arm bow could be drawn — in simple terms, its rate of fire — was more than twice as fast as the wooden single-shot crossbow. How could the Khitan withstand such a blow?

In an instant, the very center caved inward. Even though Xiao Shilu kept throwing men into the gap, it was useless.

In at most three minutes of exchanging fire, the Pishi Army paid a price of at least over a hundred men — and these were armored soldiers wearing iron armor.

"All troops press forward, use bows! Concentrate fire on the enemy center! Light cavalry, prepare to charge immediately!"

Xiao Shilu, left with no options, immediately made adjustments. If he did not adjust, in a little while the enemy's armored cavalry would come charging in through this gap shot open in his lines.

He now deliberately disrupted his own formation, massing a large number of archers to concentrate fire on these hundred Divine Arm bowmen.

He also committed his reserve of two hundred cavalry to create a numerical advantage in a short time, seeking to break the Guiyi Army's most important Divine Arm bowmen in the center.

Under Xiao Shilu's orders, the Khitan center, which had been caved in, was "filled" once more.

Several hundred light-armored Khitan cavalry paid heavy casualties in repeated charges, and succeeded in forcing back the Divine Arm bowmen's assault.

At this moment, Zhe Deyi pointed with his hand. "Chai Dalang, the Khitan have no reserves left! Take three hundred riders and strike from the left toward the right.

They think I'm going to use armored cavalry to hit the center too. I won't! I'll use light cavalry to hit his left wing!"

Chai Rong drew a long breath of icy air, and his grip on the cavalry lance tightened again.

There was ice and snow on the ground, which was bad for cavalry charges — this was also the reason neither side chose mounted combat today.

To guarantee impact force, his three hundred riders wore no armor. If they wore armor, they would not be able to build up a charge on the icy ground.

This — unarmored light cavalry charging the Khitan flank with only long lances — was all about sudden assault and courage.

"Winning merit and building a name, having my portrait hung in the Qifeng Pavilion — it begins today!"

The seventeen-year-old Chai Rong let out a long howl. Great King Zhang's Qifeng Pavilion and its twenty-five loyal portraits of returned heroes had spread far and wide across the "jianghu."

Three hundred light cavalry fiercely attacked the Pishi Army's left-wing archers, and the bloodiness immediately surpassed even the crossbow exchange in the center.

Because these cavalrymen were unarmored, a single arrow meant death. Likewise, archers who had not formed ranks in time and were charged by cavalry also died.

Chai Rong rode at the very front, as if aided by the gods, not struck by a single arrow. Holding his cavalry lance, he lashed left and struck right, immediately throwing the Pishi Army's left wing into utter chaos.

Xiao Shilu waited a full two or three minutes, and only when he saw the chaos in the left wing about to spread to the center did he have no choice but to raise a great black banner.

This was him summoning the three hundred cavalry watching the horses in the distance to return as reinforcements. At the same time, Xiao Shilu prayed inwardly that the enemy commander would not notice.

"Hahaha! Victory! Victory! I, Zhe Deyi, am about to make my name shake the world!"

Unfortunately, things went contrary to his wishes. When Xiao Shilu summoned the horse-watching cavalry back, Zhe Deyi was so excited tears flew from his eyes.

These elite Pishi Army cavalry had, at the Battle of Tuanbo Valley, defeated the famous Hebei generals Gao Xingzhou and Fu Yanqing one after another, shaking the world — but today they were about to be defeated by him.

"My sons, follow me and seize the Khitan warhorses! Without their warhorses, let's see how they return to Yunzhou!"

With that, Zhe Deyi gave up even commanding — there was no need to command now. Once they seized the Khitan warhorses, the enemy's morale would collapse.

Xiao Shilu, his eyes splitting with rage, watched from afar as Zhe Deyi led the several hundred cavalry guarding the horses to seize their mounts.

But there was nothing he could do. If he sent the three hundred cavalry back, his left wing would collapse. If he did not send them back, losing the warhorses would mean collapse all the same.

"Hui Baoli, take men and check the ice conditions at once. Find a spot neither too thick nor too thin, and prepare to retreat!"

Xiao Shilu felt only a bitter taste in his mouth, but he quickly issued the order, sending his personal guards to inspect the river section.

They could no longer win. They had to withdraw decisively and report the presence of a powerful enemy to the west to Yelu Deguang at once.

Moreover, the ice on the Hun River was not thick. Xiao Shilu was betting that the enemy army would not dare pursue.

"Switch to modao glaive glaive glaives! Switch to modao glaive glaive glaives!"

Murong Xinzhang shouted from the central army. By now the crossbow exchange was basically over.

The two sides were already very close, and the slow-firing crossbows had begun to lose their killing efficiency.

Moreover, repeatedly spanning a crossbow was slow and exhausting — if you were careless, someone would rush over and hack you dead with an axe.

At the same time, the Khitan cavalry that had charged them several times were now weary, men and horses alike. Using modao glaive glaive glaives now would make them suffer badly.

So at this moment, although the Guiyi Army clearly held the advantage in the crossbow exchange, Murong Xinzhang still decisively ordered the armored soldiers around him to take up modao glaive glaive glaives.

And these hundred modao glaive glaive soldiers around him could be called the finest of the finest in the entire Guiyi Army — the elite that Great King Zhang had raised over nearly seven years since his transmigration, with countless wealth and the great cause of returning to the motherland.

Even their parents, on every birthday, if Zhang Zhao could not send someone personally, he would have Nineteenth Lady Yanxi dispatch palace attendants from the princely residence to offer congratulations in his place.

Their children were all personally arranged by Zhang Zhao to study letters or martial arts. One could say every favor that could be given was given.

And the elite troops raised this way were beyond comparison with ordinary armies.

Mounted and armored, they could serve as shock cavalry.

In light armor, they were light cavalry skilled in both bow and lance.

With the divine-arm crossbow, they were the finest crossbowmen.

Swapping to modao glaive glaive glaives, they were the modao glaive glaive Army that embodied the military might of the Great Tang.

Such elite troops — Zhang Zhao had only three or four hundred in all.

The moment they switched to modao glaive glaive glaives and took the field, the situation changed. Blades gleamed like snow; they advanced like a wall of cavalry, like a violent storm — fierce and unceasing.

With a single charge, the central army of the Pishi Army was hacked into flying severed limbs and broken arms.

Brave as these Pishi troops were, they could not withstand these elites Zhang Zhao had built with cloth-faced iron armor and divine-arm crossbows.

After the hundred modao glaive glaive soldiers broke into the Pishi Army's center, they did not press forward. Instead, they split into two groups of fifty, wheeled, and hacked toward the left and right flanks.

At once, the relatively intact Pishi Army formation was carved open with an even larger wedge-shaped gap.

"Woo-loo-loo-loo!" A conch-horn call peculiar to the Khitan rang out.

Hearing it, all the Pishi soldiers suddenly roared as if injected with blood, and hurled themselves forward in a fierce press — even in the midst of their steady retreat, they drove the Guiyi Army back a step.

But immediately after, like a night-blooming cereus blossoming for an instant, the Khitan soldiers' offensive came to an abrupt halt.

Then, like thousands of termites whose nest had been destroyed, they collapsed in an instant — so suddenly that even Murong Xinzhang was stunned for a moment.

It turned out that this strange conch-horn call was the order to retreat.

But it was not a full retreat. At least several hundred who could not break away bunched together like hedgehogs on the spot, resisting desperately.

More of them fled frantically toward the frozen Hun River, throwing their weapons and armor to the ground as they ran.

Senior officers like Xiao Shilu had long since fled to the middle of the river.

"Ten thousand victories! Ten thousand victories!" Amid the excited howling, the Guiyi Army and the Zhe family soldiers chased down the fleeing Khitan and cut them down without mercy.

"Sound the gongs! Sound the gongs at once!" Seeing that many were about to reach the middle of the river, Murong Xinzhang suddenly ordered his personal guards to sound the retreat, and sent out the officers he could still command to call the men back.

"Why sound the retreat? We were just about to strew the field with those rotten Xi corpses!"

A company commander in heavy armor glared at Murong Xinzhang, thoroughly displeased.

"Our two thousand men are the fruit of the Great King's years of effort — the very foundation of our Guiyi Army. Even if all three thousand Pishi troops die, the Khitan still have tens of thousands more.

The weather has warmed these past days, and the ice on the river is not thick. If we pursue in heavy armor, beware of falling through! Carry out the order at once!"

Murong Xinzhang roared, slapping the company commander on the helmet.

The moment his words fell, a thunderous boom sounded. The ice on the Hun River could not bear the trampling of thousands, and split open into countless holes. Khitan soldiers kept screaming as they plunged into the water.

The company commander shuddered violently and hurried off to gather his men back.

Seeing that few on his own side had fallen into the water, Murong Xinzhang's stern face finally broke into a smile.

Of the three thousand Khitan Pishi troops, their warhorses, armor, and weapons were almost entirely lost. No one knew how many had fallen into the Hun River; those who remained had only thin clothing, and probably not many would make it back.

And this was the Pishi Army! Yelu Deguang would be weeping, wouldn't he?

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