Chapter 511: The Lanzi Scouts and the Sworn-Follower Elite Cavalry

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Yanshi can be counted among the most ancient cities on this land. It was built by King Wu of Zhou in former years, taking its name from the meaning of "resting the troops."

As if by the will of heaven in the unseen, over the thousand years that followed, Yanshi truly did achieve the resting of troops.

For as the eastern gate of Luoyang, the troop-resting city of Yanshi was often the prelude to the capture of Luoyang. Rebel armies coming from the east would mostly regroup here, then drive straight for Luoyang.

Since the end of the Tang, Yanshi had become an even harder-hit zone of war.

From the Xingjiao Gate Incident of Emperor Zhuangzong of Tang onward, in twenty-nine years, the Emperor changed six times, Luoyang was breached five times, and Yanshi was likewise breached five times — once in fewer than every six years.

Oh, no, wait! Add the two times since the Yong-Liao struggle began, and it should be seven breaches in twenty-nine years. And now, very likely, it was about to be the eighth.

A faint morning breeze blew past. Outside Yanshi, wolf-smoke rose across the fields in every direction. Yelu Deguang personally led seventy-five thousand horse and foot, advancing eastward in force from Gong County. The great army was divided into van, center, and rear, moving steadily along the Yinluo River.

Before the great army arrived, the Khitan's far-ranging scout riders — the Lanzi cavalry — spread out by the ten thousand light horsemen, covering the land in every direction, providing excellent reconnaissance and screening for the advancing Khitan host.

At the same time, several thousand riders of the Yong-Liang sworn-follower elite cavalry were also sent out. These horsemen, selected from the Liugu tribes of Liang and Lan, the Qiang and Tangut of Shuofang, and even the various peoples west of the desert, were extremely formidable in battle.

Do not look down on them as sworn-follower elite cavalry, as if they were not regular troops.

In fact, the reason Yong-Liang could draw out so many sworn-follower elite cavalry, apart from its own martial customs and abundance of warhorses,

was actually that the Yong state's finances could not support too many established cavalry units, so they could only let them appear in the guise of sworn-follower elite cavalry.

A unit of the Liao army's far-ranging Lanzi scouts was resting by a small stream. They generally operated in units of twenty riders.

Among them were two regular soldiers. Those who could serve as regular soldiers were generally members of the Khitan core tribes.

Even light cavalry like the far-ranging Lanzi scouts would carry one longbow and one horn bow each, three horses, and two household retainers.

However, after the southern invasion, the replenishment of warhorses was not very timely, and large numbers of their own people from the north were needed to garrison various places, so now regular soldiers were allotted two horses and one household retainer.

Besides the two regular soldiers, there were also four fan-han converted riders.

The so-called fan-han converted riders were somewhat like the banner-raisers of the Manchu Qing — not necessarily Han, but also Balhae people, Jurchen people, and even Goryeo people.

Each regular soldier led two fan-han converted riders, and each of the two fan-han converted riders led three mounted followers.

The mounted followers came from many sources: soldiers of other peoples not yet qualified to become converted riders, and also Khitan who could not yet become regular soldiers.

Above this, four regular soldiers — that is, forty riders — formed a unit, commanded by a unit commander. Further up were military officers, junior generals, generals, and supervisors.

By the small stream, in the seventh-month weather, it was already somewhat scorching. Of these twenty Liao soldiers, ten were by the stream, pulling out the hemp cloth they carried to wipe the sweat from their faces and necks, while others hurried to fill their waterskins.

The remaining ten were all on horseback, and two more stood watch on the small hillocks to the front and rear. They had to wait until the ten in the stream finished wiping off sweat and drinking before it was their turn.

The Khitan regular soldier standing watch was a man whose face was crisscrossed with furrows. He looked far from young, but in fact he was only twenty-one. The furrows on his face were the indelible marks left by the cold winds north of the desert.

The regular soldier's expression was not good, and he was muttering something under his breath.

The weather in the southern court's lands was too hot. If he were back home at Gold Mountain (near Qiqihar), it would still be cool at this time.

As for the Emperor wanting to remain in the Central Plains, the regular soldier was quite scornful. What were those great men thinking? What was good about staying in this hot, humid southern court?

They said the southern court was rich and prosperous, but in the regular soldier's view, apart from a few larger towns, the common households were all very poor, with little plunder worth taking.

"Maybe they were rich before — at least they had many fine houses — but now they're already poor!"

The regular soldier was still muttering when, unguarded, he was overheard by another regular soldier coming up from the river. The other man clapped his hands and said with a grin.

"Ala! The southerners are already rich enough. There's war everywhere now. Last time my elder brother followed the Imperial Younger Brother to attack Goryeo, they didn't get anything at all."

Ala curled his lip. "But the Goryeo people are easy to fight! One scare and they run, only diving into the woods. We just need to charge in and knock them over like shooting roe deer.

The southerners won't do — every one of them is fierce, and many are quite good archers. If you're not careful, you'll get hit. I see even the fan-han converted riders have a dozen bolts of cloth now. We should have gone back long ago."

The other regular soldier chuckled twice. "Your Mosi is a great beauty known far and wide — of course you want to go back.

But the others, many of them have seized southern women, and they're afraid they couldn't support them if they took them back. How could they be willing to leave?

I hear Supervisor Dielie seized over a hundred beauties, listening to songs and watching plays every day. How could he be willing to leave?"

The regular soldier said "how could they be willing to leave" twice in a row, and Ala's face grew gloomy as he listened.

When he left, his wife Mosi was already pregnant. By now the child would probably be wailing and crying — he wondered what it looked like.

Ala sighed inwardly. He was about to call his soldiers to cool off in the stream when he looked up and saw the sentry he had placed on the western hill suddenly sway twice, then come charging madly down the hillock, man and horse together.

"Not good! Bandits!"

Ala roared, immediately turned his horse and rode to meet him. The Khitan cavalry in the stream also scrambled upward.

The sentry clutched his neck with both hands. Blood was already pouring through his fingers, flowing everywhere.

He tried to open his mouth to say something, but the moment he opened it, blood and bloody foam poured from his mouth as well.

Hoofbeats thundered in waves. Just as Ala made out where the sentry had been struck by the arrow, a dozen or so riders suddenly appeared in the distance.

Ala's face darkened. He paid no more attention to the sentry, but waved his hand rapidly and shouted.

"Meet them! Meet them!"

The enemy's horses had already built up speed. Turning to flee would certainly not outrun them. Only by charging to meet them, striking head-on, could there be a few chances of survival — and it could also buy a little time for the comrades still mounting up behind.

Eight riders against eighteen — the odds were heavily against them — but Ala still raised his horse bow without fear.

The riders charging from the opposite side were utterly silent. This was the hallmark of Yong-Liang cavalry — silent as machines. Ala gently squeezed with both legs, veering slightly to the left, and his warhorse, with perfect understanding, accelerated just a little to the left.

In that extremely brief moment when his warhorse turned sideways, Ala suddenly released, and the arrow shot forth.

At that moment, the enemy's volley had already arrived. Ala had swerved quickly, and the enemy's arrows all missed.

But just as joy rose in his heart, a dull thud — dong — came from the opposite side.

He forced himself to look back. It turned out the enemy rider had a small round shield covered with iron plate strapped to his arm. There had been no need to swerve at all — he had simply caught the arrow with the small iron-plated round shield.

"What a formidable barbarian thief!" Ala shouted.

Because he knew that anyone who dared catch an arrow with a small round shield on his arm must have very rich experience, to remain unflustered in the face of danger — and of course, his luck had to be quite good too.

Zhang Xiaobao was so startled that cold sweat broke out all over his body. His entire back felt icy.

The moment he heard the sound of the arrow tearing through the air, he had felt it was already too late. Instinctively he threw out his arm to block — and he actually blocked it.

After the fright came anger. Encouraged by the valor of his father and elder brother, he felt he had never lost face like this before.

In his fury, he snatched up two arrows, only to find that the Khitan raider who had shot at him had already ridden far away, so he vented his rage on the other Khitans instead.

Arrows flew out in rapid succession, and the enemy's arrows came back at them again. The Khitans were at a disadvantage in numbers — it was eighteen against eight, and their arrows were less than half as many.

In a brief span of twenty-odd breaths, the two sides loosed over a hundred arrows between them. Zhang Xiaobiao's side took three hits, and only one comrade was slumped over his horse, looking badly wounded.

But of the eight Khitans, five were already dead. The remaining three could only draw their long blades in despair.

Zhang Xiaobao also drew the ring-pommel saber at his waist for mounted combat. The sound of sharp steel piercing flesh rang out several times, and in an instant the three Khitan cavalrymen were hacked into pulp.

Seizing this chance, the dozen-odd remaining riders on the other side had already seized the high ground and were drawing their bows, aiming at them.

Zhang Xiaobao also spotted that the Khitan regular soldier who had nearly shot him was among them.

The Loyal Followers' elite riders were mostly light cavalry. Charging an enemy holding advantageous ground was not a good choice.

Without armor, even a horse bow could deal fatal wounds.

Zhang Xiaobao gave a cold laugh and jumped straight off his horse. He took out the bronze-staved, iron-backed bow his elder brother Zhang Xiaobiao had given him, then raised one finger and wagged it.

"Ten men dismount! The rest switch to long spears!"

Zhang Xiaobao intended to use foot bows against the enemy cavalry holding the high ground.

Foot bows of this sort, generally drawing over one dan, were far more powerful than cavalry bows.

Ala's face darkened at once. The enemy was, just as he had expected, highly experienced.

Another regular soldier beside him edged closer to Ala and said in a low voice, "We can't dismount. If we do, the enemy cavalry still on horseback are carrying long spears — they'll surely charge us."

Ala nodded to show he understood. Their eyes met, and each knew what the other intended.

Even as they spoke, Zhang Xiaobao had already led the nine dismounted riders forward. The one-dan-plus bronze-staved, iron-backed bows and finely crafted arrow shafts sent arrows whistling out like messengers from hell.

Ala and the other regular soldier silently wheeled their horses around. They had already ridden six or seven paces before they shouted.

"Retreat!"

The remaining Khitan and Han auxiliaries, as if waking from a dream, hurriedly turned their horses — but it was already too late.

The mounted Loyal Followers' elite riders had already caught up. Amid curses and wailing, the Khitans fell from their horses one after another.

Zhang Xiaobiao paid no attention to the others. He spurred his horse and began to accelerate — he still wanted to kill that Khitan regular soldier who had nearly shot him.

But just as he crested the low hill, Zhang Xiaobiao immediately reined his warhorse to a halt.

In the distance lay a vast open plain, and the broad Yinluo River stretched out in full view.

Countless Khitan cavalry and infantry, bearing all manner of bright banners, were pressing forward in one square formation after another.

Far-ranging scout riders swarmed everywhere like dancing bees. On the Yinluo River, boats were linked bow to stern, laden with grain, fodder, and supplies.

Someone had already spotted them. A banner swayed twice from side to side, and from the foremost square formation at least two hundred riders broke out and came toward them.

"We've found the Khitan main force! Eighteen li east of Yanshi, just past Guo Ridge! Scatter and break out — the news must get back!"

Zhang Xiaobao shouted, not even taking time to cut off heads, and wheeled his horse away at once.

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