Chapter 515: A Wise Ruler Emerges in the South; We Are Savages Once More

Neither Yelu Wuzhi nor Zhang Zhao had expected that a battle which looked like a decisive clash would turn into such a chaotic melee.

Five thousand Jin soldiers wailed and wept as they ran back and forth between the Liao army and the Yongliang army, until at last they found a place where they could take shelter.

That place was the Khitan iron cavalry charging from three sides — but the frontal force was hit by a counterattack from Dhondup's three hundred javelin throwers and failed to organize its charge properly, immediately opening a huge gap at the very front of the battlefield.

Stabbed and slaughtered from both flanks, the nearly collapsed Jin surrendered troops could only jump into the Yang Canal.

This was not a good idea, because although it was not winter, not everyone knew how to swim.

Moreover, some of the Jin soldiers were still wearing tattered armor, and once they entered the water, if they could not strip off their armor immediately, drowning was the only road left to them.

Therefore, most of the Jin soldiers chose to head for the front, where the Liao cavalry had not yet built up their charge.

And on Dhondup's side, with Zhang Zhao absent, this brave general who was always somewhat excitable simply had his men start recruiting the Jin surrendered troops.

The javelin throwers shouted loudly as they pulled back, and the familiar Tang accent immediately drew in the surrendered soldiers, who were milling about like headless flies.

Miraculously, they clustered tightly together with Dhondup's several hundred men.

Although they had little in the way of formation and not much armor, the Jin surrendered troops, who had just been stabbed and slaughtered from both sides and had finally found an "organization," treasured this chance to stay alive.

Around two thousand of them howled and fought desperately with whatever weapons they could find, becoming a stumbling block in the path of the Khitan cavalry charge.

Amid the chaos, Li Cunhui galloped out of the formation.

Zhang Zhao's eye was still sharp: Yan Jin's six thousand men were indeed moving toward Zhang Zhao.

And they were not slow, forcing Yelu Wuzhi to keep adding troops to delay them.

To maintain a rough formation while on the march — that was the mark of a strong army.

Yan Jin had always been cautious, and this time he had caused no small trouble; the regret in his heart and his desire to make amends could well be imagined.

The framework of Wuwei Garrison had originally been built by him, and after Zhang Zhao swallowed up Kang Fu's four thousand Xiongwu Army troops, the Xiongwu Garrison had been handed entirely to Yan Jin to train.

That they had been able to turn from the undisciplined Later Jin yabing guards of the Xiongwu Army into the strictly disciplined Yongliang garrison troops of today was entirely due to Yan Jin's proper training.

So when the elite troops of these two garrisons were gathered into Yan Jin's hands, they immediately displayed tremendous effectiveness.

Geng Chongmei's two thousand cavalry were not delaying Yan Jin at all — they were simply using their own flesh and blood as a roadblock.

Although Yan Jin's six thousand men had to stop every twenty paces to preserve their formation, among Yan Jin's Xiongwu and Wuwei garrisons there was a force of crossbowmen he had specially promoted.

These crossbowmen wore green leather armor and white foot-wraps, which gave them something of the look of the "white-scouts."

After requesting Zhang Zhao's approval, Yan Jin named these elite crossbowmen the White-Scout Army, using the title of the Great Dynasty's bravest soldiers to inspire them.

These elite crossbowmen were all expert shots, and among them were even more than a hundred divine-arm crossbows; they roamed everywhere, seeking opportunities around the main army.

Whenever Geng Chongmei's cavalry lurked on the periphery, they were often shot down with precision, and when Geng Chongmei's men tried to charge them, the White-Scout Army would withdraw back into the formation.

Geng Chongmei, unable to swallow his anger, tried to launch a charge while Yan Jin's main force was on the move.

But Yan Jin also had six hundred sworn follower cavalry under his command; they could not crush Geng Chongmei's two thousand, but they could still provide cover at critical moments.

In the repeated entanglement, the Khitan light cavalry gained nothing but casualties.

Geng Chongmei naturally knew he was barely holding on, so he sent messenger after messenger to Yelu Pode for aid.

However, he did not wait for Yelu Pode's support; instead he got Li Cunhui's three hundred Right Feathered Forest Guard cavalry.

They were all light-armored hussars, and their warhorses were all crossbreeds of mighty Ferghana horses and lop-eared horses.

Armored and with strong shock power, they suddenly appeared behind Geng Chongmei's two thousand riders, and immediately this already exhausted force that was barely coping simply exploded.

Li Cunhui's three hundred riders did not even loose a single arrow; they simply took up their cavalry lances and laid into the Khitan cavalry.

On Yan Jin's side, a horn sounded as well, and the six hundred sworn follower cavalry charged out; caught between two fronts, Geng Chongmei's force fled swiftly toward Mount Mang.

On the hillside, Yelu Pode's eyes were bloodshot, like a gambler who had lost his reason.

He had originally intended to use the Jin surrendered troops to screen the iron cavalry charge, but now, unexpectedly, they had become a meat shield for the Yongliang army instead.

Did he not stop to think how they Khitans had treated these Jin surrendered soldiers when they came south?

Most importantly, the Jin army had not been defeated by the Liao army; in fact, before Du Chongwei and Li Shouzhen surrendered, the Jin army had inflicted heavy losses on the Liao army. Under such circumstances, would they be reconciled?

After their families were detained and rewards were distributed, these Jin surrendered troops might have appeared quite obedient.

But at this moment, when they themselves were about to be killed, who still cared about anything else?

After Dhondup shouted "Kill the northern caitiffs," the Yongliang army, speaking the same words, successfully stirred up the Jin surrendered troops' hatred of the Khitans; the battlefield situation reversed in an instant, and the cannon fodder became someone else's meat shield.

At this moment Yan Jin's force had already broken free of its shackles, and in at most two quarters of an hour they would reach the river bend where Zhang Zhao was trapped. Yelu Pode waved his hand.

"Summon Xiao Shilu here at once."

Before long, Xiao Shilu, who could be called the biggest fool among the Khitans, arrived.

This Supervisor Xiao, who had suffered defeat after defeat and had been pushed out by Yelu Deguang to extort the Buddhist orders, his life utterly bleak, looked at Yelu Pode with displeasure.

At a time like this, what could summoning him accomplish? No doubt it was to take the blame again. No — very likely it was not to take the blame, but to be sent to his death.

"I still have five thousand riders here. I am handing them all to you. You will assault the front and fight to the death against Zhang the rebel's great formation.

As long as you can break in, whether you succeed or not, I will personally recommend you to His Majesty for the post of Chopstick-Tent Young Lord Military Governor."

The Chopstick-Tent Young Lord Military Governor was the chief officer of the Khitan Chopstick-Tent Young Lords Court, an office that managed Khitan noble criminals and their families; all Khitan nobles who committed crimes fell under the jurisdiction of the Chopstick-Tent Young Lord Military Governor.

Given Xiao Shilu's current status, where even pigs despised him and dogs ignored him, perhaps only by obtaining this post — a crucial position that would let him seize other Khitan nobles by their vital points — could he regain recognition and respect.

After hearing this, Xiao Shilu truly could not escape the temptation, and could only steel himself, cup his hands, and even say, "Many thanks for the Grand Xiangwen's favor."

Immediately after, Yelu Pode said in a deep voice to his nephew, who served beside him as a young officer of the personal guard.

"Go to the great river and urge the two thousand archers sent by Gao Song to tie down Yan Jin's several thousand men. Even if they all die, they must delay them for at least half a watch."

The nephew nodded silently. Yelu Pode was ordering the two thousand archers sent by Gao Song to delay the enemy with their flesh and blood — indeed, to go to their deaths.

But he knew even better that Yelu Pode had no choice. With such a good opportunity, if he still let Zhang the rebel escape, the blow to morale would be unimaginable; they could only stake everything on one throw.

At the river bend, Zhang Zhao's cloth-faced armor was covered in blood. The Khitan iron cavalry attacking from both sides had launched three large-scale charges, and both flanks of Zhang Zhao's crescent formation had been battered inward.

But under the threat of the divine-arm crossbows, the Khitans had never managed to break into the formation.

Although the auxiliary spearmen on both wings had suffered terrible casualties, the Khitan cavalry's losses were even more horrifying.

Corpses of men and horses lay piled everywhere, and the piercing screams were like hell itself — for both sides, it was an extreme torment.

At the most agonizing moment, Huang Yingda's hundred riders finally arrived after enduring every hardship.

In fact, he had been galloping toward Zhang Zhao's position even before Li Cunhui set out.

But at that time, the Khitans had surrounded Zhang Zhao and their morale was soaring; Huang Yingda led his troops in several breakout attempts, and each time they were driven back.

By now, the hundred riders who had set out had become fifty-seven, but Huang Yingda had finally completed his mission.

Though his men were weary and their horses spent, the moment he saw Zhang Zhao's great banner still flying high, all his energy instantly returned.

Because Zhang Zhao was the guarantee of wealth for all of them, and for their sons and grandsons after them. As long as Zhang Zhao stood, hearts and morale would hold.

"Switch to beak hammers! Charge to the death — stop thinking of yourselves as living men!"

Huang Yingda roared, and in one motion drew his beak hammer — a long-handled hammer with one end shaped like a bird's beak and the other a round ball, made specifically for dealing with armored soldiers.

Especially that bird-beak point: whether you wore lamellar armor or ring-mail, whether you wore an iron helm or a leather cap, under a full-force swing there was simply no way to block it.

The Khitan iron cavalry attacking on the left flank was suddenly struck by these fifty-seven riders. In their panic they had no idea how many had come, and at once fell into confusion.

Zhang Zhao saw this from afar, immediately drew his long spear, and raised his arm with a great shout.

"All of you, follow me left! Kill the northern caitiffs!"

Then he personally led a hundred armored soldiers and hurled himself at the Khitan cavalry on the left.

Wang Tongxin, who had always regarded Zhang Zhao as a living god, would never let Zhang Zhao charge in person. He leaped forward, a pair of wrought-bronze maces in hand, and plunged into the enemy formation even faster than Zhang Zhao.

In a frenzy of blows, he broke heaven knows how many horses' legs. The Khitan cavalry on the left had already been at the breaking point, and now they collapsed like a mountain crumbling and fled in rout.

"All of you, follow me right! Kill the northern caitiffs again!"

Morale was now fully ablaze. Watching Zhang Zhao charge in person, Man Xiong and Wang Tongxin and the others who had followed him east and west felt as if they had returned to the old days.

Five hundred Hanshandu armored soldiers pressed close around Zhang Zhao, and the gleam of the modao glaive glaive glaives in their hands lit up the whole bend of the Yangqu River.

The modao glaive glaive glaive technique, in truth, bears a fair resemblance to the later Broadsword Unit's Eight Saber Breaks — in spirit, of course, not in the specific blade techniques.

What both schools demanded was the same: press forward without fear, one blade after another, until either the enemy was ground to dust or you yourself were spent and slain.

Man Xiong stood right beside Zhang Zhao. The modao glaive glaive glaive he had drilled with bitterly for two and a half years finally had its moment.

On the right, the Yongliang Army auxiliary spearmen and divine-arm crossbowmen had been warned and quickly opened a gap — but the Khitan riders on the right, who had been charging again and again without pause, did not know.

They thought the enemy had collapsed, and came crashing in with wild delight — only to find themselves facing a wall of fierce men in red cloth-faced armor, modao glaive glaive glaives raised and chopping down.

The blade-light was like a bolt of white silk, pouring down from the highest heavens!

One blade unleashed, and it flowed on without end.

The foremost Khitan rider had not even thrust his spear before his warhorse's right ear was shorn off and its right eye slashed out.

The searing pain made the horse scream and wheel to flee — and in that instant it "sold out" its rider to Man Xiong.

With Man Xiong's sheer tonnage, that modao glaive glaive glaive descending from the sky was something even an immortal could not have stopped.

On the spot, the rider's lamellar armor was split clean open. The sharp modao glaive glaive glaive of Hexi steel not only cut through his lamellar armor but bit deep into his waist and ribs.

The shattered ribs drove into the rider's heart and lungs. The torn flesh could no longer hold his organs, and a kidney, split in two, dropped straight out.

The rider had long since gone still, but his fate was not finished. The warhorse dragged the ruined body sideways until both man and horse were hacked into pulp — and only after even the horse's kidneys had spilled onto the ground did they finally dissolve into a mass of blood and flesh.

Immediately after, the rider's comrades to his side and behind him all received the same treatment.

Amid the spray of blood and flesh, every Hanshandu armored soldier fell into an unstoppable frenzy. Every enemy before them would be shattered.

Great King Zhang, who had barely trained with the modao glaive glaive glaive at all, was quickly shoved out of the formation by his fierce soldiers.

Or rather, they had deliberately "escorted" Zhang Zhao out of danger.

At that moment, Zhang Zhao, now clear-headed, heard the thunder of hooves from the direction of Jinyong City — and saw a cavalry force flying toward him under the Three Stars banner, moving at extraordinary speed!

By the banner, it was the Left Yulin Guard — Great King Zhang's fine eldest son, Murong Xinzhang, had arrived!

At the same time, Li Cunhui had also returned on the left. Although Yan Jin was blocked again, Li Cunhui had brought back the six hundred sworn-follower elite riders from Yan Jin's force, and they too were rapidly closing in on Zhang Zhao.

At this moment, the signalmen at Zhang Zhao's main formation were swinging their yellow flags with all their might, signaling that a large body of enemy cavalry was approaching from the front.

And precisely at that moment, the Khitan cavalry on both flanks had already scattered. Zhang Zhao did not hesitate, and swung himself onto his horse.

"Duojin, gather the men! These slave-born Khitans have been charging us all this time — now it's finally our turn!"

Xiao Shilu was truly unlucky! His fortune was simply too poor.

Had he arrived earlier, it would have been a three-sided pincer. One cannot say he would certainly have killed Zhang Zhao, but at least he would have had a chance.

But now, he had brought five thousand iron cavalry, and they had not even gotten up to speed.

On the right, Murong Xinzhang — shouting "Where is my father?" — had already arrived with fifteen hundred riders of the Left Yulin Guard.

On the left, Li Cunhui's nine hundred riders were also about to arrive. It was obvious the Khitans were making their last throw of the dice, so Li Cunhui did not hesitate and chose to strike straight at Xiao Shilu.

And Zhang Zhao, with Qiongre Duojin and Huang Yingda, had gathered seven hundred cavalry and was charging at him as well.

Murong Xinzhang's horse, Snow-Through-Dust, was the fastest, and it practically flew as it crashed into Xiao Shilu's cavalry formation.

The fine eldest son was nearly frantic with urgency. He paid no mind to how many arrows he had taken; man and horse became one, and he plunged straight into the Khitan cavalry.

His cavalry lance blurred into afterimages as he swung left and thrust right, single-handedly throwing the Khitans into utter chaos.

The fifteen hundred riders of the Left Yulin Guard who came with him were the absolute elite of the Yongliang iron cavalry.

Among them were large numbers of Tuyuhun, Tibetan, and various Qiang cavalry.

It was not that these men were necessarily fiercer than Han riders.

Rather, compared to the Han, these minority cavalrymen truly believed that Zhang Zhao was the Dharma King Bodhisattva descended to the mortal world — that he had come to lead them to a good life, and that if they died in battle they would ascend to heaven and become arhats.

But if they failed to protect the Dharma King Bodhisattva's mortal body, the Dharma King Bodhisattva would return to the highest heavens.

Then... then would not their earthly wealth and their posthumous attainment of arhatship all come to nothing?

Under this double blessing, the Tuyuhun, Tibetan, and Qiang riders of the Left Yulin Guard were also nearly frantic, and they too fought with utter disregard for life and death.

They already had the advantage of cloth-faced iron armor and folded-ear horses, even Ferghana horses, and with their death-defying mad assault, how could the Khitan cavalry — whose morale had just begun to sink — possibly withstand them?

Following the gap Murong Xinzhang had torn open, they needed only two charges to pierce straight through the Khitan cavalry formation!

Right after, Li Cunhui arrived. The man who all his life most feared being outshone by Murong Xinzhang had also lost his head! The three hundred riders behind him fought with the same disregard for life and death.

And just like that, before Xiao Shilu's cavalry could even begin their charge, they were broken into three pieces.

At the final moment, Zhang Zhao spurred his horse out with Huang Yingda and Qiong Re Duojin, with Dunzhu in front, guarding them with two throwing spears in hand.

Zhang Zhao galloped his horse straight over a small stream, both hands spread like eagle wings, and loosed three arrows in rapid succession!

As if aided by the gods, at a distance of eighty paces, Zhang Zhao shot dead the personal guard carrying Xiao Shilu's great banner with one arrow, and struck the front leg of Xiao Shilu's warhorse with another.

The last arrow flew straight through the host of soldiers and struck Xiao Shilu in the face. The Khitan imperial in-law screamed and tumbled from his horse.

At once, the entire army roared with jubilation.

The Khitans completely lost the courage to press the siege.

Yelu Pode, watching clearly from afar, saw the moment Xiao Shilu fell from his horse. The old Khitan general's tears burst forth, and he let out a cry of anguish.

"It is over! A great lord has appeared in the southern realm! Our great Khitan will be driven back to the wilds beyond the frontier again!"

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