Chapter 615: The Sky Falls and the Earth Splits — No Looking Back

Block after block of salt bricks was loaded onto carts, surrounded everywhere by soldiers grinning with delight.

Whips in hand, they swaggered about, giving the captured Han commoners not a moment's pause; at the slightest hesitation, the nearest soldier would lash out with his whip.

Crack! With the whip's sharp report, Yelu Wuzhi felt his back tighten.

The one being struck was plainly a Han man too exhausted to walk, yet Yelu Wuzhi felt as though the blow had landed on his own body.

In that instant, the keen battlefield instinct within him made Yelu Wuzhi desperately want to turn his men around and return to Youzhou at once.

No! Youzhou was already beyond saving — they should return to Liaodong immediately. No! At the very least they should withdraw to the Supreme Capital at Linhuang Prefecture, or even to the Eastern Capital at Huanglong Prefecture or Changchun Prefecture.

Because the Khitan army before his eyes was no longer the Khitan army of old.

The crushing defeat at Yanshi City had not only cost the Khitan palace-guard army its finest troops; most importantly, it had dealt a devastating blow to the morale of every Khitan, planting in them a deep terror of the Zhou army.

Why had it taken more than ten days just to march from Youzhou to Cangzhou?

Yelu Wuzhi knew perfectly well: because most Khitan generals, for all their thunderous shouts about re-entering the Eastern Capital to avenge the Emperor, were in truth deathly afraid of marching south to fight the Zhou army, and so had dawdled the whole way.

They were wholly absorbed in pillaging, and had no desire at all to march south.

According to the original strategy, they should have moved swiftly to Beizhou to coordinate with Liu Zhiyuan, first taking Beizhou or forcing Fu Yanqing to surrender.

Guo Wei, meanwhile, was to pin down the Zhou main force along the Fuyang–Zhang River line, and finally the two armies would combine their strength for a decisive battle with the Zhou.

But now, Liu Zhiyuan's messenger had arrived days ago — the Hedong army had already reached the walls of Xiangzhou — while these Khitans were still in Cangzhou.

Most likely, even if the Hedong army were defeated by the Zhou army, they still would not have reached Xiangzhou.

How was this war even to be fought?

Yelu Wuzhi was in agony; time and again the thought of withdrawing to the Supreme Capital at Linhuang Prefecture or the Eastern Capital at Huanglong Prefecture flashed through his mind, but he knew they could no longer retreat.

The common soldiers below might still find a way to survive if they went back, but men like him, who had raised Yelu Ruan to the throne, would surely be slaughtered by Shulu Ping and Yelu Lihu the moment they returned.

Once they left Youzhou and Yan-Yun, Yelu Ruan could no longer be Khitan Emperor, and they themselves would be nothing at all.

It was now approaching the end of the shen hour; the sun had begun to slant, and the laughter and merry voices grew louder and louder.

Great numbers of Khitan and soldiers of every other mixed tribe began to sing and dance around the campfires, and each group brought out the cattle and sheep they had seized to slaughter and roast.

Those tribes that had been too slow and seized nothing could only curse and grumble as they roasted some unknown flatbreads by the fire.

A few Xi men wearing nothing but fur coats came roughhousing past Yelu Wuzhi; these fools, having seen how white and enticing the salt bricks looked, had each eaten a great chunk, and now, unbearably parched, were running about looking for water.

The whole camp was utter chaos: there was no unified logistics, every man cooked for himself, what you ate depended on what you had seized, and the banners, dress, and unit organization were in complete disorder.

Even Yelu Wuzhi, the army's actual commander, did not know who the men passing before him were.

The elite military force that Yelu Abaoji and Yelu Deguang himself had spent the greater part of their lives forging for the Khitan people, and all their efforts to raise the Khitans from a nomadic tribe to a semi-agrarian empire, had been utterly annihilated after the great battle at Yanshi City.

The Khitans of today were no different from any ordinary steppe people.

But then Yelu Wuzhi immediately caught sight of a highly disciplined unit.

Though they were on the march, their formation showed not the slightest disorder.

The vanguard was like an arrowhead, ready at any moment to pierce through an enemy line; each flank had a dozen or so riders as a screen, able to intercept or cover a retreat.

Han women passed by shrieking, yet they did not seize them; seeing roast mutton by the roadside, they did not scramble for it like the other soldiers — this was the mark of fine discipline.

Moreover, these men were full-bodied, their complexions glowing, their eyes resolute; the long sabers, bows, and arrows at their horses' sides were all excellently maintained, and their warhorses were washed and groomed clean — they stood out like cranes among chickens.

Among the Khitans of today, there were not many who could maintain their horses and weapons so well even in wartime; once there had been quite a few.

Still, Yelu Wuzhi was somewhat puzzled. If these were ordinary soldiers he did not recognize, that was one thing — but men with this level of tactical quality numbered no more than six or seven thousand in all of Yelu Ruan's Khitan realm, and he could not possibly fail to know them.

So the Great Xiangwen of the Khitans gently nudged his horse forward, came before this company of some two hundred men, pointed his riding crop at the one who looked like the leader, and called out in Khitan.

"Where have you come from? Under which army commander do you serve?"

Yelu Wuzhi had deliberately used the rank of army commander; in his mind, only elite troops born of the original Khitan palace-guard army and the Shushan army could possess such bearing.

Yelu Sizhong started slightly, cold sweat pouring from his palms. Though he did not know Yelu Wuzhi by sight, he recognized the palace-guard-attired bodyguards behind Yelu Wuzhi, and the great banners they bore symbolizing the Great Xiangwen and Great Tiyin — and in that instant he knew who the man before him was.

Motherfucker — out scouting for information, and I've blundered right into the Khitan commander-in-chief?

Yelu Sizhong could not help glancing left and right. Damn it all — surrounded by Khitan soldiers, at least three or four thousand of them. Not easy to get away!

There was no help for it; Yelu Sizhong could only steel himself and step forward.

But Yelu Wuzhi's eyes narrowed; the way the opposing leader had just been glancing about had aroused his suspicion.

The Great Xiangwen coughed lightly, and the bodyguards behind him quietly moved their hands to their sword hilts.

At this moment of utmost peril, Yelu Wuzhi suddenly caught a familiar and nauseating reek of sheep.

The smell was overpowering, so uniquely foul that even in this tense moment it nearly made him retch.

How long had it been since this man bathed? No — had he ever bathed at all?

It was not only Yelu Wuzhi; the Khitan bodyguards behind him were also sickened beyond endurance.

Having long been in the lands of Yan-Yun, they had grown unaccustomed to this stench of sheep dung and sheep reek from men who almost never washed, marinated in human sweat and left to fester.

The wariness in everyone's hearts instantly faded by more than half. To say nothing of Han men, even among Khitans there were few who could make themselves smell so vile — this could not possibly be a Han scouting rider from the south.

Seizing the moment, Yelu Sizhong at once collected himself. He decisively dismounted, stepped forward two paces, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed from the waist as he answered.

"Xiao Sala of Yu'er Po greets the Great Xiangwen. We were only recently ordered south, and are now seeking a place to make camp."

"Po" is in fact a variant character for "lake." Historically there were two Yu'er Po — the Khitan Yu'er Po and the Mongol Yu'er Po.

Since the Mongols have not yet appeared, there is only the Khitan Yu'er Po — the Moon Lake of present-day Da'an in Baicheng, Jilin Province.

"Was it Great Chief Sage who sent you south?" Yelu Wuzhi's eyelids drooped slightly as he asked in a low voice.

"In reply to the Great Xiangwen, after the Tiyin returned, Great Chief Sage no longer concerned himself with tribal affairs." Yelu Sizhong gave the correct answer without hesitation.

Yelu Wuzhi nodded with satisfaction, his doubts entirely dispelled — for this tribe of Yu'er Po was in fact the personal tribe of Yelu Yaliguo, fourth son of Yelu Abaoji.

Yelu Abaoji had four sons in all: Yelu Bei, Yelu Deguang, and Yelu Lihu were all born of Shulu Ping herself; only the fourth son, Yelu Yaliguo, was born of the palace woman Lady Xiao.

For this reason Yelu Yaliguo had never been favored, and was even disregarded.

Worse still, twenty years earlier, in the Battle of Dingzhou between the Later Tang and the Khitan, Yelu Abaoji had been routed by Li Cunxu, and Yelu Yaliguo had been taken captive.

Thereafter, Yelu Yaliguo was assigned by Li Cunxu to guard the palace gates in Taiyuan; after the entry into Luoyang, he again guarded the gates in Luoyang, and it was not until Yelu Deguang entered the Eastern Capital that this younger brother was rescued.

But Yelu Deguang also disliked this half-brother by a different mother who brought shame on the Yelu family, so he did not even let him stay in the Central Plains, but packed him off back to Khitan, giving him only the title of Tiyin — to say nothing of a princely title, he was not even given an official post.

Yelu Yaliguo knew he was unwelcome, so he went straight back to Yu'er Lake.

Two tribes lived here. One was the tribe that, by custom, Yelu Abaoji had assigned to Yelu Yaliguo when he was born as an imperial prince — five hundred households under his command.

To be honest, I've been using Wild Fruit Reading to read and follow updates lately; it has source switching and multiple reading voices, and works on both Android and Apple.

The other was Yelu Yaliguo's maternal tribe, which after his birth had also been permitted to settle in the Yu'er Lake area.

It should be known that although Yu'er Lake seemed utterly remote and desolate in Han eyes, among the Khitan it was by no means a poor place. On the contrary, it had lush water and grass and abundant fish, and some areas had even been cleared into farmland. It was the Khitan nobility's favorite hunting and fishing ground.

Yelu Wuzhi was deeply moved, because Yelu Yaliguo, despite being unwelcome everywhere, still knew to defend the great Khitan state, and had sent elite troops south all the way from distant Yu'er Lake.

Truly, it is in national crisis that loyal ministers are known!

He also understood why these men were somewhat wary of moving about: because in the Khitan army right now, command and supply were both in chaos. These men from Yu'er Lake, having arrived too late, had surely failed to seize anything, and had not even found a place to camp.

The present situation was not optimistic. It would be just right to gather these men around him; at a critical moment they might prove useful.

Mm! A very reasonable bit of speculation.

Only, Yelu Wuzhi had forgotten one thing: back when Yelu Abuli went west to Liangzhou, Yelu Yaliguo had sent his second son by a Han woman, Yelu He, to escort her — and Yelu Sizhong was precisely Yelu He's personal attendant.

After Yelu Yaliguo returned to Khitan, he was pointed at and whispered about everywhere. Feeling that he would have been better off staying in the Central Plains as a palace gate guard, and nursing his resentment, he sent men to re-establish contact with Zhang Zhao.

That was why Yelu Sizhong knew the situation at Yu'er Lake so clearly.

Hearing Yelu Wuzhi say this, Zhang Xibao, Yelu Sizhong, and Aluozhe were overjoyed — this was a stroke of tremendous luck!

Even if they could not catch Yelu Ruan, taking down this great Xiangwen and great Tiyin of the Khitan would still be excellent!

So they hurriedly dismounted and loudly gave thanks in the Khitan tongue. Yelu Wuzhi was also very satisfied with their performance, and at the thought of having taken in two hundred brave warriors, he narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

Helizhi was a Jurchen, belonging to the Huiba tribe of the Jurchen in the Upper Capital Circuit. The Huiba tribe's grazing lands lay roughly between later Shenyang and Changchun, concentrated mainly near the Huifa River.

This time, when Yelu Ruan conscripted the Khitan army of the Upper Capital Circuit to march south, Shulu Ping and Yelu Lihu, mother and son, who still controlled the Upper Capital Circuit, had carelessly scraped together some Jurchen and Balhae for Yelu Ruan, and had not sent a single Khitan.

Yelu Ruan also looked down on these Jurchen, who still wore animal skins and had only just entered slave society, so this bitter work of scouting beyond the great camp was all given to the Jurchen.

Helizhi was one of those sent out on watch. But these were not the Jurchen of several hundred years later, those "invincible when ten thousand strong."

There was no heroic leader, no atmosphere of a people rising in sudden vigor — and of course, they also lacked the infantry armor sponsored by my Great Song.

The Jurchen of today could only be called brave, but by no means fierce and valiant, let alone "invincible when ten thousand strong."

Moreover, these Jurchen were about to bring disaster upon the Khitan.

Of course, it was not intentional — they themselves had no idea it would harm the Khitan.

As for exactly how they did it? The reason lay in the fact that Yelu Ruan should never have sent them out as scouting riders.

Because the Jurchen tribes were still very few in number. The Huiba tribe occupied a vast territory, but its total population was only four or five thousand, with adult males numbering less than two thousand.

With so few people, living scattered across vast forests, even when there was fighting, it was on the scale of village warfare.

How far out should a village fight of a few hundred men post its sentries?

Helizhi thought it over: ten times a hundred paces would be about right. At that distance, one shout would quickly alert the tribesmen behind him, and they would seize their weapons.

Uh...! You ask whether Helizhi needs time to put on armor? Whether he needs time to form ranks? Whether the banner-and-drum command system needs time to get in place?

Then Helizhi would look at you in bewilderment. Isn't fighting just shooting arrows first, then howling and charging in to beat people into pulp?

A thousand paces — just over three li. At that distance, cavalry could cover it in a single charge. Zhang Zhao would never have imagined the Khitan cavalry's screen was so short. Bai Congxin and Li Cunhui could not have imagined it either, and Feng Jiye even less so.

It had him frantic! Sweat rolled down his face, and he muttered ceaselessly: it shouldn't be! Zhang Xibao said they were right at Lutai! They were almost there — how had they still not spotted any Khitan scouts? Could they have fled?

Even Zhang Zhao could not hold back. Riding his beloved mount Zidian, he personally came to the front line. If the Khitan had fled, then the battle would have to be planned all over again.

Seeing that even the Emperor had come, Feng Jiye grew even more nervous. He was just thinking how to explain to the Emperor when he suddenly stepped into something soft.

Overjoyed, Feng Jiye quickly thrust his hand into the pile. Mm, still warm. Then he picked up a small piece and, without so much as a frown, put it into his mouth.

"It has the taste of black beans and alfalfa — it's from a warhorse. Search quickly, the man is nearby!"

Feng Jiye spat out the horse dung and immediately gave orders to the soldiers around him.

The reason he was so certain was that in the Zhou army, the dung of scout and patrol horses was always collected and bagged, then buried or thrown into streams.

The whole point was to keep the enemy from discovering any traces in horse dung. So this dung here had to be the Khitan's.

The faint sound of footsteps roused Helizhi's alertness. He made his body smaller, and his frame — not exactly lean — slowly shrank into a crevice in the rocks wrapped in wild grass.

Feng Jiye groped his way forward at the very front. He did not see Helizhi, but just then a breeze happened to blow past, and he caught a strong reek of sheep. Fortunately, he had not spent too long with Zhang Xibao, and had not yet grown accustomed to that smell.

On guard, he looked around. There was only a small earthen mound ahead to the left. Feng Jiye gestured to the two soldiers behind him, and the three of them advanced in a wedge formation to search.

Feng Jiye had just drawn his hand crossbow when there was a stir in the brush on the mound. A gray-green figure suddenly burst out, like a startled rabbit, and vanished into the undergrowth within a few breaths.

Nature had not taught Helizhi discipline or formation, but it had endowed him with the alertness and speed of a wild beast.

Feng Jiye was shocked. He leaped onto the mound, tossed aside the hand crossbow, and drew his hard bow. Three arrows in rapid succession, each leading the target. Helizhi dodged the first two, but the last one he could not evade no matter what.

Enduring the searing pain, Helizhi was about to blow the conch horn in his mouth when two elite riders of the Right Feathered Forest Guard pounced, pinning this sturdy Jurchen to the ground like subduing a wild beast.

Zhang Zhao had not expected this either — that someone would post scouts only a little over three li out.

After Feng Jiye finished interrogating Helizhi, there was no need for further reconnaissance at all. Feng Jiye risked walking a few steps forward and directly saw Lutai, bustling with noise and activity.

By now it was growing dark, but the main army was still seven or eight li away. If he went back now to bring up the main force, by the time they returned it would be night.

And with more than ten thousand men, secrecy was impossible. Zhang Zhao made an extremely bold decision: use only the three thousand men with him now, drive straight into the Khitan camp, and smash them.

Li Cunhui opened his mouth to object, but Zhang Zhao immediately waved his hand.

"Say no more. I am not going to charge in with you. I have decided to divide the three thousand men into three waves. Fifteen hundred will be drawn as the Vanguard of Death for a desperate assault.

One thousand will follow up to throw the Khitan into disorder, so they cannot form ranks. Then I will personally lead five hundred Loyal Return Guards to seize and kill Yelu Ruan."

Having said this, Zhang Zhao did not wait for further objections and began issuing orders directly. "Li Cunhui leads his own seven hundred cavalry. Wang Shenqi, Wang Quanbin, Feng Jiye, and Zhao Kuangyin each lead two hundred cavalry as the Vanguard of Death, under Li Cunhui's command.

Murong Yanzhao, Zhao Yanjin, Huangfu Chong, and Chen Huiyao each lead their own units as the follow-up wave.

Zhang Zhaojie, Wang Tongxin, Zhang Cheng, and Yang Jiye guard me. We will charge at the place where the Khitan formation is most solid.

Li Fang, you go back and notify Bai Congxin: the entire army is to come at full speed immediately."

Li Fang, his whole body burning with excitement, looked at Zhang Zhao. "Sage, your subject wishes to follow the Sage into battle against the enemy."

Zhang Zhao didn't even turn his head. "This is a military order. Carry it out at once!"

Lutai, as a famous salt-brick production site, actually had a small earthen-walled town.

But the earthen town was very small—only about the size of a landlord's compound—so it could hold only Yelu Ruan and a small number of guards.

In Yelu Ruan's courtyard there was no trace of abducted women. He was a man of culture, after all, and the emperor of the Great Liao; he still cared about basic refinement, so he was accompanied only by his empress, Lady Zhen.

Lady Zhen had originally been a palace woman of the Later Tang, and after Shi Jingtang took power, she became a palace woman of the Later Jin. She was beautiful and dignified.

After Yelu Deguang entered the Eastern Capital, Yelu Ruan, who was in his retinue, took a liking at first sight to this woman twelve years his senior.

But at this moment Lady Zhen's mood was not good at all, because the wretched cries of the abducted women outside had reached this very courtyard.

"Your Majesty has sworn to be emperor of both the Khitan and the Han people, yet now the soldiers run so utterly wild. I fear this will cost you the hearts of all under Heaven!"

Yelu Ruan smiled bitterly and shook his head, then poured down another great mouthful of wine. It was not that he did not want to control them; he could not.

Because everyone was raping and looting. If he tried to restrain Yelu Han's ordu and keep them from taking part, this newly formed palace-camp army would very likely stop obeying him.

But Yelu Ruan had always doted on Lady Zhen. After thinking it over, he prepared to send a guard out to notify Yelu Wuzhi, at least to move those wailing sounds farther away so Lady Zhen would not have to hear them.

In the dim yellow sunlight, Yelu Ruan's guard opened the courtyard gate, then collapsed to the ground in terror.

This courtyard had been built on the highest point for the purpose of overseeing the salt-brick works, so it commanded a view of all of Lutai.

The guard looked into the distance and saw, in the direction of the setting sun, red and white cavalry gleaming with golden light, surging toward Lutai like waves.

The guard wanted to shout "Enemy attack!" but in his terror all that came out in the end was one shrill scream.

Li Cunhui personally charged at the very front. He knew what his responsibility was: a single decisive strike to completely shatter the Khitans' will to resist.

If he failed, then when Zhang Zhao entered the battlefield, he would place the Emperor in the most dangerous position—something he absolutely could not bear or accept.

So Li Cunhui directly had these fifteen hundred riders form an overwhelming, mountain-toppling formation, as though a vast host had suddenly descended from heaven.

All of Lutai was a small town surrounded by countless salt fields and salt pools, not at all suited for warhorses to gallop, but Li Cunhui could not worry about that now.

The iron cavalry of the Right Yulin Guard swept through like a whirlwind. The Khitans had never imagined that the Zhou army's iron cavalry would appear at Lutai so quickly.

Still less did they imagine that those idiot Jurchens would completely ignore military orders and post scouts only three li out.

For cavalry with many fine horses, three li could be covered almost in an instant.

And the Khitans, completely unarmored, far from formed up in ranks, gathered in twos and threes singing and eating meat—not one of them thought to resist, nor could they have.

Moreover, from their vantage point, what was coming was not fifteen hundred riders at all, but an overwhelming tide of Zhou elite troops.

At that moment, the terrifying scene of the emperor dying in battle once again echoed through every Khitan's mind.

They shrank into their tents in terror, never considering that these leather tents could not protect them at all.

Zhao Kuangyin felt he was now a heavenly soldier descended to earth, because before him there was not a single enemy who dared resist.

Every enemy soldier was either scattering in all directions like startled rabbits or burrowing into tents like rats.

Zhao the Elder raised his hard bow. It felt much like shooting rabbits when he was a boy. With each draw and release, Khitans in leather robes, wailing, were shot to the ground one after another.

Fueled by adrenaline, his archery rose to an unprecedented height. Not a single arrow missed, and before long the enemy lay dead to his left and right.

A Khitan warrior in leather armor howled a challenge at Zhao Kuangyin. He wanted to resist, but apart from the leather armor on his body, he had only a short knife.

Zhao Kuangyin smiled contemptuously, pressed his horse's flanks, and with a burst of speed charged up and ran him clean through.

Another brawny Khitan man, gripping a great club, stood with his back to a wall corner, trying to resist. He roared furiously, hoping the comrades wailing and fleeing past him would stay and fight the enemy with him.

But no one paid him any attention. From beginning to end, he stood there utterly alone.

The brothers Zhao Kuangyin and Wang Shenqi saw this man, who at the very least must be a junior officer commanding five hundred men, and came galloping over with loud laughter. Then the two cavalry lances jabbed left and knocked right, killing this Khitan warrior as easily as if they were toying with a monkey.

In the instant he crashed heavily to the ground, the Khitan warrior's eyes, still unclosed, stared at the backs of his comrades still fleeing in every direction.

He could not understand why, when the enemy was clearly few, they would not stay and resist together.

Forty thousand men! This was forty thousand men! The camp stretched for several li along the town of Lutai, yet not one man came out to resist, and the outer camp was broken through directly.

Fierce flames blazed up. The Zhou soldiers could not even be bothered to kill people; they simply used fire.

A small jar of fire oil was hurled over, then a pear-blossom spear fired, and the Khitans inside the tent came wailing and rushing out like rats whose nest had been set ablaze. Then it was only a matter of easily killing them one by one.

This was not battle at all; it was hunting.

The outer area fell into utter chaos, firelight and thick smoke swirling everywhere. Inside, those with real battle experience—the survivors who had slipped through the net at the great battle of Yanshi—were immediately roused.

Xiao Han roared for all his guards to hurry into their armor and mount up. This battle-hardened general knew that even if everything outside was lost, it did not matter, because they had only been brought along to make up the numbers in the first place.

And the enemy force that had come could not be large, or they would already have charged to his tent. Whether he held or fled, he first needed to hold out for a while, then he could slip away under cover of darkness.

Sure enough, once Xiao Han had gathered the thousand-odd men of the Iron Hawk Army, he found that although the commotion outside was tremendous, the enemy were not many. Even at the place where the firelight was brightest, he saw only a few dozen Zhou cavalry.

These Zhou cavalry also saw them and swiftly formed a boar's-tusk wedge formation in the firelight.

Xiao Han glared with his vicious triangular eyes. A few dozen riders wanted to charge his thousand-odd riders—the arrogance was too much. "Sons of the Iron Hawk Army, charge and cut down these southern barbarians!"

His words had barely fallen when the twang of bowstrings came from the opposite side—and these were not the crisp-sounding horse bows, but crossbow bolts accompanied by the click of mechanisms. The cavalry in front of Xiao Han were immediately shot down in swathes.

Xiao Han's eyes went red. He waved his hand and charged out first, and with him at least two or three hundred riders charged as well.

On the opposite side, Zhao Kuangyin and Wang Shenqi also began their charge.

They were utterly fearless, because behind them stood the Emperor—the treatment granted by the Emperor, enough to make them die ten times over without regret, and the glory of becoming founding heroes like Qin Shubao and Cheng Zhijie.

First the dazzling pear-blossom spears spat flames that disrupted the enemy's vision, then came fierce thrusts, spears striking like dragons.

Xiao Han felt his vision blur. The cavalry around him vanished like wild grass cut down.

It was not that they had been killed, but that these cavalry, trembling with fear, had not dared to meet the charge head-on. The Zhou cavalry opposite, in wedge formation, drove into their tofu-like block like a sharp knife.

Xiao Han had just raised his long spear when a crossbow bolt struck him in the chest. It was a bolt from the short crossbow in Wang Shenqi's hand. It did not penetrate deep, but it hurt terribly. Unable to bear the pain, Xiao Han's spear dipped a few inches.

And those few inches cost him his life.

Seizing this once-in-a-lifetime chance, Zhao Kuangyin drove the pear-blossom spear in his hands fiercely into Xiao Han's chest.

In the instant Zhao Kuangyin released the spear shaft, Xiao Han's vision went black. The tremendous impact nearly stopped his breathing, and his massive body crashed straight from the horse to the ground.

A cavalryman following close behind Zhao Kuangyin was overjoyed. He swung his pick-hammer, leaned sideways and bent low, and in the instant Xiao Han hit the ground and tried to raise his head, smashed the hammer down onto his skull.

This Khitan bandit general who had committed countless evils—Zhang Zhao's rival in another time and space—had his brains splattered and died amid the chaos of battle.

The thousand-odd cavalry he had organized also collapsed at once, scattered by just a few dozen men under Zhao Kuangyin and Wang Shenqi.

The Khitans simply had no courage left to keep fighting the Zhou army.

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