Chapter 620: Armor Gleams in the Sunlight, Golden Scales Unfurled

In the second year of Shaoming of the Great Zhou, the year 947, on the second day of the sixth month, the armies of Hedong and the Great Zhou had been facing off across the Zhang River for nearly half a month.

The two sides remained locked in stalemate until Liu Zhiyuan felt this severe cold was about to carry him off, and only then did the decisive battle begin — after the Hedong army voluntarily yielded three li of ground on the southwest bank of the Zhang River to open up a battlefield.

At dawn, before the sun had risen, the Hedong troops charged with guarding the river stretch — and, of course, with cursing the Zhou army — suddenly discovered that the opposite bank was a forest of banners, and the Great Zhou army was already preparing to cross the river. More than ten small boats had long since been speeding across, and the moment they saw Hedong soldiers arrive, they loosed a volley of crossbow bolts.

The Hedong troops, caught completely off guard, had several men shot dead on the spot; the rest turned and fled in a puff of smoke to report back.

Zhang Zhaozhong stood at the prow of a small boat. He had been ordered to be the first to land.

Sixteen years had passed since the second year of Changxing (931), when, as a troublemaker in the Guiyi Army, he had been sent off by the Cao family to follow the Shaoming Son of Heaven to distant Anxi.

The wild bear who had been only twenty-one back then was now thirty-seven, and had gone from a soldier-oilskin (ruffian) who was always clamoring that he never got enough to eat, to the personal troops of the personal troops of the Great Zhou — Left Commander of the Hanshan Capital.

Back in his Guiyi Army days, he, Zhang Zhaozhong, had been a creature pigs disdained and dogs disliked.

His superiors hated that he was always stirring up trouble; his comrades feared he would go mad and beat people — and feared even more that he alone would eat up the whole squad's rations. So when he left, everyone rejoiced.

But the truth is that fate is fickle. The wild bear, who had followed Zhang Zhao with no more thought than getting a full belly, had instead carved out a vast and boundless world for himself.

By the time he returned, his old comrades were still so poor they could not go out in winter, because they had no spare trousers to wear. The squad leader whose circumstances had once made him drool with envy now looked so destitute that even the rats shed tears.

If Zhang Zhaozhong's loyalty to Zhang Zhao had been 95 in Anxi, then after coming back, it was pulled straight up to 100.

This time, Zhang Zhaozhong donned two layers of padded armor and crossed the river first with his two hundred most trusted armored soldiers. His mission was important, and dangerous as well.

If the Hedong army suddenly attacked after they crossed, he was to hold the position and provide cover for the follow-up crossing.

And the covering time would certainly not be short, because the Zhou army did not have many crossing tools — they could only hastily repair two narrow pontoon bridges and use forty-odd vessels of various kinds.

For a Zhou army of nearly thirty thousand, that carrying capacity was extremely limited. To get the whole army across would likely take a full day — but that was precisely why Zhang Zhao had sent Zhang Zhaozhong across first.

Not only would his two hundred heavy armored soldiers cross in the first wave, but right after them would come Zhang Zhaojiu's four hundred shock troops, Li Cunhui's three hundred elite cavalry of the Right Yulin Guard, and Feng Hui's four hundred elite Silver Spear Capital troops.

These thirteen hundred men would establish a defense line at the very front, shielding the entire army.

Murong Yanchao watched from afar as the Zhou troops on the opposite bank kept landing. When he saw that the first banner to appear was a silver-white field embroidered with a golden coiled dragon, he immediately fell silent.

Because Murong Yanchao, who had served in the Zhou army, knew that the Shaoming Son of Heaven was extremely interested in all kinds of dragon designs.

Whether coiled dragons or flying dragons — he had even personally designed a python robe with a dragon draped over the shoulder — and the only ones who had been granted the golden coiled dragon banner so far were the Zhou kingdom's most elite Hanshan Capital and the Left and Right Yulin Guards.

The clatter of hooves rang out. A junior officer he had sent to scout came riding back, and Murong Yanchao anxiously yanked him off his horse and demanded impatiently.

"Well? Did you see who the Zhou commander crossing first was? Was it a short lump, or a tall, long-bodied strongman who likes riding a green heavenly horse?"

The junior officer shook his head. "Neither. It was a strongman built like a man-bear. Two hundred men crossed, every one in heavy armor — you can tell at a glance they're not to be trifled with!"

"Your mother!" Murong Yanchao sucked in a cold breath, then smacked his lips twice.

"How did that dog-fucked wild bear get here? Aren't they at Fuyang? Dog-fucked — if the wild bear's here, that javelin-throwing barbarian bastard must be here too. This won't be easy!"

Murong Yanchao said "dog-fucked" twice in a row, then immediately steadied himself and waved a hand at the junior officer.

"Call the lads back. Let Bai Zairong and Wang Yin fight this opening bout. We're going back — to protect the Great King!"

Murong Yanchao had originally wanted to contend for the vanguard, because Liu Zhiyuan had offered thirty thousand strings of cash as reward for the vanguard. But compared to the others, Murong Yanchao was more familiar with the abilities of the Zhou kingdom's famous generals.

If each led ten thousand-odd brave men in a contest of strength, Murong Yanchao was confident he could send the wild bear running in circles. But in a vicious fight of one or two thousand men, the wild bear would absolutely crush him.

This money was not easy to take — most likely he would have the life to take it but not the life to spend it.

Murong Yanchao, how to put it — he was absolutely a fierce general, but having spent too long in the lower rungs of the "underworld," he had picked up too much of the street, and had developed a personality somewhat inclined to bully the weak and fear the strong.

So although he was ranked alongside Huangfu Yu and Fu Yanqing as one of the Later Jin's Three Men of Ten Thousand, he was mostly despised by his contemporaries.

One could say he was the classic case of a man too small-minded to achieve great things.

With Murong Yanchao no longer contending, Bai Zairong and Wang Yin smoothly obtained the vanguard assignment. The two men quickly mustered two thousand picked fierce troops each and waited for the Zhou army to be halfway across before launching a fierce assault.

Liu Zhiyuan also knew this was a critical battle, and was not stingy in the least. Splendid brocade was immediately delivered — a hundred bolts each — to the tents of Bai Zairong and Wang Yin.

Hmm! Good thing this isn't my Great Song, or if a single copper coin were short, the soldiers — even watching the enemy land — would sooner come and hack me to death than ever sortie. Anything can be lacking, but the rules must not be broken.

By this time Murong Yanchao had already slipped over to Liu Zhiyuan's side. He had in fact been telling Liu Zhiyuan all along how formidable the Zhou army was, but Liu Zhiyuan was not much inclined to listen, so Murong Yanchao no longer said much either.

But with the instincts of a highly skilled military man, Murong Yanchao did not think Bai Zairong and Wang Yin could beat the wild bear and Dunzhu across the river, so he quietly advised Liu Zhiyuan.

"Elder Brother, a decisive battle demands extra preparation. Your younger brother requests to go down and arrange the wagon formation. If anything goes wrong at the front, we can still fight the Zhou men in a proper pitched battle."

Since he knew the Hexi cavalry of the Zhou army was brave and fierce, Liu Zhiyuan naturally would not be unprepared. Moreover, the Hedong army also had rich experience fighting cavalry, so Liu Zhiyuan had in fact brought several hundred large wagons, and a wagon formation had indeed been arranged.

So he nodded, feeling Murong Yanchao's words made sense. "Fourth Brother, go down and arrange it. But I observe that Bai Zairong and Wang Yin are both fierce generals, and will surely win victory at the first raising of the banner."

Murong Yanchao curled his lip inwardly. What time is it now, and you're still dreaming!

All of a sudden, he felt that his elder brother was truly no longer the brother of old — the one who was awe-inspiring without anger, brave and full of stratagems.

Zhang Zhaozhong quietly let out a breath of relief, because behind him Zhang Zhaojiu's four hundred shock troops had already arrived, two hundred of Feng Hui's Silver Spear Capital men had also come, and the Right Yulin Guard was even now leading their warhorses down the riverbank.

Now he was not afraid. With these thousand-odd men, he was confident he could hold against an attack by five times their number.

Zhang Zhaozhong simply deployed his troops on the flat ground of the riverbank, making no attempt to screen his flanks at all.

Because his few hundred men could not possibly cover the entire riverbank, so he simply and openly did not cover it.

Of course, his greatest reliance was still the fact that among his two hundred men there were one hundred divine-arm crossbows, and Feng Hui's two hundred Silver Spear Capital men arrayed left and right were all armored soldiers of superb marksmanship.

Not to mention Zhang Zhaojiu's four hundred shock troops, clad in only a single layer of padded armor, fully equipped with bows, crossbows, and javelins. With that firepower, if anyone tried to bypass them, a single counter-envelopment would make the enemy pay dearly.

Bai Zairong and Wang Yin arrived a little late, but this was not really their fault, because at first only Zhang Zhaozhong's two hundred men had come. They had yielded a battlefield — surely not just for those two hundred men — so naturally they waited until more of the enemy had crossed.

In the eyes of the Hedong officers and men, the best moment to strike was when about two thousand-odd Zhou troops had crossed the river.

Liu Zhiyuan was no fool either. Murong Yanchao's foolish strike-them-halfway-across tactic was not adopted by Liu Zhiyuan.

Liu Zhiyuan knew deeply that in this battle by the Zhang River, even if they won a pyrrhic victory, what awaited the Hedong army was still only one road — annihilation.

Because Hedong was simply too impoverished. It was no longer the Hedong of twenty years ago. A pyrrhic victory was as good as defeat.

In the current situation, only by severely mauling the Zhou army by the Zhang River — or even capturing and killing Zhang Zhao — could he preserve the possibility of entering and taking the Central Plains.

So Liu Zhiyuan's strategy was to make this Zhang River beachhead the anvil, the Hedong elite the hammer, and the one or two thousand Zhou troops who crossed the red-hot iron to be forged.

He wanted the Zhou army to cross one or two thousand at a time, and he would crush each one or two thousand, then withdraw and yield the ground, letting the Zhou army cross again.

By repeating this and winning two or three times, he would sink the Zhou army's morale, then fall back again to the chosen battlefield northeast of Jize county seat and settle everything in one battle.

And to achieve this goal, the troops sent out could not be too many. If too many went out, then after the Zhou army suffered one loss, they would very likely not cross the river again.

Only by making the Zhou army feel that victory was almost within reach each time would they keep crossing the river, until at last the Zhou ruler Zhang Zhao lost his reason and attacked with his entire army — then the great deed would be accomplished.

The idea was a fine one, but it had one crucial precondition: the Hedong army had to be ferocious in battle, able to use four thousand men to swiftly devour the one or two thousand Zhou troops who crossed the river.

If Guo Wei had been here, he would certainly have pleaded bitterly with Liu Zhiyuan not to play it this way, because Guo Wei had felt it himself and knew that the Zhou army's infantry fighting ability was also far from ordinary.

But Liu Zhiyuan did not know this. Like Guo Wei before the battle at the Hezhang Valley mouth, he had made the error of stereotyping, believing that the Zhou state's rise had depended on brave cavalry, while its foot soldiers were far inferior to those of the Central Plains.

These fellows — Zhang Zhao had entered the Eastern Capital two years ago, yet they still regarded Zhang Zhao's Hexi bloc as a foreign people like the Khitan beyond the frontier, skilled only in cavalry.

Four thousand men could actually present the appearance of a vast host, and the Hedong yabing guards were especially adept at this style of fighting.

Under the leadership of Bai Zairong and Wang Yin, besides spreading themselves out very wide, they wore shoes on their feet that were somewhat larger than ordinary shoes. When they walked, they kicked up dust with a few stamps, instantly raising a sky-filling cloud of dust. Up close it looked a chaotic mess, but from a distance it blotted out the sky and hid the sun.

But this could not frighten Zhang Zhaozhong (Manxiong). The light cavalry of Anxi and Hezhong were even better at using dust clouds to inflate their show of force, yet in the end they had all been proven to be mere flowery fists and showy kicks — against the combination of cloth-faced iron armor and crossbows, every last one of them had fallen.

But very quickly, Zhang Zhaozhong sensed something was wrong, because the arrows shooting out of the dust cloud opposite were extremely fierce.

A heavy arrow with white tail feathers dropped from the sky and smashed onto Zhang Zhaozhong's helmet, producing a tremendous clang.

Another arrow shot in from afar and very smoothly pierced through his outermost cloth-faced iron armor, then hung limply from Zhang Zhaozhong's body. It was not a crossbow bolt, but a bow arrow.

"The Hedong thieves are holding back their crossbows — they must want to shoot at close range!"

A Captain beside him shouted the warning, and Zhang Zhaozhong's expression turned grave.

Generally speaking, the standard for testing a cold-weapons-era army's combat strength was not actually close-quarters melee, but ranged projection capability.

In a powerful army, the elite were surely elite archers clad in heavy armor, skilled at shooting from afar and capable of melee up close.

Before the habit of archers not training in melee appeared in our Great Song, the elite of any army all lay among its crossbowmen and archers.

A qualified warrior had to be able to stride forward, don heavy armor, and draw a strong bow.

And from the force of the incoming arrows, one could precisely judge the strength of the enemy.

A weaker enemy, even with several thousand men, could not loose a dense rain of arrows. An average enemy could loose a rain of arrows, but with little penetrating power, because most of their soldiers could only draw soft bows of seven or eight dou.

Only the fiercest enemy could shoot strong bows of one shi or even more, able to shoot from a distance of sixty or seventy paces.

What could slightly penetrate cloth-faced iron armor could not be a bow of seven or eight dou — it could only be a strong bow.

His body clanged and rang, and around him soldiers grunted as they were hit, mixed with shrieks of agony. Zhang Zhaozhong was also struck by incoming arrows until his whole body ached, but he still did not give the order to return fire.

You want to close in and trade crossbow fire? Then I'll grant your wish. Let's see whether your wooden single-shot crossbows and the like are faster, or the Divine Arm bows in my hands are faster.

Without a word, Zhang Zhaojiu (Dunzhu) understood what Manxiong intended. He roared loudly, ordering his shock troops to hurry to the front of the army with large horizontal shields for protection.

Against crossbow bolts loosed at thirty or forty paces, the horizontal shields certainly could not fully block them, but they could at least reduce the kinetic energy.

Forty paces. The Hedong army suddenly halted its stamping advance, and the armored soldiers of the Mountain-Shaking Unit also let out a sudden great shout — followed by an eerie silence in which only breathing could be heard.

But after just a few breaths, as if prearranged, the terrifying sound of mechanisms rang out like a swarm of bees bursting from their hive.

The dense crossbow bolts were almost visible to the naked eye, and because there were so many, so densely packed, from a distance one could even see brown flight trajectories.

Zhang Zhaozhong had concentrated five hundred crossbows, among them two hundred Divine Arm bows, while the Hedong army had at least seven or eight hundred crossbows.

Very quickly, the horizontal shields could no longer withstand this dense firepower. Countless arrows squeezed in like ghosts and demons. One armored soldier of the Mountain-Shaking Unit was shot staggering backward again and again, and soon his body was riddled with densely packed arrow holes.

Even two layers of heavy armor could not withstand concentrated crossbow fire at such a range. Blood soon spilled from the corner of his mouth, and his thick, powerful hands could no longer lift the Divine Arm bow he ordinarily treasured like a precious object. Then, slowly, he toppled to the ground.

As this armored soldier fell, the armored soldiers standing in front fell one after another to the ground.

And the Hedong army's side fared even worse. The Hedong army's main equipment was still lamellar armor.

Although lamellar armor's protective power was not lower than cloth-faced iron armor, and in some respects was even superior.

Its production process was cumbersome and costly, and the manpower required was several times that of cloth-faced iron armor, because the armor plates had to be forged and the cords strung by specialized craftsmen. Cloth-faced iron armor was much simpler.

Moreover, over the past twenty years, Hedong's talent had continually flowed to the Central Plains, taking with them large quantities of lamellar armor and the craftsmen who made it.

By the time Liu Zhiyuan took office as Military Governor of Hedong, Hedong's stock of lamellar armor was only a few thousand sets.

Even now, it was only a little over ten thousand sets — impossible for every man to have one.

And given the weight of lamellar armor, it was simply impossible to wear two layers the way one could with cloth-faced iron armor.

Therefore the damage they suffered was even more severe. In just the first exchange of fire, an entire face of the Hedong army's armored soldiers toppled over.

These were armored soldiers, not just any cats or dogs. Every single one was extremely precious to any faction.

"This is bad! The Hexi thieves' armor is thick and their crossbows shoot fast — we can't trade fire with them! Charging in for melee is where our advantage lies."

Wang Yin quickly spotted the problem: the superiority of the Zhou army's armor and crossbows was rapidly erasing the Hedong army's numerical advantage.

After only two exchanges of fire, the casualty ratio was at least one to four, even one to five. Who could endure that?

Before Bai Zairong could voice an opinion, a furious roar suddenly rose from the battlefield. Manxiong was personally beating the war drum. Several hundred crossbowmen stood up in unison, and every time Manxiong struck the great drum, all the armored soldiers shouted "Wind!" and loosed their crossbow bolts.

"Dong!"

"Wind!"

Then came the sound of mechanisms. Amid this rousing battle cry, the armored soldiers of the Mountain-Shaking Unit began to grow calm, and the familiarity born of countless drills suddenly returned to their bodies.

Their rate of fire grew faster and their accuracy higher. With every great shout of "Wind," dozens more men on the Hedong side toppled.

On the Hedong army's side, by contrast, waiting until the enemy's faces were visible before loosing crossbow bolts had originally been their killer move in pure infantry battle.

In the great war between Jin and Liao in years past, Yelu Deguang had twice sent tens of thousands of Xi infantry and several thousand elite cavalry to invade Hedong, and both times the Hedong army had sent them fleeing in utter disarray with this very tactic.

Especially in the battle before the great battle of Yangcheng, the Khitan Prince Wei, Yelu Anduan, had led forty thousand troops south on Taiyuan, only to be defeated by twenty thousand Hedong troops. Prince Wei had fled in wretched panic for over a thousand li with barely a thousand men left.

And when fighting the Khitan or other peoples, the Hedong army would loose two, at most three, volleys of crossbow bolts at close range, and with the earlier bow-fire coverage, that was already enough to go in and reap the harvest.

But this time, they discovered to their horror that they had become the ones being harvested. The enemy's crossbows were strung twice as fast as theirs and fought with ever greater ferocity, while the front of the Hedong army was already a scene of carnage, with at least several hundred men lost.

They could not keep fighting like this!

Bai Zairong kept a wary eye out. He pondered for a moment, as if seriously considering a stratagem, but in truth he was waiting for the hot-tempered Wang Yin to take the lead.

Sure enough, when Wang Yin saw that Bai Zairong had not spoken, he immediately let out a roar, raised his infantry lance, and charged to the front line under the protection of several dozen personal yabing guards carrying iron-faced shields.

"All troops, press forward! Press forward and fight them!" The moment Wang Yin arrived, he had his personal yabing guards shout at the top of their lungs.

At the same time, his yabing guards surged to the front line as well, all wearing two layers of heavy armor and carrying iron-faced shields, immediately reducing the damage from the Zhou army's concentrated crossbow fire.

This was the weakness of crossbows: great power, but slow rate of fire. Even the Divine Arm bow only had a relatively improved rate of fire.

Once the enemy piles on heavy armor and carries iron shields, as long as they can withstand the first wave of damage, it is a major defeat for the side using crossbows.

As for those repeating crossbows, their power is not even equal to a stiff bow, and their mechanisms break more easily, so they are not taken seriously at this time.

Zhang Zhao saw that the opposing side was sending up even more heavily armored soldiers, and they were still clamoring as they advanced, so he immediately ordered the shooting to stop.

At just a few dozen paces, it would be trouble if they got in close, so it was better to switch to long weapons ahead of time.

The squad leader standing beside Man Xiong was his own nephew, built much the same as him, only a bit slow-witted, his mind often unable to turn a corner.

Before Man Xiong came back, he had been a big fool everyone bullied, but now he was a squad leader of the Hanshan Unit, one of the Sage's finest armored soldiers.

More importantly, no one dared bully him anymore, and he no longer had to think about anything else—he only had to kill people—so he treasured his position especially.

With fewer things to think about, his wits had actually returned to normal, and looking at the Hedong troops coming toward him, he let out a foolish, hearty laugh.

"These stupid bastards! They want to test blades and spears against us! Heh heh!"

"Hahahaha!" All the armored soldiers of the Hanshan Unit burst into loud laughter.

Amid the laughter, Man Xiong kicked over the great drum used for commands. There was no use for the thing now.

He instead picked up a long-handled weapon from the ground, then tore off the cloth strips wrapped around it, and a gleaming modao glaive glaive glaive appeared before everyone's eyes.

This was a modao glaive glaive forged from Hexi fine steel—Hexi fine steel more expensive than silver—the pride of all in the Hanshan Unit, from the Fengtian Army to the Guiyi Army and finally to the Sage's personal guard!

"Leave none alive!" Man Xiong roared.

"Kill them all!" Song Zheng, commander of the Hanshan Unit, also roared. He was one of the one hundred and seven original followers still remaining in the Hanshan Unit.

'Shing!' The enemy was already at twenty paces. Everyone set down their bows and crossbows and tore off the hemp cloth protecting the tips of their modao glaive glaive blades.

To be honest, I've been using Wild Fruit Reading to read books and follow updates lately—switch sources, multiple reading voices, works on both Android and Apple.

In an instant, under the light of the rising sun, four hundred modao glaive glaive glaives flashed with a sheet of cold brilliance, so dazzling the Hedong troops could barely open their eyes.

Wang Yin drew a sharp breath. Someone below was already shouting, "modao glaive glaive troops! The Son of Heaven of Shaoming is truly extravagant, to actually be able to afford modao glaive glaive troops!"

Wang Yin knew this was big trouble. He racked his brain, trying to recall—who was the plague-ridden bastard who said the Zhou army excelled only in mounted combat, and that infantry combat could defeat them?

How could anyone who could afford four hundred huge men wielding modao glaive glaive possibly not know how to fight on foot?

But it was no use thinking about it now. The two armies had already closed to within ten paces, and the "ho-ho" battle cries were already ringing in their ears.

Ten paces! Eight paces!

With a sudden roar, like a thunderclap, the Hedong troops and the Hanshan Unit moved at the same moment. Both sides charged fiercely like tigers descending a mountain, and then met.

On the Hedong side, infantry lances were raised high like a forest of trees, then came smashing down violently.

They did not dare thrust. Everyone was wearing heavy armor, and thrusting at this moment would likely have little effect. They relied mainly on the raised iron rings of the infantry lances to smash people.

And this was probably the main reason for their defeat—because the Hanshan Unit swung their modao glaive glaive glaives to chop.

A Hedong armored soldier smashed his infantry lance onto the head of Man Xiong's nephew. The blow knocked his helmet askew and made him stagger two steps, but though dizzy and reeling, he held firm.

Then he swung his modao glaive glaive, exhaled with a shout, and chopped fiercely at the Hedong armored soldier opposite him.

The Hedong armored soldier let out a despairing scream. There were men in front and behind—he had nowhere to dodge—so he could only take it with his body.

This blow came down like a thunderbolt, chopping into his shoulder, and the Hedong armored soldier let out an even louder scream.

The modao glaive glaive's sharp narrow blade brought more pain than a cavalry lance. Though it did not break through the armor, the Hedong armored soldier felt as if his collarbone had nearly been cut in two.

But his troubles did not end there. A cavalry lance could only strike first to kill—generally you first battered the enemy dizzy before thrusting—so it came down to just two moves: striking and thrusting.

But the modao glaive glaive had proper blade techniques. Once unleashed, they flowed on without end, and because the blade was very long, it could inflict damage at both close and long range.

Before the Hedong armored soldier who had taken one modao glaive glaive blow could strike back, Man Xiong's nephew's second blow arrived. The Hedong armored soldier could only howl in pain once more and take another blow.

One step slow, every step slow. Both his shoulders had been cut, and the pain greatly slowed his speed to retaliate.

Seizing the opportunity, the armored soldiers of the Hanshan Unit roared as one, stepped forward again to close the distance, and the third blow came once more.

This blow, the modao glaive glaive chopped straight into the Hedong soldier's chest, but it was drawn diagonally from left to right with force, and the sharp blade tip scraped across the lamellar armor with an ugly metallic screech.

The Hedong soldier felt as if his chest had been struck by lightning—and the "lightning" ran from his left shoulder all the way to his right ribs. His whole body burned, and his stomach clenched.

Though the cavalry lance in his hand had also thrust into the chest of the man opposite, Man Xiong's nephew merely swayed slightly—it had not slowed him at all.

Fourth blow! Fifth blow! Blow after blow without end!

The Hedong armored soldier could not hold on. Instinct made him keep retreating, and his counterattacks grew weaker and weaker.

Finally, with one careless step, this Hedong armored soldier fell, and immediately countless pairs of boots trampled over him.

Trapped in a desperate situation, it instead triggered his ferocity. He drew the long dagger at his waist and prepared to stab wildly.

But the next moment, this armored soldier was seized by the ankles by two pairs of large hands and dragged out from the dense crowd.

The soldier suddenly saw the sky. The blinding sun had risen, and he would never see again.

Because two Zhou soldiers in ring-locked armor pounced out. One pinned him down firmly, while the other desperately tore open his neck guard, the long dagger in his hand flashing bright.

In barely the time it takes to drink a cup of tea after the lines met, the Hedong armored soldiers could no longer hold. Once the front-rank heavy armored soldiers were cut down, they were quickly stabbed to death by the Zhou army's leaping skirmishers behind them. The light-armored infantry in the middle and rear, facing the modao glaive glaive, would be hacked into bloody pulp in two or three blows at most.

The Hedong armored soldiers crowded together, surging backward like a tide, leaving behind a ground full of blood, shredded flesh, and broken armor scales.

But though they were in disarray, their formation had not broken. Under Wang Yin's roaring, after retreating ten or twenty paces, they steadied and reformed their ranks.

But this time, what greeted them was a sky full of thrown javelins.

Javelins, due to their flight speed, are hard to use for mass casualties, but at this moment the Hedong armored soldiers had just recovered from their shock and were exactly in the middle of reforming ranks—the perfect target for javelins.

Zhang Zhao howled, hurling all four javelins in the space of a few breaths, and the javelin throwers under him followed suit, throwing at extreme speed.

The Hedong armored soldiers who had just reformed immediately collapsed in a large swath. Javelins do not care how many layers of armor you wear—even if they cannot pierce the armor, they can still injure you internally.

After taking a wave of javelins, the formation that had just been completed immediately fell into chaos again. At this moment, Feng Hui's Silver Lance Unit also struck from the flank, and Li Cunhui's Right Yulin Guard cavalry had crossed the Zhang River and were preparing to move out.

In an instant, the Hedong armored soldiers' morale collapsed. Bai Zairong again took the lead in fleeing, and Wang Yin could not stop them at all—he could only follow and run backward.

Liu Zhiyuan's face was pale, and he was speechless for a long time. His anvil-and-hammer tactic had failed before it even began.

And not far behind the Hanshan Unit's armored soldiers, the Zhou army was continuously crossing the river.

Liu Zhiyuan could only order the gong for retreat to be sounded, while sending his brave general Liu Ci with his elite yabing cavalry to cover Bai Zairong and Wang Yin.

The main army prepared to retreat north of Jize County, to fight Zhang Zhao to the death there.

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