Chapter 725

Man Xiong still stood at the very front of the ranks. He was nearly forty now, and in this age, a man of forty could not only call himself an old fellow — he barely had a few good years left.

Man Xiong could also feel his fighting strength declining day by day. The clearest sign was that he used to handle the little black bear Zhang Liechao with ease.

But now, when father and son sparred for a while, Zhang Liechao already had to hold back a little.

A father completely surpassed by his son in martial prowess — that was the plain proof of his aging.

And Man Xiong understood too that in the present Zhang-Zhou realm, the next generation of military commanders had fully come into their own.

The backbone included Murong Xinzhang, Li Cunhui, Guo Rong, Zhang Cheng, Qu Yanqing, Wang Quanbin, Murong Yanzhao, Li Rong, and others.

The younger generation was likewise bursting with talent: Gao Huaide, Zhao Kuangyin, Wang Shenqi, She Deyi, Shi Yanchao, Zhao Kuangzan, and more.

And even younger ones — his own son, the little black bear Zhang Liechao, Yang Jiye, Pan Mei, Cao Bin, Zhang Yongde, Lin Renzhao.

Along with the newly emerged Li Zun, Fan Changgong, Zhao Jingangnu, Zhang Boqucha, Han Huzi, and others — all of them were already capable of leading a hundred men and rampaging unchecked.

In the Zhang-Zhou court, under Zhang Zhao's influence and his unconventional promotions, military talent emerged in abundance.

Among the original followers of those early years, apart from Ma Shacai, Ma Yaozi, and Erzhu Jing, who could hold a region on their own, the rest were nearing the end of their careers.

In truth, it was not only them. Among the old martial nobility of the Central Plains, even men like Fu Yanqing, Gao Xingzhou, and An Shenqi could basically only hold garrison posts now, with no chance of being sent out to fight.

So Man Xiong had already treated this battle north of the desert as the last great battle of his life, and naturally he refused to stay on the far bank directing.

Yelu Pode had gambled. He had sent out at least eight thousand cavalry, including, of course, the Khitans' last thousand-odd iron riders.

These horsemen shrieked as they poured down the slope, churning up a skyful of dust, as though the whole mountain had turned into a hellish demon spirit bearing down on the fifteen or sixteen hundred Zhou troops crossing the river.

Yelu Pode's plan was to cut off the fifteen or sixteen hundred Zhou troops crossing the river from the rest of the crossing force.

It was already the tenth month, and the cold wind had begun to blow. The Zhou army had marched beyond the frontier in the eighth month; they could not possibly have brought padded clothing, and after two months and more than two thousand li of campaigning, they were surely exhausted.

If he could devour the Zhou army's finest thousand-odd men here by the Luju River, show that the eight Dilie tribes and the Khitans still had fight in them, and then hold the city and refuse battle —

then the Zhou sovereign, weighing the matter, might well decide on a temporary withdrawal.

So Yelu Pode ignored both flanks, wanting to smash the elite of Hanshan Du crossing the river with a single thunderous blow.

The momentum of eight thousand horsemen surging forward almost at once was still terrifying. Zhou Fengyi, Hu Zhao, and the other men from the south had little experience against large-scale cavalry, and their faces instantly went pale with tension.

To their left and right, several hundred soldiers of Hanshan Du stood almost motionless, their faces expressionless. An iron-cavalry charge was something they had long grown accustomed to.

Even on the two wings, the armored soldiers of the Silver Lance Xiaojie Du under Feng Hui showed no surprise. An assault of this level was merely the standard of elite steppe cavalry.

"Shields up!" Man Xiong bellowed. The front-rank armored soldiers raised their great shields, and long spears thrust out at an angle through the gaps, forming a wall of steel hedgehogs.

Barely two or three breaths after the great shields went up, a sky-covering rain of arrows arrived, clanging and clattering against the iron-sheathed shields like someone pounding furiously on a door.

Arrows loosed by cavalry on the move were generally not very powerful; their main purpose was to intimidate, terrify, and raise the shooters' own morale.

Nor would they charge straight in. That was the work of fully armored riders — the Khitan iron cavalry now slowly beginning to accelerate behind them.

These horsemen came howling in like waves, then circled the steel-hedgehog formation the Zhou troops had built with great shields and long spears, pulling back and forth.

At a distance of twenty or thirty paces, they kept loosing arrows and hurling other missiles at the infantry behind the great shields.

And at the same time they never stopped moving, cutting back and forth, feigning charges, constantly probing for a gap to open somewhere.

The moment they spotted a place one great shield could not cover, they would pour their arrows into it in unison.

Man Xiong had divided his thousand-odd men into three semicircular formations supporting one another, like three blisters swelling along the riverbank.

Several thousand steppe horsemen surged from left to right and right to left, charging ferociously two or three times over, and even tried to rush in once, but the Zhou army's steel hedgehog held rock-solid and gave them no opening at all.

Even the archers inside the circular formation wore mail shirts, which greatly reduced the damage the horsemen's arrows did to them.

Of course, the greatest weapon of several thousand cavalry pouring down a slope was, in truth, terror.

Against an ordinary army, fifteen hundred infantry facing eight thousand horsemen charging down from above would probably have collapsed and scattered before the cavalry even struck.

But Hanshan Du would not. They stood immovable as a mountain and easily neutralized the deadliest trick of a cavalry charge.

Man Xiong held his breath and kept himself almost entirely in a passive, beaten state. It was not that he dared not strike back, but that he was waiting for the Khitan armored cavalry hidden behind the light horsemen.

Thud! Thud! A heavy sound, unlike the hoofbeats of light cavalry, rang out — the Khitan armored riders were closing in.

Zhang Zhao was watching tensely from the far bank too. If those thousand-odd men crossing the river really were driven into the water by the Khitan cavalry, the fight would become quite troublesome.

So the moment he saw Man Xiong withstand the first wave, Zhang Zhao's whole spirit lifted.

This battle was won!

Zhang Zhao personally rode to the great war drum beside the commander-in-chief. He stripped off his armor, then pulled off his upper garment as well, leaving only a half-sleeve garment much like a sleeveless T-shirt of later ages.

Boom-boom! Boom-boom-boom! Boom-boom! Zhang Zhao beat the war drum himself.

At the front, Zhang Xianyu, seeing his father's action, also stepped forward and struck the great drum of the vanguard.

"Yulin! Yulin! Yulin!"

"Wansheng! Wansheng! Wansheng!"

The troops on this side of the Luju River who had not yet attacked first shouted "Yulin!" three times, then "Wansheng!" three times.

Man Xiong suddenly roared, "modao glaive glaive troops! Attack!"

In an instant, the situation changed utterly. The archers in the formation shouted "woho" in unison, then loosed three rapid volleys as one.

They had been shooting at a relaxed pace before, with no unified command. Now the sudden three-volley salvo immediately cut down a great swath of the Dilie Eight Tribes' horsemen charging back and forth.

At the very moment the pressure at the front eased, the front-rank spearmen and great shields suddenly pulled back, revealing the Hanshan Du modao glaive glaive glaive wielders hidden within the formation.

But their modao glaive glaive glaives were not in their hands — they were planted beside them. What they held were the divine-arm crossbows that made men tremble.

At exactly that moment, the Khitan armored riders arrived, and the unarmored horse archers and light cavalry of the Dilie Eight Tribes immediately opened a path for these armored riders, the main force of the charge.

Man Xiong had seized the moment with flawless precision!

Had it been earlier, the divine-arm crossbows would have cut down the unarmored horse archers, doing nothing to destroy the opposing armored riders.

Had it been later, the Khitan armored riders would have charged in. They were numerous, and might well have carried the Dilie Eight Tribes' horsemen with them to tear a gap in Hanshan Du's defensive formation of long spears and great shields.

But now it was exactly right. The Khitan armored riders were still slowly accelerating when, in a flash, several hundred divine-arm crossbows fired at once!

The History of Song records that whenever the divine-arm crossbow shot an iron horse, it fell at the twang of the string!

And this "iron horse" was not the sort the now-destitute Khitans dared call an iron horse — wearing a single suit of lamellar armor without even a battle skirt — but the Iron Pagoda built from Song infantry armor after the sack of the Eastern Capital, Kaifeng.

Amid the screams of men and horses, the gap the Dili Eight Tribes' light cavalry had opened was no attack corridor for the Zhou army — it was nothing less than a road to the underworld.

The Divine Arm crossbows were far faster to string than regular crossbows; in barely a dozen or twenty breaths, at least three or four hundred of the so-called Khitan armored riders had been shot down.

"Buddha above!"

"Mother, I want to go home! I want to go home!"

"It's the Hanshan Capital Guard — the Hanshan Capital Guard is here! We can't beat them!"

No one had expected that the Khitans had long since been scarred deep in their minds by the Zhou army. The moment they took heavy casualties, their morale collapsed like a mountain torrent bursting forth — far worse than the Dili Eight Tribes' cavalry.

In truth, they could hardly be blamed. Within five years, three successive emperors — Yelu Deguang, Yelu Ruan, and Yelu Lihu — had all been cut down in battle. That they still dared to launch a charge at all was already a sign of considerable nerve.

The Savage Bear roared, and the Khitan armored riders collapsed and scattered before their charge even got going. The surrounding steppe cavalry of the Dili Eight Tribes and others were still standing around foolishly, not running, and some even wanted to surge forward for another wave — after all, they had the numbers.

This was the perfect moment.

"Draw blades — cut!"

Amid the roar, the Savage Bear was the first to raise the modao glaive glaive glaive planted at his side. Then hundreds of modao glaive glaive glaives rose glinting in the sunlight with a great clatter — the invincible king of the battlefield, symbol of the Great Tang era's infantry that broke cavalry.

The modao glaive glaive Army had returned!

The surging steppe cavalry were cut down in swift, savage strokes. Severed limbs flew through the air; human legs and horse legs whirled together in midair.

It was not only the men — even the warhorses were terrified out of their wits by the blade-light like bolts of white silk, neighing frantically, desperate to flee this hell on earth.

At this moment, the Silver Lance Xiaojie Capital Guard also moved out. Their main role was not to charge, but to drive the mass of steppe cavalry toward the center, forcing them onto the edge of the modao glaive glaive Army.

The time had come!

Li Cunhui showed no favoritism. The Wind-Fire Raider Battalion of the Left Feathered Forest Guard was in the most suitable position.

"Qu Yanqing, cross the river at once and crush the enemy!"

Qu Yanqing acknowledged the order in a loud voice. The pontoon bridges, small boats, and even sheepskin rafts for crossing the river were all given priority to the Wind-Fire Raider Battalion's cavalry.

The killing power of the Hanshan Capital Guard's modao glaive glaive wielders was terrifying, but even with the Silver Lance Capital Guard added, they numbered only a few hundred to a thousand or so men, and could not inflict horrific slaughter on nearly ten thousand cavalry in a short time.

But the Wind-Fire Raider Battalion crossing the river changed everything. Seeing the enemy cavalry packed so densely together, Qu Yanqing immediately adopted the wall-charge tactic.

Like a vicious dragon sweeping back and forth, each charge carried away a great swath of the enemy.

After three or four such passes, more and more Zhou troops crossed the river. The Eagle Strike Capital Guard and the Beiwei Iron Cavalry Battalion were almost at the battlefield, and the Dili Eight Tribes' cavalry finally could hold no longer — the great collapse began.

On the hillside, Yelu Pode had not yet had time to adjust when Yang Jiye, Pan Mei, Cao Bin, and the other cavalry who had crossed at the wide shallows arrived.

Yelu Pode could only flee back to Kedun City under the protection of his personal escort, for if he did not leave now, he would not be leaving at all.

Inside Kedun City, Shulu Ping touched the prosthetic hand at her severed wrist, tears nearly falling.

Yelu Dinian remained loyal. With a few hundred riders he helped Shulu Ping up, and together with the collapsing Dili Eight Tribes' cavalry, fled the city in panic.

It looked like a battle of nearly a hundred thousand troops, but the decisive fighting actually involved only ten or twenty thousand men.

The Zhou army began its attack at the hour of si (10 a. m.), and before the hour of wuzheng — high noon — the battle was already over.

Yelu Pode retreated into Kedun City with a few thousand men, while the greater number scattered on the spot, fleeing wildly across the hills and fields.

The Zhou army began the great pursuit.

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