Chapter 1202: Don't Fear Death!

Mobile Corps Commander Tong Qingshan nodded, turned his head and shouted, "Brothers, the chance for merit and reward has come — fight bravely and slay the enemy!"

He shouted with impassioned fervor, but below, furious curses, shouts, wails, and cries mingled into a single din. Fortunately, the cannons had ceased their roaring, and everyone managed to steady their nerves somewhat. They watched the Xuzhou troops across from them draw steadily closer. The nearer the distance, the less they worried about the cannons — the bandits' artillery surely wouldn't misfire into their own. Under the slaughter and the threats, the ranks slowly began to coalesce.

The distance was less than two hundred paces. The Xuzhou bandit soldiers advanced without haste, but that orderly formation and the dark, somber mass of it pressed tight against everyone's chests. What battalion of government troops had ever possessed such drill and discipline?

Just at that moment, Mobile Corps Commander Tong Qingshan heard the sound of hoofbeats behind him. He turned to look — it was a personal orderly from Regional Commander Yang Guodong's side. The orderly rode up close and shouted from horseback, "The Grand Marshal orders: Commander Tong, press forward without worry. Our entire army will push up behind you. This is the decisive battle — anyone who slackens will face immediate military justice!"

Having secured this promise, Mobile Corps Commander Tong Qingshan's drive surged considerably. He bellowed an acknowledgment of the order, then turned back to drive each battalion forward. His subordinate officers and men finally managed to barely hold their formation together and began advancing to meet the enemy once more, listless and drained.

"Fire a single volley — arquebuses and bows together!"

"Level spears — forward!"

Orders began to be passed down one after another. Starting from the first rank, the household retainers leveled their long spears in succession, their pace slowing as they advanced step by step. Meanwhile, the arquebusier retainers who had finished reloading jogged forward, forming up on the march fifty paces ahead of the main formation, arranging themselves into a loose, three-rank broad horizontal line.

The arquebusier retainers kept blowing on the tips of the slow match in their serpentine locks; the archers nocked arrows to their bows. At this moment, everyone was on edge, because the government army's front line was closing far too slowly. Those soldiers were clearly hesitating. Yet there was one advantage — this side was still advancing.

At last they came within range. Banners waved, whistles shrilled, and the arquebuses began to fire. White smoke could be seen rapidly spreading and blanketing the front of the formation. The archers loosed their arrows in volleys — the swiftest among them could get off two shots. After firing their weapons, no one looked to see the results; everyone turned and sprinted back toward the spear formation.

In the instant after this volley struck, a swath of soldiers and officers in the government army's front ranks collapsed to the ground. Panic and the beginnings of a rout stirred at once, but the cavalry officers and battle supervisors behind them drove them on with even greater urgency. Only by closing to cold steel was there a chance — everyone thought this. Yet in that moment of hesitation and doubt, they saw the loose horizontal line that had just blocked their path running backward. This inexplicably gave the government troops a surge of confidence: the enemy is fleeing — let's chase them down!

The government army's morale swiftly surged. Everyone was shouting, everyone was roaring wildly. Driven from Liaodong by the Tatars into Shandong, they had wandered destitute and suffered scorn. If they couldn't even earn their keep as soldiers, they might as well die here. To hell with it — fight with everything they had!

The front ranks began their charge, and the rear ranks surged after them. The entire force ran faster and faster. No one dared slow their pace, because once the main body moved, the battle supervisors behind moved with it. Slow your step or turn around, and the blades and spears at your back would greet you at once. Retreat meant certain death — better to charge ahead and fight for a way out!

The enemy's charge did not alter the rhythm of Zhao's Camp's square formations. They continued advancing step by step. Holding a long spear level was taxing enough on its own; charging would certainly throw the formation into even greater chaos. Watching the clamorous mass of government infantry rushing toward them, faces twisted with ferocity, dust churning skyward, the household retainers halted at their squad leaders' shouted commands and, unable to restrain themselves, let out great bellows.

In the next instant, the two sides collided!

The long spears of Zhao's Camp's pike square stabbed forward ceaselessly. Had anyone looked down upon this scene from a height, they would have thought the hundreds of spearheads along the square's front resembled the rolling teeth of a saw, and the charging Ming army like a tree trunk. Where the saw teeth passed, splinters flew — each one a Ming soldier's life. As this great saw continued to cut, the great tree would inevitably be sawn through!

Only, once one tree was sawn through, behind it stood a second, a third...

Only when the government infantry clashed with Zhao's Camp did they realize how long the Xuzhou spears were — nearly twelve feet, with the metal sheath behind the spearhead itself nearly a foot long. Their own spears could not reach the enemy, yet they themselves could be stabbed. Trying to hack through the enemy's spear shafts was impossible. More critically, all they faced was a wall of coldly gleaming spearpoints; they could find no gap to slip through.

As for the places where there were no spears — those were even harder to approach. Arquebuses and bows fired outward without pause, quickly driving back anyone who drew near, and even shooting toward the flanks.

A straight-up fight with real blades and spears held no terror for them — it was nothing more than trading one life for another. But a battle like this scattered the courage and desperate resolve they had so painstakingly mustered, like smoke and clouds dissolving. This was not fighting men at all — it was fighting a wall, a wall from which spears ceaselessly stabbed outward. They could see no chance of victory, no possibility of shaking the foe.

Chen Sheng fought on the front line with a long blade in hand, yet his blade was unstained with blood. With several dozen elite armored halberdier retainers around him, and arquebuses and bows providing cover, who could draw near? The government soldiers kept veering away, kept falling back.

The government army was fighting with everything thrown in. Anyone who retreated was driven back; anyone who disobeyed orders was cut down on the spot. Many soldiers who had fallen back were driven forward again, thrown against the spear formation to die, only to retreat once more and be driven back yet again.

"The entire army — advance, push forward!" Chen Sheng bellowed. The retainers beside him blew their suona horns with desperate force. Flag signals went out, and the advance drums of each regiment sounded once more. With a unified shout, the household retainers leveled their spears and stepped forward.

With this single forward movement, the Liaodong soldiers, already on the verge of collapse, broke entirely. Just charging forward to throw their lives away was unbearable enough — and now the enemy was advancing on them too? Who could withstand that? Even mutual destruction would be a mercy, but who would willingly go to their deaths like this? Weren't there battle supervisors behind them? If they wouldn't get out of the way, then kill the bastards!

The retreat swiftly turned into flight, and flight swiftly became a rout. Some fled toward the flanks, some fled to the rear. At first, the battle supervisors hacked away desperately from horseback, but they grew increasingly powerless to stem the tide of fleeing men. Supervisors began to be dragged from their horses; some were cut down in a flurry of blades. The supervisors themselves began to flee. The collapse was finally unstoppable.

Mobile Corps Commander Tong Qingshan's face had turned ashen gray. Anyone could see that the situation before them was beyond reversal. At this point, fleeing back to gather his family and escape — whether wandering the realm or turning bandit in the hills — was better than dying in battle here.

"Commander Tong, the brothers can't hold on! Without our men, we're nothing. Keep the troops alive, and at worst we can redeem ourselves through future merit!" someone shouted at the top of his lungs.

Before Tong Qingshan could respond, a wave of agonized screams suddenly erupted behind them. Had the Xuzhou bandits circled around? Everyone turned back in horror, only to see soldiers who had fled into the gaps between positions being shot dead or wounded by arrows — and the archers were none other than Regional Commander Yang Guodong's elite troops. At that very moment, they saw Yang Gushen, still on the flank, pressing in with his cavalry force. A personal orderly of Regional Commander Yang Guodong rode up and shouted, "Those who desert in the face of battle will be executed on the spot! The entire army is to advance — anyone who retreats will be executed on the spot!"

Now their faces were no longer ashen gray, but deathly pale. The very method they had just used — battle supervisors driving the infantry forward — had been turned by the Shandong government army directly upon themselves.

"Guest armies really are treated like stepchildren — sent to die at the front!"

"Tong Qingshan, you muddle-headed fool, blinded by dreams of rank and riches — you've led the brothers down a road to death!"

"Stop yelling — the Shandong government army is pressing in!"

"We have to charge now — if we don't, we'll be caught between two fronts and die for sure. Charge through and there's still a chance to flee with our lives!"

The Shandong government army closed in without the slightest mercy. Any soldier of Liaodong origin who hesitated to advance was killed. Their blockade was so tight and disciplined that even the option of fighting through to the death was gone. At this point, the only choice was to turn back and crash once more against that seemingly unshakable iron formation of Zhao's Camp.

The regimental squares of Zhao's Camp's First Brigade marched at the fore. The government army surged against them in waves of desperate counterattack, but it was like waves pounding a reef — each one shattered to pieces against the rock.

Chen Sheng, advancing with the main force, felt his expression darken. Through the churning dust, he could see the swaying banners of the government army. Light cavalry continued to report the enemy's movements. The foe was fighting with unusual tenacity this time — no total collapse triggered by a rout, but a sustained, relentless press forward. Everyone knew the ground was littered with corpses, but by now, no one cared anymore.

Zhao's Camp, after all, had few men. The true household retainers numbered less than five thousand, and most of them had seen little combat. The initial sweeping momentum had indeed sent morale soaring, but if this continued without pause, and the government army's superior numbers enveloped them, they might not hold. With the majority being green retainers and militia, a single breach in the square formation could spell disaster.

"Brigade Commander! Brigade Commander! Second Master! Second Master! They're here! They're here!" The retainer who had been following on horseback suddenly shouted incoherently, his cry bordering on a howl.

Even the composed Chen Sheng felt a jolt run through his entire body. He looked toward the northeast. Through the dust and din, he could faintly make out a black banner swirling.

"Signal the entire army — accelerate the advance and crush the enemy before us!" Chen Sheng roared.

Ji Xiang wiped his beard. It was caked with dust and grease; his armor was filthy, to say nothing of the exhaustion etched on his face. And it was not just him — the thousand-odd men he led were all in the same state. The weather was actually quite cold, yet after marching here in armor, sweat beaded on every man's forehead. What was even harder to understand was that more than half the men in their unit had horses, mules, or donkeys to ride — but everyone was leading them on foot, the animals' backs laden only with weapons.

They walked forward just like this. Before them, dust churned skyward and the roar of battle shook the ears, yet still they advanced. Government army scouts had already spotted them and were galloping back in alarm to report, yet still they advanced without pause — until Ji Xiang raised his arm.

"Lads, mount up! Check your weapons!" A thunderous acknowledgment.

"Lads, make sure your arquebuses and bows are ready — don't let them fail when the moment comes!" Another thunderous response.

Ji Xiang swung into the saddle, turned his head, and shouted, "Those with animals, ride! Those without, run alongside! Arquebuses and bows — volley within fifty paces, then drop them, draw your blades, and follow me in to hack and kill! To hell with the formation — we'll reform after we charge through! Do you understand?"

"Understood!"

"I'll be charging at the very front! Don't fear death! If you die, my big brother guarantees your whole family wealth and honor for life! Charge with me!" Ji Xiang bellowed, his voice cracking into a shrill shriek by the end. The household retainers behind him howled and roared in response. In that moment, these men did not resemble the household retainers of Zhao's Camp — they were more like desperate outlaws, more like wild beasts!

Yesterday was the submission deadline, and also one of the major cycles of the biological clock Old Bai always talks about. Every time this day comes around, I'm utterly exhausted, aching all over, wanting nothing but to sleep.

And then for the next few days, I'll be lazy and unable to muster any energy.

What keeps me going? Your subscriptions, monthly tickets, and tips, brothers!

Come on, give me a boost — I need to keep pushing myself like this, keep writing hard, keep going without stop!

Thank you to all the brothers and sisters on Qidian and Chuangshi — thank you, everyone!...

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