Chapter 1377: The Bronze Wall Before Their Eyes

The massed cavalry dead ahead drew nearer and nearer, the thunder of hooves growing clearer by the moment, so much so that even the mounts of these Jurchen officers grew restless and skittish; every man had to split his focus to keep his horse in check. Meanwhile, the rear of the Jurchen main force was already showing signs of chaos — there were no cavalry there to brace against the onslaught.

"Any man with guts, any man with balls, charge with me! We Jianzhou men have never known fear!" Tanggūdai roared at the top of his lungs. The company commanders, their expressions a mix of emotions, exchanged glances, but in the end they all agreed with helpless resignation.

The cavalry had been positioned at the front of the main force from the start. Though terrified of the enemy horse formation bearing down on them, they still harbored thoughts of meeting the charge head-on. The moment they saw their commander and their own masters give the order, each man shouted his assent and spurred forward.

"Cavalry take the lead, infantry follow close behind! If we can break through, then charge through! If we can't, then fight to the death!" The order was relayed from front to back.

Every Jurchen camp already knew the news that a large cavalry force was blocking the way ahead. They had long known there were cavalry behind them. No matter how much confidence or courage they possessed, they knew this was a desperate situation. Watching the cavalry charge out first, the entire army immediately erupted in an uproar. Who knew if those lords weren't just running for their own lives first? Why should the rest of them hesitate? Abandon whatever supplies and baggage needed abandoning — it was every man for himself. Yet some still obeyed orders out of instinct, following the cavalry formation ahead as it surged forward.

The closer they drew, the colder the hearts of the Jianzhou Jurchen cavalry grew. In any cavalry charge, no matter how perfect the initial formation, it always eventually tapered into a wedge jutting out at the center. Yet the enemy formation maintained a roughly square block the entire time, simply pressing forward like that.

As the distance shrank, they could finally make out what the opposing cavalry looked like. It was indeed that damned Xuzhou Army. These riders all wore iron armor, and the front-rank cavalry leveled their long spears in unison. The sight was bizarre. The Jianzhou cavalry used the same tactic — breaking enemy lines with lances — but something about this felt deeply wrong. It soon dawned on them: this was clearly modeled after an infantry square formation.

Besides the cavalry leveling their long spears, some riders in the front rank had hung their spears on their saddle hooks, freeing their hands to raise short weapons. Were they sabers or short axes? But they seemed far too short — on horseback, they wouldn't even be able to reach the enemy.

An inch longer, an inch stronger. The length of a weapon alone does not determine victory or defeat, but on horseback, where nimble maneuvering is nearly impossible, the advantage of a long weapon is magnified — it allows you to strike the enemy as early as possible upon contact. The purpose of these short weapons was a mystery.

At this stage, any potential weakness in the enemy cavalry was a chance at victory. They no longer dared hope for triumph — all they could do was fight for survival, for a chance to escape with their lives.

"Master! Zhou Yan's men are running!" a personal guard shouted into Tanggūdai's ear. Galloping on horseback, Tanggūdai turned his head to look and saw several dozen riders clustered around a military officer in company commander's garb, fleeing eastward. If the main force entered the mountains, it would be broken apart and scattered — tantamount to total annihilation. But a few dozen riders could escape into the hills and survive. At this juncture, no one cared about the life or death of the main force anymore.

Once this first group fled, others immediately followed suit. Men peeled away from the formation and veered off. Some within the ranks cursed furiously; others even drew blades and hacked at the deserters, or strung their bows and loosed arrows at them — but nothing could stop the flight.

With the cavalry formation at the front collapsing, the infantry behind had even less will to fight. Seeing their own masters flee with their personal guards, how could they still possess the resolve to charge forward? Every man's only thought was to scatter and run.

Yet being in the midst of the infantry mass, getting out was no easy feat. If someone knocked you to the ground, you might never stand again — trampled to death underfoot. Besides, while cavalry might survive by fleeing into the mountains, for infantry, entering the hills was a death sentence. What was more, though they could see the mountain range to the east, the gazing-at-the-hills-could-run-a-horse-to-death principle applied: cavalry could make it there, but even if the infantry weren't swept along by the main force, they could never outrun the enemy horsemen if they broke out.

The distance closed until they could see the enemy clearly. The front-rank Jianzhou Jurchen cavalry finally saw what those short weapons, held at an angle, actually were. They were fire lances — fire lances a full third shorter than the ones they'd faced when fighting the Xuzhou Army infantry.

If the enemy were Ming troops, these short firearms would be a joke. But these firearms belonged to that damned Xuzhou Army — that made them impossible to ignore. Such formidable, battle-hardened soldiers, such an oppressive formation — why would they brandish useless firearms just to intimidate?

To lead his men in the charge, Tanggūdai had to be at the very front, regardless of what he felt inside. He watched as the enemy cavalry leveled their fire lances one by one, watched their grim, terrifying faceplates, and as the two sides drew ever closer, Tanggūdai's heart turned steadily to ice.

Tanggūdai glanced back. Some had fled, but others still followed behind him. Their faces showed anger, or despair, and some even held a look of grim resolve. They were still following.

Seeing this, Tanggūdai felt his blood surge to his head. He raised his long blade high and roared at the top of his lungs: "I have followed Father Khan since he raised his banners, fought a hundred battles and never once retreated! Heaven's Mandate rests with our Great Jin! Great Jin shall never fall!"

Amidst his bellowing, Tanggūdai's face streamed with tears. From childhood to now, he had never dared call him "Father Khan." His mother's status was lowly, no match for those brothers born of noble lineage. He had never been entrusted with important duties. Now, having finally seized such an opportunity, it turned out to be a one-way road to death.

He did not know if this defeat would implicate his mother. He could not care anymore — he could care about nothing anymore. He did not know if Jianzhou would...

At twenty to thirty paces, the front rank of the Xuzhou cavalry fired their fire lances in a volley. Plumes of white smoke billowed from the muzzles. Along with the crack of the fire lances came a shower of arrows loosed from the rear ranks. So the Xuzhou cavalry knew mounted archery too — and their timing was impeccable!

On a jolting horseback, closing fast, only a divine marksman could hit a target with precision. The goal was simply to lob one's arrows into the enemy ranks and play the odds of inflicting casualties.

Charging in haste, the Jianzhou cavalry under Tanggūdai's command had no time to do the same. Moreover, the Jianzhou heavy bows and large arrows were difficult to lob — they typically required even closer range to loose.

The Xuzhou Zhao Family Army cavalry had formed a front wide enough to ensure a dense volley of fire-lance shots. The gunpowder smoke from the muzzles was quickly dispersed by the charging horsemen. The Zhao Family Army riders returned their fire lances to the holsters by their saddles and leveled their lances, while the comrades behind them kept ceaselessly drawing and loosing their bows.

Aisin Gioro Tanggūdai heard the screams of agony and the shrieks of horses all around him, watched his comrades tumble from their mounts one after another. His whole body clenched tight as he instinctively swatted at the incoming arrows. Perhaps by stroke of luck, Tanggūdai himself had not been struck by bullet or arrow.

Only now, the courage Tanggūdai had mustered moments ago had vanished like smoke. So this was what the battlefield was truly like — how many could blades and spears really kill? In face-to-face slaughter, if the enemy lost one or two in ten, they would collapse; all that remained was pursuit and taking captives. But fighting to the death against this foe meant bleeding from the very start, with no chance to surrender, no way to flee — only waiting for an end that could come at any unknown moment.

But Tanggūdai did not want to stay on this battlefield a single moment longer. Even if fleeing back meant facing military execution, he would still flee. He did not want to be struck by those fire lances — not dead at once, but left to endure agony and torment. Even less did he want...

The space around Tanggūdai had grown very empty. His mount had instinctively slowed its pace. He could turn his horse around. His hand gripping the reins was clenched so tight the knuckles had gone white. His boots and spurs had raked the horse's belly until blood streamed. He had to turn faster — had to flee faster.

But the Xuzhou cavalry's long spears were already bearing down upon him. Tanggūdai seemed not to see them, absorbed only in his flight. He did not even notice that his own face was streaked with tears and snot.

The Xuzhou cavalry had never broken into a full gallop. The front rank had advanced at a steady trot the entire time. Yet this momentum was already more than enough. The Zhao Family Army's cavalry lance drove forward steadily, as if meeting no resistance at all, and pierced through Tanggūdai's ribs — through his body — bursting out the other side.

The Zhao Family Army cavalryman wielding that lance could no longer maintain his grip; the force of two horses would easily tear his arm off. The moment he let go, Tanggūdai's body plummeted from the saddle. Tanggūdai's mount, now running wild with momentum, cared nothing for the rider on its back anymore, and simply dragged Tanggūdai's corpse off on a wild, erratic run.

"Bastard! Cost me another lance!" The Zhao Family Army cavalryman had no idea whom he had just killed. He merely grumbled a curse, drew the long blade from the other side of his saddle, and spurred his mount forward.

The short fire lances fired only a single volley, shattering those Jianzhou cavalry who had charged to the front out of courage or helpless resignation. Drawing a bow on horseback could not guarantee accuracy — and the same held true for fire lances.

Yet that single volley of fire-lance shots was enough to shatter the Jurchen cavalry's last remnants of courage and wishful thinking. What followed was a rout — a slaughter and trampling as effortless as snapping dry twigs.

The vanguard of the Zhao Family Army cavalry never moved fast, but that unhurried speed, combined with the sheer weight of rider and horse, was more than enough to pierce and cleave through any defense, to tear flesh and rend sinew.

With their commander dead and every unit in chaos, the Jianzhou Jurchen cavalry had lost all will to fight. A few charged forward recklessly, using a warrior's death to answer for themselves — but most such men died under fire-lance shot and arrow. The rest merely cost the Zhao Family Army cavalry a single discarded lance.

Most men wanted to live. The front ranks had been mauled with grievous casualties, and those behind had no thought of pressing forward to take their place. They simply scattered and fled. But those who turned to flee were not as fast as those charging head-on; they could hardly escape the frontal assault of the Zhao Family Army cavalry. For the lucky few who did slip away, riders from the Zhao Family Army's main force immediately broke off to pursue.

The Jianzhou Jurchen infantry were also in chaos. At first they could not judge the situation, but soon they realized the front had been shattered. If the cavalry were rolled back upon them, it would trigger a stampede of mutual slaughter. Yet it was not their own Jianzhou cavalry that came — it was the enemy's massed horsemen, pressing forward like a wall of bronze.

The soldiers of the Plain Blue Banner wanted to flee too, but everyone was trapped within the formation — how could they possibly escape? Comrades hemmed them in on all sides. How could they run fast enough? How could they outrun the enemy cavalry?

The Zhao Family Army cavalry's long spears, driven by momentum, could impale several men at once — though the lances then had to be discarded. After that, they drew their long blades and began hacking down ceaselessly, or simply pointed their blades forward, edge turned, and with unhurried ease slit open one fleeing Jurchen soldier after another before their horses.