Chapter 1437: This Battlefield Allows No Maneuvering

The Zhao army's movements were naturally observed by the Jianzhou Jurchens across the way, but with snow this thick, sortieing quickly was no easy matter, and it was hard to say whether the other side had set an ambush, so they did not strike, merely detailing a detachment of troops to stand on guard.

They found this behavior of the Zhao army simply laughable — clearing so much snow was exhausting, sapping the soldiers' strength, and with the sky still overcast and a great battle imminent, couldn't they conserve their energy and build up their vigor?

Yet the other side's clearing of snow to prepare the battlefield had, in a sense, seized the initiative, and the Jianzhou Jurchens had to respond.

Another day passed, and the sky still did not clear, but the Jianzhou Jurchen cavalry began forming up and leaving camp — though rather than charging the Zhao army's prearranged positions, they instead formed ranks and rode back and forth across the snowfield.

The weather had turned cold after the snowfall. The great army had begun making camp and preparations upon reaching Fifty Stockade Post and Yongning Fortress. In freezing weather, horses that lacked sufficient activity were a serious problem. Going straight into battle in such a state harmed both man and horse, to say nothing of charging and breaking enemy lines.

So using the chance to trample the snow and warm up the horses was, in a sense, killing two birds with one stone. Troop after troop of cavalry massed and rode trampling across the snowfield — a method far more effective than the Zhao army's.

At first, the sound of hooves treading snow was still quiet, but later, as the snowfield hardened, the hoofbeats gradually grew louder, booming and rumbling into a continuous roar. This was not yet a full charge of ten thousand horse, but the momentum was already terrifying, a show of force ahead of time, one could say.

"That piled-up snow wall really is trouble — cavalry can barely get over it, and infantry would surely exhaust themselves climbing it!" Amin, observing the formation from afar, said in frustration. The men standing beside him all shared much the same thought.

The snow wall stood over ten feet high, several yards wide, and stretched for several li. It was tantamount to raising a wall on flat ground, and a snow wall formed by piling cleared snow was very soft and loose, utterly incapable of bearing the weight of cavalry — a horse would likely sink in the moment it tried to run up it. Even infantry would not find it easy. This was tantamount to delaying and obstructing an offensive out of thin air, adding an extra layer of trouble.

"These Han curs are nothing but rat pups — the moment it comes to a head-on clash, they shrink back, and then they rig up something like this to vex us."

"Not necessarily. Since they dared to leave the city and make camp, they mean to fight. This snow wall blocks us, but it blocks them too. It just means throwing a wave of men into it." Compared to Amin's fury, Jirgalang's assessment was relatively cool-headed.

At this juncture, no matter how much everyone looked down on the battles described in tales and romances, the clash between the two armies would probably be just like those stories — arriving at a flat, foursquare battlefield, each side arraying its formations and commencing battle, looking for all the world like setting up a stage to put on a grand opera. But there was little other choice, especially when one side was seeking battle and seeking a swift resolution.

Looking at the snowfield, now largely cleared, and the long snow wall stretching between the two camps, everyone knew the great battle was near.

"That snow wall is trouble for us, but they can't build snow walls on the flanks and rear — wouldn't that be stuffing themselves into a sack?" The Zhao army had its own views on that snow wall.

The battlefield where the formations would be arrayed was very broad, and the snow wall's position was already the very front of the front line, so there was no possibility of posting sentries there after dark.

In the past, whenever the Zhao army made camp, they had always been meticulous about placing hidden sentries, but after Liaodong entered winter, this method could no longer be used. Hidden sentries had no heating devices and often no shelter from the wind; out in the open they were easily frostbitten or frozen to death. However, in such harsh weather, it was equally difficult for the enemy to attempt a night raid on the camp, so the practice was to set more sentry posts and patrol diligently.

Under such circumstances, the snow wall was effectively beyond their reach, and with winter nights being long, it was even harder to keep an eye on once darkness fell.

When the next day came, they discovered the white snow wall had become filthy in one stretch. Men were sent to look, and they found that the middle section of the snow wall had been strewn with stove ash and dirt. Those with sharp eyes also noticed coarse salt mixed into that ash and dirt.

The Zhao army was still somewhat puzzled, but men from Liaodong quickly made their judgment: the Jianzhou troops wanted the snow to melt faster, so they had employed a method. This trick of scattering ash and mixing in salt to melt snow was something only old hands from Liaodong understood. The Jianzhou side had also spent heavily on it — though the Liao Circuit did not lack salt, salt was not so cheap either.

The sky remained in a half-overcast, half-clear state. At noon, the sun came out for longer stretches, and the snow wall could be seen rapidly melting away. By the afternoon of the following day, that snow wall could no longer stop anyone, and the area where it had stood was now covered with a layer of ice that was not particularly slippery.

When they saw the snow wall melt to this degree, both sides realized one thing: battle was about to begin. In each camp, preparations began in intense, urgent haste. From the commanding general down to the common soldiers, everyone actually breathed a sigh of relief at this moment — the waiting, not knowing when the fight would start, had been far too agonizing.

Countless men tossed and turned through the night. As the sky began to lighten, the mess soldiers were already preparing breakfast. Officers of every rank roused their subordinates and began mustering and preparations. No matter how cautious one was, such activity could not be concealed. The high watchtowers of both camps detected the other side's movements. The great battle would be today — there was no more room for surprises.

When day had fully broken, everyone realized one thing: the sky had turned overcast again. But at this point, who would still care about that? Besides, whether the sun came out or not, the cold was the same.

After breakfast, the soldiers who had finished packing and preparing began forming ranks, while their regiment commanders and deputy commanders were summoned to the temporary First Division's division commander, Chen Sheng, for pre-battle dispositions.

Before the council began, Chen Sheng ordered the guards to remove the warming copper braziers from the tent and threw open the heavy felt door curtain. The slightly stale air dispersed, and inside and out it was equally biting cold, sharpening the mind — any trace of drowsiness vanished without a trace.

Lu Da stood at the first position on Chen Sheng's left, Bayin at the first position on his right, and Zhuang Liu at the second position on the left. The order of arrangement roughly placed the generals responsible for independent sectors first, followed by the generals of the First Brigade.

Chen Sheng observed his subordinates. Aside from Bayin, the commander of the Second Cavalry Regiment, none of the others were very old. Chen Sheng paused for a moment, then a self-mocking, bitter smile surfaced on his face. He recalled that he himself was only a year or two older than the regiment commanders — he really had no standing to comment on others.

From the time he took command of a regiment, to a brigade, and up to today, Chen Sheng often had the illusion that he was already in his early forties. Not only did he think so, others thought so too. The reason was simple: to go from a youth fighting and killing to commanding a great army, a normal man truly needed over twenty years to achieve it, and he also needed to come from a hereditary officer's family and never make a single misstep. Yet Chen Sheng had done it in only ten years.

Over these years, Chen Sheng often looked back. He always felt these ten years were like a hundred years for other men — what he had seen, heard, and personally experienced was simply far, far too much. Thinking of this, and then thinking of Zhao Jin, he found it even more inconceivable. Everything he had was given by Zhao Jin, and Zhao Jin had given it to several men, and had also built such a vast enterprise — that was the true marvel beyond all reason.

Chen Sheng quickly reined in his emotions. Now was no time for sentiment. He swept his gaze over the generals on both sides and found every one of them calm and composed, each maintaining a strict military bearing.

"You've all seen your share of the world, haven't you!" Chen Sheng cursed with a rare laugh.

Although his subordinate officers' reactions were proper and correct, after years of working together, Chen Sheng could still read more into it. No one below was nervous — at most, there was a little excitement, and even that excitement was not much.

Chen Sheng had great confidence in his own army's fighting strength, but he had also taken into account that the Jianzhou Jurchens had sortied nearly fifty thousand men this time, with ten thousand cavalry to boot, and that his own forces were fighting in the freezing Liaodong Circuit, where neither the weather, the terrain, nor the people were on their side. He had thought the generals would inevitably harbor some dread of the difficulties. He had not expected them to be so thoroughly at ease.

Originally, his pre-battle address was meant to boost morale and rouse their spirits, but seeing this reaction, what Chen Sheng said changed. His expression grew stern, and he swept his gaze over everyone, speaking with the utmost severity: "This battle bears on matters of great consequence. Victory alone is permitted — defeat is forbidden. You must not grow arrogant or underestimate the enemy. Treat them with caution. Otherwise, military law will show no leniency!"

"We obey the division commander's orders!" everyone answered in unison.

Had any man from the Jianzhou side been present and heard the response within this tent, he would likely have been struck dumb. Your Zhao army numbers just over ten thousand. The Jianzhou Jurchens outnumber you several times over and have nearly ten thousand cavalry, and you are fighting on foreign ground. Instead of speaking of survival against desperate odds, you actually say do not grow arrogant and underestimate the enemy.

Though the men answered with solemnity, Chen Sheng was still not satisfied. He continued: "The general often says that deploying troops must be like a fierce lion pouncing on a rabbit — even when holding an overwhelming advantage, one must not be careless. On the battlefield, the slightest lapse can let the enemy turn the tables, let alone when the Tatars have tens of thousands of troops and nearly ten thousand cavalry. This concerns life and death; this concerns the general's great enterprise. Do you all understand?"

"Rest assured, division commander!" The men spoke again with a bow. When they raised their heads, they exchanged glances — someone always had to step forward and say something.

In the present situation, the only man qualified to speak was Lu Da. He had followed Zhao Jin for a period not much shorter than the brothers. Though Lu Da was taciturn and simple, after so many years and long occupying high rank, he had developed the necessary responses.

Lu Da cleared his throat and spoke: "Division commander, the brothers won't underestimate the enemy. Everyone has confidence. Before, we didn't know the Tatars' mettle, but at Pi Island and at Jinzhou and Fuzhou, we've already weighed them up. They're not much harder to fight than Ming troops. Besides, in all these years, the Zhao army has never been slipshod in any battle. No matter who it is, we treat them as a formidable foe. That's what Master Jin taught us!"

Hearing Lu Da speak thus, Chen Sheng took a couple of breaths and nodded, only to realize that he himself had been overly tense, while his subordinates were, by contrast, normally calm.

"To the west is the sea, to the east the mountains, and there's heavy snow besides. The battlefield will be the strip of ground between the two camps. There won't be any flanking or encirclement — trying to attack the flanks would also take far too much time. The fighting will be very simple: the two great armies meet head-on, and the brave will win."

With one side at nearly fifty thousand and the other at nearly twenty thousand, once the two armies deployed their battle formations, there would be little room left on the flanks for shifting or maneuvering, to say nothing of the fact that they had only cleared a snowfield slightly larger than their formations. Any attempt at large-scale flanking maneuvers would be obstructed by the thick snowdrifts — that stumbling, one foot deep and one foot shallow, would greatly delay the movement of both infantry and cavalry.