Chapter 251: Where the Blade Points

251. Chapter 251: Where the Blade Points

At last, someone could no longer bear the pressure and broke down, but halfway through his shout, his squad leader struck him down directly. Zhao Jin turned to Chen Sheng and said, "Dasheng, go take this coward's head and bring it back. Quickly!"

Chen Sheng drew his blade and strode over quickly. Zhao Jin addressed the already assembled square formations nearby: "I will say one line, and you will repeat it after me. Do not miss a single word. Understood? Begin when I raise my hand!"

The veteran company had undergone similar training before, and the men shouted their acknowledgment in unison.

"Brothers, we have only one path to survival now — to fight them to the death!"

Zhao Jin spoke at a deliberate pace, precisely so his men could hear and repeat it clearly. Over a hundred voices shouting in unison resounded through the entire courtyard; even the thunderous crashes against the high wall could not drown it out.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment. Everyone heard the words "path to survival," but the men of the recruit companies immediately grew panicked, and some even muttered under their breath, "Are they going to make us lead the charge?"

They had not been with the unit long, but the recruits could all see how Zhao Jin favored the veterans — in equipment, organization, and positions, the veterans always came first. Seeing this, it was only natural for them to make such assumptions.

What began as a single whispered question quickly spread. Even the squad leaders' loud curses and shouts could not suppress it. Just as the unrest was intensifying, the shouting from the front rang out again: "Veteran company in front, recruit companies behind! Zhao himself will stand in the first row with the brothers!"

The veteran company repeated this line with particular force, and the scene fell quiet once more. Master Zhao was not hiding in the rear; Master Zhao himself would be in the first row. What more was there to say? If someone was leading the way, then they would follow and charge! An inexplicable calm settled over everyone's hearts.

"Gentlemen, only by fighting forward bravely is there a path to life. Fleeing and begging for mercy leads only to death. As for cowards — this is their fate!" Everyone saw the spear raised at the front, a bloody human head impaled upon its tip. That head had just been severed over on the recruit company's side.

Example, incentive, and punishment — and even the ever-nearing threat from outside — under these multiple pressures, the atmosphere in the courtyard instead grew solemn and still.

"Keep formation! Better to walk than to run!"

After this final instruction, the wall over there had already been half battered down. Fortunately, the wooden frames behind it had also been moved away, and the space between the formation and the wall had been cleared clean.

Zhao Jin continuously issued orders for fine adjustments. The bed-frame barricades in the courtyard were all moved aside. The front rows of every company at the very front raised door planks. The most reliable of the recruit companies, the First through Sixth, were positioned behind the veteran square formation. The other recruit companies were placed behind them, while the veteran cavalry and archers were dispersed along the formation's two flanks.

"Zhao Jin, go to the rear. Let me lead!" Chen Sheng said in a muffled voice.

"Big Brother, you go to the rear..." Ji Xiang, nearby, also spoke up.

"I said I would be in the first row, so I will be in the first row!" Zhao Jin cut off his companions' suggestions in a stern voice.

He now stood at the very first position on the right end of the veteran company's first row. From right to left, in order, stood Chen Sheng, Shi Manqiang, Ji Xiang, Dong Bingfeng, and Liu Yong. They all wore iron armor, short axes and long blades strapped to their backs, and each held a spear. Only Dong Bingfeng still held a bow in his hands. The household troops wearing plated mail were driven to the second row.

Door planks stood upright before the first row, while the rows behind pressed forward as close as possible.

In this moment of relative quiet, watching the wall teeter on the verge of collapse — outside, they must be preparing for the final battering strike — Zhao Jin drew a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. Just then, someone on his right asked, "Master Jin, aren't you afraid?"

He turned his head and saw it was Yan Heilian. Yan Heilian was not attached to any company but had come forward to the front with a single blade in hand. Zhao Jin shook his head and said quietly, "I am afraid."

Yan Heilian froze for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a tremendous crash thundered from the eastern courtyard wall — they were ramming it again!

"It's collapsing! It's collapsing!" Cheers and shouts rose from outside. Most of the eastern courtyard wall had crumbled, and the brighter torchlight beyond was now visible.

The very instant the wall collapsed, the ripping shriek of arrows slicing through the air erupted in dense volleys. Zhao Jin bellowed a warning. Every man roared out warnings, bending over as low as possible, ducking behind the door planks as best they could.

Yet agonized cries still rang out. The door planks could not shield everyone. Some screamed in pain and wailed; others wept and cried out. The loud curses of the squad leaders trying to maintain order could still be heard, but this time, no one moved recklessly.

"Those who can't hold on, go to the rear! Those who can, stay!" Zhao Jin shouted. Every man shouted it with him. Every person in Zhao's Camp was wound taut to the breaking point.

Even the archers on the flanks hid behind the door planks. They had no time to counter-fire and could only take cover. But the arrow storm from outside lasted only two volleys before great roars and shouts rose one after another outside — every man yelling to press forward, every man yelling to charge in!

The collapsed brick wall had become a waist-high mound of rubble. Through the gaps between the door planks, amid the curses and shouts from outside, Zhao Jin watched the monk soldiers, spears and long blades in hand, surge over the fallen brickwork. They were about to charge in. The monk soldiers at the very front were all brawny, robust men; some even wore simple armor. Every one of them had their head wrapped in white cloth, and they poured in with battle cries.

"Drop the door planks! Loose arrows!" Zhao Jin roared.

As he spoke, he shoved the door plank in his hands forward. The planks shielding the front of the formation all toppled to the ground. The archers who had been concealed behind them rose one after another and shot. Dong Bingfeng, too, swiftly drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and loosed it.

At this range, against such a dense mass, not a single arrow missed. Over a dozen men at the front were struck and fell forward, but they were quickly swallowed up by the tide of men surging in from behind.

After loosing their first arrow, the archers on Zhao Jin's side did not continue shooting but instead turned and retreated. Dong Bingfeng, however, shot a second arrow, then threw his bow to the ground and gripped his spear tight.

"Dress ranks! Level spears! Forward, march in step!" Zhao Jin roared. His companions beside him roared. The veteran company roared.

First row, second row, third row — all spears were leveled. The spears of the rear rows also tilted forward.

"... One, two, one..." Zhao Jin bellowed the cadence, stepping forward. For some reason, what he was thinking now was that in the future, he absolutely must use drums to control the pace.

The first row took its first step forward. The second row followed. The third row... The veteran square formation began to move. Opposite them, the monk soldiers, weapons in hand, charged in with battle cries, every man vying to be first.

In any battle, those who stand at the very front and charge at the very front face the greatest risk. Therefore, these positions are always filled by the bravest and toughest veterans of the unit. The same was true for the monk soldiers who charged in first — they were all death-defying desperadoes. Charging in first certainly carried risk, but they also knew there were benefits: they would be the first to seize wealth, gold, and silver, the first to have the women. Not to mention the bounties promised beforehand and the rewards to come after. For men who lived day to day, it was more than worth it.

Besides, inside this He Family compound was a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears brats who had no idea how to fight. The fact that they had been shrinking inside and barely counterattacking just now was proof. When the wall was rammed and breached, they fired one volley of arrows from the wall top and then gave no further response. Didn't they know this was life or death? They must have been scared out of their wits, too frightened to react.

What's more, before the charge, the leading bosses had said that tens of thousands of taels of silver were hidden inside this He Family compound. This had driven everyone into a frenzy. Revealing that sum in advance meant they were letting the men loot freely, with no questions asked afterward.

With so many provocations and temptations, these desperadoes' eyes had turned bloodshot, waiting only to burst in and slaughter and plunder to their hearts' content. The face of every man charging in was twisted and contorted.

No one even noticed the dozen or so men at the front struck down by arrows. In war, in battle, how could there be no deaths? Whoever got hit, it was just their bad luck. But what was this formation revealed when those door planks flipped open one after another?

The initial frenzy of the charge had passed. The firelight inside and outside the compound still blazed bright. The monk soldiers who had charged in first did not see the chaos, collapse, and terror they had expected. Instead, they saw orderly formations — more precisely, one tight, disciplined large unit at the very front and several more or less orderly units behind it.

The compound was very open and spacious, without the inner walls that divided wealthy estates. Though one could not see the full extent at a glance, the layered ranks of troops were visible.

What was going on? Why was the entire first row of that large square formation at the front wearing armor — and heavy armor at that, covering them completely with no gaps?

And what was with those row upon row of spears? The men in the front were packed so tightly, and the gaps between them were covered by the spears of the row behind. How was anyone supposed to charge that? If you held a spear, you could parry one shaft but not the one beside it. If you held a blade, it wasn't long enough to reach them. What could be done?

The monk soldiers at the very front wanted to stop, or at least veer away from that grim wall of heavy armor and forest of spears dead ahead. But having expended so much effort to breach the wall, Cloud Mountain Temple naturally committed its full strength to the assault. The men behind kept pouring in with war cries, pushing and shoving. The monk soldiers in front could not stop even if they wanted to; they were forced forward by the press of bodies behind them, drawing ever closer to that spear formation — and that spear formation was advancing toward them as well.

At the head was a warrior monk, tall and burly, his face a mass of brutish flesh. He wielded a ring-pommeled great blade and wore leather armor studded with iron plates, looking incomparably fierce. A dozen men followed at his side. He swung his great blade like a windmill, and seeing no way to retreat, no way to dodge, he actually charged straight in. This warrior monk used his great blade to knock aside two spears and took a step forward. Just as he was about to hack at the spear shafts beside him, two spears thrust straight at his face. He hurriedly swung his blade across to parry, but a spear from the side stabbed in at an angle. Plated armor could withstand slashes, but a direct spear thrust was more than it could handle — especially in the ribs. The spear tip sank in halfway.

The spear tip withdrew, blood spraying. The valiant warrior monk bellowed madly and raised his great blade high, desperate to fight to the death. But as his arms lifted, his chest and belly were left wide open. Another spear pierced his throat. This time, he could move no more. The great blade clattered to the ground, and he pitched forward, dead.

Those who could even charge in were already the exceptional ones. The majority were stabbed full of bloody holes by spears at the outer edge, falling dead with agonized screams.

The monk soldiers were brave and fierce, charging in with brandished weapons the moment the wall collapsed. But charging like this, there was no formation to speak of. What they faced was the orderly ranks of Zhao's Camp. Before this square formation of sixteen men across and ten men deep, the enemies directly facing the sixteen armored warriors of the first row numbered fewer than sixteen.

And enemies numbering fewer than sixteen had to face thirty or forty thrusting spears — utterly impossible to parry. The total number of Zhao's Camp was far smaller than the monk soldiers of Cloud Mountain Temple, yet across the frontage of the veteran horizontal formation, Zhao's Camp held a numerical advantage.

The advantage was not just in numbers. The equipment of every man in the first row was also superior. Not to mention the steel armor on Zhao Jin and his companions, even the full suits of padded cotton armor worn by the household troops covered their entire bodies, making them look extraordinarily imposing. The monk soldiers facing them head-on charged again and again but could not break in, yet could not retreat either. In desperation, they hurled their weapons directly at them. But these weapons were either swept from the air by spears or dodged with a tilt of the head. Even if they struck home, they could not pierce the armor.

The monk soldiers charged forward, shouting battle cries, but they did not notice that the Zhao's Camp soldiers at the very front were also afraid — the spears pointed at them were trembling. Yet as the battle began, the household troops of Zhao's Camp discovered that all they needed to do was raise their spears and press forward. The enemy found it very difficult to break through the formation. Even if a gap appeared, even if they faced a formidable foe, there were comrades beside them and comrades behind them. If their own spear was lost, there were still dozens more around them.

So Master Zhao's training really was effective. Even the household troops of the veteran company had never experienced such slaughter and bloodshed. They were just as unaccustomed, just as fearful and unpracticed, as the recruit companies behind them. But after engaging the enemy, they discovered how effective their training truly was. Confidence grew. The hands gripping the spears no longer trembled. Their steps grew ever firmer. They suddenly felt that their side might actually win!

"... They're too thorny!" "... Can't beat them!" All kinds of frustrated, exasperated shouts rang out. But no matter how spacious the courtyard was, it was still a courtyard. The horizontal formation of sixteen men across already occupied a great width. The monk soldiers continuously pouring in had no way to dodge or evade; they could only be forced to meet it head-on.

Some were quicker, even rolling on the ground, and finally made it to the flank of this great horizontal formation. Since this spear square was advancing forward, its flanks must be exposed.

But the left and right sides were not empty. A few paces behind, there were more units. Seeing enemies approach, these units leveled their spears and charged. The recruit companies were afraid, but the main enemy force was being held at the front. Those coming at the flanks were scattered — the perfect opportunity to win through superior numbers. A dozen or twenty men pressing forward with leveled spears was something even the monk soldiers could not withstand. And what's more, the spears of the great horizontal formation could not only thrust forward...

Zhao Jin and his men halted their advance after three steps. So many enemies were pouring in that they could only stand firm and thrust forward without pause.

Some enemies charged into the gaps between the first row's spears, but they could not withstand the second and third rows. Some rolled on the ground, trying to strike at their legs. The men of the first row simply raised their spears and stabbed downward, while the men in the rear rows blocked the gaps they left open.

Some of the household guards in the front row were knocked unconscious by hurled weapons, but the rear ranks immediately filled the gaps. They did not retreat a single step, yet the ground before them was already littered with dead and wounded.

Dozens of men fell. Some died instantly. Those who did not die suffered far worse — impaled by spears, blood gushing wildly. On a battlefield like this, there was no way to save them, yet death would not come quickly. They could only scream in agony.

The deaths and agonized screams of so many comrades finally brought the men behind to a halt, and opened up enough space for them to turn around without shoving against one another. They stood hesitating atop the rubble of the collapsed wall, unwilling to advance, and some began shouting toward the rear.

"Forward! Follow me forward!" Zhao Jin roared at the top of his lungs.

The bloody slaughter broke the deadlock between the two sides. The battle line began to move forward. Beside Zhao Jin, Chen Sheng started bellowing the cadence, and all the men stepped forward in time with the beat.

Zhao Jin turned his head to look, then bellowed: "Yan Blackface, get over here!"

Yan Blackface's body and blade were both smeared with blood. He had been fighting on Zhao Jin's right flank just moments ago, and his face was now alight with savage excitement. No one could have imagined that Zhao Jin and his men would hold such an overwhelming advantage!

"Go pass the order to every squad behind us: stay tight on this square formation as it advances. Once we break out, follow our charge, but do not block the front of this formation. Any enemies left behind are to be dealt with by the rear squads. Have everyone who can draw a bow and shoot come to my right flank — go, now!" Zhao Jin spoke as he strode forward in great strides.

"Zhao Jin, you go take overall command! I'll lead this square formation in pursuit!" Chen Sheng, fighting beside him, roared. Yan Blackface was already sprinting toward the rear.

"I can't leave! Only if I stand in the front rank and charge at the very forefront will the brothers have the courage to follow!" Zhao Jin roared back. Inwardly, though, he was thinking that he would need to prepare dedicated orderlies for himself in the future.

"Veteran square formation, shout with me!" Zhao Jin bellowed.

"Forward! Forward! Forward!" Zhao Jin shouted, and the veteran square formation roared out in unison. This was not to raise morale — it was to issue a command to every unit of the Zhao Battalion across the entire compound.

The only force Zhao Jin could directly command right now was this single square formation. The squads behind him could only be ordered through this method.

The veteran square formation leveled their spears and began striding forward. Zhao Jin heard the sound of footsteps beside him and saw the uninjured old cavalrymen and the Zhao Battalion's archers coming up alongside. Only ten of them remained.

"When we close to hand-to-hand with the enemy, circle around this square formation and use it for cover — let us block for you. The rest of the time, pick your targets and shoot to kill!" Zhao Jin roared.

Without waiting for the archers' response, Zhao Jin turned his head and bellowed: "Dress ranks! Dress ranks! Step by step, forward!"

The monk soldiers stared at the formation as if it were a hedgehog. They could only fall back and try to think of something, but with each step they retreated, they found the enemy gave them no opening at all — just kept walking forward, utterly unhurried. They could only retreat further.

"Watch your footing! Stand steady, keep an eye on the man beside you, dress ranks before you take the next step!" Zhao Jin shouted. They had reached the rubble of the collapsed brick wall and were slowly climbing over it. At this moment, he truly had to thank the monk soldiers who had rammed the wall — to let more of their men pour in, they had opened a breach wide enough.

Zhao Jin shouted orders to direct the square formation's movements, but there was no need to explain how to kill the enemy. It was simple: see an enemy in front of you, thrust your spear through him.

The veteran square formation did not advance quickly, especially when crossing the brick rubble of the collapsed wall. Zhao Jin feared the ranks would fall into disorder and break apart, so he kept the advance very slow.

Yet this slowness of theirs was taken by the monk soldiers as hesitation and cowardice. The monk soldiers at the very front were either speared to death or fell back in terror, but the overall momentum of the main body was still surging inward. Those at the very rear could not even sense the stall at the front.