Chapter 252: Chase, Only Chase

Pushed from behind, driven by reckless courage, or simply clueless about what was happening, wave after wave of monk soldiers surged forward, like breakers crashing against a reef — the waves shattered, the reef stood utterly unmoved, and this "reef" was even slowly advancing.

Advancing slowly, the veterans in the square formation didn't even need to thrust. They just had to hold their long spears level with force, and the enemy would impale themselves directly onto the spearheads.

The enemy hacked and slashed, dodging and weaving in every way they could, but no matter how they responded, each man always faced several, even a dozen or more, spear points. The distance from spearhead to shaft guaranteed safety; unless the enemy threw their weapons, they couldn't reach the household troops at all. And the enemy was usually reluctant to part with their blades — without a sharp weapon on the battlefield, survival was impossible.

In fact, the five wounded men the veteran square had suffered so far were all because enemies had thrown their weapons and someone on this side couldn't knock them aside or dodge in time — just unlucky enough to get hit.

Even with the press from front and back, no one was willing to charge forward to their death. The enemy in front of the veteran square kept pulling further and further away; everyone was dodging. Farther off, someone was still bellowing orders: "... Charge forward..."

But pulling back and refusing to engage the spear square didn't mean they could escape. At that moment, the archers on Zhao Jin's right flank began to play their part.

The enemy was right in front of them, and a mass of enemies at that. They only needed to draw their bows, nock arrows, and loose. Whether shooting flat or in an arc, they always hit a target, while the enemy had no way to close in. To deal with the archers, they would have to circle around the spear square, and by then, the archers would have long since withdrawn behind the formation.

By the time the veteran square marched down from the brick pile, within twenty paces in front of the formation, no standing enemy remained. The monk soldiers were all retreating, not only to avoid crashing onto the spears but also to evade the arrows. Someone was still shouting: "Let those brats out! Once we encircle them, we'll smash them — those spears of his can only point forward!"

"Align left and right, align front and rear!" Zhao Jin shouted. The slightly disordered veteran square immediately began to dress ranks.

After a brief moment of realignment, Zhao Jin shouted again: "On my command — long stride forward! Ready, march!"

The veteran square strode forward in unison. Zhao Jin's voice, calling the cadence, had already grown somewhat hoarse, and in between he kept reminding everyone to maintain the formation's order.

As they strode forward here, the monk soldiers who had circled wide into a loose ring all froze. Some turned and fled; some tried to dodge to one side; others stood there at a complete loss.

The archers on Zhao Jin's right flank, however, could no longer shoot at their leisure. They had already rotated back behind the square. On a battlefield surrounded by enemies, that was the only truly safe place.

A few shrill, agonized screams rang out. Moments later, several objects were hurled down in front of the veteran square. Zhao Jin's heart jolted — he immediately gave the order to slow the pace. Looking closely, he saw they were several blood-dripping human heads. At that moment, a loud voice bellowed out again: "This is what happens to deserters! His Reverence says these brats are just bluffing — if we all charge together, we can smash them! His Reverence also says: five taels of silver per head, hard cash!"

At least a dozen men were shouting. The moment the cries died down, Zhao Jin saw the eyes of the nearby enemy turn red. Retreat meant beheading; attack, and there was a huge bounty. And someone had just said Zhao Jin's men were bluffing. The bewilderment in their hearts vanished in an instant, replaced by rising excitement.

Zhao Jin gave a cold laugh and roared at the top of his lungs: "Formation, forward! Long stride forward! Everyone shout with me — all squads of Zhao Battalion, advance together! Advance together!"

The enemy's clamor and din could not drown out the unified battle cry of the veteran square. Amid the shouting, the veteran square strode forward. Free of the uneven brick rubble underfoot, their advance was swift. The monk soldiers, goaded by threats and lured by profit, also charged forward, howling.

"These brats are just bluffing — once we close in, we can smash them." Just moments ago, they themselves had kept retreating because they couldn't find an opening. As long as they closed the distance, those brats would scatter on their own. Many thought this way. For one, plenty of them hadn't seen how their comrades had fallen before this spear square. For another, the oppressive tension of the battlefield made men instinctively believe whatever they needed to.

But when they actually closed in, the pace of Zhao Battalion's veteran square did not slow. Those spear shafts still pointed forward with unwavering resolve. They still could find no gap. And now, retreat was impossible — they couldn't even stop in their tracks, because their comrades were right behind them.

The reckless ones at the front charged forward howling. Some thought they could at least startle the square's spears aside. Others thought in despair: kill one, break even; kill two, profit. But the spears facing them remained utterly steady, unmoving — the only motion was the forward thrust!

Screams, agonized howls — one man after another fell before the veteran square. What the monk soldiers didn't know was that Zhao Jin and his companions were managing, but the household troops were afraid too. Precisely because they were afraid, they knew that if this square scattered, death was the only outcome. Their training had taught them how to hold such a formation. So they stood shoulder to shoulder with even greater resolve, held their spears forward with even greater resolve.

Some tried to circle around to the square's front and flanks, but by then the recruit squads from behind had also charged up. They had been roused to courage by their comrades ahead. They had not formed into a large formation — with their brief training, even if they tried to mass into a grand square, they couldn't possibly hold it. The recruits advanced to fight in their assigned squads, groups of twenty-odd men, maintaining a barely passable formation, spears in hand.

The veteran square had already formed a sufficiently broad front. Not many of the charging monk soldiers could circle around it. But when they reached the flanks, they were still outnumbered. The recruit squads with their spears might not have been resolute or brave, but seeing an enemy far fewer than themselves, they dared to thrust forward.

The archers sheltering behind the veteran square were not idle. Some seized any opening to slip out and loose arrows. The old cavalrymen, in particular, used their experience to guide them.

"... Don't all bunch up on one side — cover both flanks..."

"... Stick together, don't scatter! You little bastards, you think your master made you drill formation for fun?"

They bellowed out the orders Zhao Jin had no time to give. On the battlefield, with screams and battle cries ringing in their ears, the ground a morass of blood and corpses, the raw recruits of Zhao Battalion were wound unbearably tight. The old cavalrymen's hard-won advice was instinctively obeyed.

There were nearly twenty recruit squads, but not every squad could charge to the front. The squads made up of garrison family sons and those made up of jianghu men rushed ahead. A few squads even dared to actively seek engagement and had to be harshly rebuked by their squad leaders to keep them from overtaking the veteran square. The majority of squads, however, were trembling and cowering at the start, too afraid to advance. Only under barked orders, spurred by their comrades' courage, and led forward by their squad leaders' curses did they slowly move ahead.

The threat of beheading for desertion, the bounty of five taels of silver per enemy head — none of it could compare to the terror of watching comrade after comrade die on those spears. No matter how hot the blood ran, it had to cool.

After more than thirty men charged forward one after another and fell before the spear square, the monk soldiers' momentum was completely shattered. And that square was still advancing.

Zhao Jin's spear thrust forward and withdrew; another man fell before him. His voice was hoarse. The square was no longer so neat, because the ground underfoot was no longer level — the corpses made it uneven.

"This is damn impossible to fight! Going up there is just suicide!"

"These brats are monsters — to just charge out like that!"

"Get out of your grandpa's way! Don't block the road to survival!"

Shouts and curses rose continuously. After that last clash of slaughter, a gap of over a dozen paces had opened again in front of the spears. The monk soldiers at the front were all turning around, while those behind them still didn't know what to do. They had already begun shoving and cursing each other. The enemy was on the verge of total rout.

"We're going to win!" Zhao Jin even heard someone behind him murmur this.

Too early. Zhao Jin knew this clearly. From the moment they had charged out and closed to hand-to-hand combat until now, enemy casualties had barely reached a hundred. They were still in chaos. Once the other side reorganized their troops and opened the distance, those several dozen bows of theirs would come into play. If they added that mounted unit as well, his own force would be in serious trouble.

He could not give them that chance now. Zhao Jin spoke: "Brothers, shout with me."

On such a chaotic battlefield, Zhao Jin's one hoarse voice could no longer reach everyone. But his companions standing to his left, in the same first row, were fully focused.

"All units — run forward! All units, run forward!"

Chen Sheng shouted it. Ji Xiang shouted it. Dong Bingfeng, Shi Manqiang, Liu Yong — all joined the shout. Zhao Jin then bellowed: "Hold formation! Run forward!"

His companions roared in unison. After a brief pause, the veteran square began to advance at a run.

The moment they made this move, the already crumbling monk soldiers exploded into panic. Touch those spears and you die — if they chased you down, how could there be any good outcome? Run! Run fast!

But those in front were turning while those behind hadn't yet reacted. In the frantic scramble, there was no time to dodge. Fleeing for their lives, who cared about anyone else? Some swung their weapons and brought them down. Those behind naturally had to defend themselves. The slaughter of each other began.

Holding formation meant they couldn't run too fast, but it was enough. The distance that had just opened was quickly closed. This time, it could hardly be called a fight. Aside from a handful of monk soldiers who lunged forward with frenzied howls, the rest turned their backs to the sharp spears.

Agonized screams rang out thick and fast again. The spears pressed forward. No one noticed that this square had lost some of its neatness from running. The monk soldiers saw only the bloodstained spear points.

The veteran square ran forward. Before them were monk soldiers fleeing for their lives. In such chaos, everyone forgot to scatter — they couldn't scatter even if they wanted to, because there were men in front, behind, left, and right. They could only run backward. The entire eastern clearing had descended into pandemonium.

He Family Village was not quiet at this moment, but the men on the battlefield had no attention to spare for it. Many inside the village were no longer hiding in their homes, braced for attack. Instead, they climbed to high vantage points to look out. The boldest among them were the merchants from the mule and horse market. Clustered under the protection of their guards, they ascended heights and rooftops, watching the battle in stunned disbelief.

"Damn, they're herding sheep!" someone murmured. Looking down from above, Zhao Jin's force appeared orderly enough, while the other side was a seething mass of Cloud Mountain Monastery monk soldiers, rolling backward in collapse.

"Cloud Mountain Monastery is finished. They can't rally their men — even their archers over there have been swept away in the rout!" These cattle and horse merchants had the strength to protect themselves, and their courage was naturally greater. Quite a few stayed on the rooftops, watching the whole time.

"... Never thought those young fellows in the big compound would actually hold out. Tsk, tsk. If this keeps up, dawn will be here soon..."

Even the most muddle-headed person knew that a pitched battle like this could not be exposed in broad daylight. Even the laziest magistrate's office would be forced to act.

"... Dawn or not, it'll still be at least another two hours before the city gates open..."

The city gates wouldn't open until after daybreak, and it would take time to rush here from inside the city. If one was truly willing to go all out, there was still plenty of time.

"... If they pull through, we can't afford to slight that young master. From now on, he'll be the one calling the shots in Xuzhou..."

Around Monk Ru Nan were twenty-some towering men, all wearing chainmail and gripping podao and long spears. Now, every one of them was drenched in blood — but the blood was not from Zhao Battalion. It was from their own men.

Every time the tide turned and men retreated, lopping off a few cowards' heads had always been enough to drive the mass forward again. But this time, it didn't work. Chopping off several heads still couldn't stop the rout. Some simply detoured around them; others directly drew their blades and fought them to the death.

"... Don't retreat, everyone! They're few in number..."

Such roars and bellows could not halt the collapse. Everyone was fleeing. The only saving grace was that the men around Ru Nan were still loyal enough — they dragged him along, shielding him in their midst as they ran with the tide of the crowd. Otherwise, he would likely have been trapped in the chaos. As for Ru Ning, he had been swept away to the other side.

"Archers, where are the archers?!" Rulan shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran, his heart tangled with frustration. To finish off the people in the compound once and for all, he had to throw his forces into brutal close-quarters slaughter, with the archers standing by in reserve. But he never imagined that the men at the front would collapse and flee back, scattering the archers completely. For archers to be effective, they had to stand firm, draw their bows, and shoot — in this chaos, they were utterly useless.

"Spread out, all of you spread out! Round up the men! If we can just rally them, we can still turn this around!" Rulan shouted as he drove away the toughs guarding him, sending them to gather the routed troops. He had believed his temple-trained monk soldiers were no worse than government troops, and with superior numbers, the initial assault had gone exactly as planned. That Zhao Jin in the compound had nothing but reckless courage; he was a raw novice at attack and defense, always on the back foot. Even without a clear view from outside, one could guess it was chaos within. He had thought that once they breached the courtyard wall, it would all be over. He never expected that the moment the wall came down and his real strength poured in, the tables would turn instead. What in the world had gone wrong?

As he ran, Rulan replayed every step in his mind. Nothing had been wrong — a methodical attack, committing forces step by step. Why had it ended like this? This was a method he had learned in the army...

To maintain formation, they could not sprint at full speed. But Cloud Mountain Temple had no such concern. At first, they were jammed together and couldn't run fast, and Zhao's Camp caught them from behind. Then the formation scattered, they ran faster and faster, and the gap between them and the veteran square of Zhao's Camp grew wider and wider.

Even the veteran square could no longer hold a tight formation. At best, it still roughly kept its shape. The rookie squads, had Zhao Jin not reined them in, would have charged far ahead long ago. They had no formation to speak of now — just clusters of twenty-some men, charging hard with leveled spears.

At first, the veteran square where Zhao Jin stood killed the most. Later, the rookie squads racked up the greater tally, because they ran fast and didn't have to maintain formation. The fleeing monk soldiers ahead offered no resistance at all, simply turning their backs to them. It was just a matter of catching up and stabbing — brutally simple.

The distance had stretched; they could not catch up in the short term. Zhao Jin, his voice hoarse, gave the order to halt and re-form. His throat was utterly raw — even Chen Sheng beside him could barely make out the words. The order was relayed, and the veteran square stopped. Once halted, the veteran square roared in unison, and the rookie squads that had already surged ahead also halted. Zhao's Camp's battle line, in the course of the pursuit, had warped into a crescent shape, concave in the center and jutting forward at the flanks.

"... Dress ranks and align..." Zhao Jin rasped. Chen Sheng immediately passed the order down. Zhao Jin instinctively planted his spear on the ground to prop up his body. Running and fighting in iron armor, on top of the night's exertions — the physical drain was simply too great. Then Zhao Jin saw that he was not the only one doing this. Many in the veteran square were swaying slightly, using their spears to support themselves. Even Chen Sheng's voice, relaying orders, sounded a little weak.

No one complained. No one spoke of hardship. No one was even excited by this inconceivable come-from-behind victory. Every man in the veteran square, after a brief pause to recover, hurriedly aligned himself. Even the men in the rookie squads were very quiet. This night, they had seen more than enough bloody slaughter, seen more than enough corpses, and found their own confidence. They finally understood the meaning of their daily training — those seemingly useless drill formations actually had such purpose, could deliver such a victory.

The rookie squads were excited. They were quiet because they were awed by the scene. The veteran squad, however, was calm. From their initial panic, fear, and discomfort to their current state of adjustment, a chilling, murderous aura had begun to emanate from them.

"We won. We won!" After the initial silence, someone cried out in excitement, and the words spread rapidly. Everyone was murmuring it.

"Zhao Jin, did we win?" Even the ever-steady Chen Sheng could not contain himself. His muffled voice came from behind his helmet's faceguard.

Zhao Jin gripped his spear, staring ahead. "Not yet!"

A hundred paces away, the routed monk soldiers were gradually being rallied. Many had already turned back around. Rulan's measure — sending his trusted men to round them up as he fled — had, after all, taken effect.

Zhao Jin looked back. They had already run several hundred paces out from the He Family compound. Returning to hold it was no longer possible. In the pursuit just now, the enemy had left the ground strewn with corpses, yet the number of men now rallied still seemed greater than their own force.

Outnumbered, with zero experience in holding a position, they had actually fought their way out from inside and won such a great victory. This was a miracle, enough to make anyone exult. But in Zhao Jin's heart, there was not the slightest ease.