Chapter 307: Close-Quarters Melee

These archers were extremely unwieldy to use. Gathered from all over, they had never had any real discipline to begin with, and now trying to command them in unison was an utter headache. From the very start of the engagement, things had gone far too smoothly, which made the archers even more lax. They simply hid behind the main Zhao Battalion unit and the two mixed squads, never facing any real difficulty. Having fought until now, they had not a shred of tension. When he roared, the household troops beside him roared along with him. Under these circumstances, many began to draw arrows, but having shot without restraint earlier, a lot of their quivers and arrow pots had only two or three arrows left.

"Maitreya has descended upon the world, the Blissful Homeland is here!" "Maitreya has descended upon the world, the Blissful Homeland is here!" The orderly shouts clearly reached their ears.

"The roving bandits are charging at you! They're carrying very long weapons—they're almost upon you!" The men atop the city wall screamed themselves hoarse. Only now, amid the obscuring dust and the clamor of the refugees, could this be seen clearly.

Whether it was the Zhao Battalion or the defenders on the wall, everyone could sense that these refugees were different. There were none of those fanatical shouts; the voices chanting the slogans were very calm and very orderly.

From the city wall, it was seen even more clearly. Unlike the reckless, swarming frenzy during the siege, the refugee squads charging forward now were more orderly and more disciplined. Their steps showed none of the unsteady weakness of hunger; each man was steady and composed, advancing in proper sequence. The cheering on the city wall died down into dead silence. They were all gripped by lingering fear and cold dread. If the roving bandits had deployed this force as well, then holding the city might truly have been impossible.

"Steady! Don't shoot until they're right in front of you!" Zhao Jin roared. The archers standing in front of the formation were already becoming unsteady; some had already turned to run, and some had already drawn their bows and shot.

"They're about to be on you!" A heart-rending shout came from the city wall. Zhao Jin cursed inwardly. His view was blocked by the archers in front of him, and he actually had to rely on the shouts from the city wall to judge the situation. He had been far too naive about how to use these archers.

On this battlefield, where the balance between life and death shifted in an instant, naivety was suicide.

"Formation like a mountain! Level spears!" Zhao Jin bellowed. The suona horns blew sharply, and the drums beat a monotonous rhythm.

At this moment, the area beneath Xuzhou's walls was no longer noisy; it had grown somewhat quiet. Only that rhythmic chant remained: "Maitreya has descended upon the world, the Blissful Homeland is here!"

"Formation like a mountain!" The household troops of the main Zhao Battalion unit also roared. The men of the two mixed squads shouted as well, though raggedly. This was not a metaphor or a description—it was the Zhao Battalion's command. When this order was given, every man leveled his spear forward, stood at attention, and remained motionless. The military formation was like a mountain.

"Archers, scatter! Scatter!" Zhao Jin could see that the archers were panicking and losing their heads. He had no idea how many of them could even manage to loose an arrow right now. Better to have them clear the way so he could respond in time.

"... Big Brother, have the formation spread out, spread out..." A familiar voice seemed to be shouting from atop the city wall, but Zhao Jin could no longer pay it any attention.

I am still not a qualified commander. The thought flashed through Zhao Jin's mind. The archers scattered in disarray. The enemy was only a few dozen paces away.

Zhao Jin finally saw the enemy clearly and realized what those long weapons were. They were actually ladders—one after another. These ladders must have been built for the siege, two to three zhang in length, bound together from timber and tree trunks. Each long ladder had over ten men on either side, carrying it together as they ran forward. Ten long ladders in total, they barreled straight into the Zhao Battalion's main unit.

Behind the long ladders were "refugees" brandishing swords and blades. They did not look like the disorganized rabble from before, either; they had their own ranks and structure.

Meet force with force? Or have the formation scatter? Zhao Jin realized he had made a colossal mistake. He had rigidly applied the concept of the pike square and naively assumed that archers could serve as a ranged force. He had never imagined that archers who lacked training and had no coordination with the Zhao Battalion could only be used when the wind was at their backs. At a moment like this, they were actually a tremendous liability!

"Stand firm! Spears do not move!" Zhao Jin roared. He too stood his ground, his spear pointing forward.

The ranks were already in turmoil. Even the formation of the main Zhao Battalion unit was wavering; some soldiers' spears trembled incessantly in their hands, while men in the two mixed squads had already thrown down their spears and turned to flee.

At this moment, it was instead the militia behind them who surged forward, shouting battle cries. They had no formation, so they could naturally dodge and weave. At a time like this, no one had any reason to retreat.

The archers were not purely a source of trouble. Those who had retreated to the flanks of the Zhao Battalion's square formation settled their nerves somewhat and began shooting their remaining arrows. "Refugees" carrying the long ladders fell when struck, but with over ten men on each side carrying them, losing one or two did not slow their momentum at all.

"Steady! Steady!" Zhao Jin roared. Several long ladders had already crashed into the Zhao Battalion's main unit. The Zhao Battalion's nine-chi spears pierced the "refugees" carrying the ladders. More than one "refugee" was impaled by the overlapping layers of spears from the Zhao Battalion's square formation, yet the "refugees" behind them still pushed forward desperately.

Some of the wooden ladders were pulled off course by the "refugees" collapsing in front of them, but others simply slammed straight in.

The moment the wooden ladders charged in, the soldiers of the main unit had already realized they could not withstand the impact. But the formation was so tight that the soldiers at the very center, bearing the brunt of the collision, could not even dodge out of the way.

Riding that pushing force, riding that momentum, the long ladders crashed into the square formation. Some Zhao Battalion household troops were struck squarely by these long ladders. Their armor offered no protection whatsoever; their entire chests were caved in by the impact. They coughed up blood and toppled backward. The Zhao Battalion's formation was dense. When the man in front was hit, the pushing force from behind did not stop. Although the second row and the soldiers behind them had their comrades in front as a buffer, they still stumbled and lost their footing. The square formation could no longer hold. The two mixed squads behind were even more directly smashed apart.

Zhao Jin was very fortunate. Although the flags, drums, and suonas were all behind him, none of the charging "refugees'" long ladders were aimed at him. They all charged toward the center of the square formation. Perhaps no one thought the man at the edge was of any importance.

The moment a wooden ladder crashed into the area beside him, the spear in Zhao Jin's hand had already thrust out at lightning speed, directly piercing through an enemy's throat. He pulled it back and thrust again fiercely, killing another man instantly.

The square formation to Zhao Jin's left was thrown into chaos by the impact, its dense ranks beginning to scatter. Zhao Jin himself was knocked staggering by Shi Manqiang beside him. He steadied himself and thrust his spear forward once more!

The wooden ladders that had charged into the Zhao Battalion's main unit had come to a stop. The "refugees" carrying them had all been speared to death by the household troops. These charging "refugees" were physically strong and had some foundation in combat, but how could they possibly withstand the spears? Some drew their waist sabers, but they still could do nothing against the spears that kept thrusting forward.

It was just at this moment, however, that the main force of "refugees" following behind the ladder charge also arrived. At this point, the Zhao Battalion's main unit was in disarray and had no formation. The two mixed squads had scattered, let alone maintaining any formation.

When the Zhao Battalion's household troops fought the enemy, it was not because each man was exceptionally brave or outstanding. They relied on their formation, supporting and protecting one another. That was their path to victory. But once they scattered, they were merely strong soldiers, holding no particular advantage over the enemy's numbers.

Facing the dark, surging mass of "refugees" charging toward them, the household troops, now deprived of their formation to rely on, all felt their courage falter. Some wanted to fight, some wanted to flee, and others were at a complete loss. At this distance, there was no time left for hesitation. The enemy had already charged right up to them. The melee had begun.

At this moment, Zhao Jin became extremely conspicuous. Behind him, Lu Da still held the blood flag high. The banner was now filthy and blackened. Behind him were also the drummer and the suona horn blower. The armor and helmet he wore were also different from those of ordinary men. Whether they recognized him or not, everyone knew he must be a leader. Killing him would certainly be the right move.

Unexpectedly, over a dozen men surrounded him. Zhao Jin leveled his spear. The spear tip was like a serpent's flickering tongue, ceaselessly thrusting out and pulling back. Blood sprayed before the spear tip. With every thrust, a man fell dead.

"Follow me! Kill them all!" Zhao Jin roared. His spear moved with a vigorous, whistling force. At this moment, the spear techniques taught by his second uncle, Zhao Zhenxing, were being brought into fullest play. Not a single man could get within the shaft of his spear.

"Follow the Master and kill! Kill them all! You two, shout with me! What are you standing there dumbstruck for?!" Behind Zhao Jin, Lu Da bellowed at the top of his lungs. Lu Da was indeed single-minded. Where others would panic at a time like this, or perhaps throw the spear with the blood flag tied to it into the fight, Lu Da simply did as Zhao Jin had instructed, holding up behind him that piece of bundle-cloth dyed red with horse blood.

One man roaring might not be clearly heard in such chaos, but when two men shouted together, or four men shouted together, it was different. More and more people heard it. The household troops of the Zhao Battalion saw that the blood flag was still there, and that it was ahead of every man. Then they saw their own Master fighting bravely ahead, slaying the enemy.

When someone took the lead, others would follow. Moreover, the Zhao Battalion had discipline. Their daily training had long since instilled an instinct in them: obey orders. Besides, this situation was merely a setback, merely a bit of chaos. It had not yet reached the point of collapse. Think back to when they had driven out the monk soldiers who had stormed the He family compound, or when they had faced the charge of well-rested cavalry. What was this before them now?!

"Kill!" Someone roared furiously, brandishing his spear and thrusting it forward. The household troops of the Zhao Battalion had not learned any fancy martial techniques. They simply trained every day, conserved their strength every day, and practiced thrusting every day. What they could do now was follow their daily training: summon all their strength, grip their spears, and thrust forward!

Shi Manqiang was right next to Zhao Jin. He, too, had not been caught in the collision. The moment the formation scattered, Shi Manqiang grabbed his spear and thrust forward. He did not usually use the spear much, and his strength was immense. The spear pierced straight through the enemy he struck, but when he tried to pull it back, it was caught in the bone joint and would not come out. He yanked twice without success, and two men had already rushed up to him. Shi Manqiang froze for an instant, then roared and lunged at them. There was no time to draw his waist saber. He was wearing iron armor, so blades could not harm him easily, but at this moment, he could only deal with one.

As Shi Manqiang lunged at one man, the other was about to swing his blade down. But his motion was only half-complete when he discovered a small figure had already rushed right up to him. Instinctively, he changed the direction of his blade to chop downward, but it was already too late. An axe chopped heavily into his neck.