Chapter 425: The Fierce Battle in the Square-Inch Ground!

Zhao Jin's squad mostly carried long spears, simply leveling them and thrusting forward. On Chen Sheng's side, he stood at the very front while the others shielded from behind. Chen Sheng was far taller than ordinary men and had the advantage in strength. His body armor provided full protection, and his long saber swung wide and fierce, hacking away relentlessly. When enemy weapons clashed with his, they were often sent flying outright. Some didn't even have time for their weapons to be knocked away before Chen Sheng's long saber had already slashed down and stabbed in.

Dong Bingfeng, Ji Xiang, and Liu Yong all used pudao. They wielded their pudao only as short spears, forming ranks with the companions behind them and simply thrusting forward.

The Feng family men were a chaotic mess. Zhao Jin's several squads clustered together in tight groups, still fighting many against few within a small area, charging the Feng family's ranks into ever greater collapse. The more they collapsed, the less they could rally to respond. The situation crumbled just like that.

Zhao Jin shook his long spear and thrust straight forward. The enemy before him swung a goose-quill saber, directly knocking Zhao Jin's long spear aside, and followed through by slicing inward. But after just one step, two other long spears stabbed at him. He dodged one, but the other pierced into his ribs. With a miserable cry, he fell. Of the two who had charged up alongside him, one turned and fled, while the other was a step too slow and was stabbed in the back by a long spear.

On Chen Sheng's side, the men before him could face him one-on-one, but they were no match at all. His saber technique was upright and proper. He stepped forward, swung his saber down. An enemy raised his blade to meet it, not anticipating that Chen Sheng would twist his wrist, changing the saber's direction. It cleaved through an arm and slashed straight into the chest. Suddenly he heard a cry of "Watch out!"—at his side, a man thrust a pudao viciously at him. It seemed impossible to dodge.

Since he couldn't dodge, and the men behind couldn't rush up in time, he simply met it head-on. Switching his saber to one hand, he tilted his body. The enemy's pudao tip stabbed directly onto his chest plate. How could a pudao possibly pierce that solid slab of iron? It let out a piercing screech of friction and slid off to the side. Seizing the moment the enemy lost balance, Chen Sheng's saber had already slashed down. Blood sprayed everywhere.

The others' fights weren't this spectacular. It was nothing more than exchanging blows at first, maybe even gaining the upper hand, but after a few moves, the others would swarm in, and they'd quickly be surrounded and killed.

The squad with the most men actually had it relatively easy. But everyone here licked blood from their blades in the rivers and lakes and the greenwood—who was that much worse than anyone else? Besides, with Zhao Jin leading the squads charging at the front, the pressure they faced was minimal. They simply focused on picking off stragglers, specializing in killing those who slipped through the net. Their squad also had a throwing knife expert like Nie Hei. Once he got within ten paces, a throwing knife would often nail the target right in the head.

Throughout this battle, Zhao Jin remained extremely calm. His squad charged at the very front, always heading toward where the enemy was thickest. Whenever the enemy tried to cluster and form ranks, he would immediately smash them apart. But Zhao Jin kept constant watch on that big man who was the leader.

Those dozen or so armored men didn't look like weak hands, yet from the start of the fight, they hadn't come forward. Could they be waiting to charge in during the chaos?

With this concern in mind, Zhao Jin grew even more vigilant. Whenever the other squads got carried away in the heat of battle and drifted too far, he would shout out warnings.

"Master, some of them are mounting up!" someone yelled.

Zhao Jin's expression hardened. He bellowed, "Keep charging! Don't let them get moving!"

Although they had been locked in close-quarters slaughter, the Feng family's numbers were simply too many. Some charged ahead, some fell behind. Seeing the situation grow more and more chaotic, and the foot battle on the field completely outmatched, some began mounting their horses.

The big man who was the leader, the one Zhao Jin had been paying special attention to, had also mounted up now. His pudao hung at his side, and he held a short spear in his hand, his expression grave as he watched the field.

"Have the brothers charge on horseback!" he gave the order coldly.

The men beside him were taken aback. One said urgently, "Master Li, the brothers can't scatter apart for a moment. If we charge in, I'm afraid we'll..."

"What brothers? Hired thugs and riffraff who work for money. Usually they strut around looking fierce, but against government troops they're nothing at all. Men like that are a dime a dozen. Give the order, now!" the big man addressed as "Master Li" said grimly.

The man beside him wanted to argue further, but one glance from the big man's eyes silenced him at once.

Just as they were about to charge the place where the horses were halted, chaos suddenly erupted ahead. By the light of the campfires, they clearly saw a dozen riders spurring their horses forward, crashing straight in, utterly disregarding their own comrades in front.

Wailing, shouting, cursing—but nothing could stop the charging momentum of those dozen riders. Some couldn't dodge in time, and miserable screams rang out.

"Form ranks! Form ranks!" Zhao Jin bellowed. The squad he led also took up the shout.

This was something they had drilled to perfection in training. As soon as the shout went up, Chen Sheng's and the other squads immediately closed in. But just then, another burst of chaos erupted at the flank. Zhao Jin turned his head to look—six more riders were charging in the same way. Even a squad couldn't turn to face them in time.

If cavalry struck a foot unit from the flank, it would be utterly smashed. Then the dozen riders charging from the front would inflict massive slaughter. After that, the enemy, whether on foot or horseback, could counterattack.

"Right face!" Zhao Jin roared. Only five men in the squad behind him turned. That wouldn't do any good! Zhao Jin ran over in great strides. His household troops hesitated for just a moment. Training had made it crystal clear: facing cavalry without forming ranks meant only death. But the hesitation lasted only an instant. Every single man followed.

The Feng family men who hadn't yet managed to mount up no longer had any attention to spare for Zhao Jin. They dodged aside, cursing and shouting, to avoid being trampled by their own cavalry.

The six riders were still over ten paces from Zhao Jin. That distance closed in a flash. The riders grinned savagely and raised their weapons. But Zhao Jin did not level his long spear to meet the charge. He ran a few steps, then stopped. With his long spear, he suddenly hooked forward into a campfire pile that hadn't yet been stamped out!

The not-yet-burned-out willow branches and straw bundles were sent flying, still trailing flames. That hook had, in effect, scooped up fire.

Flames flew, sparks scattered. The galloping horses were instantly spooked, rearing up with wild neighs. Two riders, caught off guard, were thrown straight from their saddles. The two in the middle clung desperately to their horses, and just as they regained control, they heard a furious roar before them. Zhao Jin was already upon them. His long spear thrust fiercely, piercing straight through one man's waist. The other roared and swung his blade.

But in this square-inch space, the cavalry's height advantage and charging momentum meant nothing at all. Zhao Jin stepped back, used his long spear like a long saber, and hacked straight down with the spear blade. Blood sprayed—another one done for!

The two remaining riders were just about to act when they saw Zhao Jin's reinforcements arrive. Unable to charge, facing ten long spears was simply hopeless. Their only option was to flee.

Zhao Jin did not pursue. He simply turned his head and bellowed, "Get back and form ranks! Get back and form ranks!"

The household troops who had followed him turned and ran back urgently. Chen Sheng and the others had already formed their ranks over there. Meanwhile, the dozen riders on that side had already scattered the crowd before them.

"Long spears to the front! Cheval de frise, cheval de frise!" Zhao Jin roared. His squad happened to be standing in the front row. Some stepped one foot forward, planting the other foot on the butt of the long spear, the spear angled against the ground. The second row behind them, whether holding pudao or long spears, all leveled their weapons straight forward.

Hoofbeats thundered. The dozen riders bellowed and roared. At this stage of the fight, everyone's eyes were blazing with fury!

Many of the Zhao Camp household troops had turned deathly pale. Some were still trembling. But none of them had moved yet. The Inner Guard members in the last two rows, however, were already panicking.

"It's over!"

"I came here to do great things—never thought I'd leave my life here!"

Fortunately, those selected by Zhao Camp were no weaklings. After a couple of grumbles, they gritted their teeth and hardened their resolve: "Our families will be taken care of anyway. When the time comes, we'll just fight to the damn death!"

The entire camp fell silent. Even the others who had been fleeing and scattering in chaos stopped in their tracks. As long as their own mounted squad scattered this raiding party, they could then carve them to pieces!

"Steady! Don't move!" Zhao Jin roared.

The Feng family's dozen riders were already upon them. They'd made their living on horseback for who knows how many years, had seen their share of battles big and small. Charging infantry on horseback was their favorite thing to do. Usually, they'd charge up before even making contact, and the enemy would scatter and run in all directions. Then, whether slashing at their backs or trampling them under hoof, it was all as they pleased.

In the firelight, the fear and terror on the faces of these young bastards before them were crystal clear. Once they got close, they'd surely scatter!

So why weren't they running? Why were those weapons still pointed forward? What if they collided? With the horse's momentum behind them, those blades and spears would surely punch holes right through. And the horses would try to dodge on their own—these beasts couldn't take the slightest fright...

The riders were the first to break. Some hauled desperately on the reins to slow down, but inertia held. Their speed dropped bit by bit, yet they still barreled forward. Those on the edges simply wheeled their horses and fled. Some turned too sharply, and their horses crashed straight to the ground.

Finally, someone collided with a spear tip. The sharp long spear pierced through the mount's leather barding and stabbed into flesh and blood. The horse bucked and thrashed madly. The Zhao Camp household trooper couldn't hold onto the long spear, and the rider was hurled off—but his foot caught in the stirrup. He slammed heavily to the ground, and after a few knocks and bumps, went silent.

Others didn't collide, but they couldn't charge either. The moment they reached the front and tried to raise their blades to strike, long spears, sabers, and axes came greeting them.

One man frantically got his horse under control and tried desperately to flee. The horse's momentum and inertia still carried him, unable to get far from the small square formation. Just as he reached the rear of the unit, his heart relaxed, thinking he could escape this time. A whistle—a throwing knife nailed itself into the horse's neck. The horse threw its rider straight off. Before he could even get up, several blades hacked down.

Men pinned under horses, or with broken legs, lay there screaming in agony. Horses, dying, neighed without cease. The scene remained utterly silent.

The next moment, it erupted. Everyone ran madly in every direction. Mount up and go! There was no fighting this. They were no match on foot, and charging on horseback couldn't break them either. Stay any longer and the only path left was death.

"Master Li, shall we gather everyone and charge once?" someone said to Master Li. Many who had mounted up were fleeing wildly in all directions, but around Master Li, some thirty-odd men remained clustered, watching from a distance.