Chapter 470: If I Don't Run, Am I Supposed to Just Wait to Die? (Third Update)

The archers on both sides quickly closed to within a few dozen paces of each other, and both began drawing and loosing arrows rapidly, but compared to the archers in the horizontal ranks, the archers on the Feng side were slower.

After all, this wasn't leisurely lobbing arrows at a stockade, nor was it level-fire like supervising a battle; it was a contest of speed and accuracy. Many of the archers on the Feng side had trembling hands, and some even dropped arrows from their bowstrings, then scrambled to pick them up—and by then, the other side had already loosed!

A chorus of screams rang out, and over a dozen archers on the Feng side fell. Seeing their comrades struck by arrows made people even more panicked, and their own shots became even less accurate. Meanwhile, the opponents' movements were truly swift, and they had already drawn and loosed a second volley.

After two volleys, the archers immediately collapsed and fled toward both flanks. The archers in the horizontal ranks did not pursue; instead, they returned to the front of the formation and advanced together.

Once the main force on the Feng side started running, their speed grew faster and faster. Everyone was running, everyone was sprinting wildly. Anyone who was a step too slow risked being knocked down by those behind, or even cut down. If you fell to the ground, there was basically no chance of getting back up.

The government troops' units, of course, only knew formations, but at this moment, who had time to care? The enemy had marksmen; they had to charge in quickly for close-quarters combat. If they advanced slowly in formation, they would just be sitting targets for the archers to aim and shoot, and the casualties would be even more severe.

The Feng main force was in utter uproar. No one heard, nor would anyone have noticed, that the drumbeats had become monotonous. They did, however, see the enemy's horizontal ranks halt, and in front of those ranks, the archers were arrayed in three lines.

The archers' lines were not as orderly as the spear-wielding, armored square formations. The several dozen short, stocky men who had run the fastest earlier looked even more disorganized, positioned directly in the very front row of the formation.

A sharp whistle sounded, and on that side, bows were drawn in unison. Seeing this, the various units of the Feng force charged even faster. By now, they were not so panicked anymore. They had so many men on their side, charging like this, they looked a hundred times larger than the enemy. Such an overwhelming numerical advantage would surely be enough to drown the opponent.

A muffled "Weng—" sounded. The twang of the bowstrings was so perfectly synchronized that it sounded like a single note. The arrows arced down in a volley, and only then did the dense whistling begin. The first row was, after all, quite disorderly.

Whether disorderly or uniform, over a hundred sharp arrows whistled down onto the front of the Feng main force. The sound of arrows sinking into flesh and agonized screams instantly merged into a single din. The vanguard was simply blasted away, a chunk of it gone.

"Charge! Don't wait for them to shoot again!"

"Move!"

The squad leaders within the ranks shouted. No one dared to stop. They could see that in another thirty or forty paces they would collide. A little closer, just a little closer, and the archers would stop shooting.

But at this distance, a second volley could still be loosed. This time, there was no uniformity. Some archers drew and nocked, while others turned and ran back between the horizontal ranks.

The casualties from this volley seemed almost nonexistent, quickly filled in by those charging up from behind. They saw the opposing archers running, and this made the Feng main force even more excited, as if victory was within sight.

"Engage the enemy! Kill!" Those at the very front heard a bellow full of vigor. The person who shouted this sounded like he was not very old.

At such close range, some also got a clear look at the black banner with red characters, upon which was written the character "Zhao."

This must be that so-called Zhao Character Battalion. How could a poor, bitter place like Xuzhou produce such troops? Just look at all that iron armor; the chainmail alone was what only their own squad leaders wore. And look, quite a few were wearing armor like iron cans—probably even blades and spears would be useless against that.

And how was this formation so orderly? When they drilled troops back in their own camp, with inspections every five days and field exercises every ten, they never managed to train them to look like this.

And look at that dense, forbidding array of spears, the spearheads glinting with cold light. Now, half the sun had already sunk below the horizon, and the armor on the horizontal-rank household troops no longer reflected light, making them look dark and shadowy, like demons. This was unwinnable...

Many who charged to the front finally realized this. Some of the fierce and brave tried to throw themselves forward, only to be impaled by spears. Some of the nimble tried to rush in through the gaps between the front-row spears, attempting to roll along the ground to get inside. But these were tricks the mounted bandits and outlaws had already tested at the stockade. They only dodged the first row of spears; the spears behind were just as deadly.

There were also the cowardly ones, who, upon reaching the front, wanted to veer off and run. But with the main force charging, how could they stop so easily? Instead, they stumbled and were pushed onto the spear points, pierced through just the same.

Some, driven to desperation, simply hurled the swords and spears in their hands. The thrown weapons were mostly deflected by raised spears. Most people were still reluctant to do this; without a weapon, they wouldn't even have a tool to protect themselves. Wouldn't that just be waiting to die?

It was not just the spears doing the killing. Those archers hiding behind and on the flanks of the formation were still drawing and loosing. The two sides were now engaged face-to-face, and at this range, there was no way an arrow could miss.

Whether government troops or the Feng family's private soldiers, none could endure this kind of fight. Those three horizontal ranks, though few in number, were like three small mountains—no matter how they charged, they could not be shaken. And those hundred-plus bows seemed never to pause for a moment, ceaselessly lobbing arrows, each one bringing certain death or injury.

They had thought that once in close combat, their superior numbers would quickly crush the enemy. They never expected that in a stalemate, it would be their own side that began to bleed continuously.

So the cavalry's collapse wasn't due to some trickery, but because this unit was genuinely formidable!

If I don't run, am I supposed to just wait to die? Running might indeed mean being hunted down by cavalry, but at least there was still a sliver of hope for survival.

The force driven forward by threats and bribes could only hold for a brief moment before it shattered with a roar and scattered. Worse still, the squad leaders who had been driving them forward from behind were now seen riding away in flight, which made everyone curse them bitterly and lose any remaining will to fight.

"Get moving! Forget the damn silver!" Li Dajin had already drawn his short spear and was loudly urging Li He, who was busy stuffing silver into a saddlebag.

Without raising his head, Li He shoved the silver meant for bounties into his saddlebags and said, "You think I can go back? If I don't take more, how am I supposed to survive when I turn bandit later?"

He paused after saying this, then looked up urgently and said, "Da Li, you shouldn't go back either. This mess is too big now; even if you go back, there's nothing good waiting for you."

"What am I supposed to do if I don't go back? My wife and kids are still there!" Li Dajin replied in a muffled voice.

Around the two of them, over twenty riders still circled, each one anxious and dejected. The main force that had just charged forward had already collapsed. That damned drumming and the sound of suona horns rose again, and those three strange little horizontal ranks were advancing once more!

"Master Li! The men from the stockade are charging out!" Someone shouted in despair. Li Dajin turned his head to look and saw that the stockade wall seemed to be planted full of bamboo—it was countless bamboo spears. The men from the stockade had already rushed onto the slope and were now sprinting down it at full speed!