Chapter 849: Battlefield Q&A

The sneers on the government cavalry's faces were now clearly visible, less than twenty paces away. Meng Zhiqi shut his eyes in despair. This battle had been truly maddening — even if he survived, he would never regain Master Jin's trust. Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes open. If he had to die, he would die fighting. Meng Zhiqi glanced over at the foreigner Louis on the other side. After firing their matchlocks, the foreigner and his old servant had also thrown them aside, picking up wooden forks or drawing their swords.

The government cavalry on that side had already raised their weapons, their attention fixed intently on the firearm-wielding bandits before them. In their minds, these had to be the strongest of the rebel rabble — not only were their firearms deadly, but they still hadn't broken under a cavalry charge, and it even looked like they meant to fight to the death.

How could a mob of rebels be this tough? Would killing off this bunch in front of them clear the way entirely? As they charged close, on the verge of a great slaughter, the government cavalry finally relaxed a little and had the leisure to look into the distance. Through the dust cloud churned up to the sky, they glimpsed something indistinctly. Every man who saw it froze for a moment. What was that stern, orderly formation? What was that dark stuff on their bodies — it looked like iron...

And what was behind that panicked, agitated firearm formation up close? It looked like...

Again came short, sharp whistle blasts and shouts. A dense, piercing shriek tore through the air as arrows traced arcs over the heads of the firearm retainers at the front and came pouring down onto the heads of the government cavalry.

At this range, the bows had both accuracy and power. Some aimed at the foremost riders; others raised their bows and loosed in volleys. This shower of arrows came howling down, immediately halting the government cavalry's forward momentum. Riders and horses alike bristled with arrows, toppling and crashing to the ground.

The bowmen's follow-up shots came quickly. Every man nocked another arrow, and the second volley began. Bayin, the bow company commander, shouted at the top of his lungs: "Advance closer and shoot!"

A roar of assent answered him. The bowmen's faces were full of pride. Just moments ago, the matchlock retainers had been flustered and fumbling, while their own side had achieved great effect the moment they engaged. Who was strong and who was weak — a simple comparison made it clear. As for the matchlock retainers, some were still in shock, others stood dumbstruck, letting the bowmen pass right through their formation.

The government cavalry lacked the resolve to press the assault. By the time the third volley of arrows came, the rear ranks, already slowed, had begun reining their horses around. The bandits' firearms and bows were too deadly; so many brothers had already been lost. Better to return to the main force quickly and win by leveraging their superior numbers.

"You bastard Wei, we'll settle this when we get back to Baoding!"

"You dog-fucking dared to sell out our general — we'll fight this lawsuit to the bitter end back home!"

Amid the curses and shouts, they all retreated into the distance. The guerrilla commander Wei Pingfang had led the main cavalry force here, but when it came time to charge the formation, the trusted troops under Baoding Regional Commander Lu Qin wanted to seize the vanguard glory for themselves. Commander Wei had simply gone with the flow. Had they won, all would have been fine, but given this outcome, naturally there would be mutual "finger-pointing" afterward.

The Zhao Battalion's formation, however, remained silent. Though they had never experienced a large-scale battle against government troops, these retainers had trained far too long in peacetime. Certain things were already ingrained in their bones; they would act the moment they heard an order.

"Good thing we still had the bows, or we'd have taken a heavy loss this time," Ji Xiang, standing behind Zhao Jin, muttered. He was positioned there in case enemy cavalry broke through — if Zhao Jin had to command elsewhere, Ji Xiang would take over the guard company.

"Has the enemy withdrawn far?" Zhao Jin asked. Immediately, a guard ran swiftly forward. Zhao Jin lifted his visor and turned his head back. "What do you know? How much better were we in our first battle? A sharp blade needs grinding over and over!"

He delivered this blunt scolding, but Ji Xiang's expression didn't turn sour — anyone could sense the relief in his tone. Zhao Jin then grew stern and raised his voice: "Mount up immediately. Order all cavalry to mount as well. Check the preparations we arranged beforehand, then ride back to me!"

Ji Xiang was startled for a moment, then shouted his acknowledgment and ran swiftly toward the horse unit at the rear. As soon as he left, the guard returned and reported loudly: "Master, the enemy has retreated and is already far away."

Zhao Jin nodded and said: "Have the bow company and the matchlock company clear the forward path and stand by to one side. Send Meng Zhiqi, Bayin, and that foreigner over here."

When the government cavalry had charged suddenly, dust blotting the sky and hoofbeats like thunder, the pressure had been immense. Though the Zhao Battalion's units had remained relatively calm, inwardly every man's nerves had been stretched taut. Now they relaxed considerably — that was the state of the guard company and the two regiments. But the bow company was brimming with high spirits, while the matchlock company was utterly dejected; that was unavoidable.

When summoned before Zhao Jin, Meng Zhiqi couldn't even lift his head. The foreigner Louis wore a look of resignation. Bayin's expression was calm, tinged with satisfaction.

"The bow company did very well this time," Zhao Jin praised first. Bayin bowed in thanks and replied with perfect composure: "Master, two hundred bows firing from a fixed position, with a screen in front — that's more than enough to stop a cavalry charge."

Zhao Jin nodded and said with a smile: "Bayin, you're getting better and better with your words."

After that one teasing remark, Zhao Jin turned to Meng Zhiqi. Instinctively, Meng Zhiqi moved to kneel. Zhao Jin raised his voice slightly: "Stand and speak."

The tone was neither pleased nor angry. Meng Zhiqi had assumed he would be reprimanded, possibly even demoted straight back to being a personal attendant. He had been promoted to commander of the matchlock company, a position approaching the authority of a battalion commander. Many in the Zhao Battalion had already questioned the appointment, and Meng Zhiqi himself had lacked confidence. This time, having fought so poorly, a scolding and punishment were surely inevitable. But hearing these words, he was somewhat taken aback and couldn't help glancing up.

Having been at Zhao Jin's side for a long time, he knew that his master was often at his calmest right before his anger erupted. He had no idea if this was one of those times.

Before anyone could speak, hoofbeats sounded — it was Ji Xiang riding over. Compared to his full armor earlier, Ji Xiang now wore only a helmet and breastplate.

"Lead the unit out. Do exactly as we arranged beforehand!" Zhao Jin ordered. Ji Xiang shouted his acknowledgment from horseback. Over in the bow company, many bowmen had already run back to the rear unit to mount up; they would be setting out with Ji Xiang.

Just as Ji Xiang wheeled his horse around, Zhao Jin added from behind: "If it doesn't work, come back quickly. I'll lead you all up myself."

"Rest assured, Big Brother. Since Big Brother trusts this little brother with this task, this little brother will see it through no matter what!" Ji Xiang didn't turn back; his voice just sounded slightly muffled.

Hoofbeats rumbled, shouts rang out in succession. Aside from twenty-odd messengers and orderlies, every single rider in the Zhao Battalion followed Ji Xiang into the distance — even the mounted martial men from Xuzhou, who had always performed poorly.

"The three of you, take all the matchlock retainers and bowmen and go examine the enemy soldiers you shot dead or wounded up ahead. If you find any still alive, give them a quick end. Be careful of ambushes," Zhao Jin instructed.

Though somewhat baffled by Zhao Jin's order, they all acknowledged it. Zhao Jin continued: "Look at the wounds. Look at how they died. Think hard about why. Go. Finish looking before the main force finishes regrouping to march. Be thorough and be quick!"

"Think hard about why?" — these words were familiar to everyone in the Zhao Battalion. Zhao Jin often said them during daily training. According to some knowledgeable people, in ordinary government armies and similar forces, superiors only demanded that subordinates carry out orders, while Zhao Jin demanded that everyone understand the reasoning behind them. This method of instruction was different from others; it surely held great promise for the future.

Meng Zhiqi was still dazed. He had expected a scolding, but instead received this treatment. In a fog, he followed along.

Zhao Jin smiled and raised his voice: "Pass the order — the entire unit will take a short break. Eat and drink, but don't eat too full or drink too much. Thirty to fifty percent full is enough."

This somewhat complicated order actually made the messenger cavalry pause for a moment. Only after confirming they had memorized it did they scatter and ride off.

Up ahead, the matchlock retainers and bowmen were inspecting the battlefield and, incidentally, dragging the corpses of men and horses off the road. Behind them, the retainers of each regiment and company began their meal and rest. The civilian laborers at the very rear came forward, helping the wounded matchlock retainers to the back. Of the several whose guns had burst, two were already beyond saving. The others, their faces covered in blood, would end up only disfigured — barely considered lucky.

Someone led a horse over. Zhao Jin mounted up to make his rounds. He had been stern when instructing Meng Zhiqi and the others, but as he rode through, his demeanor was relaxed. From time to time he would say, "Don't eat too much — a bloated belly makes for a muddled head on the battlefield." The retainers just laughed at this.

By the time everyone had more or less finished eating, the formation had shifted back from the "品" character shape into a column. The matchlock company and bow company had also finished policing the battlefield. Compared to earlier, Meng Zhiqi's dejected look had lifted considerably, and a measure of confidence had returned to the faces of the matchlock retainers. The bowmen, on the other hand, all wore expressions of cautious gravity.

They came before Zhao Jin. Before anyone could speak, Zhao Jin called on Bayin by name to go first. Bayin said solemnly: "Just now, following the master's orders, we subordinates examined the dead and wounded on the field. That matchlock is truly something formidable. Where it hits, it's like a sledgehammer driving a chisel straight in. The wound is large, and sometimes the bone is shattered — there's simply no treating it. Our bow company's arrows, on the other hand, aren't quite as effective. Aside from those shot in a vital spot, some men took several arrows and were still breathing. But there were a few enemies hit by matchlocks in non-vital areas — the internal damage and blood loss had them nearly gone already."

Zhao Jin nodded and gestured for Bayin to continue. Bayin went on: "From what we examined, if they hadn't panicked and just kept firing volley after volley, the enemy horse unit might not have reached them at all. We roughly calculated the timing — that volley after the enemy horse unit passed the marker poles pretty much stopped one company in its tracks. The scattered shots afterward also caused casualties. It's likely the enemy cavalry were stunned too, and that's how they managed to charge to the front."

"I'm not asking for sharpshooters who hit the mark every time. On the battlefield, to be able to draw a bow fully and shoot in roughly the right direction — how long do you think that takes to train?" Zhao Jin asked with a smile.

Bayin hesitated. Although he and his comrades had discussed this question before, now that Zhao Jin was asking, he was still reluctant to answer. But he couldn't stay silent. After a pause, he said: "To reach that level, it takes at least a year or two of training. And when they first see blood on the battlefield, they still won't perform well."

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