Chapter 948: Arraying for the Assault

The drawn-out wail of horns sounded from the government army's main body. The rhythm of these horn calls conveyed military orders. The chiliarch finally breathed a sigh of relief, brandished his long blade, and issued another command.

The government cavalry, already formed into a horizontal line, began to slow their pace. The company on the far right started turning directly, and the remaining companies followed the maneuver, tracing a small circle on the spot before heading back. The government cavalry were also being exceedingly arrogant. The rogues' formation was clustered in a single mass, with not even a gap between them. Solid as it was, it would surely be slow to move, so there was no possibility of pursuit.

If some reckless rogues actually did chase out, that would be even better. If the rogues' formation loosened, they could simply find an opening and charge straight in.

"Immortal Kingdom on Earth—die to ascend as immortals!" The shouts from the rogues' formation rose wave after wave, growing more fanatical with each cry.

This kind of frenzied momentum was deeply unsettling. The cavalry was their core strength, and in the current situation, it was not worth committing to a desperate charge. Since they could not shake the enemy's formation, they would turn and pull back, seeking an opportunity.

Watching the government cavalry wheel away, the shouting from the rogues' great formation never ceased, yet now cheers mingled within it. Just moments ago, several hundred horsemen had pressed in with earth-shaking force; now they were turning and leaving. No matter how one looked at it, they had overwhelmed the enemy in momentum—this counted as winning the first bout.

Once the cavalry had turned, they could see, on either side of the main army's command banner, several colored signal flags waving. New military orders were being issued.

Amid the rolling waves of shouted slogans, the government cavalry began adjusting their formation while turning. The chiliarch leading the force sped up with his own unit, shifting from the middle of the column to its head.

At that moment, the entire cavalry force suddenly fell into disarray. Seeing this, the refugee great formation erupted once more in frenzied cheers. In their eyes, the government cavalry had already broken and were fleeing in rout.

"Damn it all, you'll be crying soon enough!" In the government army's main body, Regional Commander Yang Guodong cursed. His expression was grim. He had assumed that sending out the cavalry would sweep everything away like dry twigs, but he had not expected them to have to wheel and reform.

Right there on the contested ground between the two armies, the government cavalry had already restored their formation. The sight of this mounted force dispersing and regrouping with such ease—even refugees with little understanding of warfare felt the pressure. The cheers faded from strong to weak, gradually dying into silence, while the fanatical shouting swelled louder once more.

The cavalry wheeled at a trot, the entire column like a long serpent tracing a circle on the spot before turning back again. Then they began to run. The main cavalry force remained very orderly. Keeping a distance of just over a hundred paces from the refugee mass, neither closing in nor attacking, they began to trace a wide circle around the refugee main body, from front to back. The refugees, standing motionless in formation, made no response, only shouting their slogans at full volume. The cry of "Die to ascend as immortals" rang out across heaven and earth.

Having circled around once like this, the government cavalry drew closer and closer to the refugee ranks. As they emerged from the right end of the refugee great formation's front line, the cavalry column ran parallel to the refugee battle line, a mere thirty-odd paces apart. Though the bamboo pikes were long, they could not reach the cavalry line from this distance—but this range was well within bowshot!

Only at this moment did the refugee main body clearly see what change the government cavalry had undergone. In the rank of the long column closest to the refugee battle line, every rider was controlling his horse with his legs, both hands drawing a bow and nocking an arrow!

At a distance of thirty-some paces, the expressions on each other's faces were clearly visible. The refugees saw the savage grins of the government cavalry; the cavalry saw the panic on the refugees' faces.

Yet even at this point, the refugees in the foremost ranks, directly facing the arrows, merely shouted and yelled—they did not break and flee.

The sharp shriek of arrows tearing through the air rang out. The arrows traced arcs and fell into the refugee ranks. No aiming was needed; simply drawing the bow and loosing was enough to hit a target.

Tattered rags could not stop iron arrowheads. Flesh was pierced through. Those struck in vital spots collapsed and died on the spot. Those not killed outright screamed in agony and howled. But when one fell, another behind stepped forward to take his place. The wounded either gritted their teeth and held firm, or stumbled and staggered backward.

The mounted archers continued to pour down a rain of arrows. Men in the refugee formation kept falling, shrieking in misery and howling in pain. Yet the shouts of "Die to ascend as immortals" and "Immortal Kingdom on Earth" grew even louder. Every refugee shouting these slogans strained to stand rooted to the spot, as if only this could demonstrate their piety and sincerity.

Suddenly, someone in the refugee formation shouted. Men ran swiftly through the gaps between the horizontal ranks. All at once, refugees in the first rank charged out, bamboo pikes leveled, rushing straight for the government cavalry column.

The government cavalry had their flanks facing the refugee formation. The riders had to keep pace with the main column and could only turn in the saddle to meet the attack. They had none of the cavalry's usual advantage of striking down from above against infantry; instead, their movements were awkward. But they had bows in their hands...

The men who charged out from the refugee ranks became targets for the mounted archers. A single man was often struck by four or five arrows, collapsing to the ground with a scream.

Yet some did reach close quarters. If the tips of bamboo pikes were not fire-hardened, their lethality was insufficient, and they were not durable. Often after just one or two thrusts, the tip of a bamboo pike would splinter and crack, losing all its stabbing power.

But on this battlefield, the bamboo pikes in the refugees' hands had mostly never been used. Not every man among the several hundred cavalry wore armor, and the horses had no barding at all. Some cavalrymen were stabbed directly through the ribs by bamboo pikes; some horses were directly impaled.

A man pierced through by a bamboo pike was dead in an instant, toppling straight from his horse. Some caught a foot in the stirrup and were dragged along. That was still the better fate. The situation when a horse was stabbed was far more gruesome. The horse, maddened by pain, would buck and bolt wildly, throwing its rider to the ground. The man would either be dragged to death or trampled into a pulp by his comrades.

Of course, the refugee who stabbed the horse fared no better. Those who let go in time were fortunate; those who could not release their grip in time, or failed to dodge—the tremendous force of the horse's death throes transmitted through the bamboo shaft, lashing against the man's body, snapping bones and sinew instantly. He too was dead.

The lives of a few or a dozen refugees traded for the life of a single cavalryman. Such an exchange seemed cost-effective for the government army, but refugee lives were worthless, while government cavalrymen were the most valuable kind of soldier.

The sharp, piercing shriek of bamboo whistles sounded in an unbroken chain. The refugee formation began lowering their bamboo pikes forward, layer upon overlapping layer. The entire refugee mass now looked like a hedgehog, as if every man was about to surge forward and charge, stabbing at the government cavalry column sweeping past their battle line.

Although at this moment, no refugee actually charged out with a bamboo pike, the sight of those overlapping layers of leveled pikes still panicked the government cavalry on the outermost flank. Some frantically spurred their horses to evade, throwing the column into chaos. Seeing this, jeering laughter erupted from the refugee ranks, and the shouted slogans grew even more frenzied.

The government cavalry quickened their pace, unwilling to linger here any longer. The chiliarch leading the force had begun his turn even earlier, breaking contact directly.

As the entire column wheeled away, the urgent clang of brass gongs rang out. This time it came from the government army's main body. The cavalry was to pull back.

The refugee force raised their bamboo pikes upright again—holding them that way was, after all, less tiring. They watched the cavalry column withdraw. Even the shouted slogans paused for a moment, and then an eruption of cheering like a roaring sea and crashing mountains burst forth. Their formation, unmoving, had forced back such ferocious government cavalry!

The corpses of men and horses lay strewn in a jumbled mess between the two armies. The government cavalry dead were especially conspicuous. Men ran out from the refugee force, retrieving the weapons from the cavalry corpses, even stripping off their armor. This made the cheers and jeering laughter even louder.

Beneath the command banner of the government army's main body, Shandong Regional Commander Yang Guodong's face was ashen. He did not berate the personal-retainer chiliarch leading the force; he merely cursed under his breath: "Those bookish fools don't know how to fight a war. All they know is to urge us on recklessly, so we didn't even have time to bring the cannons. If we had the cannons, how could these paupers be so insolent?"

"Commander, let's pull back to Jining. Once the cannons are shipped over from Dengzhou, we'll come back and wipe out these rogues!" a chiliarch said sullenly. The commanding officers from every battalion were gathered here now, and every face looked grim. They had assumed the refugee mass was a disorderly mob, but it showed considerable discipline. Now even the cavalry had suffered over a dozen casualties. If a real battle was joined, every officer's troops would surely take losses. They were already padding the muster rolls; if too many men died and it implicated their official positions, the gain would not be worth the loss...

"Bullshit! By the time the cannons get here, the troops led by Old Yang will have arrived too. Once they know we need cannons, they'll just requisition them directly from Henan and Northern Zhili—they'll definitely get here before us. Then the credit will be theirs. Where does that leave us Shandong troops? Do we all want to have an easy time of it here after this?" Regional Commander Yang Guodong cursed impatiently.

Everyone fell silent. The Shandong troops had failed to suppress the rogues and now had to let a retired old general bring in troops from another province to help. If that old general, Cao Region Regional Commander Yang Zhaoji, also took the top credit for suppressing the rogues, their own days in Shandong would certainly not be easy going forward.

"Commander! All our lives are yours. If the head falls, it's just a bowl-sized scar—just give the order, Commander!" someone shouted out in a rough, booming voice. Once one man spoke, the others all clamored in agreement, their attitudes shifting.

Regional Commander Yang Guodong, his face dark, studied the refugee great formation opposite him. Although they had just forced back the government cavalry, the refugee mass had not pursued the victory, nor had they made any other response. They remained motionless in place. The only change from before was that the shouts of "Die to ascend as immortals" had shifted to chanting scriptures in unison, their voices shaking heaven and earth, filling the battlefield with a bizarre, absurd atmosphere—as if this were not a life-and-death struggle, but a ritual performance or a play.

"What's there to fear? A bunch of paupers huddled together in a clump, who happened to push our brothers back by luck. You think they know anything about military tactics?" Yang Guodong said with extreme contempt.

After speaking, Regional Commander Yang Guodong summoned his personal retainers and had them bring over that wooden frame he used to climb up and observe from a height. He stepped up onto it and looked out.

"All battalions, deploy in a single line and press forward. Keep four companies on the right. The cavalry will follow behind. Use the infantry to punch a hole in this turtle shell of rogues, then send the cavalry charging in to smash them to pieces. After that, the whole army presses forward and herds the sheep. We must swallow this force before us completely." Regional Commander Yang Guodong frowned as he laid out the plan.

Thanks to old friend "User Cola" for the tip. It's the end of the month—if you don't use your monthly tickets, tips, and subscriptions, they'll go to waste. Give them to Great Ming Warlord. Thank you, everyone.