Chapter 949: Unveiled

The battlefield was utterly flat, offering no cover to block the line of sight. The refugee host's formation was also tight and dense. The cavalry had circled around without finding a single gap; each side could see the other's every move, so there was no question of flanking forces or cunning stratagems. Moreover, the refugee host vastly outnumbered the government troops. The only option was a head-on, brute-force frontal assault.

Yang Guodong was still full of confidence. His own lads at least wielded spears, blades, and axes, had some covering on their bodies, and even possessed a portion of armor. They were not without drill, and many had fought and killed in battle before, not to mention the archers and mounted units. What could those walking scarecrows, gaunt as famine victims, possibly know? At best, they held a pole in their hands like a fire-stoking stick. And as for that "fire-stoking stick," many had probably only picked it up for the first time today.

Tempered many times on the battlefield, Regional Commander Yang Guodong understood the crux of warfare. Scattered archery volleys and cannon bombardments were not the means to decide victory. The true decider came when cold steel met flesh, when the two sides clashed face to face, blades hacking and spears stabbing, drawing blood and claiming lives. The side that couldn't hold would collapse. Since the cavalry couldn't break them open just now, the only choice was to press forward with the infantry companies.

The war drums beat slowly. Amidst that rhythmic, muffled pounding, banners and flags waved, and the various infantry battalions began to dress their ranks and prepare. Shandong Regional Commander Yang Guodong drew a deep breath and suddenly swept his hand forward. The drumbeat instantly quickened to a frantic pace. Officers in every battalion roared orders, leading their units forward.

After the government battalions advanced according to Regional Commander Yang Guodong's orders, another three hundred cavalry followed, positioned slightly to the rear of the horizontal formation's right flank. This time, Regional Commander Yang Guodong did not commit his full strength. He still held two hundred personal guards and eight hundred infantry in reserve. This was the force he kept in hand, to be used at the decisive moment—or for fleeing and saving his own life.

The main government force advanced in unison, but their speed was not fast. Every few dozen paces, they would pause briefly. The officers and company commanders of each unit would re-dress the ranks, ensuring the formation did not fall into disarray.

Unlike the terrifying momentum of the cavalry charge and harassment earlier, the several thousand infantry now, though lacking that thunderous din, were far more oppressive. The long battle line, the relatively uniform garb, the spears and great blades glinting coldly in the sunlight—a dense, murderous aura hung over them.

The moment the main government infantry force began to move, the refugees' chanting and sutra-reciting dropped to a low murmur. But immediately after, it surged even higher, as they shouted to bolster their own courage.

When the distance between the two sides closed to just over a hundred paces, the government archers ran swiftly to the front, each nocking an arrow to their bowstring as they jogged forward. The refugee formation showed not the slightest reaction.

Seeing the scene before them, the government officers leading the various battalions wore expressions either of contempt or of savage grins. With still no sign of any cover or blocking, the refugees were simply waiting to be shot down by arrows.

"Even holding up a bundle of straw would be better at a time like this. Don't these paupers have bamboo in their hands? Wouldn't lashing together bamboo rafts be even better?" Seeing the refugees so rigid and unresponsive, the government officers grew even more relaxed, some even finding the leisure to joke among themselves.

"Don't you see how many people are in front of you? They probably can't even outfit every man with a single bamboo pole. How could they possibly go lash together any bamboo rafts?" someone answered with a jeering laugh.

Jokes aside, as they drew closer, the government officers of every rank tensed up. At this distance, it wasn't yet time to charge, but what did these refugees know of military doctrine? Heaven only knew if they might suddenly rush out ahead of time. They had to be ready at any moment to steady the formation and meet them in a hard, head-on clash!

However, the refugees—perhaps to bolster their courage by standing shoulder to shoulder, or perhaps thinking that such a dense formation had just blocked the government cavalry's fierce assault—remained utterly motionless, simply waiting for the government troops to advance.

When the distance was still about fifty paces, the archers moved ahead and halted, and the government battalions behind them also stopped. This was for one final dressing of the ranks. It was only thanks to the refugees standing frozen and motionless before them that they could do this; had any other army been arrayed ahead, how would the government troops dare to be so unhurried and composed?

The archers quickly formed their line. The rigidly standing refugees across from them finally reacted. Their bamboo poles all tilted forward, yet they still stood motionless, only shaking the bamboo spears in their hands with desperate vigor.

"Their brains are broken!" "A bunch of lunatics!" The government troops stared, dumbfounded. Many couldn't hold back their laughter. The arrows were about to fly, and what damn use was shaking a bamboo pole!

The order was barked out loudly. The archers drew and loosed. A rain of arrows whistled as it poured down. Their power was far greater than the horse archers' earlier volley; standing firm and drawing their bows to the full, their range and force were beyond compare.

Government officers were all issuing orders to prepare. If this wave of arrows could tear open a gap, they would press the attack and slaughter their way in with one surge of momentum.

The arrow rain fell. The refugee formation was simply too dense, so that the shaking bamboo poles also screened a vast area. Many arrows were knocked flying by the vibrating poles, but some still fell. There were shrieks and wails, yet not as densely packed as expected.

"Loose again!" The order came once more. But just at that moment, the sound of gongs rang out from within the refugee ranks. The front-line refugees holding bamboo spears began to step forward and march.

The second volley of arrows fell. Casualties were far higher than the last time, but the government archers dared not loose a third. In that brief interval, the refugees could well charge right up to them.

This reaction from the refugee formation wiped the smiles off the faces of the leading officers and battalion commanders. This was no disorganized rabble, nor were they ignorant of military doctrine. This method was quite impressive. The refugees might not have experienced much combat or gained much experience, but there had to be an expert guiding them from behind.

But no amount of guidance was of any use. When it came to cold steel and real bloodshed, what mattered was routine training, the weapons in hand, and martial skill. Government troops also knew to look out for and coordinate with each other. On that point alone, the refugee rebels could never compare.

"Everyone, watch out for each other! Look at all the heads in front of us—every one is silver and merit! The general's rewards won't be short!"

"These bandits before us are easier to kill than pigs or sheep! Brothers, shoulder to shoulder, charge!"

The shouts and orders of the officers and commanders rose and fell in waves. The enemy was slowly pressing closer; their own side had to meet them head-on. They could all see the panic and terror on the faces of the refugees opposite. Though there was also a fanaticism on those faces, the look of men who had never been on a battlefield, who had never experienced the slaughter of cold steel and real bloodshed, gave the government troops yet more confidence.

Just at that moment, a unified shout began to rise from within the refugee host: "Maitreya protects! Maitreya protects!"

Those four words repeated endlessly. Earlier, tens of thousands of refugee rebels had chanted Buddha's name and sutras in unison. Though the sound was immense, it had been a chaotic din. But this unified shout was exceptionally orderly and synchronized, truly possessing the feel of rolling thunder. At first hearing, one might think it was a single man shouting; only after a moment did one realize it was the roar of several thousand.

This commotion startled the government troops from top to bottom. Immediately, the officers shouted loudly to rally their spirits: "This bunch of heretical cult demons only knows how to play at spirits and ghosts! Once we slaughter them all, today everyone can enjoy themselves as they please."

Hearing this, the soldiers' morale instantly soared. This meant several hours of unrestrained license after a great victory—raping and looting at will, running rampant. Word had long since spread through the ranks that in a village twenty li outside Jining City, the gold, silver, and women the refugee rebels had plundered from the counties and departments they'd overrun were hidden. Because the government troops had come too fast, there had been no time to move them, and the stockpile was considerable. Everyone naturally deduced that the reason the refugee rebels were defending so desperately must be to guard the wealth and women there.

The moment this promise was made, government troop morale soared. But just at that instant, the front ranks of the refugees, who had only advanced a few steps, suddenly split apart from the center and ran toward both flanks.

Such an abrupt reaction caught everyone off guard. To suddenly turn sideways right before battle—wasn't that simply courting death? If the government troops now surged forward, they would surely rout the enemy in a crushing defeat. The more observant could even see the reaction of the refugee rebels a few dozen paces away: they too were panicked and at a loss, some even tripping and falling to the ground as they ran.

Could there be some trick? These were perfect targets right before their eyes. The government archers instinctively nocked arrows and drew their bows, loosing directly. Sure enough, with no defense, refugees in the center screamed and fell, which only accelerated the rout. The scene even grew somewhat chaotic, with men trampling each other.

They were about to continue shooting when the officers stopped them. The refugee rebel host opposite was indeed acting strangely, but since they were already routing, there was no need to waste arrows. By now, some could already see that, given the depth of the refugee mass, only a portion of the formation was dispersing toward the two wings; it had not completely collapsed.

"What kind of trick is this?" Shandong Regional Commander Yang Guodong muttered to himself. He was with the rear guard, already far away, and his view was further obscured by the dust kicked up by the mass of running men, making it even harder to see clearly.

At this moment, the atmosphere on the battlefield grew tense instead. Whether it was Regional Commander Yang Guodong or the various battalion commanders leading at the front, every man felt a chill of apprehension.

Rout or no rout, the fact that such a massive force could move away in two directions so "orderly" meant they were no disorganized rabble. It looked methodical, to some degree. If they had not retreated but simply charged straight in like this, victory would not have been as simple as they'd previously imagined.

"Everyone, stay sharp!" "Don't let the formation scatter!" "Watch the banners of the other units! No disorderly movement!" Angry shouts rang out. Battalion commanders at every level were reining in their own units. Those with guts still knew to ride their horses and stand at the front rank; the cowardly were already riding back and forth inspecting the lines. In the current situation, with so many refugees running and dust blotting out the sky, no one could see very far. Before the dust settled, they had to steady the formation.

The thunderous rumble of footsteps grew farther and farther away. The churning dust slowly began to settle. The government officers did not relax in the slightest; instead, they grew even more vigilant. Through the dust, they could faintly make out the enemy formation not far ahead. Even if they couldn't see clearly, they knew it was no longer the scattered chaos of the refugees from before, but a grimly severe and disciplined military array.

"His mother!" Yang Guodong cursed savagely, suddenly yanking his reins tight.

The line of sight finally cleared. At last, they could see what had been revealed after the front ranks of refugees dispersed. It was several tight, disciplined square formations. They were called disciplined because these square formations looked nearly as orderly as the government troops' own units—perhaps even more so.

Xuzhou was not a place isolated from the rest of the world. What happened in Xuzhou would also cause changes elsewhere...

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