Chapter 950: This Road Doesn

Each block was roughly thirty to forty men across; how many ranks deep was unclear, but no fewer than twenty. There were five blocks, spaced several dozen paces apart. The ranks within each block were tightly packed, men shoulder to shoulder, yet not in the chaotic crush of the earlier refugee columns—this was an orderly formation.

Looking at the clothes each refugee wore, you could no longer call them refugees. Though the garments were certainly old, every man was more or less fully dressed, and they all maintained a roughly uniform appearance, just like the standard-issue uniforms of government troops. Or rather, given the layers of embezzlement and utter disregard for discipline and military bearing, the government infantry battalions at this moment looked no better than the bandit squares over a hundred paces ahead.

They truly did not look like refugees. As the dust settled, it became very clear: though their skin was dark, these were not the gaunt, sallow-faced starving commoners. Some even looked rather sturdy. The weapons they carried were all long spears, and these spears looked no different from those the government troops used—if anything, their quality seemed superior.

Some of the better-informed government officers were already cursing. Last year, a new batch of weapons had been forged in Shandong and distributed to various armories. Then, another sudden fire broke out, causing catastrophic losses. At the time, the entire Shandong military command had been furious; they had been counting on getting their hands on new goods to resell for a profit. Who would have thought such a damnable thing would happen? It must have been embezzled by the men in charge.

But seeing these weapons before them now, of even better quality than what their own men used, how could they not realize where they had come from?

These were no bandits, no mere thieves—these were soldiers, an army with considerable momentum!

"Archers forward!" The government battalion commanders roared in unison, and the archers who had just returned to formation hurried forward again.

"They're just for show, pig bladders that burst at a single poke! Everyone, press forward and smash them!" Some officers tried to bolster their troops' morale. Seeing the refugee bandits suddenly form up in such an array, every government camp was stirring with unrest.

At that moment, rhythmic drumming rose from within the bandit ranks, and the five square formations began to press forward at a steady march. Seeing the advancing steps and the still-orderly ranks, the unrest in the government camps intensified. Even the battalion commanders' faces darkened. This was certainly no mere show.

Further back in the main command unit, Shandong Regional Commander Yang Guodong's expression was even grimmer. Mounted and positioned at the rear, he had a more comprehensive view of the battlefield. He not only saw the bandits' five squares but also noticed that the large mass of refugees that had split apart earlier had not left; they were arrayed on the flanks and rear of those five squares.

This battle was far too perilous. He did not know whether the opposing bandits were doing it intentionally or not—could they be planning to swallow his entire force? Too arrogant. By any calculation, the bandits before him were less than five times the number of government troops. What gave them the audacity to harbor such a plan, even seeking a head-on, orthodox battle? The five squares opposite were roughly equal in number to the government infantry. This was exceedingly bizarre.

It was just past noon, the sunlight at its most scorching. The fat Regional Commander Yang Guodong was drenched in sweat, yet now he felt a chill rising in his heart. All his sweat vanished, and he even felt a little cold.

"Com... Commander... this... this... looks like the battle tactics of that great bandit Zhao Jin of Xuzhou..." a personal guard beside Yang Guodong said in a trembling voice. Back when Baoding Regional Commander Lu Qin had led his army south, Yang Guodong had sent his own cavalry to accompany them. Some of his trusted men had fought in that battle, and the memory was still fresh.

Hearing his subordinate's words, Regional Commander Yang Guodong's body jolted violently. He then blurted out involuntarily, "Could it be that this great chaos was stirred up by that bunch of local tyrants from Xuzhou..."

Halfway through, he dismissed his own speculation. Xuzhou and the refugees were mortal enemies, irreconcilable. How could they possibly be in collusion?

"Commander, let's order a retreat!" someone urged anxiously.

"We fight! We have to fight!" Shandong Regional Commander Yang Guodong said through gritted teeth. As those beside him tried to persuade him further, Yang Guodong turned his head, his features twisted into a ferocious snarl. "Retreat my ass! If we go now, we won't get away! Aside from the mounted men, these several thousand brothers will all be left dead here! And I refuse to believe it—a bunch of miserable wretches who can't even fill their bellies put on a show of force. Can they really step up and fight?"

The battalion commanders leading the troops kept looking back. Seeing that the commander had not issued any order, they knew they had to fight. They also knew that at this critical juncture, a retreat would mean a total rout. The officers in each camp shared the same thought as Regional Commander Yang Guodong: they refused to believe these refugee bandits could be so formidable.

The rhythmic drumming was utterly different from the government army's war drums; it unsettled the heart and disturbed the mind. Amidst this drumming, the five squares drew closer step by step.

"Shoot! Shoot!" Some could no longer hold back and bellowed in urging, but the archers still managed to keep their composure, knowing that firing before the enemy was in range was pointless.

They had already advanced several dozen paces. Though the bandit squares had loosened slightly, their general formation still held. This alone was enough to make the government troops break out in cold sweat; they understood perfectly well what this signified.

Just as they were about to enter effective bowshot range, someone within the refugee squares issued a command. The squares halted briefly, and the refugees in the front ranks could be seen untying wooden shields or bamboo screens from their backs, holding them in hand. Then they advanced once more.

The distance was now a few dozen paces, well within bow range. Without waiting for an order, the archers began to shoot. Arrows whistled out and fell. Nearly two hundred bows—the power of a single volley was considerable. But as the rain of arrows flew out, the refugees in those six squares raised their wooden shields and bamboo screens.

A dense series of muffled thuds rang out, followed immediately by screams and cries of pain. Within range, the force of an arrow was not something a thin layer of bamboo screen or wooden board could stop. Moreover, such a small area could not shield the entire body. Some were pierced straight through; others found gaps and nailed down.

Yet the bamboo screens and wooden boards could at least lessen the arrows' force, or even block them outright. In this volley, only about half the arrows had any effect.

Fallen refugees were replaced by men from behind, who simply stepped over their bodies. Those wounded and unable to hold a spear but still mobile ran from the formation toward the rear. Others, whose injuries did not hinder their movement, gritted their teeth and held on.

The refugee squares never stopped. A second volley of arrows arrived, bringing more death and injury. The squares stirred with unrest, yet still, those in front fell and were replaced from behind, all advancing at the same steady pace. Watching the opposing archers nock their arrows again, some began to panic...

"Wind and rain favor us, yet no grain to eat; a year of bitter toil, yet we sell our sons and daughters. Heaven sends calamity and famine; families weep, wolves and tigers laugh. Better dead than alive! Better unborn than alive!" someone shouted loudly.

Suffering upon suffering, a life worse than death—the plight of the Shandong common folk was a hundred times more bitter than what these words cried out. At this shout, the men in the squares roared in unison. They did not repeat the long verse but chanted in chorus: "The mortal world is suffering—die to ascend as immortals!" "An immortal kingdom on earth—die to ascend as immortals!"

The uniform, rhythmic slogans drowned out the drums marking the pace. Everyone simply chanted these slogans as they advanced step by step. Every face bore fervor, an expression of martyrdom. Some even threw away their shielding bamboo and wooden shields, letting the rain of arrows splash onto their bodies. If they fell, they fell; the men behind shouted and filled the gap.

The distance was short, and the shouting could be said to shake heaven and earth. The government troops had never imagined anything like this. The archers' movements began to falter. The morale that had just steadied with the shooting wavered again. The government soldiers were all stirring with unrest: I became a soldier to fill my belly, to seize a chance to vent my rage and enjoy myself—I don't want to fight to the death against these madmen before me.

"Steady! Draw your damn bows!" The officers at every level roared desperately to maintain order, but they too were beginning to panic. The quick-witted ones even turned their horses and moved to the rear of the formation.

"Die to ascend as immortals! An immortal kingdom on earth!" Besides boosting morale, the changes in these endlessly repeated slogans were actually a form of command. When they reached this particular chant—

The long spears of the refugee squares began to level down, layer upon overlapping layer. This movement made the government units subconsciously step back. The distance was now just over twenty paces. Though the archers could still draw and shoot, they now fled backward regardless of everything.

At this range, the government troops' various firearms also opened up. Quick-match guns, three-eyed blunderbusses—all fired at once. For a moment, the roar was continuous, and gunpowder smoke filled the air.

But no one had expected these firearms to be useful from the start. After firing one volley, without even waiting for the smoke to clear to observe the casualties, everyone threw down their firearms and picked up blades and spears. In a real battle line, it was these cold weapons that gave men confidence; the firearms were only good for making a noise to scare people.

The killing power of these firearms was also limited. Bamboo screens and wooden shields could not stop arrows, but the iron pellets these firearms shot—actually, mostly broken porcelain shards, sand, and gravel—were largely blocked. If they could withstand such dense arrow fire, what were these ticklish firearms worth?

"Charge!"

"It's all for show! Charge and fight them hand-to-hand!"

If arrows and firearms could not break their advance, then it had to be cold steel! At first, everyone had thought these refugee bandits would collapse the moment it came to hand-to-hand combat. Once the two sides clashed at close quarters, this bunch of bandits would fall apart. But now, everyone's heart was filled with unease. No one was sure of anything anymore!

Some shouted and roared; others urged their men forward. Yet no one led the charge. These five squares of refugee bandits looked like five walls, and the walls were bristling with countless spears and sharp blades. Who would be foolish enough to hurl themselves against that? Trading one life for another was at least breaking even—what was this but throwing your life away?

"The Commander has orders! Strike the enemy line! One tael of silver in cash for every head taken! Desertion in the face of battle—immediate execution without mercy!" At this critical moment, a dozen riders galloped up from the rear, loudly relaying the commander's orders.

Regional Commander Yang Guodong knew perfectly well that by now, retreat was impossible. They could only stake everything on this fight.

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