Chapter 976: Nothing but Rabble

"Screw these curs, fight the government dogs to the death!" There are always reckless fools at any time, let alone in chaos like this that had already driven many to a dead end. A big man, spear in hand, charged viciously at the cavalry column, with over a dozen howling companions behind him.

If that spear were in Zhao Jin's hands or those of his comrades, even as infantry against cavalry, one-on-one, Zhao Jin would have a seventy-percent chance of unhorsing the rider — but this big man clearly had little experience with the spear.

"Master, let me use a throwing axe."

"No need. I'll handle it!" Zhao Jin stopped Niu Jinbao's move. In this tight space, throwing axes could easily cause trouble. Zhao Jin spurred his horse forward without dodging. When they closed in, the man lunged at him desperately. Zhao Jin simply swung his long blade outward — he used little strength, but the motion gained the momentum of his charging mount, and when it met the opponent's weapon, the force was tremendous. Even gripping the spear with both hands, the big man was knocked staggering, his body unsteady. Zhao Jin did not slash downward; he merely raised the blade slightly, twisted his wrist, and let the edge glide across the big man's throat, slicing open a wide gash. Blood sprayed.

Before the big man could even fall, he was struck by the horse and trampled into pulp. His companions behind him met much the same fate — some were hit by arrows, some had long blades driven through their bodies, and others, seeing what had happened to those ahead, lost all thought of fighting, threw down their weapons, and tried to flee. But how could men on foot outrun horses? They hadn't taken more than a few steps before the cavalry behind them finished them off with a casual stroke.

Not every rider in the Zhao Camp cavalry possessed martial skill like Zhao Jin's, however. Several had thrust their long blades or short spears into enemy bodies and could only abandon the weapons there, drawing their spare sabers. As for the Mongol-born mounted retainers, they simply used their bows — at a dozen paces, their mounted archery still held its accuracy.

By the second charge, the cavalry column's speed had already dropped. True, the mounts were tired, but they also now knew the true measure of this Smelling Incense Sect rabble. Though thousands upon tens of thousands were gathered here, there was no need to keep charging at full tilt — holding steady pressure was enough to handle them. This so-called Smelling Incense Sect Northern Sweep Army camp still offered some resistance, but after several squads that rushed out were shattered one after another, it collapsed completely.

The refugees, long drained of courage and spirit, thought only of fleeing, desperate not to have their lives ended by these mounted "government death-gods." As for the several compounds in the center — the so-called core old camp — after a dozen or more had been shot dead, no one dared even show their heads now. They could only watch in terror as the Zhao Camp cavalry column rode back and forth at will, terrified that the moment they emerged they would be trampled into pulp.

On this charge outward, the Zhao Camp cavalry swung in a wider arc than before. The refugees were now fleeing for their lives in every direction, chaos everywhere, and finding a better entry point was no easy task.

"Everyone stay sharp. The men from the rebel old camp should be using this gap to slip out, and they've got some skill." Zhao Jin issued the warning, and his men acknowledged the order. This time they rode nearly to the opposite side. Before the Zhao Camp could even straighten their formation, a sudden uproar erupted inside the great camp, as if something had burst forth.

"The bandits are getting desperate! Fight hard, everyone — don't let the formation scatter!" Calls to hold discipline rang out one after another. Once the Zhao Camp had set their formation, they did not fan out and charge inside; instead, they advanced at a slow pace, preparing to meet the enemy's desperate last stand.

Yet all they saw were panic-stricken refugees fleeing out. Those refugees heading straight toward the cavalry column frantically veered aside and turned away. Some even dropped to their knees on the spot, wailing and shouting: "I surrender! I surrender! I'm willing to turn loyal!"

This sudden change left the entire Zhao Camp cavalry column baffled. Zhao Jin simply raised his long blade and halted the unit's movement, letting the formation loosen slightly. The Mongol retainers with bows began spurring their horses forward — if the refugees tried a surprise charge, they would use arrows to stop the momentum first.

"Why the sudden chaos?" Zhao Jin pointed his long blade at a refugee kneeling on the ground and asked. Before the refugee could answer, the shouting from inside the hamlet grew louder and louder. Faintly, they could make out the words "The main government army is here." Zhao Jin immediately turned and said, "Send someone to scout. We still need to guard against the unexpected."

Someone acknowledged at once and rode out from the main force. Ge Tianfeng, at the rear, breathed a sigh of relief as well. Though they had been cutting through the enemy like melons and vegetables, charging a few hundred cavalry into tens of thousands still made one's heart pound with fear. Now that the main government force was coming up, the outcome was settled. He also noticed that the government cavalrymen around him all breathed easier — it seemed these elite government troops were not so fearless after all.

Not long after, the retainer sent to gather news returned and reported before Zhao Jin: "General, our men have arrived."

Zhao Jin nodded from horseback, then waved his hand and said: "Head toward the direction the main force is coming from. Drive the people outward."

The cavalry column moved again, charging through the scattered, fleeing crowds outside the refugee great camp, heading toward the direction the main force was coming from. To the west, they could see banners waving and dust rising to the sky — every inch the sight of a large government army arriving. Yet on closer inspection, the rising dust seemed rather thin. Moreover, the distance between the two sides was vast; a distant mountain could exhaust a galloping horse. On this flat, open terrain, what one could see from a rooftop or walltop might take one or two hours to actually reach.

But the Smelling Incense Sect rabble had long since been crushed in spirit by the "government cavalry" rampaging through them. At the sight of yet another large force approaching, who still had the heart to keep fighting? The news had spread from the old camp compounds. The panicked crowd watched as the various civil and military immortals, the congregation heads and incense chiefs, came fleeing out of the old camp, carrying bundles large and small, their expressions frantic, forming a disorderly column as they ran, saying only "The main government army is here." Who still had the will to hold fast? The pillars of support were leaving — what were the rest of them still dawdling here for? Run, all together!

Meanwhile, the "government cavalry" had also shifted to the west side. Apart from the north, which led toward the walls of Ziyang City and was impassable, the other two directions were open for escape. No one wanted to fight. Since there was a way out, they scattered and ran for it!

The Zhao Camp men on horseback remained fully on guard, preparing for the worst — on a battlefield, one could not relax in the slightest. Yet the reaction of this Smelling Incense Sect Northern Sweep Camp still left them dumbfounded. Just like that, the whole mob scattered in uproar. No one dared run in their direction; they simply fled madly toward the other two directions.

"Truly clay chickens and pottery dogs — not worth mentioning at all," Liu Yong remarked with feeling.

"These sects — in times of peace they hide in the shadows, impossible to guard against. But once chaos erupts and it comes to real blades and real blood, they're nothing at all. Over all these years of the Great Ming, how many times have sects and cult bandits stirred up trouble? Every single time, it's been like this," Ma Chonghao added.

Seeing the situation before them, the entire Zhao Camp cavalry column was completely at ease. Many were laughing and jeering — the fighting strength of these Smelling Incense Sect refugees was truly beneath contempt. Zhao Jin spoke: "I had thought Xu Hongru would have some tricks up his sleeve. I never imagined that after proclaiming himself emperor in Zou County, he'd just stay put — a complete, muddle-headed fool."

"Jin... General, the truth is, the heretical cults and evil sects that have stirred up trouble all these years have all been like this. Those sect masters and the like — before they rise up, they seem to have some ability, their minds meticulous. But once they actually rebel, once they start calling themselves kings and emperors, all they think about is the land of pleasure and the wealth and prestige right before their eyes. They stop doing anything at all." Ma Chonghao had served in the Great Ming's central government and naturally understood this very well.

After saying this, Ma Chonghao glanced at Zhao Jin. Some words he kept hidden in his heart. Zhao Jin had mountains of gold and seas of silver in his hands, and cavalry and infantry of such elite quality — yet he remained utterly steady, never rash, never arrogant, yet neither was he self-doubting or paranoid. Always he moved forward with confidence.

Ma Chonghao had experienced many things, been to many places, and seen many figures of consequence. In his experience, those who possessed this kind of temperament were always outstanding individuals who had risen and fallen many times, unshaken by glory or disgrace. Yet such figures were never under forty years of age. He had no idea how Zhao Jin could possess such maturity and seasoned composure.

The Zhao Camp cavalry column simply waited in silence. At first, the clamor of the fleeing refugees had made the horses somewhat restless, but gradually they settled down. The Zhao Camp retainers all broke apart the bran flatbreads they carried and fed them to their mounts, replenishing the horses' strength. The sight made Ge Tianfeng's mouth water. Those flatbreads were made of grain! How could government cavalry waste good food like this, willing to feed it to horses? He'd rather eat it himself. Ge Tianfeng, long tormented by hunger, could not bear to waste a single thing that was edible.

The Zhao Camp cavalry column waited quietly in place. Once the refugees had mostly scattered and fled, Zhao Jin gave another order: the cavalry split into squads of twenty riders each and began capturing prisoners. Looking into the distance from horseback now, the ground was covered with rabble soldiers and refugees fleeing in chaos. If they had tried to capture them earlier, they simply couldn't have held them — the prisoners would either have escaped or the squads would have been scattered. But capturing them now, they were all the ones who had fallen to the very rear, with no way left to run.

Taking prisoners was easy. The routed refugees offered no resistance — at the sight of government troops coming to seize them, they obeyed meekly. What somewhat surprised the Zhao Camp cavalry was that quite a few men from the so-called "old camp" were captured. The reason was simple: they were carrying goods and valuables, couldn't even ride horses out, so how could they possibly run fast? And many of them had spent these days on women's bellies day after day — their legs were weak, making them even less able to run.

When Zhao Jin saw these men, his brow furrowed. He gave a crisp, decisive order: "All such ringleaders — once captured, behead them all."

With the order given, the retainers naturally showed no mercy. After a simple screening, they set to work beside the trench dug around the camp. Heads rolled, blood sprayed — and it scared the other refugees out of their wits.

"These men have too many schemes, and the refugees are too accustomed to being stirred up by them. They'd be a hindrance to what we need to do," Zhao Jin said simply.

They did not take too many prisoners — after capturing a thousand or so, they stopped. The prisoners were driven by the cavalry column to clear away corpses and sort out the supplies stockpiled by the Smelling Incense Sect rabble. Throughout this process, Zhao Jin and his trusted aides kept looking toward the walls of Ziyang City. That side remained shut tight, unmoving.

One more vote and I'll drop an extra chapter today. One more monthly ticket and I'll drop an extra chapter. Is that alliance-leader threshold set a bit too high...

Extra chapters are always added the same day, rest assured!

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