Chapter 28: The Focus of the World (Part 10)

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The Song soldiers were utterly shaken by this sudden, hellish assault. Fear spread through them like a plague.

Despair filled countless eyes, and their feet began to stagger backward.

Under the frenzied counterattack of Yanshuke, that wounded tiger, and the terrifyingly disciplined tactics of the Jin hook cavalry, the balance of victory seemed ready to tip once more!

“Fight them to the death!”

Despair gave birth to the fiercest resistance.

A Song soldier whose shoulder had been cleaved open by a saber roared and, with the last of his strength, hurled himself at a Jin warrior racing past. The two of them tumbled from their horses together, only to be crushed into bloody pulp beneath the iron hooves that followed.

A military auxiliary with one arm severed watched a companion’s skull smashed by an iron mace. With a beast’s howl, he lowered his head and slammed his bloodstained brow into the eye of a Jin horse beside him. The warhorse reared with a terrified shriek, flinging its rider to the ground, where a pack of red-eyed local militiamen swarmed over him and hacked him to pieces.

“You barbarian cur! I’ll go with you!”

A militiaman knocked flying by a warhorse somehow managed to seize the raised leather strap around its leg before he hit the ground. The horse, maddened by pain, bolted wildly, dragging him across the stone-strewn, corpse-littered earth and carving a long trail of blood behind him. He never loosened his grip, even in death.

It was carnage—carnage beyond all measure.

For every Jurchen horseman who fell, several Song soldiers had to fill the gap with their own flesh.

Bodies lay piled upon one another, broken weapons and severed limbs mingling in pools of muddy blood.

The Song army was wearing down the Jin cavalry’s edge by the most primitive and desperate means. Every inch of their advance was soaked in steaming blood.

A deep, penetrating trumpet call suddenly rang out from the depths of the battlefield to the northwest, drowning out every clash and scream.

It was not the thunder of charging fire oxen, nor the rumble of burning logs. It was something heavier, denser, and more terrifying—the pounding of iron hooves upon the earth.

Rumble—rumble—rumble!

A cavalry force appeared at the far edge of everyone’s vision.

They lacked the mountain-like oppression of the Jurchen Iron Pagoda cavalry. The horses beneath them were plainly shorter—a remnant of the Hequ horses and short-legged mountain ponies from the southwest, left over after two disastrous campaigns against Liao. Their shoulders were lower, and their sprinting speed far inferior to the magnificent steppe steeds of the Jin.

The riders’ armor was old and even damaged in places. Yet this force of barely more than six hundred cavalrymen radiated a savage aura of mutual destruction and fearless resolve.

At their head rode Shi Cheng, the last surviving cavalry commander in Taiyuan.

He raised his horse spear toward the heavens, its blade reflecting the blazing firelight of the battlefield. Summoning every ounce of strength in his body, he unleashed a roar that seemed to shatter the universe.

“Taiyuan cavalry! We are here! Slay the enemy and serve the realm!”

“Kill!”

More than six hundred riders, like six hundred bloodstained arrows loosed from the bow, made no fancy detour and attempted no tactical feint. With the will to die, they aimed straight for the hook cavalry rampaging across the Song army’s right flank and slammed into them.

These were Taiyuan’s last warhorses, Wang Bing’s final reserve, and the only blade capable of halting Yanshuke’s deadly scythe.

“Looking for death!”

Yanshuke’s pupils contracted. Surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly overwhelmed by fury at the provocation. He immediately adjusted his command, waving his signal banner and ordering part of the hook cavalry to turn and meet the charge.

Shi Cheng’s riders fought as though their lives meant nothing. They cared nothing for their own survival; all they sought was to drive their blades and spears into the enemy’s flesh in the shortest time possible.

Boom!

Two torrents of cavalry crashed together with devastating force.

Then came the grating sound of bones and flesh being crushed, the death throes of wounded warhorses, the shriek of metal striking metal, and the dull thud of bodies hurled through the air by overwhelming force. Countless sounds fused into a wave of destruction that swept across the entire battlefield.

A Song cavalryman was struck across the face by a Jurchen saber, half his head flying away. Yet the spear in his hands, driven by the horse’s momentum and his own weight, punched straight through the chest of the Jin warrior before him. The two men fell from their horses almost simultaneously.

Shi Cheng’s horse spear smashed two Jin soldiers to death in succession. Clamping his legs around the horse’s belly, he twisted and hacked apart a weapon aimed at its neck.

Li Xiao’s blood ran hot at the sight. He plunged in from the flank and entered the heart of the melee. The long spear in his hands seemed to come alive. Shadows of steel layered one over another, swift as wind and driving rain.

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Thrust!

The spearpoint entered a Jin soldier precisely at the back of his neck and burst out through his throat.

Slash!

Li Xiao swept his spear back. Its keen edge severed the arm of another Jin warrior as he raised it in a hurried block, then continued on to open his throat.

His spearwork was vicious and unpredictable, aimed always at vital points. Every thrust was accompanied by the Jin soldiers’ shrill screams. He charged repeatedly through the confused enemy ranks with only one objective: to keep Yanshuke’s hook cavalry locked in place and prevent them from exploiting their advantage in mobile mounted archery.

“Stop them! Stop that spearman!”

Yanshuke flew into a rage, pointing at Li Xiao, who was surging through the Jin ranks as though no one stood in his way.

Several fierce Jurchen warriors immediately rushed at him, swinging iron maces and heavy axes.

Li Xiao did not flinch. His spearpoint collided violently with an iron mace, sending sparks everywhere. The tremendous impact numbed his arm, split the flesh of his palm, and stained the shaft red with blood.

Yet he clenched his teeth. Relying on exquisite spearcraft and a savage disregard for death, he somehow held his ground beneath the assault of several powerful enemies. Every block and counterattack was a brush with disaster.

The warhorse beneath him screamed as it endured the immense pressure.

The brutal cavalry slaughter revealed the difference between the two sides. After all, the Jin cavalry had already been fighting and charging for a long time, and their strength was greatly depleted.

The Song cavalry was at an absolute disadvantage in numbers, horses, horsemanship, and even equipment. Their only advantage was the madness born of a willingness to die—to drag an enemy down with them.

Every moment, a Song rider fell. With every breath, another Jin soldier went down. Blood dyed the snow beneath the horses’ hooves, gathering into viscous streams.

Bodies and carcasses of horses became tangled together, piling into mounds.

Xieli, drenched in blood from head to toe, fought his way to Yanshuke’s side.

“Commander! This is no longer tenable! Our men are suffering horrific losses! We’re trapped! We must withdraw at once!”

He gestured around them. Of the original three thousand elite vanguard troops, fewer than four hundred riders remained, struggling desperately to hold on. All were wounded, pinned down by infantry several times their number and by this cavalry force fighting as though death itself were their weapon.

Yanshuke surveyed the battlefield. In the firelight, corpses lay everywhere. Torn banners were trampled into the mud. Song soldiers surged in from every direction like endless ants, tearing at the Jin line with their teeth, their fists, and anything else they could find.

His proud hook cavalry had lost its speed and room to maneuver in this swamp of despair. They had become prey to the hunt.

He knew Xieli was right.

Damn it!

Yanshuke let out a roar of utter frustration, nearly grinding his teeth to splinters.

“Withdraw! Follow me!”

“Enemy commander, don’t run!”

Li Xiao had kept his eyes fixed on Yanshuke’s standard. The instant he saw the Jin commander turn his horse to flee, a surge of blood rushed to his head.

He drove his heels into his horse’s flanks. The beast gave a long cry, broke away from the center of the melee, and locked onto Yanshuke’s retreating path. Shi Cheng followed with every rider still able to move.

“Stop them!”

A heart-stopping pursuit across the snowy plain erupted.

Yanshuke’s battered troops fled desperately ahead while Li Xiao and Shi Cheng led the Song cavalry in relentless pursuit.

The wind howled past their ears. Icy air poured into their lungs like knives. Both sides repeatedly drew and nocked arrows, shooting at one another from their jolting saddles.

Whoosh!

A wolf-toothed arrow skimmed past Li Xiao’s helmet. He loosed one over his shoulder, and a Jin soldier ahead fell from his horse.

Thud!

A companion beside Shi Cheng was struck in the back by an arrow. Without a sound, he toppled from the saddle while his horse continued racing onward.

One warhorse had clearly reached its limit. Foam flecked its mouth, and its speed suddenly dropped.

The distance narrowed little by little amid pursuit and counter-pursuit, killing and evasion.

Shi Cheng could even see the savage bearskin cloak flaring in the wind across Yanshuke’s back. A cold light flashed through his eyes. He snatched a bodkin arrow from beside his saddle and poured all his strength into his arms.

“Find your mark.”

He released the string.

Twang!

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The bowstring thrummed. The arrow tore through the wind and snow, flying straight toward the magnificent warhorse beneath Yanshuke.

With a piercing whistle, the bodkin arrow struck the horse precisely between the eyes and pierced through the back of its skull, carrying out a great mass of red and white brain matter.

As the splendid horse crashed to the ground, Yanshuke was thrown by its momentum. Relying on the instincts of a beast, he rolled to bleed off the impact. His bearskin cloak dragged across the snow, leaving a bloodstained trail thirty feet long.

“Commander!”

Xieli shouted. His bodyguards simultaneously hauled their reins and wheeled around, their horses’ forehooves gouging deep furrows in the snow.

These Jurchen champions paid no heed to the arrows flying at their backs. With their own flesh, they built a wall around Yanshuke.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Shi Cheng laughed wildly as he lowered his powerful bow. The hundred or so riders behind him advanced in a wedge. A flail swept across two Jin soldiers’ heads, bursting their brains across the snow.

Blades and spears rose like a forest, instantly surrounding the remaining Jin troops.

The Jin soldiers had gone mad with desperation. Though they knew they were outmatched, not one retreated. They were the commander’s personal guards. If their leader died and they fled back alive, they would be subjected to a thousand cuts. They might as well fight to the death and gamble on escaping punishment.

“Kill!”

Xieli swung his iron mace and charged at the front. One blow knocked aside a spear, the force of the mace’s passage stinging Shi Cheng’s cheek.

The snow erupted into a chaotic melee.

Yanshuke struggled to his feet and watched his bodyguards fall one after another.

“Soft southern sheep,” he growled. “I underestimated you!”

He had never imagined that he would be brought down here. What bitter humiliation.

A desolate wolf howl drifted from the distance.

Yanshuke’s eyes suddenly lit up.

It was the signal used by the Jurchen army to communicate. He immediately threw back his head and answered, his voice hoarse yet full of wild delight.

Li Xiao and the others felt their hearts tighten.

He saw the fervor erupt across Xieli’s face and those of the others. On the distant horizon, dense ranks of wolf banners were tearing through the snow mist toward them.

“This is bad! The main Jin army!”

“Kill him before we go!”

Shi Cheng charged again with his men, eyes blazing.

But Xieli hurled himself forward like a madman and blocked the spearpoint with his body.

“You want to harm the commander? Then step over my corpse!”

The other Jin soldiers followed his example. With their flesh, they formed a living wall. Even after their arms were hacked off or their chests pierced through, they clung desperately to the Song soldiers’ legs and refused to let go.

“We’re out of time!”

Shi Cheng caught sight of the iron cavalry racing toward them in the distance. There were at least several thousand.

“Withdraw!”

Li Xiao gritted his teeth, pulled back his spear, and sent a Jin soldier tumbling. He wheeled his horse around, and the Song army began retreating while still fighting.

“Don’t run, if you’ve got the courage!”

Clutching his bleeding side, Yanshuke shouted after them in the Han tongue.

“I, Wanyan Yanshuke, swear that I will tear you limb from limb!”

Li Xiao glanced back. Through the wind and snow, Yanshuke’s figure looked battered, yet remained fearsome. The Jin soldiers rushing to his aid had already raised their bows.

Li Xiao laughed, his voice echoing across the wilderness.

“Listen well! I spared your life today—not because I fear you!”

He suddenly leveled his spear at the sky.

“I am Li Xiao of Shu Prefecture! Who dares kill me? Who has the power to kill me? How could a mere man steal my resolve? When we meet again on the battlefield, come and find me! We shall see whether you can shatter my corpse—or whether I shall take your head!”

Before his voice had faded, he swept his spear backward and knocked aside a volley of arrows. His horse’s hooves sent snow mist billowing as he and the remnants of his force galloped away.

“Remember this! Your skull will become my drinking cup!”

Yanshuke shouted back as the crowd receded.

“Li Xiao of Shu…”

He murmured the name, his fingernails digging deep into the wounds in his palms.

The Jin commanders who arrived pulled their horses to a halt beside him. Hearing that name, they all instinctively looked toward the departing riders. The figure grew smaller and smaller in the snowstorm, but his words remained etched in their memories.

The snow continued to fall, and the wolf banners snapped fiercely in the wind.

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