Full of arrogance

At this scene, Wang Bo couldn’t help but laugh aloud: What an impressive display! The Xianbei must truly be desperate, mustering ten thousand men just for this? Still, it was effective enough—at the very least, the Han Revival’s specialized harassment boats couldn’t approach the enemy camp. And with their formation spread so widely, the Han army’s war chariots, slow to turn, could inflict only limited damage; after all, the horsemanship of the nomads was no joke.

He pulled Zhang Liao aside and asked, “Wen Yuan, how should we break this formation?”

Zhang Liao frowned, studied the field, then hesitated before replying, “Such a scattered formation? We should break it with the Wolf and Owl Guard! Or perhaps I could lead several hundred riders myself…”

“Hahaha! Wen Yuan, you are far too cautious!” Wang Bo’s heart sank after he spoke: it seemed Zhang Liao still regarded himself as an outsider. Hadn’t I treated him well enough? Well, let it be. Let’s finish this battle first.

He swept away his gloom and called out loudly behind him, “Where are the Wolf and Owl Guards?”

“We are here! Awaiting your command, my lord!” Zhou Cang, Du Yuan, and the others behind him flushed with excitement and answered in unison.

“Good! Hear my orders: Xu Chu, lead the Wolf and Owl Alpha Squad! Wen Yuan, take command of the Beta Squad! Break this formation for me! Are you ready for battle?”

“We are! We are! Victory to Han Revival!”

“Liao Hua, hear my order: you will lead several hundred shield and spear soldiers, and over a thousand archers, to form a defensive line behind the trench at the pass, supporting the Wolf and Owl Warriors and blocking the enemy cavalry’s charge. Do not fail!”

“Yes, Yuan Jian accepts the command! I will not fail your trust, my lord!”

“Excellent! I will beat the drum to cheer you on here! Go now!” Under the glare of Chen Dao, Zhang Liao, Xu Chu, and the others mounted their horses and rode out the gate at a trot. Reaching beyond the trench, they split into two groups and suddenly sped up, charging the perplexed Xianbei formation.

Meanwhile, Liao Hua led more than two thousand Han Revival soldiers to the trench, their heads held high, forming up calmly. The heavy-shielded soldiers took the front, spear-men behind, and at the very rear, skilled archers notched their three-picul bows, picking off the nearest Xianbei soldiers one by one.

Several ballista chariots swiveled their firing ports—leaving a portion to continue bombarding the riverbank, the rest aimed at the passage before the trench, ready to repel any Xianbei cavalry assault.

This sudden turn of events left Xie Guini, who had not yet grasped the Han army’s intentions, in sudden realization: Oh! So they intend to break through with just a handful of men? Ridiculous! I have ten thousand troops here! Last night’s heavy losses were due to the darkness. In broad daylight, they dare attempt this again? Do they really think my Xianbei warriors are made of clay?

He immediately dispatched messengers to order the commanders outside camp: have the cavalry close ranks slightly near the attackers—the Han Revival troops won’t dare shoot their own. The rest should hold their positions.

Then, wrapping his somewhat loose fur coat tighter around him, Xie Guini sat high on the chair he had traded from a merchant, leisurely watching the bloody battle about to unfold in the field.

Yet, the next moment, the sight before him caused Xie Guini to throw his milk wine to the ground in shock, the cup bouncing several feet high.

From afar, the might of the Wolf and Owl Guard was not apparent, but as they approached, the foremost Xianbei soldiers realized just how terrifying even a dozen riders could be: their fierce, glaring faces twisted into savage snarls; their bloodthirsty weapons screamed as they swung; their towering warhorses thundered, mouths open in roaring rage…

These monstrous figures, charging forward, easily smashed through the Xianbei’s first line. Watching their laughing comrades instantly ripped to pieces, those nearby felt a sudden urge to relieve themselves, and the once-powerful thighs of strong warriors turned weak and trembling.

Yet Xu Chu and Zhang Liao’s Wolf and Owl Guard cared not whether one pissed their pants or dove for cover. Weapons swinging left and right, horses trampling, every enemy before them was crushed, all becoming ghosts beneath their blades.

Especially Xu Chu—now that he had a fine horse and stirrups, he no longer suffered that awkward frustration of strength wasted on horseback. His might was displayed to the fullest: wielding a blade over ten feet long, he swept it in broad arcs, carving a path through a storm of heads, severed limbs, and shattered armor. The Xianbei cavalry who tried to encircle them scrambled to flee, some so panicked they tumbled to the ground, oblivious to the countless hooves around them.

Zhou Cang, Zhang Baiqi, and others following behind, seeing little loot to be had, quickly chose another path to seek misfortune for the Xianbei elsewhere.

As for those under Zhang Liao—Liu Shi, Huang Long, and the rest—it was a different scene. Zhang Liao led the charge, the others following. The Xianbei’s sparse formation offered no resistance; they simply formed a basic wedge for the assault. Like a rock breaking ocean waves, they scattered the Xianbei cavalry, throwing their ranks into chaos.

On the walls of Yunu Pass, Wang Bo himself took up a massive war mallet, pounding the great drum to spur Xu Chu and the others. The thunderous cheers from the surrounding troops surged like a tidal wave, striking terror into the hearts of the Xianbei cavalry on the field.

Xie Guini, once he recovered, found himself in a dilemma: Should he concentrate forces to surround and kill them? Yet under the threat of long spears, he feared more deaths. Should he order a barrage of arrows? Not only was the result uncertain, but these god-like warriors darted unpredictably amongst his own men—his archers would certainly shoot their own as well. What would the clansmen think of him then?

At last, gritting his teeth, he summoned his bodyguard company and shouted, “Men! The Han dogs grow bold! They dare try to break our army with a mere handful! You call yourselves warriors of the tribe—will you fight?”

The Xianbei warriors had their pride. Two hundred robust men—not the strongest among the Xianbei, but elite nonetheless—were roused by their leader’s words. With Xie Guini at their head, they let out a wild, gibbering cry, charging from the camp gate toward Xu Chu’s rampage on the left wing.

Li Damu, responsible for support and scouting in the Wolf and Owl Guard, saw from afar a group of fully armored enemy elites bursting from camp, led by a broad-shouldered, thick-waisted warrior with two braids flying atop his bare scalp—no less formidable than Xu Chu himself, and judging by the shining armor, surely a high-ranking Xianbei. Elation flashed across Li Damu’s face: Today I’ve hooked a big fish! I must slay this one and show our lord that Alpha Squad is stronger than Beta!

He quickly directed Zhou Cang and others to converge on Xu Chu, warning him loudly. The group understood, feigning fear at the enemy’s strength, fighting as they retreated, gradually drawing Xie Guini and his guards farther from the camp.

Kill and flee? Xie Guini cursed inwardly and pressed the pursuit. His guards, seeing the enemy “flee” in fear, felt invincible. The surrounding Xianbei soldiers, prodded by their captains, mustered some courage, showing a hint of savage spirit—though they were still struck down in a flash.

Closer and closer, Xu Chu, only a few steps from Xie Guini, exchanged glances with Li Damu and Zhou Cang. Seeing their fierce looks and shaking heads, he curled his lip, suddenly wheeled his horse past Xie Guini, and struck him in passing.

Xie Guini was a top warrior among the Xianbei, tearing wolves with his bare hands from the age of ten and hunting tigers alone. His uncle, Budugen, impressed by the boy’s strength, kept him close as a successor, treating him as a son. Both were direct descendants of the great leader Tanshihuai. The tribe would be better in his hands than his uncle’s useless sons.

Gifted and proud, Xie Guini had never met an equal save his uncle. Seeing Xu Chu slaughtering his men, he cast aside all advice, leading his guards to battle—partly to save his clansmen, partly to prove his strength before the generals.

Thus, seeing the fiercest enemy general swing a blade at him, he met it without hesitation, spear in hand.

A metallic crash split the air, startling the surrounding Xianbei. Driven back several steps by Xu Chu’s strength, Xie Guini’s horse only just regained its footing. His wrist-thick spear trembled violently—nearly wrenched from his grip. Had it not been pure wrought iron, man and horse would have been cleaved in two. This brute is stronger than I am! His startled horse nearly buckled, its scream snapping Xie Guini from his shock.

Knowing he could not match such strength, Xie Guini moved to call his guards to swarm and kill Xu Chu. But Xu Chu only grinned at him, then turned to meet the approaching guards, leaving Xie Guini surrounded by five or six grinning brutes, cut off from his soldiers. Their eyes said it all: as if he were a naked maiden, a lamb to the slaughter.

A flicker of unease passed through him, but rage quickly filled his mind: Am I not the greatest warrior of Xianbei? That brute’s strength is one thing, but you little lackeys dare challenge me? With a roar, he thrust his spear at Zhou Cang.

Zhou Cang raised his shield at an angle, while Pei Yuanshao swung his halberd to parry the force, sparing Zhou Cang from a direct blow. Even so, Zhou Cang grunted and was forced back.

Trading blows with two men, Xie Guini’s spirits soared. Gritting his teeth, eyes wide, he spun his spear, intending to strike Zhou Cang’s head. Zhang Baiqi and Ping Han each swept aside Xianbei soldiers, then turned, their twin spears stabbing at Xie Guini’s chest and his horse’s belly.

Seeing the danger, Xie Guini abandoned his attack on Zhou Cang, twisting away from Zhang Baiqi’s spear tip, and used his own to knock aside Ping Han’s underhanded strike at his horse. But Ping Han was strong, and Xie Guini’s parry came a moment late—the spearhead left a bloody groove in the horse’s belly. An inch deeper, and the beast would have been gutted.

Pulled forward by his wounded horse, Xie Guini’s balance wavered. Before he could recover, an arrow from Li Damu whistled toward him, its iron tip swelling in his vision. He managed to turn his head just enough—still, the arrow tore off half his ear, blood beading as it buried itself in the chest of a hapless nearby Xianbei.

Zhou Cang, having just felled a would-be assailant, swung his blade at Xie Guini’s horse’s head. Injured and enraged, Xie Guini had no time to vent his fury. He yanked the reins, and his nimble mount twisted aside, narrowly dodging the blow. In the same movement, he blocked Pei Yuanshao’s sweeping strike, scrambling desperately.

But the next instant, Ping Han and Zhang Baiqi’s spears came sweeping in, one high, one low—Xie Guini could block the first, not the second. With one aiming at his abdomen, the other at his back, there was no way to dodge at such close range.

In a flash, weighing his options, Xie Guini spun his spear to block Ping Han’s attack. The blow from Zhang Baiqi’s staff struck his back with a dull thud. His body shuddered, but his thick armor saved him. Still, blood at the corner of his mouth betrayed the seriousness of his injury.

Before Xie Guini could catch his breath, an arrow from the left pierced his right armpit with a wet thud. At such close range, the force drove the arrow half its length through his fitted leather armor, the tip just poking through the backplate. Any closer to the heart, and he would have died on the spot.

“Ah! The pain is unbearable!” Wounded and unable to fight, Xie Guini wheeled his horse to flee, calling for his guards as he went.

But where were those two hundred bodyguards during all this?

Though much had happened, only a short time had passed—Xie Guini had exchanged only a few rounds with Zhou Cang and the rest, all in rapid, stationary combat. Within six or seven breaths, the outcome was plain for all the Xianbei cavalry rushing in to see.

Though they saw their general in danger and charged bravely, the skill gap was too wide. Zhang Baiqi and his comrades fought with wide, sweeping strikes—those who rushed in first were flung away, crashing into those behind. Lacking a capable leader, the Xianbei couldn’t mount a strong attack, only dying in vain. Yet they dared not flee: to abandon their general at such range would mean death, if not in battle, then by punishment.

Xie Guini’s bodyguards, crowded by ordinary Xianbei cavalry on both sides and blocked in front by the grinning Xu Chu, charged repeatedly but failed, losing a dozen men in the process.

Seeing their master wounded and in peril, two desperate guards, seized by panic, dropped their sabers and leapt off their horses to grapple with Xu Chu. One was cleaved in two midair; the other managed to cling to Xu Chu’s arm, biting at his neck.

Xu Chu jerked his head back with a roar, swinging the attached Xianbei like a club. Reaching back with his left hand, he grabbed the man’s braid and flung him—only the braid gave way, but the man clung on. Grabbing again, this time he seized the man’s neck and, with a brutal snap, ended him on the spot.