Chapter 113: A Fight to the Death

The eight hundred cavalry were accelerating, and the scouts of the Dare-to-Die Battalion ahead were screaming wildly. The wind scattered their cries.

High above, a vast stretch of dark clouds blotted out the sun. Horse hooves hammered heavily against the earth, and grass clippings danced in the air. A solitary eagle, startled by the killing intent below, flapped its wings and soared away.

Nayin was suddenly taken aback. "They are actually prepared?"

But he laughed immediately after. "Four hundred men. One charge will shatter them."

Nayin brandished his long saber. "The time to seize glory is now, warriors..."

"Victory!"

The roar of eight hundred men was like rolling thunder beneath the dark clouds, shaking the ground.

The grain wagons were still being maneuvered into a circle. Originally, the men had been bewildered and confused, but now every face had turned deathly pale.

"Faster!"

The officials were shouting and running frantically. Glancing back occasionally at the galloping enemy cavalry, they couldn't help but tremble.

"If I survive today, I will go pray to the gods—no, I will go pray to Magistrate Yang!"

The formation of four hundred stood before the circle of grain wagons. Some soldiers were shaking. They had faced the charges of horse bandits before, but the might of those outlaws was nothing compared to the tribal warriors ahead.

And four hundred against eight hundred—wouldn't they lose?

Such thoughts flashed through the minds of most. Morale was inevitably plummeting.

Yang Xuan was on the flank. He spurred his horse to the front of the line and said, "At this moment, I will not speak of duty to family or country; there is only life and death. The only thing I can tell you is..."

He drew his blade.

Four hundred pairs of eyes stared at him in unison.

Yang Xuan raised his sword.

"Today, I will not take a single step back!"

The four hundred soldiers were stunned.

Yang Xuan tapped his chest plate with the spine of his blade. "I will not take a single step back. What about you?"

Long spears were raised high. The shouts roared in like a gale.

"Fight to the death! Fight to the death! Fight to the death!"

Yang Xuan rode to the flank and shouted:

"Archers..."

The soldiers behind aimed their longbows toward the sky ahead. There was no need for precision; only a dense volley was required.

Lin Da stood at the very front, clutching his long spear, and shouted, "I'm not afraid!"

Most of the scouts had been lost, and the few remaining were racing back in a panic.

"Outflank!" Yang Xuan ordered.

The few riders veered to the left, but one, in his panic, lost his way and charged directly toward the formation.

Yang Xuan took a deep breath. "Shoot him down!"

The archers hesitated. The concept of shooting their own comrades was still foreign to them.

"Shoot him down!" Yang Xuan roared.

Obey orders—obey orders—just follow the damn orders!

This thought filled everyone's mind, and they released their bows involuntarily. Arrows flew.

*No charging the main formation in battle, or face summary execution!*

The startled and regretful scout, along with his horse, turned into a pincushion and collapsed before the line.

Yang Xuan’s eyelid twitched.

*The art of war says: Kindness does not command an army.*

The strategies within his scrolls were as vast as the sea, from the Warring States period to the modern era. He had devoured them with hunger, pondering and analyzing, seeking out numerous historical cases to study. Today was his maiden battle.

The enemy cavalry dismounted when they were still over a hundred paces away. In this era, unless they were the elite cavalry of Northern Liao, warhorses could not face the sharpness of a phalanx of spears.

Nayin shouted, "Those ahead are convicts! Warriors, for wealth and grain, for women, for everything... attack!"

"Victory!"

Hundreds charged forward. The men in front prepared their bows, while those behind wore armor; they would act as a battering ram, breaking the Dare-to-Die Battalion's formation, allowing the rest to swarm in and utterly crush them.

Nayin looked at Yang Xuan and smiled. "These are fine slaves."

His lieutenant flattered him, "When we take them back to humiliate that fool Huazhuo, we shall make him the chieftain's slave."

The distance closed rapidly. Lin Da gripped his spear, watching nervously as the tribal warriors drew their bows.

Behind him, Zhao Youcai shouted, "Loose arrows!"

Just as the arrows were released, the enemy loosed theirs as well.

"Duck."

*Clang, clang, clang!*

Lin Da felt his shoulder jolt, then arrows clattered to the ground.

"Ah!"

A wretch behind him was hit. Without looking, Lin Da knew the arrow had pierced a weak point in the armor.

He looked up and saw a whole row of enemy archers fall. The Great Tang’s bows had a longer range, so if the enemy wanted to engage in an archery duel, they had to pay the price of heavy casualties. Clearly, the enemy was unwilling to pay it.

After a rain of arrows, the archers retreated, revealing the armored warriors behind them. These men carried various weapons; some even held maces.

"First battle..." Yang Xuan watched the enemy running and ordered, "Watch the left flank."

A group of enemy cavalry was lurking on the left. Once the front was broken, they would sweep in—no, they would pursue and slaughter.

"Sir, they are close."

This was Old Thief’s first time seeing a battle of this scale, and he paled.

"Steady!"

Yang Xuan’s gaze passed over the clashing lines to look at Nayin in the rear. Nayin appeared composed, even somewhat relaxed, holding a waterskin—or perhaps wine—and drinking deep.

"The enemy is full of confidence!"

Yang Xuan whispered, "Then let them break their heads against us."

The enemy was charging, getting closer and closer. The enemy facing Lin Da grinned, roaring; Lin Da could even see that the man was missing several teeth.

"Prepare..." someone shouted from behind.

Lin Da gripped his spear, locking his eyes on the gap-toothed enemy. The enemy grinned hideously and raised his long saber at him.

"Kill!"

Countless practice thrusts made Lin Da’s hand steady as a rock. The spear pierced the enemy’s chest like lightning. Lin Da saw the shock and pain on the man's face, twisted the spear without hesitation, and withdrew it.

Blood sprayed. Everything in Lin Da’s vision turned red.

"Kill!"

His comrades behind him thrust forward from his sides. Lin Da withdrew his spear and took a brief moment to catch his breath.

"Kill!"

Spears thrust in a dense, rhythmic motion.

"Ah!"

At the front of the formation, a soldier of the Dare-to-Die Battalion was struck in the shoulder by a mace. Just as the enemy gloated, a spear from the side punched into his abdomen. A violent twist sent the enemy to his knees, and he collapsed.

Yang Xuan watched this scene coldly. A gap appeared in one part of the formation.

"It’s broken!" someone screamed.

"Move!"

A pair of battle axes suddenly appeared in the gap. The axes danced, and the wails were piercing.

"The gap is opened."

The men around Nayin had just begun to cheer when they were taken aback.

"The convicts of the Dare-to-Die Battalion... they are unexpectedly tenacious!"

Nayin said gloomily, "That fool Huazhuo—he underestimated this young magistrate."

His lieutenant laughed, "Chieftain, be at ease. They won't last long."

Nayin nodded. "Pass the order: whoever breaks the enemy line gets five sheep!"

"The chieftain orders: whoever breaks the enemy line gets five sheep!"

The Washe tribe lived between the Great Tang and Northern Liao; had the two empires not needed a buffer zone, they would have been wiped out long ago. Even so, their lives were not easy. The chieftain and his inner circle were fine, but the herdsmen below had to thank the heavens if they could just get a full belly.

So, upon hearing that breaking the enemy would earn them five sheep, those Washe warriors went berserk. The first row immediately felt the pressure.

"Sir!" Old Thief saw the crisis.

Yang Xuan shook his head, his tone cold. "Do not move yet. Tell Zhao Youcai: even if they die, they must die at the very front."

"But I worry those convicts lack the will."

Old Thief’s concern was not unfounded. Although Yang Xuan had won the hearts of the Dare-to-Die Battalion, they had never experienced such a brutal battle. If one man broke, the whole formation would instantly disintegrate.

Yang Xuan’s eyelid twitched.

Ahead, the enemy was continuously compressing the battalion’s formation. Men fell one after another, only to be hacked to pieces. Yang Xuan took a deep breath. He regretted not bringing Nan He. If Nan He were here, he could have used his own men as the backbone of the formation, and it wouldn't be like this.

Old Thief bowed. "Sir, I am going."

"Old Thief!" Yang Xuan was shocked.

Old Thief waved his hand without looking back, even managing a smile.

"Old Thief!" Wang Lao'er shouted.

Old Thief circled around from the back. He gripped his spear and squeezed into the front line.

*Ah!*

A soldier fell and was dragged out. Just as the next soldier in line was about to fill the spot according to the manual, Old Thief stepped in.

"Kill!"

Old Thief’s spear technique was not standard, but he possessed inner strength. The enemy facing him saw a little old man step up and was ecstatic, swinging his saber to harvest a head. He wore armor, thinking, *how much strength can an old man have?* So he charged recklessly.

The spear pierced straight into his chest, then was pulled out with force. Old Thief stepped forward.

"Kill!"

His graying hair and beard danced in the wind. The old man, killing once more, held his spear high and shouted, "Dare-to-Die Battalion!"

The Magistrate’s own men were here!

This discovery was like a sedative to the soldiers of the battalion. Everyone roared.

"Fight to the death!"

*If you do not retreat.*

*I will follow!*

The figure on the right remained, and while a dozen riders were closing in, Yang Xuan remained unmoved. Wang Lao'er led a few cavalrymen and charged out.

The enemy at the front continued to push and compress. The cheers were like claps of thunder. The earth trembled. The formation seemed on the verge of collapse.

"Kill!"

Rows of spears thrust frantically.

...

Wang Lao'er led a few riders to charge. The dozen enemy riders, seeing their small numbers, cheered. One pointed his saber at Wang Lao'er and yelled, "I want that idiot's head!"

The two sides closed in rapidly. The enemy who had been screaming for Wang Lao'er’s head was decapitated by him in one stroke.

Wang Lao'er’s face was sprayed red with blood. He licked the blood from his lips and said, "Sweet. Salty!"

A rider on the side, seeing that he was a fool, reached out, intending to take a prisoner. Wang Lao'er casually slapped him.

The enemy thought, *a slap shouldn't be much of a problem.*

*Smack!*

Then, he saw the sky to his right.

Wang Lao'er held his saber in his right hand and his palm in his left, killing his way through with his few riders. The remaining enemies turned and fled. He felt a bit bored. He saw Nayin watching the battle from the rear with a hundred riders.

He waved.

"Hey! Zuo, Zuo!"

*Zuo, Zuo? Was he calling a dog?*

Yang Xuan’s face darkened. "Lao'er, come back."

Nayin’s face turned blue.

"Why haven't they fallen yet?" Nayin asked with a cold face.

His lieutenant replied, "Chieftain, the warriors are exhausted."

Nayin had already seen it. A standard attack would come in waves, rotating to keep the soldiers’ morale high and their stamina full. But Nayin’s original intention was to wipe out the battalion in one go, so he had sent everyone in at once. Now, there was no rotation. He realized he had made the mistake of underestimating his enemy.

"Withdraw. Withdraw in order."

Amidst the sound of horns, the enemy slowly retreated. The soldiers of the Dare-to-Die Battalion finally relaxed. Once their minds loosened, they felt as if they had been in hell.

"So we can actually do it?"

Looking at the heaps of corpses in front of them, a sense of pride welled up within them.

"Form up. Drink water."

Zhao Youcai went over to Yang Xuan.

"Magistrate."

"How many losses?"

Zhao Youcai lowered his head. "We lost over thirty brothers!"

His voice was choked with emotion. These were brothers he lived and breathed with; how could he not feel the pain?

A hand patted his shoulder.

"Well done!"

Zhao Youcai looked up.

Yang Xuan nodded. "Tell the brothers: I am proud of them."

Zhao Youcai puffed out his chest. "Please rest assured, Magistrate. If the enemy breaks through, it will be when I am dead. I am going back now."

Yang Xuan glanced at Old Thief in the formation; the old man was currently bragging to the soldiers about something.

Wang Lao'er asked curiously, "Sir, we have so many people, why can't we beat them?"

Yang Xuan said, "This Great Tang is sick."

The Great Tang of the past was heroic and invincible. In those days, Tang men were proud of joining the army to kill the enemy, proud of being rewarded for military merit. But all of this changed with the ascension of Li Yuan and his son.

Li Yuan’s rise was filled with the smell of blood. To consolidate his throne, the father-son duo began a frantic purge. Subsequently, the court withered, and the stars of the military faded. To cope with this, they began to employ "Fan generals"—foreign commanders—on a massive scale. They believed these generals had no foundation and would be forced to be loyal to them.

In recent years, it wasn't just foreign generals, but all sorts of nepotism. During their reign, the powerful and the wealthy engaged in the most frantic land annexation. Countless commoners lost their land, but the taxes cared not whether you had land or not. So, countless families had to flee to escape the taxes.

The Fubing system collapsed. The collapse of the Fubing system brought about the collapse of military combat effectiveness. Fifty years ago, who among these tribes would have dared to bare their fangs at the Great Tang? But now, a single tribe dared to raid the grain supply line.

"The enemy is moving!"

Ahead, Nayin was roaring.

"Across from you are hundreds of convicts—convicts, not elite Tang troops! Yet you attack without result, returning to howl like women. Go back! Kill them all! Seize their armor, those longbows—they are all yours. I swear I will not take a single piece."

The way these tribes maintained their combat effectiveness remained primitive, but it was exceptionally effective. Looking at their red-rimmed eyes, Nayin drew his saber. "We are a wolf pack, and the Tang people ahead are lambs. Lambs are succulent, but you must use your blades to carve them. Go! Seize your honor and your lambs!"

The tribal warriors turned back, eyes bloodshot, breathing heavily.

The lieutenant whispered, "The Chieftain’s words—even I am feeling bloodthirsty."

"What about the other side?" Nayin looked up.

Yang Xuan reached out. "The standard!"

The flag-bearer behind him hesitated, then handed over the pole. Yang Xuan hoisted the great banner with one hand and slammed it into the ground.

The wind blew.

The banner snapped in the wind!

*I am here!*

*Not one step back!*

The Dare-to-Die Battalion raised their spears high.

"Ten thousand victories!"

Amidst the cheers, Nayin raised his hand and said coldly, "I want that banner as a trophy!"

"Attack!"

The enemy charged.

"Hold the formation!" Zhao Youcai shouted.

"Archers!"

The soldiers behind drew their bows.

"Loose!"

The enemy fell in scattered numbers, but the rest accelerated.

"Kill!"

Old Thief’s thrusts were effortless; he scored hits frequently. But this wave of attacks was fierce and fast. The enemy charged with no regard for their own lives. Old Thief was like a pillar in the middle of a river, and the enemies broke their heads against him. A commander noticed him and pointed, shouting, "Kill him!"

Suddenly, the pressure on Old Thief increased. An enemy was pierced by Old Thief’s spear; he wailed and clutched the shaft tightly. Old Thief pulled, and with a *snap*, the spear broke.

"Hack him to death!" someone cheered.

*Whoosh!*

A mace whistled through the air. The enemy who threw it watched with bated breath...

Old Thief caught the mace with one hand, nearly saying "thank you."

*Whoosh!*

The mace swept past, and the enemy’s skull shattered like a watermelon being split open. Red and white flew through the air.

"Refreshing!"

Old Thief fought fiercely at the front. The soldier beside him on the left had just stabbed an enemy and was about to withdraw his spear when an enemy threw his long saber, then lunged forward with a short blade, stabbing into the shoulder gap of the soldier's armor. The soldier wailed and fell to one knee. He held the hilt with one hand, gritting his teeth to push it out. The enemy freed his right hand and struck the soldier’s head repeatedly.

The soldier’s eyes turned bloodshot. He roared, "I'll fuck your mother!"

He threw his head forward with all his might.

*Thud!*

The enemy was caught off guard and stunned by the headbutt. Just as he wanted to thrust his blade, a mace whistled in from the side.

"Fall back!" Old Thief shouted.

But the soldier struggled to stand, eyes burning as he shouted, "Dare-to-Die Battalion!"

"Fight to the death!"

Amidst the cries, the enemies in front felt they had encountered a wall. An insurmountable wall!

Old Thief stepped forward, his mace sweeping horizontally, and three enemies fell. He was about to withdraw the mace when an arrow arrived silently. It pierced his thigh.

Old Thief’s body faltered, and the enemies in front cheered. They had tried many times to break the battalion’s formation, but every time an opportunity arose, Old Thief would step forward, swinging his mace to boost morale.

An enemy leaped into the air, a large club descending toward his head. Old Thief raised his mace to block, and with a *thud*, the wooden club snapped in two. An enemy rushed from behind his companion, viciously throwing his short blade. The enemy who had lost his club also shouted, lunging to grab Old Thief.

Old Thief grabbed the man’s arms, pulled with force, and threw him away. The short blade pierced his waist. Old Thief felt a stabbing pain in his side and couldn't help but hiss.

"Ah!"

Old Thief knocked the lurking enemy over, his body staggering back a step. He raised his eyes, his vision blurred by blood, seeing those grinning enemies charging madly.

"Retreat!" someone behind shouted.

But Old Thief knew he could not retreat! He was the Magistrate’s representative; if he retreated, morale would scatter. He panted and smiled bitterly.

*So, battle formations really don't have much to do with inner strength!*

He caught sight of the Magistrate. The Magistrate was looking this way—was he preparing to come over? But the Magistrate couldn't move! If he moved, it would mean the failure of this battle... The Dare-to-Die Battalion, having lost its reserve, would be ground down by the enemy’s reserve cavalry.

*What should I do?*

Old Thief’s mind was chaotic for a moment, countless images surfacing... Yi Niang, who often bullied him but always remembered to prepare thick quilts for his old cold legs; Lao Cao, who often looked down on him but was the only one who liked to chat with him; Lao'er, who was always fighting him for meat; and the Magistrate, who would never abandon him even if it meant death!

"Ah!"

He took a step forward. An enemy lunged. Old Thief dragged a lame leg, his mace dancing.

*Thud!*

The enemy flew sideways.

"They’ve broken through!" someone on the right screamed. But reinforcements were hard to come by.

"Get out of the way!"

Old Thief dragged his lame leg and charged into the middle of the enemy ranks. Within the encirclement, blood sprayed like heavy rain. Enemies flew out one after another, or collapsed on the ground wailing.

A moment later.

There was no one standing around him. Only a bloodied man stood in the center. He held the mace high, roaring with all his might at the formation.

"Dare-to-Die Battalion!"

His hoarse voice echoed across the battlefield.

In the formation.

Spears were raised high.

A forest of spears!

Without hesitation!

Countless voices merged together, like a mountain collapsing and a sea roaring.

"Fight to the death!"