Jinting Han people

As the war progressed, it became clear that Lu Ji's rotational warfare strategy was completely wrong.

Lu Ji originally hoped to wear down the enemy's lines by constantly rotating his troops, like grinding flour in a stone mill, using his undeniable numerical superiority to gradually crush their morale. This required two things: first, the attacking units should not be too deeply involved and should be able to withdraw at any time; second, the units should be able to follow orders and rotate as needed.

However, the result was that the rebel soldiers, facing the battle, made no attempt to maintain their formation and easily allowed the Northern army to break through. Furthermore, Qiao Zhiming's vanguard, confident in their strength and caught up in the moment of passion, ventured deep into enemy territory and lost contact with their main force.

Therefore, the chaotic battle on the mudflats had spiraled out of control and was developing in a direction that Lu Ji absolutely did not want to see. He tried to send messengers forward to deliver messages, but to no avail. Lu Ji had no choice but to order Shi Chao and Wang Yan's troops to continue to reinforce their forces and support the Northern cavalry fighting on the mudflats.

At the same time, Lu Ji ordered Wang Zan, Shao Xu and other troops to make preparations for the next battle, and sent a messenger to convey his instructions: "In this battle, victory is the only option, defeat is not an option! I don't care how many people die, if we fail to kill Liu Xian, how can we face the General? I hope you will emulate Ma Yuan's bravery, make contributions to the country, and die on the battlefield!"

However, even after receiving orders, the various units hesitated to advance. Firstly, the deafening fighting on the battlefield instilled fear in them. More importantly, the night was deep, and the mudflats were covered in reeds, obscuring the specifics of the battle. Therefore, they were unsure when to provide assistance and continued to observe from the sidelines, intending to wait until dawn when the situation would become clearer before making further plans.

This gave the rebels ample time to react and deal with the Northern cavalrymen who were constantly fighting on the mudflats.

When all the Northern Army cavalry had charged into the mudflats, Gongsun Gong led the Songzi Battalion on horseback to attack the flank of the Northern Expeditionary Army. He was in charge of the left flank, while Guo Mo and Mao Bao were in charge of the right flank. They swept through like a whirlwind, cutting the entire Northern Army in the reed marshes in two.

Although Gongsun Gong was not known for his physical strength, his years of experience in warfare had made him extremely shrewd. Fighting on muddy beaches, with heavy armor making the ground slippery and muddy, would only greatly deplete the horses' energy and slow the march. Therefore, before the charge, he ordered his soldiers to remove their heavy armor and replace it with lighter leather armor, and even the meticulously crafted cavalry armor was replaced with cheaper cowhide.

After this change of equipment, the Songzi Battalion's speed was truly remarkable, almost twice as fast as the Northern Army. Having changed their armor, they also abandoned their previous charging strategy, no longer using long spears to thrust at the enemy, but instead employing mounted archery. For example, Gongsun Gong himself held a bow and three arrows, crouching low, concealing himself in the darkness to search for the enemy and avoid the rain of arrows.

A northern army knight rode up, spear in hand. Gongsun Gong suddenly stood up, turned his horse, and galloped sideways to face the enemy. As he passed the other horse's head, the man's spear was still a zhang away. Suddenly, he turned to the left, drew his bowstring with his right hand, and fired an arrow, striking the enemy squarely in the face. The man immediately fell backward from his horse.

Attacking the enemy at such close range doesn't actually require high archery skills; one only needs to be familiar with the speed difference between the two horses and estimate the approximate time. To inflict damage without missing, the most important thing is the rider's boldness and meticulousness. If the rider loses focus or hesitates even slightly, it will be themselves who die, not the enemy. Therefore, the Northern Army soldiers dared not attempt this tactic, while the Songzi Camp riders knew it by heart.

After Gongsun Gong and his men charged several times, they had used half the arrows in their quiver. To conserve arrows for the upcoming battle, he simply drew his ring-pommel sword and began to slash. Just then, he saw Qiao Zhiming's cousin, Qiao Mingda, approaching and coming face to face with him.

Qiao Mingda tried to deflect the attack with his spear, but Gongsun Gong pressed the blade against the spear shaft and down forcefully. As the two horses passed each other, he suddenly flipped his blade, slashing forward along the shaft and severing two of Qiao Mingda's fingers. Qiao Mingda screamed in agony, threw down the spear, and fled, clutching his saddle. The other Northern Army knights, seeing this, whispered, "This man is truly formidable; let's stay away from him!" and scattered in all directions.

The interception on the left flank was extremely successful. In less than a quarter of an hour, the Northern Army cavalry's formation was completely cut off. A quarter of an hour later, Gongsun Gong and his men charged back into the enemy lines. Their ring-pommel swords were either chipped or broken, and many were unusable. They had brought arrows, but no spare ring-pommel swords. Those without weapons had no choice but to grope through the reeds in the dark, searching the corpses for any usable weapons they could find.

On the right flank, Guo Mo and Mao Bao continued to use traditional armored cavalry for their charges. This was mainly because the terrain on the right flank was more open, and there were more Northern troops advancing, with reinforcements continuously moving in. Guo Mo and his heavy cavalry, charging into the enemy lines, were still able to inflict considerable casualties.

Guo Mo was tall and imposing, standing out even in the darkness and among the reeds. When he charged into the enemy ranks on horseback, he was like a giant elephant rampaging through the crowd, causing the surrounding northerners to flee in fear.

Several riders, unwilling to retreat, stepped forward to challenge him, brandishing their spears. Guo Mo swung his spear several times, causing those who wanted to test their strength against him to lose their grip on their weapons. Then, he suddenly raised his hand and thrust twice with lightning speed, almost unbelievable for a tall man like him, instantly piercing through the enemy's armor.

When the spear was retrieved, the two men who had been stabbed clutched their wounds, too painful to move. But this could not stop their lives from slipping away; they soon collapsed to the ground, their faces still bearing expressions of disbelief.

However, Guo Mo rushed in too blindly. After fighting for a while, he found that he had separated from the main force. He didn't know when, but the northerners had wandered in by mistake. Moreover, they were holding unusual long spears. A dozen or so of them surrounded him. How could he defend himself?

It turned out that this was the Long Halberd Battalion established by Shi Chao. Shi Chao used his wealth to specially select tall and strong warriors, each wielding a long spear about two zhang long, nearly twice the length of an ordinary spear. They did not ride horses, but instead formed an arc formation, surrounding Guo Mo and collectively thrusting their long spears at him.

No matter how strong Guo Mo was, he couldn't fight off so many spears. With so many people attacking him, he could only defend one side, leaving the other vulnerable. As a result, someone stabbed his horse in the side. Guo Mo reacted quickly, drawing his sword from his waist, trying to cut through the spears, but it was too late. The men who had stabbed him stabbed him several more times, and the horse, struck by several spears, reared up with a loud neigh, throwing Guo Mo off his saddle.

Guo Mo wasn't wearing any armor, and the ground was wet mud. Although he fell flat on his back, he nimbly rolled over and knelt down. He tried to get up and fight back, but it seemed he had twisted his ankle. When he tried to stand up again, his ankle was sore and swollen, and he couldn't muster any strength. The approaching northerners filled him with despair: Was he going to die here?

At this moment, a neighing of horses and shouts of men came from the south. Before the halberd-wielding soldiers could kill anyone, they were smashed to pieces by several iron cavalrymen. Guo Mo turned around and saw that it was his second brother, Guo Zhi, who was traveling with Mao Bao, Zhang Chou and others.

Guo Zhi gave his horse to Guo Mo, who, enduring the pain in his foot, groaned and leaned on his sword to his feet. He struggled to mount, glanced at Mao Bao, and feeling humiliated, defended himself, saying, "My horse is no good. If I had Suo Gong's Akhal-Teke, I would have charged out long ago!" With that, he spurred his horse and charged back into the battlefield. Mao Bao wasn't angry. After greeting the others, he continued fighting back and forth on the mudflats. By this time, the Northern knights who had broken into the mudflats on both the left and right flanks were almost completely routed. They could no longer organize themselves into an effective offensive and were being pursued and encircled by the experienced Western knights. They were also puzzled: where were their reinforcements? Why hadn't they come to their aid? This made it even harder for them to resist. They only thought about how to escape, but by then it was too late.

However, this does not mean that the Northern Army's offensive has completely failed. Although the vast majority of them have lost their fighting spirit, the hundreds of Xianbei cavalry at the forefront have not given up. Although Qiao Zhiming and others could easily tell from the sounds of battle that they were at a significant disadvantage, their position meant that retreat was no longer an option for survival. They had to charge forward and find a chance to win.

Qiao Zhiming had been led around in circles by Guo Song and his men, inflicting few casualties but also suffering minimal losses. Hearing the sounds behind him fading, he realized that victory through normal combat was impossible. To turn the tide, there was only one way: directly behead the enemy commander! Without command, the enemy would naturally be defeated.

Therefore, he abandoned the pointless pursuit and stopped to rest. He said to those around him, "Killing rabbits is meaningless. If we're going to kill, let's kill tigers! Where do you think the tigers are?"

Upon hearing this, the Xianbei people craned their necks to look around. It was almost dawn, but the sky was still dark. After burning for more than an hour, the fire in the granary was starting to dim. Fortunately, a layer of purple mist, like a thin veil or a water vapor, had appeared in the dark clouds in the sky—a sign of dawn. Using this faint light, they searched diligently in the darkness. After a short while, they finally spotted a distinctive banner in the distance.

Most of the rebels carried yellow dragon banners to identify themselves as members of the Luoyang Imperial Guard. Each battalion commander then erected a separate banner to signify their identity, facilitating the relay of orders between units. The banner they saw, however, appeared to be larger and darker than usual. In addition, they could vaguely see some knights frequently moving about, seemingly as messengers.

Upon seeing this, Qiao Zhiming immediately became excited. He stood up and said, "That's it! That's the enemy's main camp!"

He immediately mounted his horse, and after the hundred or so riders around him had lined up, he threw away the blood-stained spear in his hand, drew his spare seven-foot-long sword, and said to the crowd: "Success or failure, life or death, all depends on this one battle. Don't worry about the people around you, just kill!"

The Xianbei people were truly decisive; without any hesitation, they dashed off almost instantly, like arrows released from a bow, without looking back. Their guess was correct; that was precisely where Liu Xian's main camp was located.

Although Liu Xian did not personally engage in battle, he closely monitored the changes on the battlefield and continuously relayed orders to the frontline generals to keep abreast of the battle's progress. When Qiao Zhiming and his men rushed towards him, he was not surprised. Instead, he calmly addressed those around him:

"Don't panic. There aren't many Xianbei left. Their horses must be tired after running on the muddy ground for so long. Get ready for close combat. Don't kill anyone, just cut off their horses' hooves. Let's see what they can do then!"

However, it must be said that it was dark at this time, and people could not see the specific enemy situation. They could only hear the sound of water splashing in the distance, like the beat of drums, as if countless armored knights were advancing and about to launch an attack, which made the people nearby somewhat fearful. But as Liu Xian drew his sword from his waist, a clear sword sound rang out, and they immediately calmed down and gripped their weapons tightly.

As enemies clad in iron helmets and full of iron armor burst out from the darkness, the sound of clashing metal filled the air.

The darkness and close combat rendered bows and arrows ineffective, and people instinctively slashed at the nearest enemy. When the Xianbei discovered that although there were only a few dozen iron-clad knights among them, they knew they had come to the right place. They then tried to find their leader among these men. However, after looking around, they were disappointed to find no one dressed differently, and they did not know what Liu Xian looked like. For a moment, they were somewhat discouraged, thinking that the enemy commander had already fled.

But Qiao Zhiming looked at the large banner a dozen paces away and thought, "This must be the commander's banner. Capturing the enemy's commander's banner is almost as good as killing the enemy commander." So he roused himself, raised his seven-foot-long sword high, and spurred his horse forward to cut down the banner.

As he swung his broadsword down, it was inches from the flagpole. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a cold glint, as if a sword was flying out. In that brief instant, before he could even think, the sword struck the blade in Qiao Zhiming's hand.

The sword strike appeared as if from a ghost, startling Qiao Zhiming, who immediately lost some of his strength. When the swords clashed, he tried to change his momentum and counterattack, but unexpectedly, sparks flew at the point of impact, instantly illuminating the face of the newcomer. He also saw Liu Xian's murderous gaze.

With a crisp clang, the longsword in Qiao Zhiming's hand snapped in two. The blade had barely fallen to the ground when Liu Xian's next sword strike arrived. He held the sword in his left hand, slightly lowered his wrist, and with a tiny movement, flipped the blade, transforming a point strike into a sweeping strike, aiming straight for his opponent's eyes.

Normally, if Qiao Zhiming had conserved all his strength and knew there was a formidable enemy present, he could have easily dodged the attack. But at this moment, he was both exhausted and unprepared, and also somewhat taken aback: What kind of sword was his opponent using? How could it be so sharp? Thus, what should have been a close and evenly matched battle quickly came to an end.

Liu Xian used only two sword strikes: one cleaved the blade, and the other pierced Qiao Zhiming's eye, the blade protruding from his skull, killing him instantly. Qiao Zhiming had intended to win by beheading him, but the result was the opposite. He died, and the remaining men, after fighting for a while, realized the situation was not right and quickly lost their will to fight, scattering like fallen flowers in a stream.

Wiping the blood from the sword's blade with the corner of his clothes, Liu Xian slowly sheathed the Zhangwu Sword. He glanced at the corpse beside him and said casually to those around him, "No need to chase them. The enemy is terrified; they'll only be throwing their lives away no matter where they run. But we mustn't panic; the war isn't over yet."

That's what they said, but the sounds of fighting on the mudflats grew fainter and fainter, and the distant firelight became increasingly dim, almost invisible. The purple light shrouding the clouds made everything seem empty and quiet, as if it were just an ordinary, peaceful morning, and nothing had happened. (End of Chapter)