Late Ming Dynasty: From the Defeated Soldiers at Daling River to Ascending the Throne

Chen Feng ran a few steps with the veteran and saw a tattered flag struggling to be raised amidst the smoke of battle.

The flag bearer was a man with a blood-stained face and an arrow stuck in his left shoulder. He was barely holding the flagpole in place with his right hand and his teeth.

Beside the man, an officer on horseback roared at the fleeing soldiers, "Men of Jinzhou! If you're still alive, come this way! Form ranks and resist, or you'll have a chance to survive!"

Chen Feng noticed that the officer had an arrow stuck in his saddle, but he was still sitting upright, and his warhorse was pacing restlessly due to tension.

Some of the routed soldiers began to gather around the flag, ten men, twenty men... They spontaneously formed a loose circle, their spears pointing outwards.

Chen Feng hesitated for a second.

Modern military knowledge told him that regrouping during a rout was suicidal, while breaking out in a dispersed manner offered a higher survival rate. But what he saw overturned this theory: lone soldiers were being caught and killed one by one, while the pursuers around that flag were clearly hesitant.

Chen Feng instantly realized that this era lacked the area-of-effect weapons of later generations, and now that the artillery bombardment had ceased, the Later Jin cavalry posed the greatest threat to their routed troops.

The advantage of cavalry lies in their ability to charge and pursue. Even against a loosely organized battle formation, a blind charge will come at a cost.

The veteran beside Chen Feng made the decision for him and called him to run towards the flag.

Chen Feng tightened his grip on the unreliable musket on his back, picked up a chipped steel knife from the ground, and ran towards the flag, with arrows whizzing past him several times.

"Newcomer! Fill the gap on the left flank!" the officer roared.

Chen Feng and the veteran squeezed into the circular formation and immediately felt that they had someone to rely on behind them.

The circular formation consisted of about thirty people, mostly young faces, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and a desperate ferocity. Their armor was incomplete, and their weapons were scattered, but at least they stood in a neat, orderly fashion.

"I am He Mingxiao, a captain under General Song!" The officer, mounted on horseback, brandished his sword and gave the order, "Listen to my command! Spears in front, swords and shields to cover the gaps! Don't panic, panic means death!"

Six soldiers, still armed with spears, trembled as they aimed their spear tips at the outer perimeter, while the others gripped whatever weapons they could find.

Thirty paces away, about twenty elite riders from the Jinba Yala Army reined in their warhorses. They were fully armored and exuded a murderous aura.

The leader, Bayara, had a face full of scars. He squinted at the small resistance group and shouted in broken Chinese, "Kneel down and surrender, or we will spare your lives."

There was no response, only heavy breathing and the soft clatter of weapons colliding.

Ba Ya La spat and waved his hand to give the order.

A dozen or so cavalrymen suddenly sprang into action, their pace gradually increasing, their hooves churning up large chunks of earth, their lances held level. This was a standard cavalry charge; although small in number, its psychological impact on the fleeing troops was devastating.

"Hold on!" He Mingxiao roared, "Lower the spears! Poke the horse!"

Chen Feng instinctively calculated: the cavalry's speed was about ten meters per second, thirty paces away... and they would make contact in three seconds.

"One!" Chen Feng blurted out.

The surrounding soldiers were bewildered.

"two!"

Instinct took over his body; years of training had allowed him to automatically enter a tactical state under pressure.

"prick!"

The veteran standing beside him instinctively crouched down, the butt of his spear touching the ground. This was a basic formation for fighting cavalry, but it required rigorous training and discipline, which these routed soldiers clearly lacked.

The first horse struck the spearhead, the crack of the wooden pole breaking mingling with the horse's agonizing neigh. The rider fell, but the momentum propelled the horse's carcass forward, knocking down two Ming soldiers.

A gap has appeared in the formation.

Another cavalryman cut in from the side, his long sword slicing through an arc, and a head flew off, blood gushing out.

The plague of fear broke out again, and the formation began to falter.

Seeing that the cavalryman had charged too far and his horse was slowing down, attempting to turn around, Chen Feng lunged forward, his blade pointed at the horse's legs.

The blade sliced ​​into the tendon, the warhorse neighed and collapsed to its knees, the rider thrown from his saddle. Chen Feng gave him no chance to rise, the blade plunging viciously into the gap between the cavalryman's visor and neck guard! With a twist of his wrist, he yanked the blade out!

Warm, viscous liquid splashed onto his face. He had killed many enemies during his missions, but those were all with firearms, completely different from the feeling of stabbing someone to death face-to-face.

The sensation of the knife tip piercing flesh, the stickiness of blood on his hands, and the clearly visible look in the enemy's eyes as he died—all of this made him feel uncomfortable.

But the situation didn't give him time to be sentimental. He quickly rolled away from being trampled by another horse, and as he got up, he picked up the mace from the dead cavalryman. He weighed the mace in his hand; it was just the right weight.

"Gather together! Don't scatter!" He Mingxiao was still shouting, but his voice was already hoarse.

The remaining cavalry regrouped. This time, instead of charging recklessly, they circled the formation, searching for weaknesses. Several arrows came from unexpected angles, and two Ming soldiers fell to the ground, struck by arrows.

Chen Feng's mind raced, his eyes scanning the surroundings like lightning. Staying put meant certain death; he had to move and find a more advantageous position.

He saw a rocky slope a hundred paces to the north, behind which lay a dense forest, making it difficult for cavalry to climb.

But how could they possibly cross that distance of a hundred paces? If the cavalry caught up, they would die anyway.

"No! I can't hesitate!" Chen Feng silently repeated to himself. "Hesitation is a major taboo on the battlefield!"

"Commander He!" He turned to He Mingxiao, who was giving orders with all his might, his voice hoarse, "Retreat to the rocky slope to the north! Provide alternating cover, get into the woods!"

He Mingxiao looked at him, glanced north, and then nodded: "Listen to him! Spears cover the rear! Swords and shields protect the flanks! Let's go!"

The remaining twenty or so men began to move slowly, advancing like wounded hedgehogs, curled up in fear. The Later Jin cavalry, like a pack of wolves, pounced and tore at them relentlessly, taking one or two lives with each encounter, but the circular formation miraculously did not completely collapse.

Eighty steps, sixty steps...

Chen Feng, in charge of the left flank, parried a slash and then struck the horse's head with his mace, the sound of bones cracking clearly audible. The horse's forelegs buckled and it collapsed forward. The veteran beside him finished off the fallen Jin soldier with a mechanical and precise strike.

Cold sweat soaked through Chen Feng's tattered inner shirt, mingling with the enemy's blood and his own sweat, making it cold and sticky.

Forty steps, thirty steps...

"We're almost there!" someone shouted, their voice filled with surprise.

Just then, a low, rumbling sound of thunder came from afar, an ominous sound that made Chen Feng's hair stand on end!

"Fire!" he shouted with all his might, instinctively throwing himself to the side.

But the shells were faster than sound; several fell from the sky before he could even utter a sound, slamming into the open ground not far behind him, sending up clouds of dirt and flying debris.

Just as Chen Feng collapsed, he witnessed a veteran next to him being hit in the head by a bouncing shell. The veteran didn't even have time to scream before his body slowly collapsed.

Minced meat with bone fragments splattered all over Chen Feng's head and face, with some even sticking to his lips.

The only person who might know the identity of this body... is gone just like that?

The world seemed to fall silent at that moment.