Chapter Sixteen: Three Blades Simultaneously Striking the Body

Even if one has never eaten pork, they have surely seen pigs run; moreover, Qin Cheng still bore the imprint left by the former owner of this body. Though that imprint provided little in the way of true skill with the long halberd, it did nothing to hinder Qin Cheng as he brandished the weapon with a fierce wind, charging into the now-disordered ranks of Xiongnu cavalry already battered by the chariots.

As Qin Cheng and several thousand heavy infantry burst forth from behind the shield wall, they were met first by the arrows of the Xiongnu cavalry. The shafts were perhaps not numerous, but their force was not to be underestimated. Qin Cheng had barely taken a few strides, his long halberd not yet sweeping at the legs of a single Xiongnu warhorse, when an iron arrow from the enemy struck his right chest!

Running at full speed, his body halted involuntarily. He looked down at his chest, momentarily stiff. Yet in the next instant, a savage, exhilarated smile lit Qin Cheng’s face. Recovering his momentum, he darted forward, crossing the remaining distance in a few strides. Before the nearby Xiongnu horseman could react, Qin Cheng crouched low, and with a mighty swing of his halberd, severed the horse’s leg in a single blow.

The steed collapsed, and its rider tumbled to the ground. Qin Cheng, anticipating exactly where he would land, struck lightning-quick with his halberd, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

As he withdrew the weapon, blood spattered over Qin Cheng, its heat fueling his battle fervor. There was no time to savor the feeling of having dispatched his first enemy in this new era. With a fresh sweep of his halberd, Qin Cheng rushed toward the next Xiongnu horseman.

Like Qin Cheng, the rest of the heavy infantry who had charged forth found their thick armor deflecting most of the Xiongnu arrows. Even those shafts that pierced the iron rarely struck a vital spot, and so long as they didn’t find the gaps, the heavy infantry pressed on undaunted, charging energetically at the scattered enemy cavalry.

The chariots, expertly maneuvered by their drivers, had already plowed deep into the Xiongnu formation, thoroughly disrupting their once-tight ranks. Now, with the enemy’s lines in chaos, the heavy infantry could finally break through to engage.

Behind them, nearly a thousand archers loosed arrows with relentless precision—cold, four-edged iron bolts flying at the Xiongnu cavalry without mercy.

Across the battlefield, the scene was chaos: chariots charging ahead, dust and smoke swirling, men and horses thrown into confusion; in the center, heavy infantry and the disordered Xiongnu cavalry clashing at close quarters, blades flashing, blood and tears mingling; at the rear, archers drew and loosed in a ceaseless hail of iron darts, impossible to defend against. Beneath the blazing sun, the battle raged in full fury.

At that moment, the Han cavalry, positioned on the flanks and rear of the formation, having repelled several attempts by the Xiongnu to outflank them, now swept forward to encircle the enemy from both sides.

These thousand-plus Han cavalry, having waited long and anxiously, now surged forward with all their pent-up energy, launching a wide, rapid flanking maneuver.

The two wings of cavalry, like twin dragons of war, sped from the Han army’s rear and flanks toward the sides and rear of the Xiongnu formation. Once the encirclement tightened, the Han would trap the Xiongnu cavalry in a deadly snare—if not annihilating them completely, at least inflicting grievous losses.

Such was the strategic artistry of Li Guang, a master general of his time. Everything unfolded according to his carefully laid plans.

After felling the legs of three Xiongnu warhorses, Qin Cheng—who could not help but stand out—finally found himself surrounded by five or six nearby Xiongnu cavalry.

Pulling his long halberd free from the abdomen of one enemy, Qin Cheng quickly assessed his situation. He knew that if these five or six riders completed their encirclement, even his long weapon would be of little use against coordinated attacks from horseback.

With a fierce shout, he lunged at the nearest horseman, and before the animal could reach him, swept his halberd in another devastating arc, severing its leg.

There was no time to finish the rider; Qin Cheng quickly withdrew his weapon. But already, another Xiongnu cavalryman was charging straight at him, only four yards away, sword raised high for a strike at Qin Cheng’s head.

“Go!” Qin Cheng shouted again, thrusting his halberd like a spear, driving its tip up into the horse’s throat with all his strength—so much force that the beast’s front half actually lifted off the ground.

With a sharp crack, the halberd snapped in two from the immense pressure. A numbness shot through Qin Cheng’s right arm, leaving him momentarily unable to lift it.

Fortunately, the Xiongnu warhorse collapsed sideways, throwing its rider to the ground. Qin Cheng rolled swiftly aside, narrowly avoiding the sweeping blade of a third enemy.

His roll brought him up beside another warhorse, just as its rider brought his sword down in a deadly arc. In desperation, Qin Cheng drew his own sword with his left hand, using a dagger-like grip to slice through another horse’s leg.

The animal buckled, and its rider’s sword missed Qin Cheng’s shoulder, diverted by the horse’s fall. Pain lanced through Qin Cheng’s left shoulder, but the blow was mostly absorbed.

The fall of this horse also brought down another rider close by; both enemies tumbled to the ground.

In a flash, Qin Cheng had pulled four Xiongnu from the saddle. But though they had fallen, they were not seriously injured—each now gripping a sword and advancing on Qin Cheng.

The last Xiongnu horseman remained outside the encirclement, circling for an opening to deliver a killing blow.

It was almost as if Qin Cheng had returned to those street brawls of his former life; in this moment, he found himself unnervingly calm. Being surrounded by many, with another lurking outside the circle, ready to strike—a situation he had faced countless times.

His right arm finally regained feeling. Quietly switching his sword to his right hand, Qin Cheng picked a direction opposite the lurking rider and made his break.

Blood-soaked from head to toe, his face now unrecognizable, only the black armor glinting with a cold, sinister sheen beneath the sun.

As he charged toward the Xiongnu in front of him, his opponent reacted with startling speed, gripping his sword in both hands and slashing fiercely from the right. The blow was so swift that Qin Cheng knew he could not block it.

At the very instant the Xiongnu sword was about to strike his neck, Qin Cheng suddenly arched his torso backward, his legs still driving him forward. Dodging the blade, his body dipped to a sharp angle with the ground; spinning, he turned from facing the sky to facing the earth, and as he passed the enemy, his sword plunged into the Xiongnu’s abdomen.

In spite of this heart-pounding exchange, Qin Cheng’s pace never faltered. He withdrew his sword and turned toward the next foe.

This was his calculation—if he allowed himself to be surrounded, the cavalry on the outside could shoot him with arrows. Yet, if he remained tangled in close combat, he would face four swords at once. So he chose this double-edged approach.

With a wet splatter, Qin Cheng’s blade took the head off a third Xiongnu. The last rider, however, did not dare close in; instead, he frantically waved his sword to keep Qin Cheng at bay.

Suddenly, Qin Cheng sensed danger. Glancing aside, he saw that the lone Xiongnu rider had already nocked an iron arrow, aiming directly at Qin Cheng’s unarmored face—the only vulnerable spot on his body. At such close range, there was no possibility of dodging.

In that instant, Qin Cheng realized just how little his skills counted for on an ancient battlefield. No matter how careful, one could die at any moment.

As the arrow was released, a fierce shout rang out. A lithe figure appeared as if out of nowhere, hurling himself at the Xiongnu horseman, knocking him from the saddle.

The arrow’s aim was thrown off, whistling past Qin Cheng’s face and leaving a stinging gash across his cheek.

The newcomer, unable to draw his sword in time, drove his elbow into the Xiongnu’s face.

Unbeknownst to him, another Xiongnu was already raising his sword behind his back.

“Die!” With a single stroke, a head flew from its shoulders.

But it was not the agile rescuer who fell—it was the would-be assassin behind him.

Having slain the last of the Xiongnu attackers, Qin Cheng turned to see who had saved him.

It was Wu Daliang, crouched with sword in hand, guarding Dong Chu’s back. After stunning his victim with an elbow, Dong Chu drew his blade and sent the man’s head rolling.

Beside Wu Daliang and Dong Chu lay a headless corpse in a pool of blood.

“Dong Chu, Daliang, are you two all right?” Qin Cheng called, warmth rising in his chest as he moved to join them, the three forming a triangle, backs together.

“We’re fine,” Wu Daliang grinned, licking blood from his lips.

“Haha, I’ll live!” Dong Chu laughed heartily. “Damn it, I’ve taken down five Xiongnu—what a thrill!”

“Well done!” Qin Cheng shouted.

“They’re coming again!” Wu Daliang warned. Qin Cheng and Dong Chu looked up to see four dismounted Xiongnu running at them.

“Kill!” Dong Chu roared, charging first.

With a downward slash, he took off an enemy’s head, then arched his body into a bow. Qin Cheng ran up, planted his foot on Dong Chu’s back, vaulted over the heads of the enemies, and as he soared through the air, delivered a backward slash that decapitated the last Xiongnu from behind.

Wu Daliang took advantage of the distraction, slipping in close and carving a bloody arc across a foe’s chest with his sword.

Dong Chu, rolling after Qin Cheng’s leap, swept his blade low and severed the legs of the last enemy. Qin Cheng arrived from behind, slicing through the man’s neck, while Wu Daliang’s sword plunged into his chest.

Three blades, one life—the valiant Xiongnu died an utterly thorough death.