Chapter Seventeen: Survival in Peril?

On the battlefield, comrades are the greatest reliance for your survival. No matter how brave a person may be, he cannot preserve his life when surrounded by thousands of enemy troops. Before crossing over, brothers were Qin Cheng's strongest support in street fights. Now, it is these fellow soldiers who fight and bleed alongside him.

Qin Cheng, Dong Chu, and Wu Daliang—these three guards from the same squad were now firmly bound together by the tides of battle. Three more guards from the eighteenth squad gradually converged from the surroundings, forming a group of six that instinctively watched each other's backs. This mutual support made it much easier to slay enemies and protect themselves amid the chaos.

“Look! The yellow banner!” Wu Daliang, ever the seasoned veteran, spotted something crucial while Qin Cheng and the others were engrossed in the fight.

Qin Cheng and Dong Chu pulled back, following Wu Daliang’s gaze, and what they saw made their hearts clench. Not far from them, beside a wrecked war chariot, a Han cavalryman holding the yellow banner was surrounded by several Xiongnu horsemen. Protected only by two fellow Han cavalrymen, he desperately guarded the banner. However, it seemed those two could not hold out much longer, and the Xiongnu riders, clearly intent on seizing the banner, pressed in fiercely.

The yellow banner, also known as the Yellow Fang Banner, stood for the army’s commander and was the spiritual pillar of all soldiers on the battlefield. If it fell or was captured, it meant the army was on the verge of collapse.

Now, the yellow banner was in grave peril.

“Dong Chu, Daliang, clear a path for me!” Qin Cheng shouted, already charging toward the wrecked chariot.

“Yes, sir!” Dong Chu and the others responded, madly swinging their halberds and long blades, risking their lives to protect Qin Cheng as he advanced.

The army banner is the soul of the army; no soldier takes it lightly.

Qin Cheng had barely rushed forward a few steps when a Xiongnu centurion blocked his path, clearly recognizing Qin Cheng’s intent to rescue the banner.

Because of this, Han soldiers who tried to reach the banner could not accomplish their goal.

Suddenly, an unusually tall warhorse appeared before Qin Cheng, and a chill swept down from above. Without time to think, Qin Cheng did not slow down; he dropped to his knees, leaned back, and using his momentum, slid beneath the Xiongnu horse’s belly, nearly hugging the ground.

As he slipped past, Qin Cheng slapped the earth with his left hand to straighten himself, and his right hand slashed his blade across the horse’s belly, carving a deep wound. The horse’s gut split open, intestines and blood spilling onto the ground as it collapsed in agony.

Ignoring the Xiongnu centurion, Qin Cheng pressed onward toward the chariot.

The centurion leapt from his mount, cursing furiously and giving chase. But as he turned, his head flew into the air—Dong Chu, following close behind Qin Cheng, had seized the moment and sliced his neck from behind.

The two Han cavalrymen who guarded the banner had already been cut down by the approaching Xiongnu riders. The wounded guard holding the banner, after spearing a Xiongnu horseman with the tip of the banner, was slashed across the back by a Xiongnu captain, spraying blood into the air.

Summoning the last of his strength, the banner guard swept the banner sideways behind him, but the Xiongnu captain seized it. At that moment, another Xiongnu horseman galloped in and chopped off the guard’s head.

As the banner bearer’s head flew through the air, he glimpsed a nimble figure.

Qin Cheng leapt onto the chariot, stamping hard on its deck and launching himself from its top. Like a great roc spreading its wings, Qin Cheng’s blade traced a savage arc, descending with force. The Xiongnu captain who had finally seized the banner sensed danger and looked up, only to see a shadow crossing overhead in the glare of the sun, and a gleaming blade slashing down.

His vision blurred; instinctively, the captain raised his blade to block.

Mid-air, Qin Cheng’s blade slid over the Xiongnu captain’s weapon; the blade flashed, and the captain’s head was half severed, blood and viscera spraying forth.

Qin Cheng’s momentum did not falter; his right foot kicked a nearby Xiongnu horseman off his mount, and he landed smoothly atop the horse. Slapping its belly with both feet, the horse neighed and sped away.

With his left hand, Qin Cheng snatched the banner from the dead captain as he rode out of the encirclement.

He did not see, at the spot where the Xiongnu captain had fallen, a headless Han soldier wearing a military cap. Upon seeing Qin Cheng seize the banner, the soldier’s wide-open eyes quietly closed. A single tear slipped from his freshly shut eyes, mingling with the blood-streaked face.

“General, the banner is safe!” Li Guang, leading from the front, had just cut down a Xiongnu horseman when his personal guard shouted nearby. Turning, he saw the banner tightly clutched by a blood-soaked young guard, who, escorted by several Han cavalrymen, had already broken through the Xiongnu encirclement.

“Excellent! What courage—he deserves great merit in this battle!” Li Guang’s heart burned with pride, and he exclaimed loudly.

There was no time to see what this brave guard looked like; Li Guang threw himself back into the fray.

Nearly five thousand Han soldiers fought desperately on the vast battlefield against over four thousand Xiongnu cavalry. Thanks to Li Guang’s adept tactics, the Han forces did not fall into their usual disadvantage. Still, there was no rout or encirclement of the Xiongnu cavalry—no crushing victory. Although the Han cavalry had surrounded the Xiongnu, the fierce Xiongnu riders quickly engaged the Han soldiers hand-to-hand.

By now, the battle was a complete melee. It would likely end with both sides suffering heavy losses.

Even so, to fight the Xiongnu cavalry to a draw with equal numbers was a remarkable achievement for the Han, whose cavalry numbered barely two thousand.

Yet, the Han soldiers fighting for their lives did not realize that such a favorable situation should not have occurred.

For the Xiongnu cavalry’s performance in this battle was highly abnormal.

The fighting had lasted about half an hour; except for the Han light infantry holding the rear, both armies were locked in chaotic close combat.

Was this destined to be a battle of mutual destruction?

The answer would soon be revealed.

For from the rear of the Han formation, a heavy horn sounded abruptly.

Li Guang, leading the Han cavalry in a fierce assault against the Xiongnu, heard the horn and his face instantly turned pale.

“General, enemy attack! How can there be an enemy assault?” The captain of Li Guang’s personal guard, tasked with protection, also blanched. As a seasoned veteran, he knew well what it meant for the rear to be struck in such circumstances.

“Relay the order—withdraw! Cavalry to cover the retreat! All troops fall back to Eagle’s Pass!” With his view obstructed, Li Guang could not see what was happening at the rear, but hearing the horn alone told him how dire the situation was. As a battle-hardened general, he swiftly issued the command.

“Yes, sir!” The captain immediately moved to execute the order.

In the gourd-shaped battlefield, the branch of the relay road running nearly vertically through the center was now swarming with Xiongnu cavalry, forming a thick column and howling as they charged the Han rear—numbering at least four to five thousand!

They came from the direction of Duoke.

That was the route where Li Xi, the deputy general of Shanggu, was supposed to intercept the Xiongnu cavalry.

These Xiongnu riders should have been engaged with Li Xi’s Han troops, yet here they were, appearing unexpectedly on this battlefield.

At the front of this formation, a middle-aged man clad in leather armor and sporting a stubbled chin was particularly striking. His skin was somewhat dark, radiating a rugged vigor, and his eyes were sharp and bright. Remarkably, in the Xiongnu ranks, he carried the aura of nobility.

There was no doubt—this man was their leader.

“Zuogu Du Hou, take your men into the Han rear, guard the mountain pass, and let not a single Han soldier through!” the leader commanded a Xiongnu officer brimming with martial energy.

“Understood!” Zuogu Du Hou accepted the order and led his riders away.

After Zuogu Du Hou departed, the leader drew his long blade and shouted toward the Han formation:

“Warriors, kill! Slay Li Guang! Break into Qiansang! The women, money, and livestock of the Han are all ours!”

The remaining Xiongnu cavalry, taking the command, howled like wolves and charged toward the nearby Han troops.

...

Han soldiers across the battlefield, whether guards or infantry, began to contract and retreat.

But attacking is easy; retreating is difficult, especially when both sides are locked in a melee with no clear victor.

Fortunately, Li Guang led his cavalry in covering the withdrawal, making the situation somewhat manageable. However, when the Xiongnu cavalry from the branch road surged in, Li Guang had to split his remaining force of nearly a thousand riders into two groups—one to cover the rear, the other to intercept the incoming Xiongnu. Only by doing so could the infantry have a chance to retreat; otherwise, once formation broke, infantry facing cavalry would be slaughtered.

But now, could these thousands of Han soldiers still break out and escape?