Chapter Seventy-Five: No Mercy for the Wicked!-Bone Grafting(Dominance)

Qin Cheng, Li Guang, and the others rode at the very front of the column, speaking loudly—much louder than usual. Even the soldiers behind them could hear their voices. Whether it made much difference was beside the point; after all, even a rumor passed from mouth to mouth was better than silence. This was nothing more than a whim of Qin Cheng’s, a spur-of-the-moment impulse.

When the three finished speaking, they burst into laughter together. After the laughter, Li Guang and Qin Cheng exchanged a knowing glance. That look was unfathomable. Its meaning went far beyond their conversation—it was a tacit understanding about the battle to come.

All those in the company were cavalry; their pace was swift. After marching for barely an hour, they arrived at Old Horse Plain. North of Old Horse Plain, the terrain grew flatter, with a main road running straight to the Great Wall, the land nearly all gently rolling grassland and low hills. Of the five Xiongnu cavalry groups riding south, two were just north of Old Horse Plain, not far away.

At that moment, a single rider galloped from the north of Old Horse Plain. He appeared to be a sentry from the fort. Spotting the army standing on the plain, he shouted loudly, “Is General Li here?”

Li Hu rode forward and called, “General Li is here! Who are you?”

Hearing Li Hu’s reply, the sentry shouted “Report!” several times, then hurried up to the group. Dismounting, he reported to Li Guang, “General Li, Xiongnu cavalry are attacking Little Hua Town. I’ve been sent to request your urgent assistance!”

Little Hua Town was a small settlement a hundred li north of Old Horse Plain, garrisoned by a single battalion. The town wasn’t large, but it had a fortress where soldiers and civilians could take shelter from Xiongnu cavalry attacks. When the Xiongnu raided, the people retreated into the fort; when they withdrew, life resumed as usual. This was a tactic borrowed from the famed general Li Mu of the Warring States, adopted in Shanggu to minimize loss of life and property. Such a method could save lives and some possessions, but buildings and crops inevitably suffered.

Upon hearing the sentry’s report, Qin Cheng and the others first noted the speed of the Xiongnu cavalry. Li Guang turned to Qin Cheng, saying, “Qin Lang, as we agreed, you are to command the operations in this campaign. If needed, I’ll confer with you. What do you advise we do now?”

Li Guang spoke true; before setting out, the two had reached several agreements in the command tent, not just this one. To properly train Qin Cheng to be a leader capable of facing the Xiongnu, Li Guang was willing to relinquish authority and invest great effort.

Though Qin Cheng was a Cavalry Captain and commanded the camp’s cavalry, in principle he still answered to Li Guang in battle. Ultimately, Li Guang was the chief commander of Shanggu’s three armies.

“Please wait, General, let me ask further details.” Qin Cheng clasped his fists and asked the sentry, “Tell me, how many Xiongnu cavalry are besieging Little Hua Town, when did they arrive, do you recognize their leader, and before you came, did you receive warnings of attacks on nearby forts?”

“There are about four hundred Xiongnu cavalry. They arrived at Little Hua Town just as I was sent out to report; it’s been half an hour since. I’ve never seen their leader before. Before I left, we received warning from Yangzi Ravine—that place was also attacked by Xiongnu cavalry. But before our sentries could return with news, we ourselves were attacked, so I don’t know Yangzi Ravine’s exact situation.” The sentry spoke clearly, laying out the events in detail.

Yangzi Ravine was another small town, west of Little Hua Fort, nearly two hundred li away.

Qin Cheng listened attentively, then said to Li Guang, “In my opinion, the army should not divide. Let us first eliminate the Xiongnu at Little Hua Fort, then move on to Yangzi Ravine. Also, send out scouts in every direction for fifty li, to guard against Xiongnu tricks. Monitor closely the route to Little Hua Town, and leave a unit of light cavalry in reserve for potential retreat.”

“Concentrating the whole force is the best way to respond to sudden developments. Qin Lang’s thinking is thorough. We’ll proceed as he suggests,” Li Guang agreed.

Qin Cheng’s plan seemed overly cautious, but with five Xiongnu cavalry groups moving, he couldn’t risk the unknown forces that might lurk behind them. At this moment, Qin Cheng could not afford defeat; his newly trained heavy and light cavalry could not withstand a setback.

“Pass the orders—light cavalry rear unit stays behind as sentinels, main force advances at full speed to Little Hua Town!” Qin Cheng commanded solemnly.

Flags waved, horns sounded, and the messengers rushed to relay the orders.

“Light cavalry rear unit stays behind as sentinels, main force advances at full speed to Little Hua Town!”

“Let’s go meet these Xiongnu brats and see how our new cavalry performs!” Li Guang roared, charging forward at the head of the column.

“We wait with anticipation!” Qin Cheng laughed heartily, his spirits rising.

No matter what, the cavalry he had forged would finally see battle. How could his heart not be stirred? After all, they were three thousand Han cavalry against four hundred Xiongnu.

The whole force sped away from Old Horse Plain, and in less than a quarter hour, a thick column of smoke rose on the northern horizon.

All hearts tightened at the sight.

“That’s the direction of Little Hua Town. Soldiers, follow me and cut down these wretched Xiongnu!” Li Guang shouted, rallying the troops behind him into a tumult of battle cries.

Flames soared skyward!

Approaching Little Hua Town, Qin Cheng and the others led the charge. They could see clearly: the town’s houses were ablaze, fields of unharvested crops ringed by fire.

Half the sky glowed crimson!

This time, the Xiongnu were truly ruthless. Although they often raided south, rarely did they burn homes, much less crops. The Xiongnu knew not to exhaust the land, not to annihilate everything—if they wanted something to pillage the following year, they had to leave something behind.

But this time was different.

“Scoundrels!” Li Guang cursed bitterly, unable to restrain himself.

The army galloped over the undulating grasslands. As they neared Little Hua Town, Qin Cheng decisively gave orders.

“Scouts, spread out!”

“Light cavalry front left, flank on the left; light cavalry front right, flank on the right. Use bows to shoot; prevent their escape, avoid close combat!”

The light cavalry had trained only three or four months; they were competent with bows, but in close quarters, it would be suicide.

“Light cavalry left, ride toward Yangzi Ravine for thirty li. If enemy approaches, shoot with bows—retreat immediately after arrows are spent. Do not engage in close combat!”

“Heavy cavalry, advance at full speed!”

As Qin Cheng issued each command, responses came swiftly and firmly. Orders were obeyed without question.

The heavy cavalry moved slower, but as they approached, the light cavalry completed their flanking maneuvers.

Little Hua Town, neither large nor small, was engulfed in flames—seven out of ten houses burned. Around the fort gathered Xiongnu cavalry, apparently waiting for the soldiers and civilians inside to be driven out by the heat, so they could slaughter them all.

These Xiongnu, braving the arrows from the fort, sheltered behind small shields, and managed to pile up firewood outside. Now it was aflame—their aim was to smoke and roast the people out!

Vile outsiders!

Qin Cheng and Li Guang rode at the fore. When they reached charging distance, Qin Cheng drew his long blade, pointed it at the Xiongnu cavalry who had begun to react, and shouted,

“Those who dare defy the might of China—kill without mercy!”

“Kill!”

...

The battalion commander of Little Hua Town was called Shan Jia. Born into poverty, he’d rarely had a full meal before age thirteen. At twelve, though his family had always farmed, he somehow acquired a battered hunting bow and ventured alone into the deep mountains. He stayed a day and a night, nearly dying there; when he emerged, he bore a deep scar across his face and carried a small wild rabbit. From then on, with only his mother alive, he went into the mountains daily—sometimes returning empty-handed, sometimes dragging back small prey. At night, under the moon, he helped his mother with accumulated farm chores.

At thirteen, he spent three days in the mountains. Ordinary folk who disappeared for three days were surely dead. On the fourth day, he emerged dragging a mid-sized wild wolf, bloodied, shocking the whole village. From then on, Shan Jia never went hungry again. Life improved daily.

But good times were brief. Three or four years later, when the Xiongnu raided, his mother was injured, nearly killed. Once she recovered, Shan Jia volunteered for frontier duty. Though lacking formal martial training, he relied on fierce determination and a hunter’s cunning. Within three years, he was battalion commander.

Today, Shan Jia turned twenty.

He didn't remember his own birthday, but his mother did. No matter how poor, she always found a way to get him an egg for his birthday. When Shan Jia joined the army, his mother told him: “No matter how far you go, no matter what you become, never forget your roots, never forget your birthday.”

As he grew, Shan Jia understood: remembering his birthday was not just about himself, but about all the hardships his mother endured. Since enlisting, every year he’d make sure to eat an egg on this day, raw or cooked.

Today, having just bought an egg, he received warning from Yangzi Ravine. Cautious, he ordered the town’s soldiers and civilians into the fort. Thankfully, they made it in time; when the Xiongnu arrived, most had already taken shelter.

Of course, there were exceptions. When Shan Jia rushed out to rescue a filthy, sobbing child stranded in the open, several Xiongnu cavalry charged at him, blades raised. In the end, Shan Jia, at the cost of a deep gash on his arm, slew three of them and carried the terrified child safely into the fort.

But when the Xiongnu, shielded from arrows, risked losing a dozen men to pile up firewood outside the fort, Shan Jia’s eyes burned red with rage. Yet, aside from archers, the defenders had nothing else to strike back with. This was a new tactic; the Xiongnu had never done such a thing before, and Shan Jia had no ready counterplan. After all, dozens of Xiongnu archers stood right outside.

Unable to bear it, Shan Jia hefted a large shield and summoned a dozen strong soldiers. “We’re dead anyway. Come with me and cut down these Xiongnu fiends!”

“Sir!” The soldiers, long itching for action, followed Shan Jia—two men per shield—and charged out the gate.

Shan Jia led the charge; dozens of arrows slammed into his makeshift shield—a door plank—but he only staggered back a step before steadying himself. With a mighty heave, he hurled the plank forward like a thousand-pound weight, smashing into the Xiongnu outside and sending two or three men spitting blood.

With the plank thrown, he broke their line. Seizing the moment, Shan Jia pressed forward behind his heavy shield, thrusting his spear—another scream echoed.

The strongest soldiers surrounded Shan Jia, staying close to the gate, hiding behind shields, spears deadlier than venom. Heavy shields blocked arrows; spears held off cavalry. The ambush was tight and unexpected—several Xiongnu cavalry fell within moments.

After Shan Jia’s charge, more soldiers with shields rushed out, splitting left and right, hacking at Xiongnu who tried to flank Shan Jia or piled wood under the walls.

In the span of twenty breaths, twenty Xiongnu fell. Shan Jia, at the center, bore the brunt, but with spear and blade, shielded, he slew five or six cavalry himself without serious injury.

After twenty breaths, the Xiongnu outside regrouped from brief chaos and formed ranks again.

Seeing the opportunity, Shan Jia called, “Retreat!” The group covered each other, withdrawing back into the fort. As Shan Jia was about to step inside, a soldier beside him was hit in the thigh by an arrow and collapsed.

Three or four Xiongnu closed in; Shan Jia swung his shield in a circle, bellowing, scattering them, then grabbed the wounded soldier and tossed him inside like a chick.

The Xiongnu, having retreated a step, rushed forward again—four blades slashed at Shan Jia!

He blocked two with his shield, parried two with his blade, then swept his sword across two Xiongnu chests, spraying blood. Before the others could follow, he sliced the throats of the two by his shield. About to slip through the gate, he felt a sudden gust behind him. Without thinking, he shoved his shield backward, arms trembling as if to break—he saw a cavalryman charging, his shield crashing into the horse and toppling it.

Stepping inside, Shan Jia flung his blade, driving it into the cavalryman’s chest.

Slamming the gate shut, he could still hear Xiongnu shouting anxiously about a “centurion.”

In that skirmish, they lost one man, seven wounded, but killed over twenty Xiongnu—no small victory. Yet, Shan Jia and his men could not rejoice.

Having gone out once, they couldn’t risk another sortie. Now, all they could do was wait for reinforcements or prepare for death.

After a moment’s silence, one of the soldiers who’d fought with him thumped his chest. “I killed one myself—worth it!”

“I took down two—came out ahead!” another burly man boasted.

Shan Jia looked around at the soldiers and civilians, declaring resolutely, “Don’t lose heart. General Li and General Qin have already sent troops to rescue us—they’ll be here soon. When they arrive, we’ll charge out together and slaughter these scoundrels!”

“Really?”

“Is the commander telling the truth?”

The crowd was both delighted and doubtful.

“It’s true!” Shan Jia assured them. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Good!” A cheer went up.

Shan Jia gazed at them, a bitter ache welling in his heart. He wondered whether General Li and General Qin had actually dispatched troops.

He reached for his waist, only to touch something wet—the egg was already crushed in the earlier fight.

Before long, the firewood outside was ablaze. The fort walls were thick, but could not withstand such intense heat for long. After more than half an hour, the temperature inside rose steadily. Sweat poured from everyone, their bodies feverish; many stripped off shirts, revealing red, overheated skin.

At this point, the people kept asking Shan Jia when rescue would arrive. He could only urge them to hold on, promising help was imminent.

Standing at the window, Shan Jia’s anxiety gradually settled into calm.

This time, there would be no rescue.

Seeing nearly all the town’s houses burned, even the fields outside engulfed, Shan Jia looked toward home, wondering how his mother was faring.

Just as Shan Jia hovered on the edge of despair, amid the crackling flames and Xiongnu cheers, a distant rumble of hooves began to sound.

Yes—hooves!

Shan Jia’s heart leapt, his eyes widening.

Then, in the distance beyond the town, he saw a wave of cavalry riding toward them, at the very front...