Chapter 73: God of Slaughter

The two of them had not waited long before Li Zicheng galloped back in haste. His face was stricken with panic as he spoke, “The Banner Battalion has been defeated. They’re ten miles to the north, being hunted down by Tartar cavalry.”

At the news of the defeat, Shi Kefa’s expression changed dramatically. Li Yi furrowed his brow and pressed on, “What about the Tartars? What’s their situation?”

“I saw the Harasu Lance and the banners of the Tumote Royal Household. It must be the descendants of Boshot Khan. I only caught a glimpse, but there are at least a hundred armored cavalry and several hundred elite troops. The rest are ordinary herdsmen, nearly a thousand in total.”

The Harasu Lance was a symbol of Mongolia—its name in Mongolian meant ‘long spear’, representing the god of war, a token of conflict and strength. Boshot Khan was the Ming-bestowed Prince of Shunyi, and Li Zicheng recognized the royal insignia.

Upon hearing there were several hundred elite cavalry, Shi Kefa’s heart plunged into the abyss. If it were only ordinary Mongol tribes riding south, they might rely on their fortifications and the terrain to hold out, but against seasoned armored horsemen, victory was impossible.

Li Zicheng understood this well. He spoke in a low voice, “Yi, we should retreat. Sui Jin Town cannot be held.”

Li Yi gazed at the endless stream of fleeing townsfolk, his brow knit tighter. The old man whom Li Yi had previously rescued passed by, leading his grandson and granddaughter. He wanted to approach and offer his gratitude, but upon hearing the officers might abandon Sui Jin Town, his face turned ashen with fear.

“Sir, you can’t leave us. If you retreat, the Tartars will soon catch up with us. My son and daughter-in-law are already gone. I can’t let my grandchildren die at the hands of the Tartars too.”

The cries of the old man awakened the others. Nearly a thousand refugees surrounded Li Yi and his companions, kneeling and wailing, imploring the soldiers not to abandon them. Mothers clutching infants wailed, those who had lost loved ones wiped their eyes, and all the refugees wore faces of despair.

They could not outrun Tartar cavalry. If captured, the old, weak, and sick would be slaughtered outright; women and able-bodied men would be taken to the steppe as slaves, never to return home again.

Moved by compassion, many of the local militia grew misty-eyed, their noses tingling with grief. Shi Kefa trembled as he looked at the desperate faces imploring him, then turned back to Li Yi.

Everyone’s gaze fell upon the young Li Yi, for they knew that only he could save them now.

Li Yi silently surveyed the dense crowd of refugees. Their hair was tangled, faces gaunt—a single campaign had utterly destroyed what little they had clung to. If he turned his back now, only death and despair awaited them.

He stepped forward, helping the old man to his feet, gently tousling the children’s hair as if coming to a decision.

Turning toward Shi Kefa, Li Yi said resolutely, “Sir, grant me full discretionary command. Both the guard units and the Banner Battalion must heed my orders.”

Shi Kefa nodded, “You are in command for this battle, over me as well. All authority—life and death—is yours.”

“This fight will be dangerous. I need weapons and military supplies—artillery if possible.”

“The Banner Battalion’s supplies will arrive soon, all at your disposal. As for artillery, I’ll send someone to find what can be had.”

Having gained what he needed, Li Yi vaulted into the saddle. “If that’s settled, I’ll go meet the Tartars. Strengthen the defenses and await my return.”

With that, he spurred his horse north.

Galloping ten miles, Li Yi soon caught sight of the Banner Battalion’s soldiers fleeing in chaos. They had abandoned their armor and helmets, terror plain on their faces. When they saw Li Yi approach on horseback, some even tried to seize his mount and escape.

Wielding his Tiger Fang spear, Li Yi struck down several men, forcing his way through the scattered crowd, heading straight for the distant billows of dust.

Atop the hill, he saw a hundred-odd soldiers being relentlessly pursued by Tartar cavalry. One after another, men fell to the ground, struck from behind. Yet, as they wore padded armor, most were only wounded, not killed outright.

Li Yi watched a moment—there were no armored cavalrymen in sight. The elite troops must be farther back, maintaining the marching order and guarding against ambush.

Seeing this, Li Yi wasted no time, urging his horse down the slope.

A hundred paces was but a fleeting moment for a charging steed.

With a shout, Li Yi thrust the Tiger Fang spear, knocking aside a Tartar’s lance and saving a Banner soldier.

“Help up the wounded and retreat! I’ll hold them off.”

With that command, Li Yi drove his spear into a Tartar’s chest, lifting the man from his saddle and sending him crashing into the riders behind. Then, pressing his horse forward, he drew the Tartars’ attention, his spear flashing coldly as he dispatched several in an instant.

The Tartar cavalry, startled by this sudden demon of battle, broke off their pursuit of the Banner soldiers and drew their bows to shoot.

Arrows whistled past Li Yi’s ears. He knocked several away, but a few stuck in his padded armor. Roaring, he charged alone into the Tartar ranks.

The Tartars, enraged, rushed to meet him head-on.

Horse at full gallop, Li Yi swung his right arm, the sharp spear blade slicing mercilessly through a Tartar at the waist. The air filled with the stench of blood. He yanked the reins, turning to strike left and right, the heavy Tiger Fang spear shattering weapons and crushing foes, leaving them spitting blood in the dust.

Several Tartar cavalry surrounded him, riding hard and drawing their bows. Li Yi pierced one through the chest; as he turned to fight again, an arrow struck his shoulder, forcing a grunt from his lips. Snapping the shaft, he roared, swinging his spear to sever several arms, then spurred his horse to break their chests, blood frothing from their mouths.

The fleeing Banner soldiers watched, stunned. They had seen battle and slaughter before, but never such ferocity. A dozen Tartar cavalry could not last a moment against this youth—they were slain to the last.

Li Yi rode back and forth, the Tiger Fang spear killing with each blow, unstoppable. Alone and mounted, he charged across the battlefield, throwing the Tartars into confusion. Horses collided, men shouted curses, raising their weapons as they watched Li Yi rampage, utterly at a loss.

Pointing his spear at the disordered Tartars, Li Yi laughed heartily. It had been too long since he’d fought so freely. With the Ai family or bandits, he had always held back, but today—today he wanted only to slaughter without restraint.

How many must be driven mad by this wretched world before it is satisfied?

Arrows rained from the sky. Li Yi knocked aside those aimed for his face; the rest clattered harmlessly from his armor. These Tartar horsemen were little more than mounted herdsmen, their arrows crude, tipped with stone or bone.

“Dog of Ming...”

A bearded Tartar bellowed, brandishing a spiked club as he charged.

Li Yi pulled hard on the reins, leaning back to evade, but just as he tried to rise again, his wounded horse collapsed, blood pouring from its mouth and nose.

Caught off guard, Li Yi rolled free. Several spears stabbed toward him in a flurry.

He kicked one aside, sprang to his feet, and swept his spear in a ruthless arc, slitting several Tartars’ throats.

Before he could react, the bearded Tartar returned astride his powerful warhorse, striking Li Yi’s spear shaft with a tremendous blow.

With the horse’s weight behind it, the strike numbed Li Yi’s hand, tearing the Tiger Fang spear from his grasp. The surrounding Tartars cheered wildly.

They had been terrified by Li Yi’s killing spree, but seeing him lose his weapon, their spirits soared.

Yet what happened next left them dumbstruck.

Unarmed, Li Yi did not panic or flee. Instead, eyes wide with fury, he rushed the bearded Tartar and toppled the massive warhorse.

This was an Arabian steed, brought from the riverside, powerful and weighing seven or eight hundred pounds—yet it was overturned in an instant.

The bearded Tartar fell, struggling to rise, but Li Yi seized him by the throat.

Without mercy, Li Yi gripped the man’s head in both hands and, before all the watching Tartars, snapped his neck with a brutal twist, leaving him limp on the ground.

Breathing heavily, Li Yi glared coldly at the surrounding cavalry, his eyes glacial. For a moment, none dared meet his gaze.

The powerful warhorse staggered to its feet. Li Yi leapt into the saddle, galloped forward, snatched up the Tiger Fang spear in a graceful sweep, and rode away.

Of the remaining hundreds of Tartar cavalry, not one dared to pursue.

Only when Li Yi’s figure had faded into the distance did they finally exhale, their hearts pounding with dread.

Back at Sui Jin Town, some Banner Battalion soldiers had already returned, the rest trickling in, helping one another in groups of three or five.

Dismounting, Li Yi shook the blood from his spear and walked forward slowly. Even he was weary after such a fight.

Shi Kefa came to meet him, his concern plain. “Li Yi, are you all right?”

Li Yi shook his head and took a cloth to wipe the blood from his face and hands.

“How many Banner soldiers have you gathered?”

Shi Kefa sighed, “Only one hundred and seventy-three. The rest were either killed or captured by the Tartars.”

Hearing that just one hundred seventy-three had returned, Li Yi frowned.

“The Tartars are regrouping. In less than a quarter of an hour, they’ll attack.”

Li Yi drained a cup of tea, looked over at the guard soldiers, and gritted his teeth. “As things stand, we must defend to the death and hope that Deputy Governor Hong sends reinforcements. But first, we need silver.”

“Silver?” Shi Kefa was momentarily taken aback.

Li Yi nodded. “Soldiers don’t fight on an empty stomach. If we want to win, we must first raise morale and let them know why they are fighting.”

He looked at Shi Kefa. “Surely you don’t think they’ll fight to the death out of loyalty to the court alone?”

Shi Kefa looked embarrassed and shook his head. “I am no pedant. Money moves men’s hearts. I’ll gather funds, provisions, and cloth for military rewards and supplies.”

“Please see to it at once, sir. The outcome of this battle depends on it.”

With that, Li Yi went to address the guard soldiers.

Five hundred guards were bound with rope, watching Li Yi with fear.

“Officers of the rank of squad leader and above, step forward.”

There was confusion among the guards—they didn’t know what Li Yi intended.

“I won’t repeat myself. Squad leaders and above—step out.”

Trembling, more than twenty officers emerged from the ranks.

“Come with me.”

The officers, stiff with dread, followed Li Yi into a courtyard.

Liu Zongmin and Liu Dayong drew their sabers in a flash, blocking the exit.

The officers were terrified—some fell to their knees, pleading, “Spare us, sir! Spare us!”

Li Yi stepped forward, his tone cold. “Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of harming you. I simply want to discuss a deal.”

“A deal?”

The officers were baffled. One centurion mustered his courage: “What does sir require?”

“This battle is of great import. Deputy Governor Hong attaches utmost importance to it. I want you gentlemen to lead your men in battle and fight bravely.”

Hearing this, the officers all let out a sigh of relief. The centurion bowed deeply. “Rest assured, sir—we will keep our men in line and follow your commands.”