Chapter 81: Unrivaled on All Sides

Armored cavalry roared and surged toward the line with wild cries, weapons flashing.

Both the garrison troops and the camp soldiers were pale with tension.

Some of the weaker-willed men sensed the danger and clutched their weapons so tightly that they wanted to retreat.

They knew full well that their lives would be decided in this battle.

Li Yi’s expression was cold; in his dark eyes gathered a harsh, murderous chill, like frozen flame poised to melt everything in its path.

"Bring them forward," he said softly.

At his order, several camp soldiers strained to wheel up two squat field guns.

Their hands brushed the rusted cannons as they stared at the frenzied armored horsemen charging in, their faces draining white.

"Prepare to fire."

The powder charges and wooden tamping plugs had already been loaded. The muzzles of the two guns pointed at the armored riders thundering down the passage, like the gaping jaws of some black beast, ready to unleash merciless slaughter.

Hooves thundered like muffled thunder; firelight glinted on weapons with an orange sheen.

The garrison troops, already suffering heavy losses, gripped their arms with trembling hands, hoping this might lend them courage. Yet as the elite armored cavalry came surging on, fear could no longer be contained on their faces, twisting them into helpless despair.

"Roar!"

The horsemen grew even more excited at the sight. They trampled over the bodies of their fallen comrades, flung out lariats to drag away the chevaux-de-frise, and opened a path for those behind them.

Just as the leading seventy armored riders, like savage beasts, were about to tear everyone apart, the shields behind Li Yi suddenly parted, revealing two dark cannon mouths.

The armored riders in front widened their eyes, faces contorted as they tried to cry out a warning, but it was too late.

The instant one of the riders opened his mouth, the powder was ignited, and the flame raced into the barrel to consume the charge.

Expanding violently, the air drove the wooden plug forward, then hurled the dense iron shot after it. More than a hundred pellets burst forth like a torrential rain, blanketing the charging armored cavalry.

A burst of blood erupted from the elite riders as one wound after another tore open in their bodies; they toppled to the ground, blood mist hanging in the air, the losses appalling.

The thunderous roar of the cannons also sent the warhorses into panic, whinnying and leaping in fear as they hurled their riders from the saddle.

When the smoke finally cleared, dozens of groaning horsemen and dead or dying mounts lay strewn across the ground. The rest were in complete disarray, staring at the line in terror.

"Artillery! The Ming have artillery!"

Seeing such a grisly scene, the rear ranks of half-armored cavalry were struck with fear, wheeled their horses, and began to fall back.

At that moment, the archers and javelin-throwers who had long been waiting sprang into action. Sharpened spears pierced the quilted armor of the half-armored riders; horrific wounds poured blood, and in an instant many men lay dead upon the ground.

Prince Batu had never dreamed the Ming army would actually have cannons.

The timing of the shot was viciously precise. The armored cavalry had bunched together in their charge formation, right within the range of grapeshot.

That single blast had killed or wounded at least forty armored riders, leaving them sprawled helplessly on the ground.

While Batu stared in a daze at the brutal battlefield, Buyan was the first to charge forward.

He reacted with remarkable speed and shouted, "Do not retreat! Charge! Charge! The Ming cannons must be reloading; they cannot fire again now!"

The hundred-man captain who had narrowly escaped death paid him no heed, whipping his horse and fleeing backward with all his might.

Buyan drew his bow and loosed an arrow that struck the captain full in the face.

The captain screamed and fell from the saddle.

Buyan lifted his bow high and cried, "Follow me! Slaughter them! Break through!"

Then he led dozens of half-armored riders who admired him and charged once more at the Ming line.

Li Yi had not expected the Tartars to react so quickly. He turned and shouted, "Hurry and reload!"

Without looking back, he charged toward Buyan’s cavalry.

Seeing Li Yi, Buyan’s eyes burned with hatred. He immediately drew three arrows and shot them at Li Yi.

His horse was at full gallop, and Li Yi sensed the danger with sharp instinct.

A whistling sound split the air; by reflex he swung the Tiger Fang Spear and knocked one arrow aside.

Feeling the heavy force of the impact, Li Yi was startled. Before he could recover, another arrow came flying in.

This one was slightly weaker than the first. Li Yi tilted his head, and the icy shaft brushed past his neck and vanished into the distance.

The moment Li Yi turned back, the third arrow slammed into his shoulder. Pain from torn muscle surged through his left shoulder, and Li Yi gave a muffled groan as bright blood poured from the wound.

Had his body not been jostling in the saddle just then, that arrow would have pierced his heart.

Surviving by a hair’s breadth left Li Yi drenched in cold sweat. Looking at the shaft buried in his left shoulder, he raised his head and fixed a cold stare on Buyan not far away.

Buyan looked at Li Yi in astonishment. He had never imagined the man could evade his three-arrow volley.

With that technique of shooting three arrows in succession, each one aimed at a vital point, he had killed more valiant warriors than he could count.

This was the first time he had missed.

The half-armored riders around them saw Li Yi wounded and immediately erupted in cheers, spurring their horses forward and charging in with weapons raised.

Facing the thirty half-armored men rushing in, Li Yi’s eyes were as cold as ice. He urged his horse forward, leaped ahead with all his strength, and drove his spear clean through one man’s chest, hurling him bodily away.

The surrounding riders closed in. Li Yi struck the spearhead aside with one blow, twisted his body to evade two broadswords, and at the instant the horses crossed paths, swept his spear blade across the neck of one rider.

Blood sprayed. One half-armored soldier had half his throat severed, his vacant head hanging by a thread from his neck as he lurched sideways and crashed to the ground.

The remaining riders bellowed and wheeled back to fight again, but Li Yi did not yield. With a fierce roar, his tall warhorse slammed hard into the mount of a half-armored rider.

Amid the violent lurching, Li Yi seized one of them with his left hand and, enduring the pain of the arrow wound, hurled him away.

The Tiger Fang Spear gave a tiger’s howl. Its sharp point pierced one man’s chest; then, with a sweeping withdrawal, it severed another man’s neck.

Blood spattered across the cold iron armor. Li Yi and the half-armored cavalry were locked in desperate combat, roars and screams tangled together, while the stench of blood hung over the whole battlefield.

The cold east wind blew harder and harder. The last remnant of sunset sank entirely below the horizon, and the dim night curtain covered all beneath it, while only firelight burned in their eyes.

Li Yi sat upright on horseback and slowly withdrew toward the line. Behind him lay a field of half-armored corpses, their congealed blood whipped into ice by the bitter wind. In that eerie hue, reflected in their cold, vacant eyes, everything seemed both cruel and beautiful.

The garrison troops and the local militia burst into thunderous cheers.

They gazed with boundless admiration at the figure returning in bloodstained armor, bold and unbowed. Their fear of the armored cavalry was gone; instead, a fervent will to fight rose like a tide, shaking the hearts of the distant horsemen and sapping their morale.

Li Yi stood proudly before the line, looking down upon the Tartars in the distance. He raised high his bloodied Tiger Fang Spear and hurled a long battle cry at them.

The officers and soldiers followed at once, all of them letting out tremendous roars to challenge the Tartars far away.

Batu’s face darkened. To him, this challenge from the government troops was the deepest humiliation.

He could not accept his own defeat, still less endure being beaten by a rabble.