Chapter 14: The Sheep Robs the Tiger

Chen Cong sighed silently. Although he acknowledged the logic in Chen Qun’s strategy, he could not bring himself to feel happy about it.

Since when could letting two wolves tear each other apart in one’s own home be called "watching the tigers fight from the mountain"?

Shuofang! Wuyuan! These were all territories of Bingzhou. As long as they were legally part of Bingzhou, they all belonged under his governance! None of the nine commanderies of Bingzhou could be an exception.

Indeed, as the Central Plains dynasty waned, the territory of Bingzhou had been largely encroached upon by foreign tribes, including Shuofang, Wuyuan, Yunzhong, half of Dingxiang, Shang, and Xihe commanderies. But what did that matter? Chen Cong happened to want those bloodthirsty barbarians to get reacquainted with the iron cavalry of the Han people.

As dust rose in the distance, Chen Cong whistled for his steed, Jueying. Swinging into the saddle, he commanded, "Form up!"

Eighteen hundred iron cavalrymen mounted their horses and fell into formation within twenty breaths.

"The flying cavalry currently guarding the camp near Hangu Pass shall be placed under the unified command of Zhongde," Chen Cong ordered.

Cheng Yu dropped the black go piece from his hand, stood up, cupped his hands, and replied solemnly, "Understood."

"Zihe, take three hundred cavalry to flank the formation. Once the battle begins, do not let a single person escape."

Cao Chun gripped his spear, eyes full of excitement. "Understood!"

"The rest follow me!" Chen Cong said, spurring Jueying forward. The troops let out a unified shout and charged after him.

As the iron cavalry bore down, a tall, sturdy man wielding a large axe grew increasingly uneasy. He leaned toward the middle-aged man beside him and said, "General Yang, these men do not look like private retainers of noble houses; they look like battle-hardened elites."

"Do not worry, Gongming. Our brothers have already scouted them. These men are guarding beauties and fine horses, with grain carts laden with cloth trailing behind—there is no military discipline to speak of. They must be the private retainers of some cowardly nobles, decked out in expensive gear. It is merely a facade; nothing to fear."

The middle-aged man pointed toward Hua Xiong at the front. "When the fighting starts, Gongming, you need only provoke the leader and strike him down. This band of slave-soldiers will collapse on its own."

The tall man nodded gravely.

Meanwhile, Chen Cong was observing these Baibo rebels. There were roughly five thousand of them. To put it in one word: they were beggars—clothed in rags, gaunt-faced, and wielding nothing but sticks and clubs. He could not fathom how a group of beggars had the audacity to waylay him.

The only one worth noting was the sallow-faced giant standing by the leader. He stood about eight feet tall, carried a nine-foot splitting axe, and had a broad, powerful build. He looked like he had some real skill.

Chen Cong spurred his horse forward, positioning himself at the front of his line. Raising his Flying Tiger halberd, he shouted, "You ignorant thieves, how dare you obstruct my army?"

To his surprise, the sallow-faced man did not even look at him. He rode out of the formation, pointed his axe directly at Hua Xiong, and demanded, "You there, have you heard the name Xu Huang of Hedong?"

Chen Cong fell silent. He was well aware of Xu Huang, one of the Five Elite Generals, but he had not expected to encounter him here—perhaps he could capture him for his own use. However, while he, the renowned "Chen the Invincible," recognized the man, the blind Xu Huang clearly did not recognize him.

Cheng Zhuo fell silent. The fourteen hundred iron cavalrymen behind him were also speechless, frozen on their horses, their expressions indescribably strange.

As for Hua Xiong, who had been challenged by Xu Huang, he stood with his mouth agape, eyes wide, a grin spreading across his face. He had finally vented the frustration he had been bottling up for days. So what if Chen the Invincible was the best in the world? Was he as mighty and imposing as Hua Xiong? As he looked at Xu Huang, a flicker of genuine appreciation crossed his eyes.

Heroes recognize heroes, and this was no exception!

Hua Xiong raised his blade and spurred his horse forward. "I am Hua Xiong, Cavalry Commandant under the Grand Tutor! Come to your death!"

Xu Huang did not hesitate and charged with his axe. The two warriors collided, locked in a fierce struggle, neither gaining the upper hand.

Chen Cong, uninterested in their duel, waved his halberd and surged into the rebel ranks. Against such beggar-soldiers, tactics were superfluous. He did not even need the strength of his Flying Bear troops; with his own prowess, he cut through the enemy ranks like a reaper.

Seeing this, his cavalry did not pause. They bypassed the two dueling generals and launched a direct charge. With the commander occupied, the subordinates’ lack of discipline mattered little to this iron force. Cheng Zhuo roared, "Lower spears! Charge!"

Cold steel flashed. In less than twenty breaths, the flying cavalry had pierced through the rebel formation. There was no need to count—they had suffered no casualties.

As they pulled their horses back to reform, Cheng Zhuo prepared to order another charge, but the rebels had already lost their nerve. They shrieked, dropped their wooden clubs, sickles, and shovels, and fled in a wild, disorganized scramble.

Against such a headless swarm, no orders were needed. The Flying Bear soldiers unslung their powerful bows and pursued, mowing down another thousand men in moments.

The Baibo rebels had risen from the Yellow Turbans, and the Yellow Turbans had risen from the starving masses. Chen Cong always maintained a shred of mercy for his fellow countrymen. As the enemy scattered, he shouted, "Those who kneel and surrender shall not die!"

Those who heard him and knelt survived. As for those too terrified to stop running, their deaths were their own fault.

Chen Cong had never been a soft-hearted man. From the moment they chose to take up arms, they had accepted the law of the jungle: the strong survive and the weak perish. Moreover, in these chaotic times, there were no truly innocent people. Survival was their excuse for rebellion, but when they raised their blades, the ones who suffered most were the common folk, who were just as desperate to survive as they were.