Chapter 83: Piercing Through the Flying Bear

"Kill!"

With a shrill neigh, Chen Cong gave a hard tug on the reins. The Ferghana steed reared, hooves pawing at the night air, and in the instant its forelegs struck earth, it shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Ten paces behind, Pan Feng and Sun Ce spurred after him. Their place connected the vanguard to both wings, at a point where the formation had yet to fully unfurl—meant to support the front, not bear the brunt. It was the safest post in the tiger formation.

Neither man had wished to take such a position, but the rest had already claimed all the danger for themselves.

Liu Bei and Yue Jin followed in their wake, the wings slowly spreading outwards.

Ji Ling and Cao Hong rode behind them.

Then Yan Liang and Xiahou Dun.

Next, Guan Yu and Wen Chou.

And finally, as the formation unfurled to its full width, Zhang Fei and Xu Chu took their place at the very ends of the wings. These two faced not only the enemy ahead but also had to guard their flanks, for as their horses wove through the ranks, they needed to beware of foes who might wheel back with a sudden arrow from behind.

With the array fully extended, the distance between Zhang Fei and Xu Chu stretched to over fifty paces—far beyond the reach of mutual support except for those with prodigious skill at archery. Only Chen Cong at the tip of the spear rode in greater peril.

Yet fear was absent from their faces, replaced by a ferocious, unbridled fighting spirit.

...

Two hundred paces. One hundred. Fifty. Twenty.

Niu Fu could not fathom how a mere thirteen men had overturned a camp guarded by two thousand armored cavalry.

But the instant he saw the leader’s face, he almost called out to urge surrender.

For all of Chen Cong’s valor, how could thirteen challenge two thousand of the Flying Bear Cavalry?

Yet—

A gigantic axe, terrifying in its weight, spun through the air, scraping past Niu Fu’s cheek and burying itself in the skull of a horse beside him.

As Chen Cong thundered past, Niu Fu was transfixed by those cold, impassive eyes.

No joy, no sorrow—only the lofty indifference of a god gazing down upon the mortal world.

As if he did not even recognize him...

Chen Cong vaulted from his saddle, seized his axe, and with a single backhand sweep, cleaved four men in half. Against such monstrous strength, even rhino-hide armor was little more than a cruel jest.

Niu Fu managed to recover, bellowing, “Crossbows!”

In the darkness, crossbow bolts flew silent and swift.

The Flying Bears, veterans all, aimed not at armored men but at the horses.

In a moment, Chen Cong’s Ferghana steed was riddled like a sieve.

As he fell, Chen Cong reached out, snatched the neck of a passing horse, and swung himself up onto its back like an ape leaping to a branch.

The unlucky rider he displaced was trampled to pulp beneath the hooves of the charging cavalry.

Even as he wheeled his new mount, Chen Cong slung his axe, drew his bow, and loosed an arrow, the string singing to a full moon’s arc.

A flash—the arrow found a chest behind and to the side.

Sun Ce, riding in the next rank, blinked in astonishment.

The man Chen Cong had just shot was raising his crossbow, aiming directly at Sun Ce.

“Don’t just stand there!”

The cold rebuke cut through the thunder of hooves.

Sun Ce snapped back to himself, spun his spear, and swept two enemy riders from their mounts.

A grin flickered on his lips as he called out, “Aye!” and, seizing the moment, lunged to skewer an enemy officer. Just then, the gleam of the Tai’e sword flashed before him, and with a start he jerked his elbow, knocking the butt of his spear against his own helmet. The spearhead whipped past Niu Fu’s helm by a hair’s breadth, and in the same motion, he skewered another rider.

Though the Tiger Cub’s legend was yet unwritten, already he showed signs of a predator’s might.

Niu Fu: ...

So that sword really could save a life?

He had half a mind to let Chen Cong go, but in a cruel twist, it was the very man’s blade that had just saved him...

Liu Bei, thrown from his horse, was plucked from the ground by Ji Ling, who swept past, decapitating an enemy with his double-bladed spear and leaving a riderless horse behind. Ji Ling then surged forward to fill Liu Bei’s place, pressing the attack.

Guan Yu hurled his long blade, saving Wen Chou from a spear to the head, then snatched up the attacker’s spear and continued his slaughter.

At the rear, the two brutes were in their element, killing with wild abandon—calling out to each other even from afar, competing over their feats.

One moment they would roar, the next growl like tigers, and sometimes sneer at one another with a jut of the chin.

Until Xu Chu, thrown down, landed mouth-first in the mud; Zhang Fei, giddy with triumph, snapped his own spear in his zeal.

Thick-skinned and iron-muscled, they each seized a fresh mount or weapon as needed, and when they finally drew abreast, though separated by fifty paces, they burst out laughing together.

On the battlefield, all the old grudges, the present slights, and the future betrayals were softened, rendered meaningless.

So long as they fought side by side, they shared a single name:

Brothers-in-arms.

No suspicion between them, no distinction of rank or worth, no one contemptuous of another.

Even if the day came when they parted ways and turned their swords against each other, this bond would never be lost.

Perhaps, at the bitter end of all things, when memories of bygone days surfaced unbidden, they would find in them a lingering warmth amid the chaos of a broken world.

...

Ten more paces, and Chen Cong burst through the enemy lines, leaving a trail of corpses in his wake.

He meant to lay about him with his axe once more, but saw that the riders before him were not foes—they were Gongsun Zan’s white cavalry.

His stony face broke into a wild grin as he shouted, “Gongsun White Horse! Is this how fierce you are? Ten thousand Liang cavalry, and you’ve cut down all but a squadron of Flying Bears—still chasing them off in flight?”

Gongsun Zan was about to retort, when behind, others of Chen Cong’s company rode out in ones and twos.

His jaw dropped in disbelief.

Though each of them bore wounds great or small, the Flying Bear Cavalry—whom ten thousand of his own could not break—had truly been shattered by only thirteen men?

Who, in heaven’s name, was truly the fierce one here?

And talk of drowning oneself, or casting a net to fish out survivors...

If Chen Cong could have read his thoughts, he would surely have explained.

After all, his imagined foe was a force of ten thousand Liang cavalry, mingled with several thousand Flying Bears. If he failed, slipping away by river was only sensible...

Gongsun Zan gathered himself and explained, “Li Jue, after bungling the formation, led nearly ten thousand men east to raid the main camp. Fearing for your safety, I came to your aid.”

Chen Cong felt a chill run down his spine.

Leaving aside Cao Cao—no, that’s his father-in-law, can’t leave him out—his own concubine was still in the camp!

Though she had nine guards, in such chaos, who could guarantee her safety?

At once, he spun his horse and rode back to the front lines, bow bent like a crescent moon.

He called out to Niu Fu, “General Niu! Will you fight on?”

Niu Fu’s courage had long since crumbled.

Thirteen men—there were only thirteen across from him!

Though he had not counted precisely, after one charge, the Flying Bears had lost no fewer than five hundred men.

Now, with these fierce warriors joined by the enemy cavalry, and Chen Cong’s arrow trained on his head, what reason could he have to keep fighting?

But he dared not say as much before his loyal Flying Bears, sworn to Dong Zhuo.

Clearing his throat, he replied diplomatically, “The Grand Preceptor ordered us to cover the retreat. Now, with our horses spent and our strength failing, if you do not press west, we will suspend the fight for now. But if you threaten the Grand Preceptor, we will fight to the death, our blood staining the field!”

The Flying Bears’ blood surged at these words, and they raised their lances and shouted as one:

“Fight to the death!”

“Fight to the death!”

“Fight to the death!”

Chen Cong understood.

For all the fine words, it meant just one thing: Abandon your comrades.

Official rhetoric was no obstacle for Chen Cong.

He called out in a deep voice, “Very well! I, Chen the Invincible, salute you as a true man. Today, let us cease our battle; another day, we’ll see who triumphs!”

Niu Fu snorted heavily, sheathed his precious sword, and led his men west.

With the camp lost and their spare horses gone, there was no point holding this ground.

Better to find a new place to make camp for the night.

A grizzled old Flying Bear caught up to Niu Fu and hesitantly asked, “With the commander leading the raid on the camp, if we yield Huko Pass, aren’t we cutting off his retreat?”

Niu Fu shot him a glare. “That fool ignored my counsel, rushed ahead for glory, and endangered the Grand Preceptor—he deserves whatever befalls him! What, do you want to let the enemy ride west, risking the Grand Preceptor’s safety?”

The old soldier instantly turned his horse and knelt. “I wouldn’t dare!”