Chapter 114: Yiwu Commandery, Yanmen Commandery

As Zhao Wei conducted his inspection and gave his speech, the morale within his troops gradually steadied, and the soldiers began to nurture a hopeful optimism about the outcome of the battle. Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the battlefield, Chai Huaixing convened a pre-battle mobilization meeting with his divisional commanders.

“This is the first test for our Eighth Corps since its formation. Whether we are wolves or dogs depends on this fight. If we win, we shall claim the glory of victory; if we lose, we will never lift our heads again before our comrades! Once the battle begins, I want all of you to fight with everything you’ve got. Our commander is waiting for news of our triumph!” Chai Huaixing fixed his gaze on the five division commanders under his command.

The five commanders returned to their respective units and began executing the pre-battle plan. Naturally, the vanguard was the mixed brigade. Without the threat of cavalry to worry about this time, the mixed brigade did not form a square formation. Instead, the front two ranks were lined with long-handled sabers, while the rear three ranks consisted of musketeers, arranged in a single-file line.

Two cavalry divisions swept in from the flanks to encircle the enemy, while the three infantry divisions took up single-file lines in the center, steadily advancing toward Zhao Wei’s forces. Zhao Wei glanced at the advancing army of Chai Huaixing and forced out a grim chuckle. “Just a bit of bluffing. Brothers, follow me—we’ll break through them.” With that, he spurred his horse forward, leading the charge directly at Chai Huaixing’s army.

There was no turning back once the bow was drawn. Zhao Wei’s men were all desperate souls; when it came down to gambling their lives, they would not hesitate. They knew full well that they must either fight to the death for a glorious future or starve in the mountain fortress, running out of supplies and awaiting doom. So they shouted and charged with Zhao Wei toward the mixed brigade ahead.

Seeing the enemy initiate their charge, the mixed brigade halted their formation. The front two ranks of long-handled sabers dropped to one knee, forming a “forest” of blades to block the enemy’s assault and protect the musketeers in the three ranks behind. Among the musketeers, a soldier responsible for gauging the enemy’s distance raised his flag, signaling the first rank to raise their guns and take aim. As the enemy entered firing range, the command to open fire was given.

With thunderous reports and swirling smoke from the muskets, the foremost ranks of Zhao Wei’s men fell, riddled with bullets. Zhao Wei himself was fortunate; a bullet struck the side of his helmet, deflecting and instead piercing the head of a nearby soldier. The soldier collapsed instantly, a lifeless corpse without a sound.

The impact jolted Zhao Wei’s head sharply, causing him to stagger. Fortunately, his personal guard caught him, preventing a fall. At this moment, the charge of Zhao Wei’s troops had consumed the last shred of reason in their minds. The fallen soldiers only stirred briefly before falling silent. When men pressed shoulder to shoulder in a mass charge, human will no longer governed the battle; no amount of casualties could halt their momentum.

This forced Chai Huaixing’s musketeers to cease firing after only five volleys. They then fixed bayonets, preparing for close combat.

The first rank of Zhao Wei’s soldiers, pushed forward by those behind them with terrified eyes, collided with the blade edge of the long-handled sabers. The sharp weapons pierced through them, spraying blood onto the armor of the saber bearers, staining the enemy-facing side a vivid red. This was the bitter fate of each saber soldier—always on the front line of battle, their armor would accumulate bloodstains after every fight. At first, these soldiers diligently cleaned their armor after combat, but eventually they gave up, letting the stains dry and harden. Later, they even gained the nickname “the Red Armor Army.” But that is a story for another time.

At this moment, each saber blade was skewering three or four corpses, causing great strain on the saber bearers. Yet they could not lower their weapons and allow the enemy to break through; they endured the aching numbness in their arms, gripping their sabers tightly. Seeing that the dead had piled so high that the blades were buried, Zhao Wei’s rear ranks scrambled over the mountain of corpses, stepping on the armor of the saber soldiers as they surged past the knife forest, lunging directly at the musketeers behind who had already fixed their bayonets.

The battle instantly escalated to its climax, with nearly ten thousand men shouting and clashing across the field. Though the musketeers had only bayonets for close combat, their prior training allowed them to form triads for mutual support. Despite being outnumbered, their losses remained minimal.

Meanwhile, the other four divisions had completed their defensive tasks. Upon hearing the firecracker signaling the encirclement’s completion, the saber soldiers discarded their bloodied weapons, seized the arms of the fallen, and joined the fray.

As the sun reached its zenith, Zhao Wei’s forces could no longer hold; their morale collapsed. Seizing the opportunity, Chai Huaixing commanded the relatively unscathed Third Division to storm the mountain fortress, utterly destroying Zhao Wei’s foundation. Amid the chaos, Zhao Wei was pierced repeatedly by bayonets and left riddled like a sieve. The remaining survivors were captured and imprisoned within the earthen city, awaiting individual judgment.

“Has Yang Guang set out yet?” Li Wenyuan asked Qiuniang.

“He’s already departed. He should reach Yanmen Commandery shortly,” Qiuniang nodded confidently.

“Good. Dispatch the Fifth Corps to besiege Yiwu Commandery immediately. But have Cheng Yaojin monitor the siege carefully,” Li Wenyuan ordered.

“Do you really think what you said will happen?” Qiuniang asked skeptically.

“It will, just wait and see,” Li Wenyuan replied with a smile.

At that moment, Li Gui sat inside the magistrate’s office of Yiwu Commandery, clutching his head of white hair as he addressed his downcast subordinates: “Tell me, when will Yiwu Commandery fall?”

He then turned to the Turkic representatives in the room: “When will the Khan’s army arrive?”

After hearing the translator, the Turkic envoy replied, “The Khan’s forces are already on the way. Your Majesty, you need only hold on for five more days.”

“Five days? That long?” Li Gui grimaced.

“This is the nearest force available. Otherwise, Your Majesty could abandon this broken city and return to the steppes. Then you wouldn’t have to live in fear. Even Li Wenyuan wouldn’t dare challenge us on the grasslands,” the Turkic emissary sneered, showing no respect to the repeatedly defeated Li Gui.

Li Gui’s face turned blue with anger, yet he swallowed his pride and commanded his men: “Didn’t you hear? Five days! I don’t care what you do—just hold the front line for five days!”

(End of chapter)