A special thank you to all my patrons:
—Cain, Jacob Mooe, HADES, Varun Madhu, Gonzalo Sumalavia, kevin Williams, merp., Jose Carrillo, Derek M, DancingMonkey65, Joseph, Jose Sierra, AR3S, Nuro.
You can read 50 chapters ahead of everyone on p@treon.
P@TREON - [email protected]/lessaservantofcosmos
(just replace the "@" with "a")
ps: Please support me on P@treon. I can really use your help!
—————————————————————
Zhang Liao flicked his spear, the cold glint of its tip weaving unpredictably through the firelight, now left, now right. Like a heated blade slicing through grease, he led the Bingzhou cavalry in a relentless charge, cutting deep into the enemy camp from the entrance.
The Bingzhou cavalry, seasoned from years of battle against the Xianbei, were masters of horsemanship. They could lean precariously from their saddles at full gallop, snatching up standing torches and hurling them onto tents. Others bent low to overturn braziers, sending burning wood scattering across dry hay, igniting flames wherever they landed.
All of this was executed at high speed, a testament to their extraordinary riding skills.
Against the defensive soldiers thrusting spears and swords from the sides, the cavalry relied on their momentum to deflect attacks, leaving any remaining threats to their comrades behind them. They never lingered. Under Zhang Liao's command, a hundred riders drove straight toward the rear of the camp.
The rear of the camp held not only provisions but also the hastily constructed siege ladders and battering rams made that very afternoon—the primary targets of Zhang Liao's raid.
Most of the rear camp was occupied by support troops and laborers, far less courageous than the frontline soldiers. At the sight of the cavalry, most scrambled away in panic, fleeing for their lives.
Zhang Liao hooked a torch with his spear and flung it onto a supply cart. His soldiers followed suit, setting fire to other equipment and provisions.
Wheeling his horse around, Zhang Liao prepared to charge again—not to slaughter more of Zheng Jian's men, but to deepen the chaos, preventing Zheng Jian from organizing any effective defense.
The camp was in complete disarray. Flames licked at tents, soldiers ran aimlessly, many without weapons, unsure where to go or who to follow.
Zheng Jian shouted himself hoarse, trying to rally his men into formation, but his efforts were futile. The cacophony of screams and neighing horses drowned out his orders. Soldiers acted on instinct, blindly running into each other, turning the camp into a nightmarish labyrinth of confusion.
Narrowing his eyes, Zhang Liao led his hundred cavalrymen in a furious rampage through the camp, leaving behind a trail of blood and fire. Zheng Jian's soldiers were either flung aside by spear thrusts or trampled beneath galloping hooves. Their agonized shrieks only heightened the pandemonium, breaking what little courage remained in those who had initially resisted.
Zhang Liao's spear danced like the weapon of a god of war, its gleaming tip flashing relentlessly around him. Every flicker of its light claimed a life. Blood, thick and dark red under the flickering torchlight and burning tents, splattered everywhere.
Some commanders grew frenzied under the stimulation of bloodshed, their combat prowess surging but their awareness faltering, often leading to their demise as they became surrounded and exhausted. Zhang Liao, however, was different. Scalding blood sprayed across his face and body, yet it did not so much as make him blink.
The more he fought, the calmer he became—like a machine, methodically harvesting lives. He pinpointed weaknesses in Zheng Jian's defenses with precision: strike, break, tear, crush. The cycle repeated, efficient and ruthless.
Zhang Liao could see Zheng Jian attempting to rally his forces, but he did not recklessly charge at every visible officer. He had only a hundred men today, and his primary objective was the destruction of siege equipment. Killing Zheng Jian would have been a bonus, but the man was now surrounded by a growing number of guards. Another enemy officer remained unaccounted for, likely organizing troops elsewhere.
Most crucially, Zhang Liao had no reinforcements. At Hangu Pass, only Fei Qian and eight hundred infantry stood guard, unable to sally forth lightly. Having achieved his goals—and seeing the flames in the rear camp spreading—Zhang Liao turned and led his men out of the camp, back to Hangu Pass.
By the time they reached the pass, the sky had shifted from pitch black to a pale blue-white.
Fei Qian had stayed awake all night. Seeing Zhang Liao and Huang Cheng return unharmed, he finally exhaled in relief and ordered the gates opened to welcome them back.
"Ziyuan, your strategy was brilliant! That was a glorious fight!" Zhang Liao, though covered in blood, wore a radiant smile. As he entered the gates and saw Fei Qian, he burst into laughter, his joy unrestrained.
This battle had pitted his hundred cavalry against a force twenty times their size. Not only had they breached the camp and slaughtered enemies, but they had also burned supplies and freshly built siege engines. They had shattered Zheng Jian's morale and delayed his assault on the pass—a resounding victory.
"Mighty! Mighty!" The infantry left behind in the pass roared in unison, their morale soaring. Any soldier would gladly follow a commander of such prowess. Though they had not fought themselves, they had beaten the war drums all night, sharing in the triumph.
Fei Qian stepped forward, taking hold of Zhang Liao's horse's reins with a smile. "I knew Wenyuan would return victorious. Hot water and food are ready—go rest!"
"Good!"
Zhang Liao was slightly moved by Fei Qian's gesture of personally holding his reins. Without false modesty, he dismounted and waved for his men to eat and rest. Then, standing beside Fei Qian, he pointed at Huang Cheng, who was approaching, and praised, "Where did you find this warrior, Ziyuan? His martial skill is exceptional, and his archery even more so. Six soldiers on two watchtowers—he took them all down in one breath!"
Huang Cheng scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed grin.
"Shuye, you've worked hard. Go eat and rest."
Huang Cheng acknowledged and followed the other cavalrymen to recuperate.
Fei Qian and Zhang Liao stood together, offering words of praise and encouragement to each returning soldier. As Fei Qian silently counted, he noted only seventy-three men—meaning over twenty had not made it back.
War was always cruel.
Even for the victors, not all would taste the sweetness of triumph.
Zhang Liao glanced at Fei Qian. Before, he had only seen him as a scholar skilled in literature and arithmetic. Now, his impression had shifted. Regardless of Fei Qian's martial prowess, his ability to manage logistics and his willingness to personally commend the soldiers after battle earned their respect. If he could continue devising strategies as effective as last night's, even commanders like Zhang Liao would hold him in high regard.
Of course, one or two victories did not guarantee future success. But Fei Qian was showing the makings of a commander. With time and experience, he might yet grow into a formidable leader.