The skirmish officially began.
For large armies, scouts were not an afterthought. They were eyes and ears, the difference between knowing and guessing. The side with better scouts could see farther, react faster, and choose when to fight or withdraw. The weaker side would be blind, forced to grope forward step by step.
In past years, the Manchu scouts had always held the advantage.
They were numerous, experienced, and accustomed to fighting on horseback. Against them, most Ming scouts could only avoid contact, rarely daring to engage head-on.
This time, however, the situation was different.
Both sides spotted each other almost simultaneously.
The distance closed rapidly.
A border soldier from Guyuan instinctively reached back for his cavalry carbine, but before he could pull it free, Lao Nanfeng shouted, "Don't fire!"
The soldier froze.
"You'll scare them off," Lao Nanfeng barked. "Draw closer first. Kill them cleanly."
The border soldier immediately understood. Firearms were loud, conspicuous, and would reveal the presence of a larger force. If the Manchus fled too early, they might still escape with information.
He abandoned the carbine and drew his Kaiyuan bow instead.
The two groups of cavalry galloped toward each other, hooves pounding the earth. Wind rushed past their ears. The distance between them shrank to arrow range.
Lao Nanfeng moved first.
His bowstring snapped, and an arrow streaked straight toward a Manchu scout's face.
The scout reacted instantly. He leaned low, using his horse's body as cover, letting the arrow pass harmlessly overhead. With a practiced motion, he rolled back upright and loosed an arrow of his own.
Compared to that smooth maneuver, Lao Nanfeng's reaction looked clumsy.
He seemed startled. His body shifted half a beat too late. The arrow struck him squarely in the chest with a dull thud.
Lao Nanfeng cried out and slumped forward, collapsing onto his horse's back.
His warhorse continued galloping, carrying his unmoving body onward.
The Manchu scout burst into laughter. "A soft Han dog dares to trade arrows with me?"
The other Manchu scouts joined in, loosing arrows at the remaining five Guyuan border soldiers. The Ming scouts struggled to evade, shouting in anger and grief.
"Brother Nanfeng!"
"Brother Nanfeng!"
Their voices sounded desperate.
The Manchu scouts laughed even harder.
Then the horse carrying Lao Nanfeng's "corpse" charged straight into their formation.
One Manchu scout reached out instinctively, grabbing for the reins. A good warhorse was valuable loot.
The instant his hand extended, the "corpse" sprang upright.
A blade flashed.
The Manchu scout's arm was severed at the elbow with a wet crack. Blood sprayed violently as the man screamed.
Lao Nanfeng did not stop.
His scimitar swept again, clean and ruthless, cutting straight across the scout's neck. The head flew upward, spinning in the air before crashing down. Blood poured out like a burst wineskin, splattering Lao Nanfeng's face and armor.
Lao Nanfeng grinned broadly, teeth stark white against a mask of red.
"First blood is mine again!" he roared. "If the Heavenly Lord doesn't give me another movie role after this, I'll complain!"
With that, he plunged horse-first into the middle of the Manchu scouts.
One against nine.
Any ordinary scout would have been torn apart instantly.
Lao Nanfeng felt no fear at all.
A saber came slashing toward him. He parried with a sharp clang. The two horses collided shoulder to shoulder before separating at speed.
An arrow whistled toward his back.
He ignored it.
The arrow struck his armor and bounced away with a metallic ring.
Only then did the Manchu scouts realize something was wrong.
This man wore simple clothes, like a light cavalryman—but beneath them was heavy, finely made armor. This was not a scout's equipment.
It was a general's.
"Kill him!" someone shouted. "Cut him down!"
The remaining scouts charged.
Behind them, a bowstring twanged.
A Manchu scout jerked violently as an arrow punched into his body.
In that moment of chaos, Lao Nanfeng twisted in the saddle and slashed. Another head flew into the air.
"Where are you looking?" he laughed loudly. "Your opponent is right here!"
Steel rang against steel. Two quick parries. A sharp counter.
Lao Nanfeng burst out of the encirclement.
At the same time, the other five Guyuan border scouts finally closed the distance.
Eight Manchu scouts remained.
Eight against six.
The Manchus still believed they could win.
Then one Guyuan scout suddenly pulled out his cavalry carbine.
The Manchus hesitated. "A firearm?"
"Bang!"
The shot was deafening at close range.
Instead of a single bullet, a spray of lead pellets tore forward. The Manchu scout caught the blast full-on. His face and chest were riddled with holes. He collapsed without a sound. His horse, struck as well, fell sideways, throwing up dust.
Man and horse crashed together.
Lao Nanfeng clicked his tongue. "You ruined the horse. Wasteful."
Before he could finish complaining, two sabers slashed toward his face.
He blocked both, the horses flashing past each other in a blur.
In that instant, Lao Nanfeng drew his own carbine and fired backward without looking.
"Bang!"
A Manchu scout was hit squarely in the back. His horse screamed and bolted, carrying the corpse forward before collapsing.
Lao Nanfeng laughed loudly. "This thing is wonderful! Killing people in the blink of an eye!"
A subordinate shouted, "Didn't you just say it was useless because it hurts the horses?"
"I did not," Lao Nanfeng snapped.
"You did!"
"The hell I did!"
Now only six Manchu scouts remained.
Six against six.
The Manchus finally felt fear.
Their leader roared, "Retreat! Warn the siege army! Ming reinforcements have arrived, and they have strange weapons!"
The six scattered in different directions.
"Chase!" Lao Nanfeng shouted.
He drew his bow while galloping and released an arrow that struck a fleeing scout in the back of the neck. The man toppled from his horse.
Elsewhere, carbine shots rang out. One by one, Manchu scouts fell.
Only a single rider remained, fleeing at full speed.
The Guyuan scout behind him had fired his last shot and could not reload in time. His horsemanship was inferior.
The distance slowly widened.
It seemed that at least one scout would escape.
And that was when a low shadow burst from the grass ahead.
Dao Xuan Tianzhun arrived.