Chapter Thirteen: The First Battle-Bone Grafting(Dominance)

If viewed from the sky, one would see countless tiny dots rapidly converging toward the central line on either side of the enormous gourd-shaped valley, halting at the center. Not far ahead of this gourd belly, another vast swarm of black dots was racing furiously toward the long black line within the valley.

"All troops, prepare for battle!"

Flag signals flashed at the very front of the ranks, while a host of messengers on horseback galloped up and down beside the charioteers and infantry, shouting loudly.

Immediately, save for a handful of cavalry left to guard the meager baggage train at the rear, hundreds of riders surged forward to the front. Clouds of dust rose in their wake, swirling through the air, chasing the thunderous drumbeat of hooves.

At the very front, nearly two thousand cavalrymen sat astride their horses, all eyes fixed ahead. Three or five miles in the distance, several hundred Xiongnu horsemen clad in white leather armor were charging toward them.

"Aw—aw—aw—aw..."

The Xiongnu riders, clutching long sabers and bearing longbows on their backs, let out resounding cries as they spurred their steeds forward. Though only a few hundred strong, the force thundered forth with the might of a thousand. Dust billowed violently beneath their pounding hooves.

"Damn it, how did these Xiongnu manage to rush right up to us without a sound? Were the scouts we sent out all useless? Not a single report returned!" In the center of the foremost line of Han cavalry, a youth of seventeen or eighteen exclaimed angrily.

"Silence!" Li Guang's gaze never left the oncoming Xiongnu at the end of the post road. "Those scouts have likely already perished at the hands of these Xiongnu riders!"

"What? How can that be? Those scouts were the cream of the crop..." Li Gan stammered, trembling uncontrollably. Having never faced Xiongnu cavalry before, he could not yet comprehend what such an encounter truly meant.

Li Guang ignored him, his eyes locked on the tide of Xiongnu horsemen now less than a hundred paces away, surging forth like a hundred tigers unleashed from the mountains.

Li Guang drew his long saber with a ringing "shing." Instantly, the nearly two thousand cavalrymen around and behind him nocked arrows to their bows, their iron-tipped shafts aimed directly at the Xiongnu.

Drip.

Under the blazing sun, sweat trickled down the faces of the sentries, falling onto their horses' backs. Nearly two thousand cavalrymen stood motionless, the war banners beneath their dark armor fluttering in the autumn breeze.

At this moment, Li Guang saw only the enemy before him. The only sound in his ears was the clangor of Xiongnu hooves. All else faded away.

It was a perfect union of stillness and motion.

Suddenly, Li Guang jerked his saber forward!

"Release!"

Almost simultaneously, the twang of bowstrings sounded like a torrent of rain. Nearly two thousand iron arrows soared toward the Xiongnu cavalry.

The air between the two forces was instantly filled with a storm of arrows.

Yet in a heartbeat, the deadly rain vanished.

In the next instant, those arrows crashed into the Xiongnu ranks with furious force.

At that very moment, hundreds of Xiongnu arrows also tore into the Han cavalry.

Thud—thud—thud—thud...

The sound of arrows piercing armor rang out like a grim symphony in both armies. Blood spouted into the air, blossoming vividly beneath the sun.

Shrieks and wails erupted amid the ranks. Warriors and horses struck by arrows cried out in their final moments.

Those unhorsed by arrows were spared further combat, but the survivors pressed onward.

Both Han and Xiongnu cavalry swiftly nocked second arrows. Eyes bloodshot, they fired again in the midst of galloping chaos.

Thud—thud—thud—thud...

Again and again, the sound of bowstrings and arrows biting into flesh echoed amid the agonized screams. Another wave of warriors toppled from their saddles, losing the chance to charge with their mounts into the enemy lines.

Some arrows found their mark; many did not. After two volleys, the Xiongnu cavalry had lost a quarter of their number. The Han, though more numerous and packed tightly, suffered nearly as many casualties as their foes.

No time for a third shot—the enemy was upon them. At the front of the Han line, Li Guang brandished his saber and roared, "Draw blades!"

Before his words had faded, the men behind him had already stowed their bows and drawn their gleaming sabers. Like wolves and tigers, their eyes were bloodshot, their hatred forgotten, replaced by the raw power it left behind. Each man longed only to close with the enemy and bring his blade down as swiftly as possible.

Every Han warrior fixed his gaze on a single Xiongnu rider—next, his blade would strike that foe's chest.

"Aw—aw—aw—aw—"

The Xiongnu horsemen, still howling like wolves, crashed into the Han ranks at full speed.

Steel and steeds collided in a thunderous clash.

"Kill!"

Li Guang shouted, his saber flashing like lightning as he cleaved off a Xiongnu's head. Leaning aside to dodge the enemy's blade, he spurred his horse forward, already upon his next foe.

Behind him, blood gushed from the headless neck of the Xiongnu he had just slain. The rider's horse galloped on, oblivious to its master's demise. As the spurting blood splattered Li Gan behind Li Guang, the corpse tumbled from the saddle, landing in a pool of its own gore.

With each swing, Li Guang's saber never paused. Every strike drew a spray of crimson; even as he drew his blade back, it might shear through an enemy's leg or carve a chunk from a Xiongnu horse. His body moved lithely in the saddle, evading blow after deadly blow.

Li Gan, who had been trembling moments before, now followed closely behind, hacking and slashing with fierce abandon. In no time, he too had reaped his share of lives.

Had circumstances allowed, the blood-stirred Li Gan would have roared, "Kill!" at the top of his lungs.

Li Gan's experience was shared by countless Han cavalrymen, especially the new recruits facing battle for the first time. As their sabers crashed down and claimed their enemies' lives, the thrill of a first kill left them dazed and elated. Many froze for a split second.

But those who hesitated even for a moment were swiftly cut down by the oncoming Xiongnu, their sabers drawing fountains of blood from chest or throat, ending those young lives in an instant.

On this battlefield, there was no room for even a heartbeat's distraction.

Amid this first charge, beyond Li Guang, another fearsome figure rampaged among the Han ranks, saber flashing as he drove his mount through the Xiongnu like a wolf among sheep. Eyes blazing red, this rider muttered a single word with each swing, as if confessing a secret. Wherever his horse passed, Xiongnu fell.

His expression was cold as death. Among the new recruits, he was one of the few whose hand was steady and blade sure. In this battle, only Li Guang surpassed him in kills.

This was Le Yi.

In a blink, the two armies became hopelessly entangled—blood spraying, heads and limbs flying, soldiers tumbling from their mounts. In the swirling dust, the two forces swept past each other. When the last rider from either side had galloped away, the field was strewn with dust, blood, corpses, the occasional pitiful wail, and riderless horses searching blankly for their masters.

One charge—no more than a dozen breaths.

The Xiongnu who broke through the Han cavalry found themselves facing the Han infantry, those frail lives in their eyes. Yet when their gaze fell on the battle wagons and baggage arrayed before the foot soldiers, they chose not to attack.

Such a massive, tightly arrayed defensive line was not something a few hundred cavalry could break.

Like their Han counterparts, the Xiongnu wheeled their horses around in the shortest time, once more facing the enemy they had just engaged.

For a fleeting instant, the two sides stared at each other from afar.

Their war banners stained red, their armor battered, the warriors' fighting spirit surged, their steeds weary from endless galloping.

As soon as all had turned, with no time to wipe the blood from their faces, the commanders on both sides gave the order to attack once more.

Warhorses, swirling dust, furious cries, flashing sabers—all soared again to the heavens.

Qin Cheng stood amidst three thousand foot soldiers and charioteers, unable to see the battle raging several hundred paces ahead. Though he had survived street brawls before, he was deeply shaken by what he heard.

From the sound alone, Qin Cheng could tell that battle between armies was a world apart from gang fights—utterly incomparable.

Glancing at the anxious, expectant faces of the infantry around him, Qin Cheng sensed their longing for the call to arms. Yet today, he knew, the battle would not belong to them.

This was a cavalryman's war. Only mounted warriors could redeem their honor, wash away humiliation, and seek glory on this field.

Qin Cheng felt a wave of disappointment.