Chapter 76: The Personal Guard! (Second Update)

It was hardly the fault of the Xiongnu that they fled upon sight; the issue lay in their familiarity with such scenes. When confronted by superior numbers, to charge headlong was nothing short of courting death. The Xiongnu had perfected the art of shooting arrows while retreating, honed over countless generations to a level of mastery. This was precisely why the frontier Han armies rarely achieved decisive victories against them. There was simply nothing to be done: perhaps you could match their speed, perhaps even catch up by luck, but this was not a race. No matter how fast you ran, approaching meant facing a hail of arrows. Could you truly pursue under such conditions? It was not that these Han cavalrymen lacked archery skills, but the Xiongnu excelled in evading arrows. Some might even argue that their ability to dodge while exposing their backs surpassed their evasive skills in frontal assaults—what could you do against that?

Yet it was not always so absolute.

For instance, at this moment Qin Cheng was leading fifteen hundred cavalrymen, hot on the heels of four hundred Xiongnu riders. Each volley unleashed considerable lethality; even a meager hit rate would see a dozen of the enemy struck down. With only four hundred of them, it would not be long before their numbers dwindled to nothing.

The Xiongnu’s retreating archery was not without method. There were two main circumstances: first, when their purpose was to inflict casualties, they ran to shoot; second, when their aim was escape, they shot to facilitate flight. The tactics shifted with their intent.

This present situation was undoubtedly the latter.

With such a prize so close, how could Qin Cheng bear to let it slip? Moreover, this was the first battle of his new cavalry—though the numbers were overwhelmingly in their favor and the odds almost unfair, Qin Cheng cared nothing for that. What mattered was seizing the opportunity. Victory in this debut would greatly boost morale, a crucial factor for future operations and training. Thus, Qin Cheng could not stop repeating the words “arrows” and “shoot.”

By the end, his cry became simply “shoot arrows.”

Each volley sent the Xiongnu tumbling, with dozens of casualties unavoidable. Yet the Xiongnu’s horsemanship was formidable; even while suffering losses, they managed to drag down a few of their pursuers. At this point, however, the Xiongnu cared little for the weight of the sacrifice—any loss inflicted was welcome.

The four hundred arrows fired from ahead, coming in relative trajectories, increased both speed and power, making casualties among the Han inevitable, especially among those charging at the front.

An iron arrow skimmed past Qin Cheng’s cheek, perhaps shaving off a few hairs. Had he not dodged swiftly, the loss would have been far more than a few stray hairs.

After several exchanges of volleys, Qin Cheng’s eyes grew red with fervor. He crouched low, almost pressed against his horse’s back.

Fortunately, the Han soldiers under his command were charging at full speed, while the Xiongnu had started from a standstill and lagged behind in pace. The gap was closing rapidly, now only about a hundred paces remained. However, Qin Cheng’s cavalry were heavy riders, slower by nature. Despite the shrinking distance, the pursuit was gaining momentum.

The five hundred heavy riders closest behind Qin Cheng belonged to the front cohort, the only unit fully equipped with heavy armor. This was not due to any shortage in military supplies, but a deliberate arrangement by Qin Cheng before departure, foreseeing the need for a heavy cavalry charge and placing the front cohort ahead to absorb the arrows.

The four hundred Xiongnu archers, after a burst of shooting, noticed that only a handful of Han cavalry had fallen while the rest remained unharmed. They were astonished. Most Xiongnu, after loosing their arrows, had no time to check whether an enemy had been felled—there simply was not the leisure. Now, with several exclamations of disbelief among them, their astonishment spread, and they could scarcely believe their own eyes.

While the Xiongnu riders were stunned, a sudden rain of arrows swept in from both flanks, plunging into their ranks already thinned by previous losses.

They looked to either side and saw about five hundred Han cavalrymen on each wing, unleashing simultaneous volleys.

Faced with Han cavalry appearing on both sides, the Xiongnu were seized by true despair. The tail of pursuers behind them had already been troublesome enough, but there had still been hope of escape. Now, seeing the speed of these newly arrived riders—faster even than their own—they realized there was no way out.

Unable to fight, unable to flee, with heaven and earth offering no escape, they were truly abandoned by both gods and men.

...

“Kill!” Qin Cheng and Li Guang shouted loudly, both impatient with the slow advance of the heavy cavalry behind them, yearning to break away and charge ahead.

Seeing the light cavalry on both wings reach their designated positions, Qin Cheng felt a surge of joy and shouted without turning, “Qin Qingzhi, Liu Mu, where are you?!”

“At your command!” Qin Qingzhi and Liu Mu answered loudly from behind.

“Lead the personal guard, break from the main force, and charge at full speed into the Xiongnu ranks!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Personal guard, where are you?” Qin Qingzhi bellowed.

“Here!” Fifty cavalrymen responded in unison.

“Follow me into the attack!”

“Yes, sir!”

With a single order, Qin Qingzhi and Liu Mu led fifty personal guards, breaking out from the heavy cavalry and accelerating toward the Xiongnu.

They had the fastest horses, the sharpest sabers, the finest armor—though their steeds wore no barding, nor did they themselves don iron armor. They traded protection for speed but did not lack for fighting power.

This was Qin Cheng’s specially trained personal guard.

It was his second contingency against the Xiongnu.

Though few in number, their effectiveness could not be underestimated.

Li Guang watched as the fifty riders sped ahead, easily overtaking many of Qin Cheng’s own guards and charging toward the Xiongnu, relentlessly closing the distance. He nearly stood stunned, “Well done, Brother Qin—I never thought you had this up your sleeve!”

“General, you flatter me! Ha!” Qin Cheng could not help but laugh triumphantly. His mirth was abruptly cut short as an arrow nearly struck his teeth.

...

“Personal guard, where are you?” Li Guang shouted, his voice even more thunderous than Qin Cheng’s.

“Here!” Li Hu and Li Guang’s other guards responded together from behind.

“Follow me—charge into the Xiongnu ranks!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Kill!” Li Guang, filled with heroic fervor, was the first to break out, leading fifty personal guards at full speed toward the Xiongnu riders!

Qin Cheng watched Li Guang charge ahead in a frenzy, cursing himself for not leading his own guards into the attack earlier. He slapped his horse’s rump, howling as he caught up to Li Guang.

Seeing both Qin Cheng and Li Guang dash ahead, the heavy cavalry looked at one another in helpless resignation, watching the distance between themselves and their commanders grow ever wider.

The thousand light cavalry held the Xiongnu’s flanks, their speed giving them an edge and allowing them to constantly press upon the enemy. However, while the cohorts of light cavalry possessed superior speed, their archery skills were noticeably lacking. Many could not even shoot while riding, and those who could often shot poorly. Yet, with a thousand riders, there were at least two hundred and fifty skilled archers among them. The Xiongnu, by now, had suffered nearly half their force as casualties, so the threat of counterattack was diminished—though losses among the Han were inevitable.

The Xiongnu, surrounded, had become true prey.

And these Han soldiers, undisputed hunters.

Though some lacked the hunter’s skill.

The Xiongnu riders, seasoned veterans, could instantly discern the riding and archery skills of the thousand Han cavalry to be mediocre. They knew that many new cavalry recruits had been trained in the Shanggu camp, and assumed these must be those very men.

Even so, the abilities of these new cavalrymen, after just three months of training, were enough to instill fear. The reason lay not only in Qin Cheng’s rigorous methods, but also in the presence of two hundred and fifty seasoned cavalry instructors among them.

...

“Scoundrel!” Li Guang’s horse was a rare breed, allowing him to overtake many of Qin Cheng’s own guards and be the first to break into the Xiongnu ranks.

For every Xiongnu rider Li Guang struck down, he cursed “scoundrel,” venting his anger.

The last battle with the Left Wise King had brought heavy losses to the Shanggu camp. Li Guang rarely spoke of it, but how could he not harbor resentment and remorse in his heart?

After all, he was the commander of the three armies.

The defeat was his responsibility.

A hundred personal guards plunged into the Xiongnu formation, unleashing a bloody slaughter upon the remaining two hundred riders.

They were the most elite cavalrymen in the Shanggu camp; their combat prowess was indisputable.

The two hundred Xiongnu, though pursued by the Han, dared not turn to fight outright, for behind them followed fifteen hundred heavy cavalry. Should they pause, the heavy riders would mercilessly crush them to dust.

As Qin Cheng closed in on a Xiongnu rider, the man, sensing danger, drew his bow to shoot from a distance of ten paces, intending to bring Qin Cheng down.

In that critical moment, before the Xiongnu could draw his bow fully, Qin Cheng swung his saber, plunging it straight into the man’s chest.

The rider’s body went limp, his bow falling uselessly to the ground. Qin Cheng urged his horse forward and, as the body toppled, yanked his saber free.

As he drew his blade, another Xiongnu rider attacked from the side, slicing horizontally at Qin Cheng’s waist from nearly atop the horse’s back. With no time for other actions, Qin Cheng pushed hard against the stirrups, leaping up. The Xiongnu’s saber swept beneath his feet, barely missing them.

Landing, Qin Cheng’s horse had already moved several paces ahead, separating him from the attacker. No need to look back; the pursuing Han cavalry struck the Xiongnu down.

Disembarking, Qin Cheng faced another rider about to strike. With a swift stroke, he severed the man's head from his neck.

Caught up in the heat of battle, Qin Cheng soon found himself alone, surrounded by several Xiongnu riders. Parrying their blows, he drew a dagger with his left hand, deflecting a saber aimed at his waist. He twisted his own saber around the Xiongnu’s downward strike, turning the blade to slice off the attacker’s arm, while the dagger flew from his left hand, piercing the throat of another rider poised to strike.

He dispatched two swiftly, but two more sabers came down at him. Qin Cheng blocked them, but their force was great. At that moment, another Xiongnu rushed from the side, saber poised to strike his neck.

In the nick of time, a phantom streaked between Qin Cheng and the would-be assassin. Blood sprayed; the Xiongnu screamed as his sword arm was severed.

The saber that cut through the Xiongnu’s arm did not stop, but crashed into the waist of another rider before Qin Cheng, knocking him from his mount.

Seizing the chance, Qin Cheng pushed up with his saber, knocking aside the remaining blow, then sliced horizontally through the attacker’s chest.

Only then did Qin Cheng have a moment to see who had thrown the saber. A young Han cavalryman rode toward him, his hands empty. Qin Cheng was about to praise him when he saw yet another Xiongnu rider approaching, saber raised. Qin Cheng shouted, “Catch!” and threw his saber to the cavalryman.

...

While tossing the saber, Qin Cheng drew another from his waist.

He never carried only one blade.

The cavalryman caught the saber as the next blow came down. He yanked his reins, causing his horse to rear, abruptly turning aside and dodging the attack. Leaning sharply, he brought his saber down, ending the Xiongnu’s life.

The cavalryman was about to return the blade, but saw Qin Cheng approaching with another saber in hand.

“Excellent swordplay, excellent skill!” Qin Cheng praised sincerely.

“Excellent blade!” The cavalryman glanced at the saber, equally sincere in his admiration.

Qin Cheng paused, then asked, “What’s your name, and which cohort are you from?”

“Shan Jia, garrison captain at Xiao Hua City,” the cavalryman replied.

Qin Cheng nodded, smiling. “Keep the blade—it’s yours!”

...

The Xiongnu, pursued relentlessly by Qin Cheng and Li Guang’s guards, were caught and held fast. Though the light cavalry’s archery was poor, they spared no iron arrows, constantly shooting at the front ranks of the Xiongnu.

“Turn left, break through!” A Xiongnu centurion shouted, abandoning his bow for saber. The riders behind him did the same.

Nearly a hundred riders suddenly veered left, charging straight at the light cavalry, intending to carve a bloody path and escape.

It was their best option. Whether fleeing forward or back, they could not shake the Han pursuit. If they could break through one wing, they might have a chance.

The centurion had judged the Han wings to be weak, hence his decision. Otherwise, a direct collision would mean certain death.

On the Xiongnu’s left lay Ji Zhu’s front light cavalry.

Seeing the sudden turn, Ji Zhu shouted, “Clear the way!”

“Clear the way!”

Ji Zhu knew well what close combat would mean for his light cavalry, having been repeatedly warned by Qin Cheng. To let the Xiongnu pass was no great matter—they could always pursue again. Even if a few escaped, it was no cause for concern. The key was to avoid damaging the light cavalry’s core; after three months of hard training, they were not to be thrown away needlessly. This exercise was meant to drill them, to help them become battle-ready, not to send them to their deaths.

As Qin Cheng often said, these light and heavy cavalry were his precious treasures—any loss was painful.

Following Ji Zhu’s orders, the front light cavalry quickly opened a path in the direction of the Xiongnu charge. Still, casualties occurred; those unable to clear out in time died in the melee.

The Xiongnu who broke through the front light cavalry were puzzled—why would the Han open a path? But hearing Ji Zhu’s orders, they had no time for doubts, only to accelerate their escape.

Yet a hundred riders could not pass so easily.

Especially since Ji Zhu had deliberately left the channel narrow.

The Xiongnu, seeing the gap, crowded toward it, heedless of direction.

This slowed their advance and reduced their numbers.

“Shoot!” Ji Zhu’s cunning voice rang out.

Already slowed and diminished by the right wing’s archery, the Xiongnu now faced a surprise volley from the front light cavalry.

Moreover, with the distance close and shooting at a standstill, their arrows were far more accurate and powerful.

Amid cries of agony, horses’ screams, curses, the fallen blocked the way forward and backward. Those Xiongnu, having lost their momentum, tried to break to either side, only to be cut down by the waiting Han cavalrymen.

The deliberately narrow passage given by the light cavalry, the desperate route taken by the Xiongnu—had become their grave.