Chapter Twenty-Two: The God of War

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It could be said that throughout the entire Wangmai region, a considerable portion of the populace remained unclear about the true situation of the western war. Yet those who followed the Wang-Yan conflict were invigorated by Xiao Ming’s resounding victory. At this moment, Xiao Ming’s renown among the Xia garrison in Luoshui City had reached its zenith; no one had anticipated that he would command a hundred thousand infantry to triumph directly over the Yan cavalry.

Traditionally, Wangmai and Yan territory were not supposed to be connected. However, in the southwestern part of Wangmai lay the Demon Gate Gorge—a place that, according to historical records, opened wide every few centuries. Yet not every such occurrence led to contact between the two realms. This time, the unexpected attack of the Yan after the Demon Gate’s opening caught everyone off guard.

Though Xiao Ming had won the battle, he dared not pursue recklessly. Two days later, Yan reinforcements gradually arrived, and each day their soldiers challenged Luoshui City’s gates to battle. Another clash was now inevitable.

To the north, Ye Linhui’s force of ninety thousand was but a dozen days’ march from Luoshui City. Meanwhile, Prince Ziji of Xueguo had already ridden alone to intercept the ten thousand soldiers dispatched to Hengguan in the western Xueguo. Feng Jing, commander at Tuoyu City in the west, had received imperial orders, and Tuoyu’s twenty thousand defenders stood ready for war.

To the south, Duan Xingyun with fifty thousand troops faced off in camp against Yan’s Feng Xiaoyang, who commanded an equal force.

Five days later, as morale began to wane under the Yan’s relentless challenges, Xiao Ming gave the order to engage, intending to repeat his previous tactics against the newly arrived thirty thousand Yan cavalry.

At dawn, sunlight pierced the clouds, casting a fortunate glow upon the Yan army’s armored ranks.

The Yan cavalry advanced, each rider and horse clad in heavy armor, armed with short but formidable lances. Every rank was linked by iron chains, and thirty thousand men moved in unison, resembling a colossal steel fortress. Though not much faster than infantry, their momentum was overwhelming.

The Xia warriors could not yet discern the specifics of their opponents, but confident from their last victory, they formed a crescent formation—eighty thousand strong—charging forth with unified resolve.

Yet as the battle was joined, Xiao Ming, commanding from the rear, immediately sensed something amiss. Even during the arrow volleys, the enemy’s advance had not been disrupted. Now, in the thick of combat, it became clear that the heavily armored cavalry was impervious to sharp weapons. Their charge, though slow, was relentless, and not even the chariots or arrow storms could halt them. Meanwhile, the Yan lances struck with crushing force, causing devastating casualties among Xiao Ming’s men.

His sword hand trembling violently, Xiao Ming’s face turned ashen as he gave the order, “This won’t do—we cannot defeat them today! Sound the gong for retreat!”

On the battlefield, the heavily armored cavalry, their defense impenetrable, ignored Xia’s blades and spears, mowing down the lightly armored Xia soldiers like grass. At the sound of the retreat, the Xia troops began to withdraw in an orderly fashion. But in the chaos of being pursued, organized retreat soon collapsed into rout. The sight of one soldier fleeing quickly infected the whole, and the Yan cavalry pressed their advantage with ruthless pursuit.

There was no better way to describe the Xia army’s predicament than utter disintegration. In the chaos, eighty thousand men stood no chance of mounting a meaningful resistance. Countless young lives were cut short as they fled, struck down by the blades behind them. Occasionally, a few, driven by fury at the deaths of their comrades, would turn back in desperate resistance. Some managed to take a Yan rider down with them, but for most, the moment they resolved to fight was the moment they lost all hope of even dying whole.

For a time, the cries of the Yan, the screams of the Xia, angry shouts, and the sound of steel slicing through flesh echoed across the plain...

Soon, Xiao Ming’s force suffered a crushing defeat. Of the eighty thousand who took the field, only thirty thousand returned alive. The news that Xiao Ming would now defend the city and refuse further engagement spread quickly through Wangmai. The imperial court of Xia fell silent; no one questioned Xiao Ming’s abilities, but all were filled with worry and grief for the sons at the front.

Upon receiving the battle report, Ye Linhui sighed long and deeply atop his warhorse, said nothing more, and hastened his march to reinforce Luoshui City.

Having joined up with ten thousand elite troops at Hengguan, Prince Ziji read the report, forced a bitter smile, and said to the general at his side, “When it comes to the art of war, I admire only Marshal Ye!”

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When Ye Pei received the report, she glanced at it and said, “Father should be arriving soon. Only he can fight a battle of this scale against cavalry.”

She was not mistaken. At that moment, Ye Linhui was already leading Xueguo’s ninety thousand elite to Luoshui City to join with Xiao Ming.

Once the Xue army had set up camp, Ye Linhui brought his commanders to the Xia camp, where he found demoralized Xia soldiers and generals staring gloomily at the sand table.

“General Xiao, it’s been a while,” Ye Linhui greeted with a cupped fist as he entered the tent.

Xiao Ming looked up and returned the gesture with a wry smile. “General Ye, I hope you have been well.”

Approaching the sand table, Ye Linhui said, “No need for such formality, General Xiao. We’ll reclaim our ground.”

But Xiao Ming’s worry did not lessen. “General Ye, you haven’t seen those heavy cavalry... They are—”

Ye Linhui cut him off with a wave, wasting no time. “I don’t need to see them to understand. The Xue army are the true masters of cavalry tactics. Heavy armor? There’s nothing to fear!”

Xiao Ming showed no displeasure at being interrupted, but leaned forward to ask, “What strategy does Marshal Ye propose?”

Ye Linhui replied, “Only those who have defeated a troop know its strengths, but only those who command it know its weaknesses. Your tactics against the light cavalry were already impressive. Leave the rest to us.”

Xiao Ming asked, “Surely you don’t mean to engage them in a head-on cavalry clash? How many cavalry did Xueguo bring?”

Ye Linhui answered, “The terrain of Xueguo is unsuitable for cavalry, except for the plains near Luoshui City. That’s why I brought only thirty thousand light cavalry; the rest are sixty thousand infantry.”

Again, Xiao Ming gave a bitter smile. “Marshal Ye, thirty thousand light cavalry against thirty thousand heavy cavalry—how can they prevail?”

Ye Linhui laughed. “Who says I plan a cavalry charge? Like you before, I will meet them with infantry.”

Seeing Xiao Ming’s look of shock and confusion, Ye Linhui offered no further explanation, nor did he intend to involve the battered Xia troops in the coming battle. Not only were their numbers no longer sufficient for an effective formation, but their shattered morale made them unfit to face such heavy cavalry again.

As the curtain rose on the next great battle, it was now Ye Linhui commanding Xueguo’s fierce ninety thousand.

The vanguard was thirty thousand in heavy armor, wielding iron clubs and great axes—a force of tigers and wolves. The center was thirty thousand light-armored infantry with horse-cutting sabers, while the rear was thirty thousand cavalry armed with spears and swords. Ye Linhui did not remain with the center as was customary, but took a position further back to command the field.

On the Yan side, their commander Lin Yufei spotted the banner had changed from “Xiao” to “Ye.” With a sneer, he said, “So they’ve switched commanders? Let’s see what the humans can do against my heavy cavalry. Victory here, and I will take this city for sure! Attack!”

Ye Linhui gave his order as well: “Vanguard, charge!”

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In truth, heavy cavalry were far less deadly to heavily armored infantry than to light cavalry. The heavy cavalry’s speed was severely reduced. Both sides fielded heavy armor, though on the Xue side, the joints were curiously bound with ropes rather than clasps.

The two forces advanced steadily toward each other. The Xue vanguard of thirty thousand were all robust men, each pairing a hammerer with an axeman. As the lines met, the axemen swung for the enemy’s iron chains, while the hammerers struck man or horse with crushing blows.

In the moment of collision, some Yan riders were felled by hammers, others pierced by lances. On the battlefield, life was the cheapest of commodities.

As soon as the clash began, Ye Linhui ordered the center forward. Thirty thousand light-armored infantry with horse-cutting sabers charged the Yan with a roar. They ran low or rolled to avoid the cavalry’s reach. The Yan’s heavy armor limited their attacks to higher targets, unable to strike low, while Xue’s sabers cut mercilessly at the horses’ legs. Amidst the shrieks of wounded steeds, Yan riders fell to the ground, their armor now a burden that rendered them helpless.

Before long, Ye Linhui, leading the rear guard, waved his hand: “Sound the drums! Advance!”

Boom-boom—boom! Boom-boom—boom! The rhythmic drums thundered across the battlefield. At the signal, the Xue heavy infantry dropped their weapons, drew short knives, and with swift cuts, severed the ropes binding their armor. Stripped to their tunics, they dashed to the flanks. The light infantry, too, abandoned their foes and fled as if wolves were at their heels. The abandoned Yan soldiers stood bewildered, unable to pursue, when suddenly the distant roar of hooves and shouts rolled in like a sandstorm blotting out the sky.

From Luoshui City, Ye Linhui himself, lance in hand, charged at the head of thirty thousand Xue cavalry into the Yan ranks—by now, the Yan had few horses left fit for battle.

Against what was once an invincible heavy cavalry, the tide had turned. Under Ye Linhui’s masterful command and his warriors’ flawless coordination, the battle became a rout—a cavalry charge against immobile infantry. The outcome needed no further elaboration.

…

In the aftermath, aside from five or six thousand casualties among the vanguard, the rest of the Xue army suffered virtually no losses. The title of “God of War” now truly belonged to Ye Linhui, and his legend swept the land.

“Hahahahaha!” Prince Ziji smashed the table before him in laughter. “What more can I say? That was bloody brilliant!”

Ye Pei, ignoring her internal injuries, called for fine wine and drank all night with Yue Zhe at the Ye residence. By dawn, her drunkenness triggered another bout of bleeding, but she cared not, laughing aloud: “I knew it! No one can defeat my father on the battlefield! The Flame Demon is doomed!” She was about to drink again when Yue Zhe knocked her out and laid her on the bed to sleep.

Even in the Xia capital, people marveled at Ye Linhui’s brilliance.

Emperor Xia Xun clenched his fist and shouted, “Well done!” though a shadow of worry lingered in his joy.

Crown Prince Xia Yunge read the report and gave a wry smile. “With such a commander, once the Yan are repelled, what if Xueguo turns its armies upon us?”

Lei Ting, seated in council, stood in shock, then sat slowly down again, sighing, “Ye Linhui truly deserves the title of God of War…”