Chapter 75: The God of Slaughter, Li Yi

The garrison soldiers looked at one another; never before had anyone spoken to them this way, nor had anyone ever given them a choice.

The boldest among them pushed past his comrades, eyes bloodshot, and stepped before Li Yi, gritting his teeth. “If we stay and fight, will we really get twenty taels of silver?”

Li Yi nodded. “Twenty taels. If the authorities refuse to pay, you can come find me at Li Family Manor in Ganquanli. My name is Li Yi.”

A murderous glint flashed in the soldier’s eyes as he stared at Li Yi. “I don’t trust the officials, only you. If you dare deceive me, Li Yi of Ganquanli, even in death I’ll haunt you.”

With that, he turned to his comrades, raised his arm, and shouted, “I am Lei the Tiger from the North City. Whoever wants to earn silver, stay with me and gamble for fortune!”

One after another, soldiers stepped forward. Their families were already at the breaking point; rather than starving to death, it was better to risk everything for wealth.

In the end, one hundred soldiers chose not to fight.

Li Yi didn’t make things difficult for them and allowed them to lead the refugees south.

For those who remained, Li Yi ordered a register to be made, detailing their home addresses and family members.

Fortunately, Li Guo and the other young men were all literate, so the roster was quickly completed.

Li Yi then permitted the soldiers to form their own groups, divided into squads under command, and distributed the surplus weapons among them.

Thus, together with the able-bodied men and the Standard Battalion, Li Yi’s force of over six hundred was finally organized.

Meanwhile, more than a thousand Tartar cavalry had reformed and were advancing in force toward Suijin Town.

Batu Taiji sat atop his horse, frowning as he gazed at the barricades blocking the road.

On the makeshift defenses—built from all kinds of furniture and wood—stood the Ming soldiers, ready for battle. Barricades of chevaux-de-frise blocked the way south.

Cavalry were ill-suited to storming fortifications, and from the looks of the defenders’ tight formation, this battle would not be easily won.

What concerned Batu even more was the presence of that “god of slaughter,” the one who had defeated hundreds of his riders alone; he was surely among these soldiers.

“Hairigu, you will lead five hundred men to attack. See just how capable these Ming dogs are.”

A robust man gripping a long-handled broadsword bellowed, “Yes, master!”

The war drums boomed.

With fur hoods and sheepskin coats, the Tartar cavalry charged forward with a howl.

The front ranks threw lassos, dragging the chevaux-de-frise back.

Behind them, archers nocked arrows, and in an instant, a wild rain of arrows fell upon the defending soldiers, screams of agony ringing out one after another.

Li Yi seized an arrow, glancing around.

The able-bodied villagers had already developed a tacit understanding; at the first volley of arrows, they took cover under long shields and round shields.

The Standard Battalion soldiers, protected by thick cotton armor, had little to fear from arrows.

But the garrison soldiers, lacking any armor, suffered the worst casualties.

“Li Guo, take men and carry the wounded down. Follow the training for bandaging,” Li Yi ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Li Guo answered loudly.

Resourceful as ever, Li Guo, seeing the Tartars continuing their arrow volleys, quickly led a group of youths to tear down doors to use as shields while carrying the wounded.

Li Yi, watching, felt reassured.

Soon, the chevaux-de-frise had been dragged away in places; the defenses against the cavalry were dwindling. Anxious, Li Zicheng approached.

“Brother Yi, this won’t do. We can’t let them keep this up.”

Li Yi watched the Tartars rotate their cavalry, shields raised at first, but as the Ming defenders atop the barricade failed to retaliate, they relaxed.

“Second Brother, gather everyone who can shoot. Under my command, we’ll return fire. We have the high ground; they’ll suffer more in an exchange.”

Li Zicheng quickly mustered a group of archers.

Just as a fresh wave of Tartar cavalry charged forward and threw their lassos, Li Yi shouted, “Loose!”

Dozens of archers stepped up, drew, and loosed arrows at the approaching cavalry.

A sharp volley whistled through the air.

Caught off guard, dozens of Tartars were struck in an instant, their screams of pain mingling with the chaos of panicked horses.

“Loose!” Li Yi shouted again.

Relentless volleys rained into the Tartar ranks.

Hairigu ordered two hundred Tartars to dismount, raise their shields, and cover their own archers.

Having grown up hunting from horseback, the Tartars were skilled archers.

Ming archers began to fall, struck by return fire.

Li Yi helped an archer whose shoulder was pierced, the pain contorting his face.

Fortunately, most Tartar bows were light horse bows; if they’d been foot bows, the archer might not even have been able to stand.

“Go get bandaged,” Li Yi said, sending the wounded archer back. He picked up a short spear, spotted a Tartar at a distance, stepped back a few paces, and hurled it with a rush.

Seeing a dark blur flying toward him, the Tartar quickly raised his shield.

But the shield shattered, and the short spear pierced the Tartar’s chest, nailing him to the ground.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted as the surrounding Tartars stared in horror at their impaled comrade, chills running down their spines.

Before they could react, another short spear came whistling in.

A Tartar in ragged armor ducked instinctively, feeling the wind of the weapon as it flew past. Looking back, he saw the spear quivering in the ground.

The terror and relief of a near miss sent a shudder through him as he looked up at Li Yi on the barricade.

“The god of slaughter—the one who killed Minangan!” he cried.

Pointing at Li Yi, his face twisted with fear, the armored Tartar’s legs gave out; he scrambled back in panic.

Hairigu stepped forward, cleaving the man down with a broadsword. Glaring at his men, he growled, “Don’t be afraid—charge with me!”

He raised his broadsword and advanced on foot toward the barricade.

Short spears rained down without pause, each one claiming another Tartar nailed to the earth.

Terrified, the Tartars pressed forward behind their shields, dreading they’d be the god of slaughter’s next victim.

Dodging left and right, they bunched together, finally reaching the barricade.

Before they could climb, a massive millstone was hurled down.

Several Tartars couldn’t dodge in time and were crushed, bones shattered and bodies mangled beyond recognition.

The carnage sickened even these hardened killers. Vomiting broke out among the Tartar cavalry.

Panic and dread shattered their morale. After several more were crushed by heavy stones, they could bear it no longer—they threw down their shields and weapons and fled in terror.

Hairigu brandished his broadsword, shouting furiously to rally his men.

But the Tartars, broken with fear, scattered in all directions, desperate to escape.

The garrison soldiers on the barricade cheered.

Though they’d stayed for the silver, none of them had believed this young inspector could actually hold Suijin Town against the Tartar cavalry.

Yet in just a quarter of an hour, they had slain nearly a hundred Tartars. Inspector Li Yi, in particular, seemed a god descended—he had hefted a millstone weighing five or six hundred jin and hurled it down. Such feats defied their imagination.

“Recover the arrows, reinforce the defenses—do not let your guard down!” Li Yi shouted.

“Yes, sir!” the garrison soldiers replied in unison. In this moment, they truly submitted to Li Yi’s command.

On the other side, Batu Taiji sat grim-faced atop his horse, watching as his cavalry returned defeated.

“Batu Taiji, that god of slaughter is too powerful. My clansmen are no match for him,” Hairigu reported, kneeling with anguish.

These were the cavalry his tribe had painstakingly gathered; in just a quarter hour, a third were dead or wounded.

Batu’s face betrayed no sympathy. His gaze was ice as he looked toward the barricade. “The main force of the Ming has already been routed. At most, those left are stragglers and rabble—yet you still can’t take them?”

Hairigu steeled himself. “Most of the defenders are garrison soldiers. If Taiji sends in armored troops to kill that god of slaughter, my men will surely break through.”

Batu regarded him coldly for a long moment. At last, he said, “I’ll send fifty fully armored troops and a hundred half-armored. Hairigu, if you lose again, don’t bother returning.”

Cold sweat broke out on Hairigu’s back as he gritted his teeth and withdrew.

Soon, his remaining two hundred men, together with Batu’s personal armored troops, advanced steadily.

“The Tartars are coming again—loose arrows!” cried Li Zicheng, drawing and firing at the Tartars.

His arrow struck an armored soldier in the shoulder; the armor absorbed most of the force, and the soldier barely paused before raising his shield and pressing the attack.

With the armored troops’ arrival, the assault’s pace doubled.

But while the armor stopped arrows, it could not stop Li Yi’s short spears.

From atop the barricade, Li Yi hurled five spears in quick succession.

Five armored troops were nailed dead to the ground, but the survivors, now blood-crazed, showed no fear—they scrambled up the barricade in a frenzy.

“The Tartars are coming up—kill them!” Gao Jie shouted, cleaving a Tartar’s head in half with his wild goose-feathered saber.

The defenders, long prepared, roared as they swung their weapons at the attackers.

Both sides clashed atop the crude barricades. The able-bodied men from Ganquanli, grouped into squads, formed defensive formations—able to both attack and defend—even against armored foes, they held their ground.

The Standard Battalion soldiers, skilled and well-equipped though demoralized, managed to resist.

But the garrison soldiers began to panic; as the fighting spilled into the narrow planked walkways, the air thick with blood and gore, they faltered and fell back, allowing the Tartars to gain a foothold and storm the barricade.

Hairigu climbed up, swinging his broadsword to cleave a garrison soldier in two, bellowing as he smashed aside two more, hacking a bloody path—each step leaving another mangled corpse in his wake.