Chapter 82: Escaping Death

“Commit the whole army. Kill them all.”

Batu barked the order harshly, staking everything on one desperate throw, sending out every Tartar cavalryman still able to fight.

He himself remained behind with a dozen or so personal guards, holding the rear and directing the battle in person.

A dull horn sounded. After three consecutive charges had ended in crushing defeat, the Tartar riders’ morale had sunk low. Dusty and bedraggled, they dragged themselves up from the ground and swung back onto their horses.

Looking at the Ming soldiers in the distance, torches raised, ranks drawn tight and waiting in full readiness, there was no longer any beastlike ferocity in their eyes, nor did their hoarse throats give out those wild, savage howls.

The first burst of spirit is strongest; the second wanes; by the third, it is spent.

The Tartar cavalry’s morale had fallen to its lowest point, and their strength was nearly exhausted.

One of the accompanying noyans opened his mouth, meaning to advise caution once more, but seeing Batu Taiji’s furious, frenzied expression, he fearfully shut it again.

The second horn sounded, and the cavalry hastily formed up.

Then came the third.

Under Batu’s fierce roar, every rider spurred forward in a mad charge.

On the official road, several hundred horsemen advanced in three ranks, a dark mass rolling toward the Ming line. The front rank held shields aloft; those behind had bows bent and arrows nocked. Countless spears flashed with a chill gleam, the slaughter about to begin anew.

Facing this fresh assault, every Ming soldier tightened his grip on his weapon.

After Li Yi’s display of ferocity just now, fear had vanished from their eyes. In its place was a trace of scorn, and a grim resolve to settle the matter with the Tartars once and for all.

“Hold the chevaux-de-frise. Whether we live or die will be decided here and now!”

Li Yi seized the arrow lodged in his left shoulder, drew his saber, and with one stroke hacked off the shaft. Hot blood burst from the wound as he yanked out the bloodied arrowhead.

He tossed it aside and rode before the line, shouting to rouse the men.

“Prepare the cannon!”

At his shout, the crouching tiger cannons were loaded once more and leveled at the Tartar cavalry.

Meanwhile, Buyan, who had only just escaped Li Yi’s pursuit, shouted, “First rank, spread out! Watch for their cannon!”

The Tartar riders had fought the Ming before and had their own ways of dealing with artillery.

The front rank scattered at once, raising their shields high and charging forward with hoarse cries.

Boom! Boom!

With two thunderous reports, the crouching tiger cannons fired.

White powder smoke spread thickly. Yet the area covered by the grapeshot was limited after all, and only a dozen or so Tartars were struck down.

The cavalry close behind immediately accelerated and rushed in.

“Loose arrows!”

Li Yi raised his tiger-fang spear high and roared.

Archers and javelin throwers attacked in unison. Horses were struck by stray missiles and bolted in agitation.

More than a dozen spears flew out. A matching number of half-armored Tartar soldiers in the oncoming charge were pierced through, screaming as they tumbled from their saddles and were trampled into pulp beneath the hooves behind them.

The chevaux-de-frise were dragged away. Armored horsemen surged through the gaps into the formation, only to be met by baggage carts shoved forward to block them.

A dozen or so carts, prepared long in advance, were pushed into place by the men.

The cavalry had never imagined the Ming would have such a measure ready and hastily reined in their horses.

“Brothers, fight to the death! Kill!”

Li Yi threw up his arm and roared. His blood-splattered face was like that of a demon, his eyes wide with murderous intent as he charged ahead.

With one thrust he skewered an armored rider and drove his horse onward, hacking deeper into the enemy.

“Kill!”

Every man still able to fight raised his weapon high, shouting at the top of his lungs as they surged toward the Tartar cavalry.

Steel flashed coldly. Slaughter and battle-fury collided. Warhorses shrieked, flesh and blood flew through the air. In the dim torchlight, pungent blood splashed across the earth, and life, as cheap as grass, fell into the mire.

Liu Zongmin drove a spear through the chest of a half-armored rider. As he twisted and tore the spear free, blood and flesh came out with it. Clutching the gaping wound in his chest, the man wailed and toppled from his horse.

Honest Gao shouted himself hoarse, directing the younger and sturdier men to hold formation.

With the chevaux-de-frise and carts hemming them in, the Tartar cavalry had completely lost the space needed to wheel and charge.

They could only fight the Ming soldiers in cramped, choking gaps.

Even so, the fierce armored riders displayed terrifying killing power.

Brandishing long sabers and spears, they stabbed through the bodies of garrison troops and camp soldiers again and again, or carved deep, bone-revealing wounds with their keen horse-blades.

And yet, even so, the garrison soldiers and camp troops did not retreat a single step.

It was not because they were especially brave, nor because they did not fear death. It was because they understood they had nowhere left to go.

If breaking and fleeing would only mean being hunted down and slaughtered by cavalry, then why not fight here to the bitter end and carve out a path to survival?

At some unknown moment, snow began to fall from the sky, driven by the desolate cold wind. The flakes drifted down over the savage battlefield, melting instantly into droplets that sank into the blood-soaked mud.

North of Broken Gold Town, the two sides were locked in brutal close combat. Officers and soldiers fell without cease, and Tartar riders too screamed as they were thrown from their saddles.

Li Yi fought with every ounce of his strength beneath the encirclement of the Tartar cavalry.

He had no idea how many men he had killed. He only knew that screams and roars wove endlessly around him, and each swing of the heavy tiger-fang spear sent blood spraying into the air.

By now six arrows were sticking from the iron armor on his body. His shoulder guards and thigh flaps were gone, his surcoat armor was badly torn, and blood poured from his thigh.

The tiger-fang spear was growing heavier and heavier in his hands. Li Yi endured the pain and forced his mind to its sharpest edge.

All the while, he had been guarding against that master archer among the Tartars.

He could feel that the archer must be hidden somewhere, waiting like a venomous serpent, ready to strike the instant he revealed a flaw.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Li Yi swept his spear out in a great arc.

Driven by his immense strength, the tiger-fang spear gave a shrill, tearing howl through the air. Three armored riders assailing him swung up their weapons to block.

But Li Yi’s force crashed over them like raging seas, knocking their weapons aside outright.

Terror flooded their faces. In the next instant, the spear blade swept past; blood burst from the necks of two men, while the point drove through the third man’s chest and flung him away.

Unexpectedly, the dying rider clutched the shaft with a death grip, and Li Yi’s momentum faltered.

At that very moment, two armored riders charged in with great shouts, one thrusting a spear straight at him, the other bringing down a saber in a chopping stroke.

“Die!”

Li Yi roared. He hurled the armored corpse outward, smashing it into the rider with the spear, then twisted aside and narrowly evaded the slashing horse-saber.

Just then, Buyan, who had long been waiting for this opening, suddenly sprang forth on horseback, bow drawn and arrow aimed squarely at Li Yi.

A hair-raising sensation made every hair on Li Yi’s body stand on end, as though in the next breath some immense danger would descend upon him.

The wound in his left shoulder made him withdraw the tiger-fang spear without hesitation, dragging the armored rider on it before him as a shield.

In the next instant, an arrow shot powerfully into that rider’s body.

Li Yi did not relax in the slightest. That nameless terror told him the danger had not passed. Planting his foot in the stirrup, he threw himself backward toward the ground.

A horse-saber scraped across the iron armor on his back, scattering sparks.

In that instant, the sounds of battle around him seemed to slow. In a flash of lightning speed, the second arrow struck Li Yi in the chest.

It was an armor-piercing plum-needle arrow. It punched easily through the iron armor, its three-edged head driving into his flesh. Li Yi’s body jolted, and a numb, searing pain made him feel as though he were a punctured skin, all the strength in him rushing away.

His warhorse seemed to sense the danger. Whinnying, it bolted forward. Li Yi’s left foot was caught in the stirrup and dragged him along; his whole body pitched back half a beat faster, and the third arrow grazed his brow as it flew past.