Chapter 77: The First Execution of the Xiongnu

More than thirty thousand Huns fled in panic, instantly pushing their mounts to the limit. Though they quickly broke contact, the endurance of their horses was rapidly depleted. After only a short distance, the plateau ponies’ speed dropped, and twenty war chariots once again closed in from behind.

A series of thundering noises erupted, and another batch of Huns inexplicably fell.

“No—!”

“Damn it! They’re coming!”

The horses, stung and terrified, found a second wind, only to gradually pull away from the chariots’ range once more.

“Heh! Let’s see how long you can run!” The chariot commander laughed.

The machine gunner lamented, “Ah, pity we can’t fire the cannon. One volley of fireballs and let’s see them try to escape.”

Even the machine gunner felt regret; at sixty rounds per minute, even thousands of bullets wouldn’t be enough.

“Damn it! Did the Chanyu retreat early?” After several kilometers without sighting Touman’s main force, General Baibo seemed to realize the truth.

The Hun wolf soldiers, unwilling to fight head-on, tried probing the enemy but still lost nearly ten thousand men and horses, with thousands more scattered in unknown directions. Even the Liaodong cavalry had no time to pursue the stragglers.

“Baibo, the warriors can’t hold out much longer!” Lantu finally managed to catch up.

Baibo’s mount was a first-class steed, so he had escaped fastest—after only a brief charge, he was at the head of the fleeing column.

Their speed kept dropping; the rearmost troops began to scatter and flee. Baibo knew that at this rate, their horses would soon be spent.

“Lantu, did you see the Chanyu and his men?”

Lantu gave a bitter smile. “No! I guess they fled early. The Northern Army is just too strong—no wonder the Donghu leader Yimu willingly surrendered!”

Donghu Yimu—a formidable adversary who dared to lead ten thousand swift riders deep into Hun territory. In that battle, Baibo’s thirty thousand horsemen couldn’t stop him.

“Not good! The Liaodong iron cavalry is getting closer!” Lantu glanced back; the great dust dragon behind them was drawing near.

Baibo felt powerless—he knew the Huns were finished.

“Lantu, even if we escape, we can’t hold out against the King of the Northern Desert. Perhaps it’s better—”

Lantu hesitated. Surrendering to the Northern Army meant his tribe would be divided among children and women.

“Very well! Lantu, you are bold and strong. I, Baibo, salute you!” Baibo stood in the saddle and cupped his fists in respect, though in his eyes Lantu was already beyond salvation.

Lantu secretly rejoiced—Baibo was no longer so detestable.

“Sound the horn, halt, and surrender!”

“Stop! Let’s surrender!” Baibo shouted to the cavalry behind, slowing his mount and turning to the left.

What! Surrendering without a word of warning! Lantu was furious, no wonder Baibo’s gaze had been so strange.

“General Lantu, take care!” With a sigh, Baibo no longer cared for those doomed to die.

The trumpeters behind Baibo breathed a sigh of relief, quickly sounding the horn and shouting, “We surrender too!”

Lantu hurriedly slowed his pace. Now his men numbered less than ten thousand; if they didn’t surrender, they’d be crushed by a few dozen war chariots.

The mournful horn echoed, and the Huns’ speed dropped further.

“Wonderful!” The several thousand Huns who had already surrendered laughed; now that everyone had surrendered together, no one would mock them in the future.

As the Huns slowed, the steam chariots reduced speed as well—their mission was to force surrender, not slaughter.

All were steppe tribes; the Donghu cavalry were pleased to see them capitulate.

...

Touman returned to camp with twenty thousand men, only to be met with two pieces of bad news and one of good.

“Chanyu, the Great Stone Bridge has been taken by the Eastern Army! Rain after rain of arrows—our warriors just couldn’t withstand it!”

The general left in charge spoke bitterly; of his ten thousand men, three thousand were lost.

It was over. Before Touman could speak, a general and a junior commander arrived swiftly.

“Chanyu! The cavalry in the rear have stopped! If it’s not a ceasefire, then Baibo and his men must have surrendered!”

The general hadn’t witnessed the battle behind, but he could observe the change in the dust on the horizon.

Far off, the dust dispersed and no longer billowed in great columns—where there had once been two mighty dragons of dust, now there was none.

It was over. Touman fell into despair; he didn’t need to be told the third piece of bad news—he already knew.

The world was silent, and there was no thunderous march of infantry. It seemed the Zhao army hadn’t arrived, or was engaged with the Eastern Army.

“Chanyu! The pursuers behind us aren’t mechanical chariots, but a rather large horse-drawn wagon!” The junior commander quickly reported the good news.

Touman was somewhat relieved.

“Fools! What wagon dares approach? Let’s smash it first!”

Facing enemies front and rear, Touman knew the army needed to rest and await the stragglers and support from Zhao.

“So it’s a wagon! Let me cut off its horse’s head myself!” The general, brimming with rage, welcomed the chance to vent.

Touman smiled lightly. “Ha! Good, but I want the man in the wagon alive.”

Earlier, chased by a wagon, Touman had thought it was one of those thunderous mechanical beasts—it had frightened him badly.

Touman mounted his horse once more, and the crowd joined in, eager for a spectacle.

[The commander’s murderous intent rises.]

“Very well! Let them approach. We’ll take what we can eat!”

Some Huns relished the taste of tender human flesh, so Lin Shu saw no need for mercy.

“Is this the wagon?” The general, fearless and sword in hand, seemed to recall something.

Looking closely, he saw two horned giant tiger horses pulling an unusually wide wagon.

Touman was stunned. What was this?

“Impossible! Isn’t he supposed to be in Liaodong or Liaoxi?”

“Impossible—”

The legendary thoroughbred drew Touman to retreat step by step.

Perhaps the common Hun soldier knew little, but Touman and his lieutenants knew many tales—tales of the demon wagon.

“Chanyu! Is it true?”

The wagon moved forward slowly; the general, ready to cut off the horse’s head, couldn’t help but fall back.

Who knew! If it really was the demon wagon, it would be terrifying. Touman panicked, more than he had ever panicked before the thunderous mechanical chariots.

“Hmph! Enough mysticism! Go on, the Northern King is still celebrating in Liaodong—how could he possibly be here?”

Facing Touman’s cannibalistic intent, the general could only press forward.

“It shouldn’t be true! How could he arrive so quickly? Even if it is the Northern King, only the giant tiger horses are frightening.”

He silently steeled himself, raising his long slashing sword.

“Good! Attack!” Touman shouted in satisfaction, eager to know whether the legend was true.

The long slashing sword was two meters long—a massive bronze blade mounted on a spear shaft.

Alone on horseback, fierce and bold, he charged as if possessed by the spirit of a god.

“Heh! Do you think you’re Guan Yu?” Lin Shu sneered from the wagon.

“Ah! Kill!” At a hundred meters, the general roared his challenge.

Kill! Kill!

His pose was imposing; his voice boomed, and the Hun warriors behind him cheered.

“Prepare to die! I am the Huns’ foremost slasher—Wolfbone!”

His horse thundered like a dragon, and his sword thirsted for blood; in this moment, Wolfbone’s martial spirit seemed awakened.

Lin Shu had intended to ignore him, but the challenger’s arrogant, invincible demeanor enraged him.

“Bring the blade!”

He leapt onto the horse’s back, raising both arms and shouting.

“Ha! Courting death—”

This fool had nothing in his hands and waved empty fists. Wolfbone wanted to laugh, but was instantly dumbstruck.

Boom! The air shuddered, and a thirty-meter-long slashing sword cleaved down.

From afar, it seemed Lin Shu was swinging the blade, but how could he possibly lift a weapon weighing thousands of pounds?

“This—is it real?”

As the colossal blade split his nose, Wolfbone had no further doubts, for he and his horse were already—

“What! All those pieces—is that a sword?”

The great sword vanished, but four red hunks of flesh on the ground told Touman he was not seeing things.