Chapter 82: The Cavalry Performance of Linhu

As expected of a coalition army—assembling thirty thousand cavalry took them half an hour.

“Useless fools! Beat the drums, advance!” Imu was furious, for these cavalrymen were still arranging their formation at this late hour!

In truth, Imu misunderstood the situation; the delay was mainly because the Luhu and Yuezhi troops were both unwilling to take the vanguard. After much haggling, Wusu finally conceded, allowing the Luhu warriors to take the lead.

Boom, boom—boom, boom—

The deep thud of drums and the blare of horns echoed, played by soldiers whom Lin Shu had personally trained. Even the snowland infantry had grown fond of these martial rhythms.

To be honest, Imu didn’t care much for the drums, but there was nothing to be done—both Lord Lin and the snowfolk loved them.

Seventy thousand Northern troops stood ready. At the front, twenty thousand heavy infantry clad in full armor, left hands gripping half-man shields, right hands wielding spears two and a half meters long, with war blades one point three meters in length strapped to their backs.

Some even bore bows or crossbows and three short javelins besides, wild and powerful barbarians eager to carry even more.

The forty thousand militia of the various tribes were clad in light chainmail, each carrying a longbow, with a sword and shield for foot combat strapped to their backs as well.

On both flanks, ten thousand cavalry advanced slowly. These tribal horsemen, too, wore double-layered chainmail, with sabers at their left hips and cavalry crossbows at their right.

Though the seventy thousand strong force was somewhat unruly, their advance was steady, not chaotic.

Thud, thud, thud—

Jingle, jingle—

The steady tramp of boots and the crisp ring of armor made Wusu involuntarily fall back.

“Damn that Gerilang!”

Cursing under his breath, Wusu had no choice in the matter.

The ground trembled in rhythm. The Luhu hesitated, making the grand marshal Gerilang chuckle and nod—thank goodness he hadn’t recklessly thrown in his entire army!

“Everyone, strike at the flanks! At eighty paces—no, a hundred paces—break off and circle the Northern troops! Don't charge too hard, don’t go too far—just kick up as much dust as you can!”

No one knew how deadly the Northern archers might be, but Wusu guessed they were formidable. At the very least, their horse archers couldn't hope to match the foot archers.

“Yes, General, this is child’s play!” one commander exclaimed in delight; feigned charges were the Luhu’s specialty.

Once, the Luhu had terrorized the four directions, harrying the states of Zhao and Qin. In the end, however, they’d been crushed, and for a hundred years now, their survival depended on lingering between the Yuezhi and Xiongnu.

The Luhu moved, and Batan prepared to follow, knowing the Luhu were too feeble to truly test the enemy.

At a distance, the Luhu began their charge—not fast, but not slow either.

“Good—the dust is rising.”

Seeing the dust clouds billow behind, Wusu signaled the order to proceed.

Mooing horns of the Luhu resounded, making Gerilang believe the Yuezhi were about to make a serious push.

“Haha, follow me and turn!” Wusu laughed loudly as the time for theatrics arrived.

“At your command!” The bodyguards and commanders immediately understood.

Yah! Yah! Whoa!

Yah! Whoa!

The Luhu were exhilarated, but their horses grew angry! One moment urging them on, the next reining them in, veering left and right—much ado about nothing, really, and hardly a real charge.

The vanguard assumed an S-shaped formation, while the cavalry in the rear worked tirelessly to kick up more dust.

“Haha, attack!”

“Charge!” Wusu shouted, swords crossed in a display of passion.

“Haha, we’ll join in!” The commanders cheered, brandishing their weapons and raising their voices.

The roar of battle cries and the neighing of horses, the clash of weapons—all this caused Imu to halt and ready his troops for engagement.

“Heh! Surely the Luhu aren’t foolish enough to smash into us?” Batan shook his head and couldn’t help but slow his pace—there was simply too much dust!

Gerilang, bringing up the rear, couldn’t see clearly, but the Northern army had an unobstructed view.

“Commander, are the Luhu trying to summon spirits?” a snowland leader asked in surprise.

Imu laughed heartily. “I doubt it! Perhaps the Luhu have gone mad!”

A cavalry charge, arrows flying from galloping horses—what a magnificent sight!

But now, the Luhu looked like horsemen performing an awkward dance, their steeds neighing furiously in protest.

“Alas!” As they drew closer, Wusu, not yet satisfied with his performance, had no choice but to sheathe his swords and ready his prized bow.

Following suit, seeing bows drawn ahead, the Luhu ceased their shouting as well.

Two hundred and fifty meters—two hundred meters—

At this moment, General Imu raised his war blade high, the commanders watching his hand intently.

Soon, the Luhu vanguard entered within two hundred meters. No longer dancing about, the cavalry accelerated to their top speed.

“Hmph!”

With a slash of his blade, Imu sneered.

Whoosh, whoosh—

Rows upon rows of arrows arced into the sky, forty thousand bows loosing their deadly volleys in the span of two breaths.

The sky dimmed, countless cold gleams filling Wusu’s vision.

“They can’t reach us yet, surely?” he muttered, but nonetheless flung away his bow and drew his twin swords.

He took a sharp breath—and the rain of arrows was already overhead.

“Damn it! Retreat! Fall back!”

Swinging his swords wildly, Wusu still found breath to shout the order.

The horses shrieked—

Boom! Horse after horse toppled, raising even greater clouds of dust.

“Go! Move! Fall back to the Hetao immediately!”

The screams of men and beasts were unending, as if everyone around had perished. Wusu had no time to look back; all he could think of was escape.

Had he not been skilled himself, he too would be lying on the ground like his bodyguards.

Those Luhu cavalrymen able to parry or dodge suffered little, but their horses could neither block nor evade. At least six thousand horses fell with anguished cries.

Where once three great banners had flown, now only one remained. The terrified standard-bearer clung to Wusu, and over ten thousand cavalry hurried after them.

“Yah! Yah!”

“Faster—run faster!”

The horses roared in fury, giving their all with nothing left to spare.

Sure enough, within a few breaths, a second volley of arrows descended—the Luhu cavalry, just turning their mounts, were felled in another wave.

Volley after volley of arrows fell—

“Enough, cease fire!” Imu quickly raised his blade, for the archers were already preparing a fourth assault.

After three bloody rounds, the Luhu fell silent; after all, those not groaning in agony were already sprawled on the ground.

“Let’s go! We’ll head to the rear for fresh mounts and return to the Hetao!”

There was no point fighting further—Wusu knew that any delay would spell annihilation. He didn’t even know how many cavalry remained; after a quick glance, he estimated perhaps half were left.

After a brief, desperate melee amid the dust, ten thousand Yuezhi horses began to gallop at full speed in pursuit.

“Charge! Keep up—all of you, keep up!” Batan roared, hoping to break through the Northern front in the chaos and thus prove his mettle.

Batan was secretly delighted, eyes fixed on the hazy shapes ahead.

Wait—those are arrows!

“Whoa!”

“Stop! Stop at once!”

The men and horses lying ahead were not all dead, but their bodies and the ground were bristling with arrows—any fool could see they were as good as finished.

“Heh—Yuezhi!”

“Charge! Why aren’t the Yuezhi charging?”

A junior commander lying on the ground laughed, then spat a mouthful of blood skyward.

“Damn! This is—!”

Batan panicked! The corpses of men and horses, the arrows like sprouting weeds, had blocked the path for any further charge.

The north wind blew fiercely, and soon the dust settled. Batan could now see the Northern troops ahead, eyeing them like tigers.

The tumult of shouts and galloping ceased, and Gerilang noticed cavalry seemed to be sweeping along the left wing as well!

“G-Grand Marshal! The Luhu are fleeing! They’re heading for the rear, toward the horse pickets!” an aide reported urgently.

“Useless! Do they mean to disobey orders? Drag them back here!” Gerilang sneered. The Luhu were utterly worthless—clearly it was time to move into the Hetao.

Now that the Xiongnu main force was absent, Gerilang could hardly resist the urge to withdraw and occupy all the Luhu tribes.

While Gerilang was lost in these fantasies, Batan too had no choice but to slink back.

The battlefield had suffered about ten thousand casualties, the ground littered with dense clusters of arrows. Even if Batan wished to advance, his men would not move.