Chapter 631: Light and Heavy Dispute

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The forty thousand Ji Nan veteran soldiers passed safely through the Qingyang Basin. Old General Yang Shenxing, almost instinctively, paused his horse on a high slope at the edge of the area and looked back. He seemed somewhat relieved not to have encountered an ambush, yet also a little disappointed at not having faced a tough battle. This Grand General of Anguo had many thoughts, which he didn't even share with his son, Yang Huchen. He believed his grandson was superior to his son; his eldest grandson, Yang Wenqi, was the only true military genius in the family, but too young. Yang Shenxing didn't want this child to be exposed too early to the political machinations outside the battlefield, and his son, Yang Huchen, only possessed the talent of a general, so further discussion was pointless. Their Yang family's Ji Nan army's victory or defeat in this southern campaign was actually irrelevant to the overall situation. Even if Cao Changqing intended to secure an initial victory, he would only focus on Yan Zhenchun's vulnerable target. Only by eliminating the thirty thousand cavalry in the East Yu Plains could they avoid being utterly humiliated. Yang Shenxing smiled. Yan Zhenchun's unwillingness to take in those young, inexperienced aristocratic soldiers, besides his long-standing distant relationship with the nobles and dignitaries in the capital, was likely also due to his clear understanding of his perilous situation. He dared not use this opportunity to curry favor with the powerful families of Tai'an City. If dozens of young scions died, it would mean offending scores of influential families in the capital at once. On the battlefield, who cares about the status of your parents? Once blood-crazed, a single head is a military merit.

Yang Shenxing was contemplating how to find new opportunities to satisfy those spoiled scions after taking command of the Kui Xiao military town. The old general heard a series of sharp whistles, his eyelids involuntarily twitching. He quickly mounted his horse and headed south. A lone rider burst into the formation, unobstructed. He was an elite scout from the Ji Nan veterans, now critically wounded, with a feathered arrow embedded in his back. Scouts always rode fast, lightly equipped horses. To achieve maximum speed, they wore almost no armor, carrying only the short crossbow and saber necessary for close combat. Yang Shenxing spurred his horse, arriving at the spot where the scout had fallen. This middle-aged scout, whose name Yang Shenxing could even recall, had already died. Yang Huchen, who had arrived earlier, was holding the scout's still warm body, gritting his teeth, about to report the military situation. Yang Shenxing, still on horseback, waved his hand. Yang Huchen understood the gravity of the situation, ordered men to carry away the fallen veteran's body, and then, mounting his horse, rode alongside his father. The two quickly reached a secluded spot, where Yang Huchen, with a dark expression, reported gravely, "Father, of the six scouts sent to Kui Xiao military town, only this one returned. The city walls have raised the Chu banner, and three temporary trenches were dug overnight in front of the city. The breastworks, crenellations, and arrow slits were set up with skilled craftsmanship, no less proficient than our Ji Nan engineering corps. Furthermore, cavalry patrols are active on both flanks of the city; their numbers are unknown, but it seems they do not intend to defend Kui Xiao to the death. My fear is that these Western Chu remnants might deploy all their cavalry near Kui Xiao in one go..."

Yang Shenxing sneered, "Absolutely not. The terrain around Kui Xiao can only accommodate three thousand cavalry; any more would just be for show. Three thousand cavalry, plus six or seven thousand rebels inside the city, are adequate for defense. To actively sally out and attack? They'd have to be donkey-kicked in the head. Now, what I fear is that they are more focused on our supply line behind us, especially after passing Qingshui Ford and entering the Qingyang Basin."

Yang Huchen cautiously asked, "Father, should we retreat to the north bank of Qingshui Ford? With the river as a barrier, even if the enemy has a cavalry advantage, they wouldn't be able to utilize it. Whether we attack or defend, we would still hold the initiative. At worst, we'd just miss out on the initial glory..." Yang Shenxing's face was as still as water; he said nothing. Just then, a new wave of scouts returned with fresh intelligence, delivering a message that struck both Yang Shenxing and Yang Huchen as absurd: two thousand light cavalry from outside the heavily fortified Kui Xiao were rapidly advancing north, and would soon collide with them head-on. The Ji Nan infantry's southward advance was at a moderate pace, not strictly marching cautiously, but capable of responding to various enemy attacks without panic. They were far from a fatigued force. Moreover, Yang Shenxing also commanded four thousand light cavalry, well-rested and prepared. Yang Shenxing found it somewhat amusing, wondering what kind of "kids" were leading the enemy troops, if they had perhaps read too many military texts and become foolish. Did they think they could simply charge headlong at a distant expeditionary infantry force just by having cavalry? Yang Shenxing smiled and ordered, "Huchen, let Wenqi lead two thousand cavalry as the vanguard. You personally lead three thousand cavalry as the rear guard. If our 'three thousand iron cavalry' volunteer to charge, you might as well grant their request. Let them collect some battle merits in the middle of the fighting. A little bloodshed would do them good, so they'll have something to boast about to their cronies when they return to the capital. Also, have someone keep a close eye on the Qingyang Basin. These Western Chu hotheads, who have been poring over military texts for over a decade, might just do something utterly ridiculous."

Yang Huchen left to carry out the orders. Yang Shenxing slowly rode forward, then ascended a hastily constructed, simple lookout tower. The old general, leaning on the rough railing, was filled with emotion. He recalled how, during the Spring and Autumn campaigns, when two armies faced each other, every detail of timing, terrain, and morale was meticulously considered. He had once fought alongside several generals from Northern Liang, and that had been truly gratifying to witness: Yuan Zuozong's cavalry charges, even when outnumbered, still had the ferocity of a lion hunting a rabbit in the eyes of onlookers. Chu Lushan's rearguard actions never left anyone with worries, no matter how many tens of thousands of pursuers there were; that "fat pig" always ensured a secure retreat. As for Chen Zhibao's presence in the army, he would issue hundreds of precise orders during a single battle, and every battalion and every commandant would execute them as if his own limb. Why did the current emperor uniquely favor this "little butcher"? Because it was Chen Zhibao who, in battles between armies of over a hundred thousand, achieved absolute victories against Ye Baikuai, one of the Spring and Autumn era's military strategists, winning cleanly and decisively, without any hesitation. Yang Shenxing sighed. How could the old man not know the surname of the greatest hero of the Spring and Autumn period? It was just that the cripple won on the battlefield but lost in the imperial court; he had no one to blame but himself.

Yang Shenxing exclaimed in surprise. After two roughly equally sized cavalry forces engaged, the enemy, under Wenqi's charge, didn't collapse like a crumbling mountain but still possessed the strength to fight? The old general had initially worried this was an enemy trap to lure them in, and given Wenqi's youthful impetuousness, a significant loss of their own cavalry here would not be a good outcome. The old man chuckled self-deprecatingly, "This isn't like when we fought Western Chu back then. Where would we find so many fiercely stubborn, desperate fighters now?"

Yang Shenxing quietly observed the battlefield. When he saw the elite troops, whom he had privately joked about with his son as the "three thousand iron cavalry," charge out, he nodded. Huchen's timing in releasing them was perfect. Wenqi's casualties compared to the enemy's were roughly two to three. Firstly, Wenqi hadn't been decisive enough in capitalizing on his slight advantage to immediately expand the gains. Secondly, this enemy cavalry unit must have been elite troops cultivated by Western Chu at great cost, intended to boost the morale of the entire Western Chu army with a victory. Yang Shenxing frowned. Why were those three thousand cavalry so hesitant, even with such a massive advantage during their charge? In the old general's view, the three thousand cavalry were largely bogged down amidst piles of human and horse corpses, their charging speed significantly reduced. Poor horsemanship was one reason, but more likely, they were terrified by seeing so many dismembered bodies and remains of lives that had been vibrant just moments before, at such close quarters. In less than half an hour, the Kui Xiao cavalry left behind over six hundred bodies. His grandson Yang Wenqi's cavalry had deliberately opened a pursuit path, while Yang Huchen maintained a steady advance. After their initial discomfort, the three thousand cavalry, whose fathers were, after all, meritorious generals who had survived battlefields—their inherent ferocity, diluted by only one generation, was far from completely gone—the noble scions among the three thousand cavalry, carefully protected by their personal retainers, each strove to be first.

Yang Shenxing smiled, softly saying, "At least there's still a hint of how your grandparents and parents fought desperately on the battlefield back then."

Yang Shenxing gripped the railing, his face suddenly changing drastically. The ground trembled. This was not the minor, localized tremor caused by the Ji Nan light cavalry. Armored cavalry, both man and horse. True heavy cavalry!

It wasn't that Yang Shenxing didn't covet such awe-inspiring heavy cavalry. It was simply that he lacked the large, strong horses capable of carrying heavy armor, the sufficient funds to maintain them, and true plains in his territory for them to maneuver. Lacking any one of these three made it a pipe dream. Possessing a heavy cavalry unit of over a thousand men was an obsession almost every influential cavalry general could not give up. Yang Shenxing's face darkened. "Not deploying them in the East Yu Plains, but instead throwing them here, do they really think my Ji Nan veterans are made of paper?!" A black torrent emerged into view. Yang Shenxing breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed overwhelming, but it was only just over a thousand cavalry, not enough to affect the overall situation. Both sides were fresh, vigorous forces. It would come down to who proved braver in a narrow confrontation: Huchen's three thousand light cavalry or the enemy's thousand heavy cavalry.

The young valiant general Yang Wenqi naturally sensed the enemy heavy cavalry's "entry into the formation" earlier than his grandfather, Yang Shenxing. He shook the blood from his spear tip and, instead of rashly forming a defensive line, sent orders to the three thousand cavalry "lying on horseback collecting merits" to retreat immediately. He emphasized that they must not simply turn and flee, but instead clear a path for his father Yang Huchen's three thousand light cavalry. This, of course, would also facilitate the enemy heavy cavalry's continuous charge, but between two harms, one chooses the lesser. It was far better than having these three thousand cavalry caught in the middle, not only being thoroughly slaughtered by the heavy cavalry but also obstructing his father's three thousand cavalry's charge. In such a scenario, their six thousand men would be thrown into chaos; could they withstand the massive impact of these red-armored iron cavalry? Yang Wenqi watched those spoiled young nobles, many of whom were preoccupied with spearing fallen enemy light cavalry, some even laughing and deliberately poking their long spears into the air, toying with enemy soldiers scrambling desperately beneath their horses' hooves. Yang Wenqi was furious. He quickly rode forward and lightly jabbed his spear against the armor of one of the aristocratic youths, roaring, "Look up ahead! If you don't want to die, retreat as ordered!"

Fortunately, the one thousand heavy cavalry, upon charging out, could not focus on pursuing their scattered five thousand cavalry across the battlefield. Under the guidance and protection of Yang Wenqi's light cavalry and the aristocratic scions' retainers, most successfully retreated. However, several hundred of the front-charging young noble "iron cavalry" were somewhat stunned, and even after realizing the danger, they merely turned directly and fled in a straight line, offering the more than one thousand heavy cavalry a wide-open back. Yang Wenqi's eyes were bloodshot. He distantly saw a few familiar figures among the hundreds of cavalry—these were all young men from prominent families in Tai'an City, bearing ducal, comital, and marquess titles. Gritting his teeth, Yang Wenqi ordered several old veterans who had campaigned with his grandfather to lead three hundred personal guard cavalry to rescue those scoundrels. Yang Wenqi retreated in an arc, tears streaming down his face, unable to bear looking at the scene behind him. Yang Huchen, leading the charge on his horse, roared, "Kill!"

Yang Shenxing's eyes widened. His hands, gripping the railing, trembled uncontrollably, veins bulging. As the one thousand heavy cavalry emerged, another two thousand light cavalry, a thousand on each flank, charged out from the distance. Yang Shenxing was no immortal; he couldn't change the imminent battle. He didn't need to say much; the Ji Nan veterans, led by their respective commanders, began forming their defensive horse-repelling formations.

A unit of light cavalry composed of aristocratic scions barely managed to dodge the impact of the charging heavy cavalry's torrent. As they frantically retreated along a path off the main line, they still couldn't outrun the advancing tide of this black deluge. They could only watch from the side as this heavy cavalry unit continuously surged past them. The heavy cavalry, man and horse armored, carried only long spears. Their expressions were unseen, and other than the thunderous thud of hooves, they were silent. Then, from their vantage point on the side of the battlefield, they watched as countless Ji Nan cavalrymen were struck by the heavy cavalry, many warhorses and their riders sent flying. Two Yang family veterans were even pierced clean through by spears, while their own spears merely scraped a spark off the enemy cavalry's armor before sliding off. Only those lucky enough to strike a gap in the crimson horse armor could dislodge an enemy from his horse. Yet, even those enemies destined to fall, their spears still cut through the Ji Nan cavalry like a knife through tofu, effortlessly impaling them. From a distance, rows of bodies, killed instantly on horseback, were violently flung, fell to the ground, and were then relentlessly trampled into pulp.

Yang Shenxing's face was filled with incredulity, his eyes wide. Was it truly that his side had no power to resist at all? How incredibly difficult it was to train a heavy cavalry unit that wasn't a liability on the battlefield but could deliver a decisive blow! Yang Shenxing was enraged. Half of his fury stemmed from the "surprise" these Western Chu remnants had delivered to him, the Grand General of Anguo, and the other half from their blatant disrespect in choosing his Ji Nan veterans as their breakthrough point.

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