Chapter 10: Chapter 9 Gao Ping (3)

The Xiaodi Army infantry battalion was battered beyond recognition. Their battle flag had fallen, and the soldiers, lost and surrounded by enemy cavalry on all sides, found escape as difficult as ascending to heaven. More disastrously, they ran headlong into the second wave of advancing Han infantry, leading to a miserable, close-quarters melee.

On Guo Shao’s side, the entire battalion of over five hundred men under Commander Wang had long since been scattered, with soldiers fleeing toward the flanks. Guo Shao and Yang Biao coordinated their movements, fighting as they retreated, hoping to drift away from the area of defeat.

Yang Biao stood in a horse stance, his movements expansive and powerful. He swung his heavy iron saber with an imposing air, accompanied by the constant clashing of metal and the screams of men; he was truly unstoppable. Guo Shao, not adept with long weapons, carried only a *zhangdao* (long-handled saber), which he used to guard Yang Biao’s blind spots and gaps in defense. The two had never fought side-by-side before, yet on the battlefield, they complemented each other’s offense and defense with remarkable tacit understanding.

Just then, a "ding" sounded. Guo Shao felt as if his leg had been struck. There was a momentary numbness, followed quickly by a wave of intense pain. He looked down to see a heavy arrow had pierced his *baodu* (belly-guard armor) and embedded itself in his thigh. He stumbled, nearly falling, and drove his *zhangdao* into the ground to support himself as he dropped to one knee.

"Guo Shijiang!" Yang Biao immediately noticed the emptiness behind him and turned to support Guo Shao by the shoulder.

Guo Shao exhaled a stifled breath and cursed, "With so many people here, why did they have to shoot me!" Yang Biao asked, "Can you still walk?" Guo Shao replied, "I’m afraid not."

Yang Biao stuck his long saber into the ground, pulled a short blade from his tunic, and held it in his teeth. He then lifted Guo Shao’s *baodu* armor and, without a word, used the short blade to snap the arrow shaft, discarding the rear portion. The ordeal caused Guo Shao a surge of agony; he gritted his teeth to keep from screaming, sweat beading on his forehead as he spat out a mouthful of blood. The taste was metallic and sweet—it wasn't his own blood, but the blood of those he had killed, splashed onto his lips.

"I’ll carry you," Yang Biao said with a tone of certainty, not asking for permission. He grabbed Guo Shao’s arm, draped it over his shoulder, picked up his long saber, and began to move.

By now, the enemy and their own forces were hopelessly intertwined. They hadn't gone two steps before they ran into pursuers. Unable to fight while carrying someone, Yang Biao hurriedly dropped Guo Shao and raised his saber to engage the enemy. After a while, when he returned, Guo Shao said, "Brother Yang, go on ahead. Don't worry about me."

In all honesty, this was merely a polite formality. The injured Guo Shao was not tired of living; of course, he didn't want Yang Biao to abandon him. Yet the words had slipped out before he even knew why he said them. Perhaps it was like someone rushing to pay the bill—sometimes, they don't actually want to pay at all.

Unexpectedly, Yang Biao didn't respond and simply walked away. Guo Shao sat there, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth, but he didn't blame Yang Biao... The chaotic soldiers were fierce, the Xiaodi Army was scattering, and the surrounding Zhou troops were dwindling. If Yang Biao stayed to fight the organized enemy, both would die. Any sensible person would make a decisive choice at such a time.

Guo Shao struggled to stand. As he put weight on his leg, the thigh muscles pulled against the wound and the arrowhead embedded in his flesh, sending a piercing pain through him. An enemy soldier spotted the living Guo Shao and rushed over to thrust with a spear, but the force was weak, and Guo Shao immediately grabbed the spearhead and pulled it back. The soldier was startled and nearly lost his weapon, pulling back hard on the shaft. Unexpectedly, Guo Shao changed the direction of his force, thrusting forward to knock the soldier over and snatching the spear away.

Seeing this, the soldier didn't advance but instead shouted to those behind him, quickly drawing the attention of more enemy troops.

Guo Shao sensed he was about to be surrounded by more men, and his heart turned cold. It seemed he was truly going to be hacked to death on the battlefield. When he had first set his mind on coming to the battlefield to earn glory, who was he fighting for, and why had he risked his life to get ahead?

Just then, he saw Yang Biao turning back. Muttering curses, he came up to help Guo Shao: "I saw the Zhou army starting a counterattack. If we hold on a bit longer, there might still be hope!"

"Brother Yang, I will never forget your kindness today." A glimmer of hope reignited in Guo Shao.

Yang Biao said, "Now, neither of us owes the other anything!"

No sooner had he spoken than a group of enemy soldiers approached. One of them, leading the charge, thrust his long spear forward. Yang Biao stopped talking and met him head-on. With a sidestep—*clang!*—his heavy saber struck the man’s helmet, causing the soldier to howl in pain. Yang Biao seized the opportunity to take a stance against the incoming soldiers. Guo Shao gritted his teeth and followed closely behind, pinning the fallen soldier’s face to the ground and finishing him off by thrusting his *zhangdao* into the man’s brow. "No!" the fearful scream was almost a sob.

Yang Biao swung his long saber, thrusting left and right; no one could withstand a single blow. Guo Shao guarded his rear and close quarters, and despite their numbers, the enemy could not get near.

Soon, two bows were raised with arrows nocked. With two "whoosh" sounds, both Guo and Yang were struck, though thanks to their armor, the wounds did not seem deep.

Other infantry soldiers, seeing their unstoppable courage, dared not advance for a time, merely surrounding them from all sides. Because Guo Shao was incapacitated, Yang Biao did not take the initiative to attack, leading to a brief standoff. Yang Biao’s breathing sounded like a bellows; his long-handled iron saber was likely heavy, and his stamina was failing after such continuous fighting.

At this moment, a Northern Han general leaped forward. Yang Biao raised his long saber to attack, and the Han general hurriedly parried with his sword. They exchanged several blows, and the general appeared quite skilled. The general held a sword, which was a disadvantage at such a distance, but Yang Biao was at the end of his rope and clearly not as fierce as before. Finally, the man seized an opportunity; when Yang Biao’s thrust overextended, he dodged and rushed in. The situation turned dire; long weapons were very difficult to use at such close range.

Just when he was needed most, Guo Shao mustered his remaining strength and lunged, intercepting with his *zhangdao*. "Clang!" The collision of blade and sword made the edges vibrate violently. Guo Shao’s *zhangdao* was a short defensive weapon, light in weight, and at a great disadvantage in a clash. Sure enough, the Han general took advantage to press his long sword forward, the blade angling to pierce Guo Shao’s left shoulder. Unexpectedly, Guo Shao stepped forward instead of back, taking the sword strike on his armor, and took a large stride. At the same time, his right hand swung up, and a half-foot short dagger flashed in the air.

The dagger’s handle moved nimbly in his grip, finding the angle, and at the moment of the strike, his wrist tightened. In a flash of lightning, before anyone could even see the movement, the sharp tip had plunged deep. In that instant, Guo Shao moved like a startled rabbit, his body like a sharp arrow; he didn't look like an injured man at all.

Suddenly, the Han general’s face turned pale, his mouth opening in terror, the muscles of his neck contracting. The speed of Guo Shao’s arm was so fast it stirred a gust of wind, causing the scarf on the general’s neck to flutter... Blood sprayed onto Guo Shao’s face.

A brief silence followed, so short it was almost imperceptible. "Ya ya..." A large group of soldiers rushed over from all sides, shouting and waving their blades and spears in a frenzy.

"Hah!" Yang Biao’s eyes widened in fury, and he made a show of sweeping his long weapon, making a final struggle with his remaining strength.

Just then, a clattering sound erupted as a rain of arrows covered the area, the feathered shafts sticking into the ground as if a field of reeds had suddenly sprouted. Someone in the rear shouted, "The safety of the nation rests on this one move!"

Guo Shao and the others turned to look and saw a black-faced Zhou general holding a staff-like weapon, leaping on his horse and shouting. Behind him, a large group of armored cavalry was accelerating. "Reinforcements are here!" Yang Biao exclaimed with excitement.

Heavens, the Zhou army had arrived just in time!

The enemy soldiers surrounding Guo Shao and the others saw the massed charge of the Zhou cavalry and turned to flee, caring for nothing else. Before long, countless Zhou cavalrymen galloped past, passing Guo Shao and his companion.

Galloping warhorses, vigorous men, beautiful spears—the Zhou knights shouted as they charged forward one after another. Guo Shao could swear he had never seen such mighty iron-clad warriors in his life!

Guo Shao could not suppress the excitement in his heart. Leaning on Yang Biao, he raised his arm to the cavalry and shouted, "Destroy Northern Han! The Zhou army will surely win! Long live the Emperor..."

The troops had no time to pay attention to two blood-stained, wounded soldiers. Only occasionally did someone turn to look, perhaps thinking the two had gone mad.

...

In this battle, the Zhou army turned defeat into victory.

Guo Shao and the others withdrew from the battlefield due to their injuries, but the battle continued until the afternoon. The Northern Han army was routed, the Khitan troops retreated, and the Zhou army continued to pursue and annihilate the remnants of the Northern Han forces.

After the decisive battle, the wounded were helped by laborers conscripted to transport grain and perform chores, and they were sent to the rear camp to be settled.

The difficult day finally ended. As night fell, the air was filled with a lingering scent of blood that even the wind could not disperse. In just one day, who knew how many people had died? The Shanxi basin corridor had always been a bloody path for competing heroes. How many wars had taken place on this ancient land? No one knew. Now, countless living people had buried their blood and souls here once again, just another story added to the pile.

Guo Shao’s spirit was utterly exhausted, yet he felt a slight sense of relief—relief that he was still alive. Otherwise, he might have become one of those countless corpses, to be hastily pushed into some mass grave and buried carelessly...

The arrow wounds and bruises on their torsos were not serious; the deeper wound was the arrow in Guo Shao’s left leg. A small piece of the arrow remained inside and had to be removed. After taking off his armor, Guo Shao hurriedly checked the damaged area of his *baodu* to ensure no fragments or debris remained in his wound. If not treated properly, the wound would fester and become infected, and in this era without medicine, the life he had snatched back from the jaws of death would still be lost.

Beside the campfire, Guo Shao said, "Brother Yang, you saved me from the pile of dead today."

Yang Biao looked at him: "We're even."

Guo Shao gave a bitter smile: "From now on, let us treat each other as brothers. In this world, without brothers, it is very hard to survive."