Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Gao Ping (2)

On March 11th, the two armies encountered one another and finally deployed for battle.

Having endured the long, arduous journey, they had come only to meet in armed conflict. Gaoping—long ago, during the Warring States period, it had another name: Changping. It was a place that the Qin general Bai Qi and the four hundred thousand soldiers of the Zhao army would find impossible to forget even in death. The terrain of this place was naturally suited for a battlefield; it is likely that more than just the Battle of Changping had occurred here.

The weather was clear, with a brilliant sun shining down.

On the uneven wilderness, the hundred-thousand-strong Northern Han and Khitan coalition, along with tens of thousands of Zhou troops, deployed north and south. They were a dark, dense mass, like a colony of ants or waves of a giant sea rolling forward.

After the standoff, no one knew exactly when the fighting began; it seemed that from the very start, the front lines were already locked in slaughter. Where the two armies clashed, countless men and horses fled in chaotic panic, and the arrows filling the sky seemed like a torrential rainstorm whipped up on a clear day.

Guo Shao looked out over the field. There was a forest of long weapons and iron armor, with rolling dust obscuring the horizon. Being in the midst of it, he had no idea how the Zhou army was deployed—nor did a commander of ten seem to need to know. He only knew that his position should be behind the Zhou army’s right flank.

However, he was well aware that this battle concerned the survival of the nation and carried immense weight. If he wanted to climb the ranks, the Battle of Gaoping was the best opportunity. Before the battle, he had prepared himself mentally to seek a chance to distinguish himself... but soon, this desire was diluted by a more intense sense of fear and the instinct for survival.

The mournful, vigorous sound of horns and the dense black dots in the sky signaled the start of the Northern Han army’s offensive. Amidst the dust and the sounds of slaughter, the thunder of hooves roared, as if ten thousand ambushes and a million troops were attacking from all directions. Even before seeing the enemy, it was enough to chill one’s heart.

The fighting at the front had likely reached a fever pitch, though Guo Shao could not see it, and the flames of war had not yet spread to his position. Only the northeasterly wind whipped against them, carrying flying sand and stones that stung his face, while the rising dust made it impossible to keep his eyes open.

The situation on the battlefield changed in an instant. As soon as Guo Shao opened his eyes, he suddenly realized that the Zhou cavalry at the front had been defeated! A large group of horsemen on the flank were running in the opposite direction, the sound of hooves rumbling as the Zhou cavalry fled in organized retreat. Before long, earth-shattering shouts erupted, and countless infantry turned and fled toward them, discarding their armor and weapons, their ranks broken—a truly wretched sight.

"Damn it!" Guo Shao cursed aloud at the sight.

The countless fleeing Zhou soldiers from the front lines tangled with the Xiaodi Army’s formation, throwing the front command into total disarray. The Xiaodi Army belonged to the Palace Guard; they were considered an elite force and would not normally collapse at the first touch, but the chaotic rush of their own men had already blunted their vanguard. Guo Shao remembered that the Battle of Gaoping was supposed to be a victory for the Later Zhou, though he couldn't recall the historical details. But looking at the current situation, how could it look like a defeat?

*Splat!* A sudden warmth hit his left cheek. He turned his head to see a bloody arrow shaft protruding from the neck of an acquaintance, bits of torn flesh still clinging to it. Blood splattered his head and face. Guo Shao stood frozen, his throat convulsing involuntarily.

He looked up, and his scalp went numb. The sky looked as if someone had poked a hornet's nest, or as if a swarm of locusts had arrived to devour everything. In an instant, a hail of "ding-dang" sounds filled the air as men fell one after another.

"Kill! Kill..." The continuous shouting amidst the thunder of hooves was like a tsunami. Countless heavy cavalrymen tore through the dust and smoke, sweeping forward. The fleeing soldiers in front were chased like panicked chickens, running for their lives. The Xiaodi Army infantry vanguard near Guo Shao was in chaos, and they were quickly torn apart and divided by the heavy cavalry, their formation instantly shattered.

The scene before him was unbearable to watch. From the age of fourteen to eighteen, for four years, he had practiced for six hours a day—nocking arrows, aiming, holding his stance. It was dull, tedious, and grueling, regardless of wind or rain. At least a hundred times a day, repeating those few movements one or two hundred thousand times. Was all of this just to come to the battlefield and be pierced by an arrow or hacked to death by a blade?

Just then, he heard the commander, Huang, shouting: "Brothers, retreat!"

Seeing this, Guo Shao hurriedly waved to his own soldiers to fall back. A massive crowd was swarming southward in a rout when suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted: "The Emperor is under attack, what use are we! Anyone who retreats will be beheaded!"

Following the sound, he looked up to see a great general not far away, mounted and holding a horizontal blade, surrounded by armored cavalry. Several fleeing soldiers who crowded forward were immediately cut down. The troops were terrified, and the rout came to a halt. Hearing the word "Emperor," Guo Shao craned his neck to look toward the rear. Sure enough, he saw the Great Zhou banner within his line of sight; the imperial procession was vaguely visible amidst the sea of troops!

His sunken spirits were inexplicably reignited. The Emperor was nearby—would he see the soldiers' performance?

At that moment, someone shouted: "The Northern Han’s fiercest warrior, Zhang Yuanhui, is here! Who will fight for His Majesty!"

The troops looked toward the front, and indeed, a fierce Northern Han general was leading heavy armored cavalry in a deep charge, driving straight into the heart of the Zhou army. The dust kicked up by the cavalry spread like a burning fuse, ready to detonate the entire battlefield!

Guo Shao reached over his shoulder and touched his two-stone rabbit-hunting bow. The familiar weapon gave him a sudden intuition: the chance to achieve glory was today! After years of suffering and countless dreams of expectation, if he missed this moment, he would regret it a thousand times over!

The fierce general, charging left and right as if in an empty field, had to be the Northern Han general Zhang Yuanhui; nothing could stop him. His personal guards on both flanks were all equipped with excellent armor, each one incredibly fierce, protecting the general in the center. They wore heavy armor, and their horses were armored as well; arrows fired at them were mostly blocked by the guards or failed to pierce their plating.

Guo Shao stared at Zhang Yuanhui amidst the cavalry, took an arrow, and nocked it onto the bowstring. The iron cavalry finally entered the range of his flank—the perfect angle.

The ox-tendon string was pulled back with great force, taut in the air. This moment felt exceptionally long to Guo Shao. He could clearly feel his own breathing; his eye, the arrowhead, and the target formed a single line, as if they had merged into one. Guo Shao felt as if he had become Zhang Yuanhui, rising and falling rhythmically with the horse, feeling the direction of the charge.

At the most intuitive moment, he suddenly realized the wind had shifted to a tailwind. Everything was perfect—so perfect it was moving! Without hesitation, without any reason, *thwack!* The violent sound of the string rang in his ears.

The flying arrow, laden with hope and dreams, cut through the air with a high-pitched whistle, racing forward. Guo Shao seemed to hear a faint *shhh* sound. Amidst the swirling dust, he couldn't see clearly or hear anything, but he felt instinctively that the arrowhead had pierced the flesh of the man's neck.

Sure enough, the general tumbled off his horse. The cavalry unit that had driven so deep seemed to lose its momentum instantly; the charge stopped, and some riders dismounted in a panic to save him. The fiercely burning fuse of the battlefield seemed to have been extinguished by a bucket of water.

Guo Shao shouted excitedly, his eyes wide: "The one who killed Zhang Yuanhui is Guo Shao of the Xiaodi Army!"

But no soldiers around him cheered for him. It was only then that Guo Shao realized his own position had been scattered by the heavy cavalry, something he hadn't even noticed a moment ago. His unit had been divided into scattered groups, waiting to be slaughtered by the cavalry from above! All around were screams, shouts, and the sounds of battle; whether you screamed or begged for mercy, it was all drowned out and useless. People were like a tide, dust filled the sky, and whether you were trembling in fear or feigning courage, it didn't matter.

He looked up to see heads bobbing, countless blades flashing rapidly through the crowd. The entire wilderness was like a giant pot of boiling water, with people struggling like fish and shrimp in the heat. The dust above seemed stained with a layer of blood mist, making the sun in the east look like a blurry, vibrant mass of blood hanging in the sky.

The ground was shaking! Guo Shao felt his head swelling and buzzing. "Fuck!" A thunderous roar snapped him back to his senses.

The one who roared was Yang Biao, not far away. Yang Biao was a man with whom Guo Shao had a grudge, but seeing a familiar face at this moment, Guo Shao felt a strange sense of relief—at least he was one of his own! He saw Yang Biao wield his long-handled iron blade to parry a side-slash from a cavalryman's saber; the heavy steel collided, sending sparks flying... He hadn't expected this guy to be so fierce, actually parrying heavy cavalry with only his infantry body.

"Move!" Yang Biao roared again, swinging his weapon rapidly from left to right, instantly piercing the waist of a cavalryman on his right. The dull sound of the iron blade entering flesh was enough to make one's muscles contract in horror.

Just then, Guo Shao suddenly drew his bow rapidly, aiming the arrow at Yang Biao. *Thwack!* The sound of the bowstring rang out without hesitation. In an instant, Yang Biao’s face turned ashen... Arrows on the battlefield didn't have eyes. That was what he had said himself.

When he had threatened to stab someone in the back, he had become a threat to others. In this world, no one was afraid of anyone; killing a thousand enemies meant losing eight hundred of your own. Everything had a price!

*Whoosh!* The sharp arrow carried a fierce wind, flying toward Yang Biao's face from a distance of only a few paces. The arrow grazed his helmet! Yang Biao’s pale face froze for a moment, then he turned his head to see an enemy soldier standing behind him, hands raised high with a long blade, an arrow embedded in the center of his forehead. Then, the soldier collapsed softly like a lifeless sack.

Yang Biao turned back, looking at Guo Shao with a complex expression. Amidst the flashing blades, there was no chance to speak. Guo Shao nodded slightly at him; everything was understood without words.

He hurriedly moved closer to Guo Shao. "Commander Guo, I..." He seemed to want to say something, but at that moment, another rider lunged at them desperately.

In his haste, Guo Shao dodged backward while instinctively raising his bow to parry. With a *crack*, the bow was split in two. Guo Shao didn't hesitate; as he threw away the broken bow, he drew his sidearm with a fluid motion.

The enemy soldier was about to strike a second blow, but was immediately knocked off his horse by Yang Biao’s long-handled iron blade. *Clang!* The armored knight hit the ground and couldn't get up. Guo Shao immediately jumped on him, stepped on his abdomen, and with both hands, drove his blade down into the enemy's chest armor... The enemy soldier opened his mouth wide, his eyes bulging with despair.

Guo and Yang immediately stood back-to-back, ready for battle. There was no discussion, no hesitation—it was completely spontaneous.

On the battlefield, one can only entrust their back to a brother they trust.