Chapter 82: Unshakable as a Mountain

On the western side of the northern city gate, the government troops formed two staggered lines, one left and one right, fighting as they retreated. The starving rebels deployed ten large battalions, wielding weapons taken from the county arsenal, launching successive assaults in organized waves. When a battalion was routed, the surviving rebels, faces streaked with tears, wailed and cried out in agony; yet, as they gazed toward the riverbank, none dared to flee. Instead, they picked up their weapons, wiped away the blood and tears, sought out the squad leaders of Lion Camp, and reformed their ranks at a position further back, readying themselves for the next assault. For their parents, wives, and children were crossing the river with food on their backs and shoulders, in plain view from the riverbank.

This was a transaction, a solemn bargain enacted within the city walls. All the food was left untouched by Lion Camp—their soldiers took nothing. Each man could identify his parents, wife, children, brothers, or friends, who would then be permitted to carry food out of the city, ford the river, and escape into the mountains. The rest would be reorganized under Lion Camp, commanded by ten squad leaders and armed with the arsenal’s weapons, to attack any enemy who stood in their way.

On a mound of earth built from carts and heaps of grain at the rear of the formation, Liu Chengzong surveyed the situation. The hundred or so government troops before him were well-equipped, likely the banner soldiers previously drilled to coordinate with Li Bei’s actions. Their formation stood like a mountain of stone, unmoved by the repeated charges of the rebel battalions. As the battle dragged on, all ten rebel battalions had taken their turn to assault the line twice, leaving scores of their wounded and dead before the formation. On the government side, apart from two bodies Liu Chengzong saw dragged back into their ranks, the rebels had achieved no other result.

Yet the government troops were only human, and men could tire. No formation of men could be as unyielding as rock. Hungry and weary, their strength was already failing.

Liu Chengzong called down from the grain mound, “Are you ready?”

“Is it time?” Cao Yao, donning a mail shirt from the arsenal, handed a bird gun once belonging to the magistrate to his side, then hefted a large crossbow. “I’ve been wanting to try this for a while.”

They had seized these mighty arm-crossbows from the arsenal. Yang Yanchang had originally intended to sell them to Liu Chengzong, two stones for each. Now, they had captured seven in total, in three sizes: the lightest at ninety catties, the mid-sized at one hundred and twenty, and the heaviest at one hundred and fifty. Liu Chengzong leaped down from the grain mound, buckled on his own mail, picked up a crossbow, and teased, “You think you’re strong enough to draw that?”

“Tch, if you can, so can I,” Cao Yao retorted, wrapping a cloth around his hands and straining as he braced the crossbow, his face turning red. “I’ve got it!”

Liu Chengzong took the padded cloth, braced his own crossbow, and said to those around him, “There’s five or six hundred garrison troops watching from the west. Don’t get bogged down—just help the battalions break a hole, then fall back.”

Their group numbered just over forty, mostly the same men who had stormed the city gate and county offices. Each man was paired with two prisoners armed with shields and short weapons, forming three-man assault squads to break the enemy’s line.

Cao Yao glanced toward the west and grinned. “It’s three or four li away—just right for a good fight. Zhang Xiong is here, isn’t he the one you’re looking for?”

“I am looking for him, but my brother hasn’t arrived yet—and they have cannons over there. If a fight breaks out, we’ll have no way to strike back.”

Soon, Liu Chengzong and his men readied their weapons and equipment. The forty-odd men formed a separate squad, which he led onto the battlefield. Li Wanqing, commanding the ten battalions to attack in turn, saw them and rushed behind the lines, rallying the men and shouting to the squad leaders, “Third, fifth, and eighth squads, attack! The other six, prepare!”

The ninth squad was still engaged, leaving a few corpses behind as they fell back, exhausted and unable to mount another charge. Their strength was even less than that of the government troops.

Soon, the nine battalions spread out in formation—barely maintaining a semblance of three squads as the vanguard and six as support. The government troops sensed that the rebels were preparing for a decisive assault and forced themselves to stay alert.

Within the government ranks, Captain Wu’s resolve was faltering. He had already cursed countless times—there were plenty of allied troops nearby. If only Zhang Xiong would lead his men in from the flank, this rebel force would collapse instantly. This was a battle that should have been unwinnable for the rebels—yet Zhang Xiong was even more immovable than he was.

Captain Wu was so enraged his teeth nearly shattered, his confidence wavering, his gaze fixed on the garrison troops lurking in the shade by the western city wall. The shame of their inaction made his own bloody struggle seem utterly pointless.

Worst of all, he knew deep down that he had no way out. If he failed to defeat the rebels, he would die; if he succeeded, Zhang Xiong would swoop in to seize the spoils, and he would still die. Even if he tried to run—if the rebels let him go, Zhang Xiong would accuse him of desertion. Last time, when his troops were routed by bandits, and if he fled again, he would be doubly guilty, and certain to die.

“To be sent to Yan’an by the commander-in-chief is the worst luck imaginable… Brothers!” Captain Wu shoved up his helmet’s visor and barked, “Hold the line!”

The captains under his command echoed, “Raise your spears! Shield-bearers, ready!”

Rows upon rows of spears were set in place, the banner soldiers’ arms trembling so badly they could barely grip their eight-foot spears, the spearheads quivering. The shield-bearers crouched low beneath the thicket of spears, some clutching shields and swords in their left hands, holding their remaining javelins in their right. Others, having lost their javelins, could only grip shield and sword, their faces half-exposed above their round shields.

Their eyes fixed on the rebels’ disordered yet overwhelming ranks.

At fifty paces, no arrows flew—the archers and crossbowmen had long since spent all their bolts and now stood behind the lines, blades at their waists, awaiting the clash. At twenty paces, a few scattered gunshots rang out—the three-barreled muskets had been emptied, and the sharpshooters fitted bayonets to their long muskets. At ten paces, the last javelins were thrown. All missiles were spent.

On both flanks, rebel leaders gave a great shout and charged the sides. Rebels wrenched long spears from the hands of corpses and hurled them, roaring, into the formation. Stones, clods of earth, axes, and clubs whirled through the air.

Once more, men fought desperately, swinging weapons to deflect the spears, then pressed in beneath the spear line to grapple with the shield-bearers in close combat. More battalions surged forward, throwing the banner soldiers into chaos. Screams, roars, bellows, shouts for help, and commands all mingled at the front lines. The human tide surged forward, only to break and scatter like a stream.

At that moment, a more disciplined squad appeared at the center of the battlefield. Liu Chengzong, a heavy crossbow slung over his shoulder, was flanked by Guo Zhasi and a veteran for protection. Cao Yao and Gao Xian, also shielded in the middle, advanced with him. At twenty paces, all seven arm-crossbows fired under the protection of the shield-bearers, their bolts passing over the crouched shield-bearers and tearing bloody holes through the spearmen behind, tracing thin red lines through the air and piercing into the bodies of those behind.

The spearmen could no longer hold their line, collapsing atop the shield-bearers under the weight of their own dead. The heavy crossbows were cast aside. Cao Yao seized the bird gun from his left and right, lit the match cord, and fired another shot into the formation. Gao Xian loosed several arrows in rapid succession, felling two banner soldiers.

On the right, Cai Zhongpan, his left arm dangling, held a pistol steady in his right. Advancing step by step, he pulled both triggers. The two dragon-headed gunstocks dropped in succession, and two shots roared, spewing black powder smoke before the line.

Liu Chengzong drew his wild-goose-feather saber, and, shielded by the others, swept aside several thrusting spears. The mail links rattled as he dragged his saber and leaped into the formation.