Chapter 72

After breaking out of the enemy camp, Lu Yao and his men spurred their horses to a gallop, using the complex terrain to shake off the pursuers.

The weakness of this Xiongnu force, cobbled together from different tribes, was now fully exposed. Apart from Qiao Xi's close subordinates, the vast majority of the Jie and Wuhuan people seemed to have no strong desire for revenge for their commander. They roared as they charged out of the camp, but in the pitch-black night, they rode aimlessly and withdrew within half an hour. Only about thirty to fifty men persisted in chasing Lu Yao and his group.

These men were undoubtedly fierce bandits determined to avenge their fallen comrades, but to the battle-hardened Bingzhou cavalry, they were not difficult to handle. Lu Yao and his men fought and retreated, launching several counterattacks along the way, successfully eliminating more than half of the pursuers. The remaining men had no choice but to retreat.

At this point, Lu Yao and his men could finally breathe a sigh of relief. They proceeded along a narrow valley, where the moonlight failed to penetrate the depths, making the path extremely dark. Beyond a few dozen feet from the raised torches, it was pitch black. The soldiers skillfully guided their warhorses through the rocky terrain at the bottom of the valley, heading north.

After about half an hour, the riverbed gradually rose, and they turned east, entering another mountain pass.

Upon reaching this mountain pass, all the soldiers heaved a sigh of relief. This was the prearranged meeting point with the rear detachment led by Xue Tong. The distance from the enemy camp to this location was about forty miles in a straight line, but due to the undulating terrain, the actual distance traveled was almost double. Unless there was a guide familiar with the terrain, the Xiongnu would not be able to catch up tonight. Moreover, they were now leaderless and unable to formulate an appropriate response.

Lu Yao dispatched several capable soldiers to the top of the mountain to keep watch, while the rest of the soldiers took a brief rest. He then immediately counted the men. During the raid, forty-two soldiers were killed on the spot, and six more died during the retreat, with six others severely wounded. At this moment, including Lu Yao, there were ninety-three men left in the mountain pass, of whom eighty were still capable of fighting.

Despite the heavy casualties, the soldiers' morale was exceptionally high.

For nearly two years, the imperial army had suffered repeated defeats against the Xiongnu. The once mighty Bingzhou army, boasting fifty thousand men and renowned for its strength and valor, was now reduced to a few remnants integrated into Liu Kun's Jinyang army. Although Lord Yue Shi was impartial, the soldiers had indeed faced some disdain and felt inferior when compared to Lord Yue Shi's direct subordinates.

Now everything was different. They were just a small reconnaissance unit, yet they had managed to raid an enemy force forty times their size with only 150 cavalry, and they had even secured the head of the enemy commander. This was a glorious achievement, a moment of pride and vindication! Even the severely wounded soldiers who could barely move had a look of pride on their faces.

Shen Jin, who had fought fiercely, had his armor torn and was covered in blood. His wounds, wrapped haphazardly with coarse cloth, looked quite terrifying, but he seemed oblivious to the pain, still appearing fierce and energetic. He said with a snort, "I told you, these Xiongnu are just a bunch of rabble... If Dao Ming hadn't already succeeded, I would have made them shit their pants!"

A nearby soldier responded, "Commander Shen, the men just want the Xiongnu's heads. Making them shit their pants is something you can do on your own!" The soldiers burst into laughter.

Shen Jin glared and said, "Which brat dares to joke with me!" He threw his helmet at the speaker, and a cry of pain echoed, but it was unclear who he hit. The soldiers laughed even harder.

Lu Yao was sitting next to Shen Jin. His left rib had been deeply cut by a sharp blade during the battle, and although he had felt nothing at the time, now even speaking loudly caused the wound to throb. He suppressed his urge to laugh and lightly kicked Shen Jin, scolding him, "You said it yourself, so how can you deny it? I'm curious, Old Shen, what kind of dirty thoughts are you having?" The soldiers laughed even more, like a pot of boiling water.

The Bingzhou soldiers had not laughed so freely in a long time.

The gloom that had hung over the Bingzhou army for years seemed to finally lift. Amidst the laughter, the sentries on the hilltop called out in surprise, "Look! Look! It's our men! They're following us!"

Before the sentries finished speaking, Lu Yao sprinted up the hill. Looking north, he saw a group of soldiers advancing with torches, their formation stretching along the winding mountain path like a writhing dragon. Lu Yao's eyes were sharp, and he immediately recognized the leader: a mighty warrior clad in heavy armor, carrying a large backpack and several weapons, like a mobile armory—none other than Xue Tong.

The elite infantry of six hundred men, led by Xue Tong and with Guo Huan as his deputy, had set out from Jinyang two nights ago. They had marched swiftly, following the path of the cavalry, and now they had finally joined up with the vanguard!

Lu Yao, pressing his wounded rib, laughed loudly. With this reinforcement, they could accomplish even more!

Two hours later.

The long night was about to end. As dawn approached, the darkness became even more profound.

During the night raid, the Jin army had set fires everywhere, almost burning down half the camp. After the Jin army retreated, the soldiers spent a long time extinguishing the fires. By now, most of the fires had been put out, and the charred remains of the tents were piled together, emitting wisps of smoke. Many soldiers, their weapons scattered haphazardly, sat on the ground, their heads drooping. They would occasionally wake up, look around, and then their heads would droop again.

Most of the banners in the camp had fallen, but strangely, the banner of "Champion General Qiao" in front of the main tent was still fluttering, and no one bothered to take it down.

Several mid-level officers were waiting in front of the main tent, some sitting and some standing. Their superiors, a Xiongnu chieftain, a Wuhuan chieftain, and three other tribal leaders, were inside, deliberating.

An officer was pacing back and forth in front of the main tent, chewing on a blade of grass. He was about thirty years old, with a high nose, deep-set eyes, and a well-defined face. His chin was covered in stubble, indicating he had not groomed himself for some time, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance.

If one observed closely, they would notice that the number of steps he took never changed, and the distance between each step was as precise as if measured with a ruler. Seventeen steps to the east, turn around, and seventeen steps to the west. He had repeated this hundreds of times, but the meeting inside the main tent seemed to be going nowhere, with only the sound of threats and curses audible from a distance.

This force was a temporary assembly of Xiongnu, Wuhuan, Jie, and various other tribes, each led by their respective chieftains. Even the commander, Qiao Xi, could not issue orders directly to the soldiers without going through the chieftains. The chieftains themselves had no clear hierarchy, and with Qiao Xi's death, the chieftains with their own power bases immediately began to quarrel. They had been deliberating for hours without reaching a conclusion, and their tempers were only getting worse.

The officer shook his head in frustration.

This officer was named Shi Le, with the courtesy name Shilong, a Jie from Wuxiang in Shangdang. His original name was Fu Le, and his ancestors were minor chieftains of the Jie tribe, but by his generation, the family was impoverished, and he worked as a tenant farmer. During the famine in Bingzhou in the Tai'an period, Fu Le planned to profit by selling various tribes to Shandong. However, fate had other plans, and the then Governor of Bingzhou, Sima Teng, sent troops to capture and sell the tribes, including Fu Le, who was sold as a slave to Ciping.

Fu Le was not content to remain a slave. He gathered a group and became a bandit, raiding for a living. Later, he joined the notorious bandit Ji Sang, who gave him the surname "Shi."

Two years ago, following the orders of Prince Chengdu, Sima Ying, Fu Le and Ji Sang led several hundred cavalry to Shandong. However, soon after, they were defeated by the "Butcher" Governor of Puyang, Gou Xi, at the Battle of Bai Ma. The remnants of Gong Shi Fan's forces were mostly absorbed by Ji Sang, who retreated to the Dazhulu Marsh in Neihuang County, where the terrain was complex and the marshes made it difficult for the imperial army to attack. Shi Le, meanwhile, entrusted his troops to Ji Sang and returned to his homeland in Bingzhou with a few trusted men, joining the Xiongnu Han state.

Shi Le had hoped to use the prestige of the Xiongnu Han state to quickly rebuild his forces, but things did not go as planned. The Xiongnu, nominally a state, was still a tribal confederation. Most of the officials were crude and lacked foresight, and the state's institutions were mere formalities.

In the Xiongnu army, apart from the Great Chanyu Liu Yuan, who had great prestige, the chieftains and tribal leaders did not respect each other. This crude system worked well when things were going smoothly, but any setback quickly led to chaos—just as it was now.

******

These past two days, I've encountered some writing bottlenecks, but I will overcome them. Thank you to Tang Bing, Caoyufh, Zui Le, Yiyu Zhi Xing, Hen Jing Ya, Chen Yujia, and other friends for your encouragement and support in the book reviews. I am deeply moved.

I also want to thank the mayor of Dalishu for your support.

What can I do in return? Only strive to write better.