Chapter 2

" Hmm? You're not convinced? " A cold laugh came from behind, "You damn coward! You galloped out ten paces and then turned back in fear, fainted before the execution even began, and you've disgraced the Gu尔jia family! With you—how dare you not be convinced?!"

The "kinsman" he had possessed was so incompetent that Guan Zhuofan could only inwardly lament. But now, every extra word he could say meant a greater chance of survival. Why be polite? Without bothering to analyze the meaning of the words from behind, he knelt on the ground and shouted, "I'm not convinced! I'm not convinced! I can't accept dying like this!"

"Fresh! Alright, how must you die to be convinced?"

"I..." Guan Zhuofan, a scholar, naturally lacked the courage to charge into battle. But weighing the two evils, he knew that kneeling on the ground meant certain death, while charging into the enemy lines offered a glimmer of hope. Although his mind was almost numb with fear, he had almost daily explained the Battle of Baliqiao, and he knew it inside out. The Qing army had 25,000 men, and over 8,000 died, so there was still a chance of survival.

When he said this, the person behind him seemed quite surprised and did not respond immediately. At this moment, a material officer rushed over, knelt on one knee, and saluted the person behind him.

"General Ke!" He reported in a flustered manner, "Prince Seng's Mongolian cavalry can't hold on!"

It turned out the person behind him was called "General Ke." Guan Zhuofan, tense, thought... General Ke... General Ke... This is Sheng Kezhai, Sheng Bao!

In the Battle of Baliqiao, the commander was the Mongolian Prince Senggelinqin. The left wing was led by Sheng Bao with 5,000 Beijing troops, and the right wing was led by Rui Lin with 4,000 Green Standard troops. Senggelinqin's main force was his Mongolian cavalry. Guan Zhuofan knew that if the Mongolian cavalry couldn't hold, it meant the beginning of the battle's failure. The French army would soon join forces with the British dragoons to flank Senggelinqin and attempt to encircle and annihilate the Qing army's main force.

Understanding that the person behind him was Sheng Bao, Guan Zhuofan felt a glimmer of hope. Sheng Bao, the deputy commander of Rehe, was known for his strictness but was also a capable general who led his troops with reason, a rare talent among the Manchus, unlike the muddled Rui Lin.

If he could reason, that's good! Guan Zhuofan, estimating his status, felt he was not yet worthy to address him as "General Ke," so he knelt on the ground and said cautiously, "Sir Sheng, if Prince Seng retreats, we must guard against the French splitting their forces to attack his flank and cut off his retreat."

Silence fell around him. A man kneeling and awaiting execution was actually giving strategic advice to a renowned second-rank official. Was this not absurd?

"Bullshit!" The cavalry colonel in charge of the execution, regaining his composure, flew into a rage, "You, a mere ninth-rank blue feathered officer, have no place to speak here!"

There were six other officers waiting to be executed with Guan Zhuofan. Initially, they had pinned their hopes on him, but when the colonel shouted, they all shrank back in fear.

"Prince Rui will protect Prince Seng's flank," Sheng Bao's voice was unexpectedly calm, but it carried a commanding presence, "Why should I guard against it?"

"Prince Rui can't hold! His Green Standard troops will likely scatter in half a moment," Sheng Bao and Rui Lin were known to be at odds, so Guan Zhuofan took the opportunity to flatter, "To hold back the French, we must rely on Sir Sheng's Beijing troops."

Sheng Bao remained silent. Guan Zhuofan, feeling a mix of anxiety and relief, noticed that the French left wing was indeed beginning to form up, and the red-coated British dragoons were moving north.

"Untie them!" Sheng Bao suddenly ordered, "Give them their swords and horses!"

Guan Zhuofan secretly sighed with relief, knowing that his words had hit the mark and appealed to Sheng Bao's pride. The ropes around his body and hands were untied, and he felt a mix of pain and numbness. Turning around, he glanced at the famous commander, seeing that Sheng Bao had a ruddy face, a sturdy build, and a pair of shiny mustaches that added to his authority. On his head was a hat adorned with a single-eyed peacock feather.

"I didn't know you had such insight," Sheng Bao mused, "But military orders are like mountains. Since I've spared you seven from execution, you must lead the charge as you said. Even though you are my kinsman, you are no exception. If you survive this battle, I will promote you to a seventh-rank feathered officer."

I'm your kinsman? Guan Zhuofan was taken aback, but now was not the time to ponder this. Leading the charge was a given, but how to charge was a different matter. He wondered where Sheng Bao intended to charge.

"General Ke, I am willing to lead my thousand cavalry to charge Leijia Wa!" The cavalry colonel, without waiting for Sheng Bao to speak, pointed to the right front and loudly requested, "Once I disrupt their formation, General Ke can lead the main force to charge the French square."

Guan Zhuofan glanced at him, thinking that this colonel was not without insight, knowing that Leijia Wa was the junction between the French and British forces. Attacking the junction of two armies was theoretically correct, but...

"Sir Sheng, behind the foreign troops at Leijia Wa is the Sikh cavalry regiment, which is not... easy to engage in a direct battle," Guan Zhuofan said, bracing himself.

"You're talking nonsense!" The colonel, seeing that this blue feathered officer, who was about to be executed, dared to contradict him, flew into a rage, "What Sikhs, Teks, the foreigners rely on guns and cannons. If they dare to engage in a cavalry battle, I'll crush them to pieces!"

You have guts, go ahead. Guan Zhuofan did not dare to argue with him, lowered his head, and secretly sneered, thinking: Crush them to pieces? You're probably still dreaming, thinking your 'Eight Banners elite' can be invincible?

With the fear of execution lifted, his mind became more active. The strategies he had pondered in the museum began to resurface in his mind.

Contrary to many people's imagination, in this battle, the Anglo-French forces were not just superior in firearms. In fact, modern European regular cavalry had developed a tactical system far ahead of the world, becoming a decisive shock force on the battlefield.

Their method of combat was to form dense and orderly linear formations for a bayonet charge. After each line charged the enemy, they did not fall into disarray like ancient cavalry but quickly withdrew, reformed, and repeatedly charged in neat formations. This method of always relying on a unified and closely coordinated collective charge could easily crush all traditional cavalry.

Guan Zhuofan knew for certain that since the appearance of modern Western regular cavalry, no traditional cavalry in the world could defeat regular cavalry in a frontal charge.

Sheng Bao, however, did not know this. He paid no heed to Guan Zhuofan's words and praised the colonel, "Su Cheng'e, you have spirit! I will let you earn this merit! As soon as you succeed, my main force will immediately charge!"

"Understood!"

"First regiment, mount up! Second regiment, mount up! Third regiment, mount up!" Seeing Su Cheng'e accept the order, a deputy general beside Sheng Bao began to shout commands.

All the cavalry mounted their horses and drew their sabers according to the orders. Guan Zhuofan and the other six men also nimbly mounted their horses, drew their sabers, and waited for the charge order. Once on the saddle, Guan Zhuofan was slightly startled: How could I be so skilled at mounting and drawing a saber?

He had never ridden a horse in his life, let alone wielded a saber. Glancing at the saber in his hand, he saw "Guan Zhuofan" engraved on it and sighed: This damn saber has caused me so much trouble!

On the right, a thousand men were Su Cheng'e's regiment. He raised his saber high, waved it forward, and led his thousand men out of the formation, charging towards the junction of the Anglo-French forces.

As the Qing army's formation moved, the foreign troops' position also changed. Once they identified the intent of this cavalry, the black mass of the "Proby" Sikh cavalry regiment began to move, quickly forming a formation. Hundreds of gleaming lances pointed diagonally upwards, and they slowly emerged from the formation, gradually accelerating into a charge.

The two opposing cavalry forces rapidly approached each other in the center of the battlefield. The Qing army had more men, but their formation was disorganized. The Sikh cavalry, though only a few hundred, had a tight formation and showed no signs of disorder—this was not easily achieved and required a high level of coordination and training. The timing of when to trot, gallop, and charge was strictly defined. Their Arab warhorses, bred through selective breeding, were exceptionally large and strong, with formidable sprinting power.

The outcome of this confrontation was already determined. In the first clash, the Qing cavalry's formation was completely shattered. The Sikh cavalry, like several moving walls, rolled over the Qing cavalry, continued without stopping, and after a small arc, turned to face the remaining Qing forces, raised their bloodied lances, and immediately charged again.

The once mighty Manchu cavalry, which had risen from the White Mountains and Black Water, finally met a stronger opponent. The second charge of the Sikh cavalry completely shattered Su Cheng'e's regiment, leaving over two hundred dead, and the survivors fled in disarray back to their own lines. The Sikh cavalry did not pursue relentlessly but paused in the center of the battlefield and then retreated to their formation.

With the vanguard's sudden defeat, the main force naturally could not charge. Sheng Bao, looking at the disheveled Su Cheng'e kneeling before his horse, turned pale—how could he have thought the battle would end so quickly and so disastrously? He glanced sideways at Guan Zhuofan, thinking that the boy had been right.

But doing nothing was not an option. Sheng Bao gritted his teeth, ready to order a direct charge on the French square, gambling on the outcome.

"Sir Sheng," Guan Zhuofan, seeing his determined look, said softly, "The foreign square cannot be charged."

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