Chapter 62: The Alliance (Part Sixteen)

Arrows fell like rain, growing ever more dense and precise. The formation of over a thousand Qianyuet cavalry had spread wide into a sweeping arc, the billowing dust they raised rolling forward like a swiftly moving wall of smoke. Xu Le and his three companions, with only three horses between them, were desperately pursued by this advancing wall.

The Qianyuet riders, their eyes now bloodshot with rage, had but one thought: to shoot down these four before them, and then trample their bodies beneath their horses’ hooves. Xu Le’s actions today had been a grave humiliation. He had come and gone at will before the faces of over a thousand Qianyuet warriors, killing more than ten in his initial charge. Even when the full force of the Qianyuet, led by their young chief Gaida Heiguo, arrived, they failed to contain him. During the pursuit, Xu Le had felled nearly ten more with his arrows.

As the mightiest among the Nine Surnames, the Qianyuet prided themselves on their dignity and honor. To be so toyed with and still left helpless—how could they hope to maintain their supremacy among the Nine Surnames, or earn the respect of the Turkic tribes? Although the distant blare of horns from the mountain fortress now echoed across the field, and squadrons of armored cavalry poured forth from the gates, the Qianyuet warriors were determined to claim one last victory: to bring Xu Le and his companions down, no matter the cost.

In the borderlands of Yunzhong, whether Han or foreign, most men were fierce and bold. Over a hundred mounted bows sang, loosing a storm of arrows. Sparks danced upon Han Yue’s mighty shield as iron-tipped shafts struck and ricocheted. Xu Le twisted in the saddle—not to loose another arrow, but to wield his lance, shielding the two frantic horses charging beside him.

Meanwhile, Song Bao curled tightly upon his horse’s back, trying to make himself as small as possible. The Yuli shield strapped to his back was his only hope—if his vital spots escaped an arrow, he would count himself lucky. He could spare no thought for his mount now.

Suddenly, Song Bao’s horse shrieked in agony. Three arrows struck its hindquarters and leg, pain causing it to rear up rather than flee faster. With a final scream, it crashed to the ground. Song Bao rolled free just in time to avoid being crushed, sprang up, snatched his iron shield, and deflected a flurry of arrows. Eyes red with fury, he shouted at Xu Le, “Damn it! Iron Swallow dies here—go on, you all, just go!”

Xu Le called out to Han Yue, “Take over Buli!” Han Yue reached out to pull Buli—who had been lying quietly before Xu Le, silent and unmoving—up onto his own horse. Buli, nimble as a cat, slipped behind Han Yue’s shield, her wide eyes fixed on Xu Le.

Xu Le now spurred his horse diagonally forward, wielding his lance. The moment he broke from Han Yue’s shield, the rain of arrows converged on his form.

Xu Le’s wrist flicked, his lance whirling—a rapid succession of blows sent arrow after arrow spinning away. The red horse beneath him, well-trained for battle, responded flawlessly to every command, turning with a nudge of the stirrup, surging forward at a squeeze of the knees, carrying Xu Le in a slanting charge toward Song Bao.

Xu Le shouted, “Mount up!” As the red horse swept past, Song Bao grabbed the back of the saddle and swung up, only to take an arrow in the shoulder. The pain made him lose his grip and nearly fall, but Xu Le, freeing a hand, caught him.

In this moment between life and death, Song Bao’s own borderland spirit blazed. “Let go!” he yelled. Xu Le, still fending off arrows with one hand, replied curtly, “Shut up!”

Han Yue had also caught up. At this point, how could he abandon Xu Le? Extending his titanic shield, Han Yue exposed much of his own body, striving only to protect Xu Le and Song Bao. Several arrows grazed past, tearing his clothes and drawing blood, but Han Yue, as unyielding as a mountain, did not so much as waver, remaining steadfast in his defense.

Suddenly, Song Bao laughed, “Xu Le, if we die here, so be it—let’s at least take a few down with us!” In such peril, Xu Le remained calm, only smiling, “Die here? It won’t be that easy.”

The reason was simple—he had just heard the twang of bowstrings from another direction.

The crisp, drum-like beat of dozens of bowstrings filled the air, followed by the howl of armored-piercing wolf-fang arrows tearing through the sky—sharp and mournful as wolves. The Hengan Eagle Cavalry had arrived, loosing their arrows from horseback!

Obeying their commander’s order, the Eagle Cavalry loosed their arrows in high arcs, the shafts whistling over Xu Le’s group and plunging into the advancing Qianyuet ranks. Though the Eagle Cavalry wielded powerful six-pull bows and fired armor-piercers, the distance made it difficult to penetrate the Qianyuet riders’ mail. But the horses could not withstand such punishment; in an instant, seven or eight warhorses collapsed, throwing their riders to the ground. The once tightly packed Qianyuet formation fell into chaos, a cacophony of shouts and horse screams rising.

The relentless pursuit had come to naught; the Hengan Eagle Cavalry had arrived in time! Xu Le’s smile turned cold. He slung his lance, took up his bow, and loosed a rapid volley—each arrow aimed at a throat or face, each death silent and sure, further scattering the Qianyuet.

Now, Xu Le truly set aside all restraint. He realized there had been flaws in his actions today—too reliant on his own skill, charging into the Qianyuet camp unarmored and retreating a moment too late in the face of their formation. If the Eagle Cavalry had not acted so decisively, he might have suffered serious consequences. But with Song Bao and Han Yue wounded, and Luo Dun’s fate uncertain, Xu Le no longer held back. In moments, he emptied a quiver, each arrow taking a life—unleashing a true slaughter.

The Qianyuet formation, beset by chaos and panic, could no longer press forward. They wheeled their horses and began to retreat. The Eagle Cavalry pressed onward, passing Xu Le and his group, continuing their assault.

The squad leaders barked orders as the Eagle Cavalry formed up, their ranks even tighter than the Qianyuet before them, riders nearly knee to knee. At each command, a volley of arrows arced into the disordered enemy ranks. Sparks flew as arrows struck armor, horses shrieked, and again and again, riders were thrown, rolling across the ground to escape trampling hooves.

The ferocity of the Eagle Cavalry’s formation now showed itself; the Qianyuet had no answer. This borderland elite truly deserved their reputation—surrounded by powerful foes, yet still unbroken.

From the Qianyuet ranks came a desperate shout, its owner shielded by many warriors—Heiguo, his voice hoarse with fury: “Liu Yingji, do you truly mean to go to war with the Nine Surnames?”