Chapter 34: Rising to Fame in a Single Battle (Part I)

Du Ximing had once served as a general commanding the Yamen Guards; his leadership was naturally methodical and orderly. In the chaos of the moment, he managed to form a hollow square formation along the riverbank with the troops who had already landed. The superior mobility of cavalry dictates that infantry can only withstand them through defensive formations. The rest of the troops hadn’t even landed when, in the blink of an eye, the enemy cavalry were already upon them. Fortunately, the eight thousand riders were light cavalry, exhausted after their long raid from Qinggun, and their combat strength had greatly diminished. To maximize mobility for their surprise attack on Jiankang, they wore no heavy armor and wielded mostly curved sabers. Had they been heavily armored lancers, sweeping in formation, the outcome of this battle would have been beyond doubt.

The enemy drew ever closer. The sight of eight thousand warhorses charging in formation was overwhelming beyond words—especially for the ordinary soldiers, who watched the horses drawing nearer and nearer, nerves stretched to the point of collapse. Zhang Chi’s heart was in his throat; he’d only witnessed such scenes in films—never had he faced eight thousand charging cavalry in real life. He wondered if, when the enemy reached them, their small force on the shore would simply be trampled flat under iron hooves. Yet at that critical moment, Santong suddenly burst into inexplicable laughter.

Turning to him in surprise, Zhang Chi said, "You can still laugh at a time like this?"

"Brother Zhang, you don’t understand—they haven’t blindfolded their horses," Santong replied gleefully.

"Blindfolded?" Zhang Chi was completely puzzled.

Santong, well-versed in the nature of horses, explained, "Dogs look down on people, but horses look up to them. Even with training, horses are easily spooked, especially on the battlefield. Ordinary warhorses often need their eyes covered and ears plugged to prevent panic."

Zhang Chi had heard the saying, but only now did he realize its truth. He recalled the classic film Braveheart, where Wallace had used long spears to defeat a much larger force of cavalry. Perhaps if the enemy horses panicked, the situation might not be as dire as it seemed.

This thought soothed Zhang Chi’s nerves a little, but he still harbored worries. Ding Yizhi sought to reassure him: "Their commander is mediocre; you need not worry, Brother."

"Oh?" Zhang Chi asked. "How can you tell?"

"I taught you the method of watching dust," Ding Yizhi said, pointing to the distant haze kicked up by the enemy cavalry. "See how the dust rises thick from the horizon? Clearly, their general ordered a full charge from afar, sparing no thought for the horses’ stamina. By the time they reach us, their mounts will be spent and easily startled. You have little to fear from this battle."

...

Gao Yazhi had expected that his eight thousand cavalry would shatter the five thousand infantry upon impact—especially since nearly half of the enemy were still in the water. Surely it would be a rout, no suspense at all. Yet the battle played out in a way that utterly confounded his expectations.

Though Gao Yazhi was somewhat overconfident, he was still a general of the famed Northern Garrison, respected across the land—he had substance beneath his arrogance. Glancing back from the rear, he saw that the charge lacked the momentum it had at the outset. The horses’ hooves became disordered, their advance slowed, and as they faced the infantry’s shining weapons glinting in the sun, a trace of panic appeared among them.

With their boats scuttled, the infantry had no way to retreat. Before them, the enemy cavalry gathered in silence; behind, the churning Yangtze blocked all escape. In such desperate straits, men often summoned a fighting spirit second to none. This is what the art of war means by ‘the desperate army triumphs.’

"The strong fear the reckless, the reckless fear those who throw their lives away"—such is the essence of morale. This applies to both men and horses. As the cavalry thundered down, just before the two sides collided, it came down to who flinched first. If one side broke ranks, defeat would follow. That’s why, on the battlefield, horses were blindfolded and their ears plugged to suppress fear. But Gao Yazhi had come in haste and failed to make such preparations, underestimating his opponent. Sure enough, as the infantry square raised a thunderous roar, the leading horses balked and reared just before the formation, refusing to advance.

The rear ranks, unable to halt their charge, crashed into the panicked vanguard, resulting in utter chaos—men and horses tumbling in disarray. Zhang Chi did not witness the expected sight of cavalry trampling the infantry flat; instead, it was the enemy’s formation that fell into turmoil right before his eyes.

Du Ximing gave a rousing yell and led his men forward in formation. In the era of cold steel, the measure of a general was his ability to adapt formations in battle. In this crisis, the soldiers advanced in formation—striking down cavalry, hacking at horse legs—maintaining perfect order and even seizing the advantage for a time.

This turn of events shocked Zhang Chi. He had no need to join the fray; the sword he’d seized from a soldier remained unused. He simply stood at the rear of the formation, clutching his blade and watching, his heart pounding with excitement.

"‘Place your men in a deadly position and they will survive; throw them into danger and they will prevail.’ Brother, you ordered the boats to be scuttled, cutting off all retreat—thus inspiring everyone to fight to the death. A brilliant move," Ding Yizhi said with a smile. "But against cavalry, infantry can at best avoid defeat, rarely win."

This was true, and Zhang Chi knew it well. Infantry must form up to resist cavalry, but the latter’s mobility makes victory difficult. The Northern Garrison’s reputation for invincibility was well-earned—they had triumphed in countless battles. Their temporary setback was only due to the horses’ panic and the sudden turn of events. Given time to regroup, even holding the line would be uncertain.

"If you knew we could at best avoid defeat, not win, why did you still urge us to fight back on the boat?" Zhang Chi, impulsive yet quick-witted, asked in surprise.

"First," Ding Yizhi smiled, "do you know Miss Wang’s intentions? If I’m not mistaken, she wants you to build a reputation in the army so you can command the former troops of the Xie clan in the future. That’s why she sent you to subdue Canghuai of the Five Pecks of Rice sect, and now to face Gao Yazhi. You’re a free spirit, Brother—if not pressed, you’d be content to do nothing. Win or lose, facing eight thousand Northern Garrison troops will make your name known. Miss Wang’s intentions are painstaking, and how could I let you miss this chance?"

This alone left Zhang Chi astonished—everyone else seemed in on the secret, while he’d been in the dark.

"Second," Ding Yizhi looked over at the elderly Daoist Zhan Taiqi, smiling but silent.

Zhan Taiqi took up the thread, his demeanor suddenly grave. "The Daoist sects are many, and for a hundred years have struggled amongst themselves. Now, as chaos looms, each seeks its own path—following the example of Su Qin, they build alliances, seeking powerful patrons. Should their chosen patron prevail, their sect will flourish. The Danding faction has chosen the Northern Garrison. You, as the ‘Celestial Pivot,’ are their first target—conflict with the Northern Garrison is inevitable."

"I knew you had your own designs," Zhang Chi said with a smile. "Is it because I’m the ‘Celestial Pivot’ that you want an alliance with me?"

"I represent the Divination branch of the Daoist sects," the old Daoist replied, tacitly acknowledging Zhang Chi’s point.

"Negotiations require bargaining chips," Zhang Chi thought, "I need to know what I stand to gain." He said aloud, "I’m the ‘Celestial Pivot’—a hefty bargaining chip. But this Divination branch you mention, surely it’s not just your four from the Celestial Pivot sect?"

The old Daoist neither confirmed nor denied it. "You’re in a perilous spot," he said. "Why not break out a few miles ahead? I’ve ten thousand troops lying in ambush to support you. If you make it out, you’ll see what I have to offer."

Ten thousand troops? Zhang Chi didn’t believe it for a second. But that he was in a perilous situation was certainly true. He pondered: victory was unlikely—eight thousand cavalry still had the advantage over five thousand infantry. They could not win the battle, nor could they outrun cavalry. Better to seize the current advantage, break through, and throw the enemy into chaos. Once ahead, he could reconsider his next move.

As Zhang Chi considered this, Santong urged them on: "Is this really the time for idle chatter?"

"What’s your hurry? You should learn to face disaster with calm," Zhang Chi teased him, lifting his sword. "Everyone with a horse, mount up and follow me—let’s charge through!"

Dao Xuan, concerned for Zhang Chi’s safety, grabbed his sleeve. "You’re the commander, there’s no need for you to fight in the front."

"Nonsense! If the commander won’t risk himself, who will risk their lives for you?" With that, Zhang Chi ignored Dao Xuan, seized Bai Xue’s reins, and leapt onto the horse.

The old Daoist Zhan Taiqi stroked his beard and nodded with a smile. "A man who leads from the front and does not abandon his soldiers—only one with such spirit is worthy of being a hero in troubled times!"

Zhang Chi, clad in blue upon his white steed, exuded a wild energy; both rider and horse were of striking bearing, standing out amid the turmoil of battle. Seeing their commander ride to the front, the soldiers’ morale soared—they raised a mighty cry and charged forward, fighting with reckless abandon.

Amid the chaos, Zhang Chi darted left and right on the battlefield. Thankfully, his fine horse allowed him to move freely, and though he had not slain a single foe, the army’s morale surged ever higher. Gao Yazhi, watching from the other side, felt a twinge of unease. The enemy had all landed now, and after that first panic, he had lost the best moment to strike them mid-crossing. He sighed, but even so, never truly believed he could lose.

Eight thousand Northern Garrison cavalry had never been defeated. Their earlier mishap was mere carelessness; surely eight thousand cavalry would overcome five thousand infantry. With that thought, Gao Yazhi spurred his horse forward, pointing across the field at Zhang Chi in his blue robe and white steed, and shouted, “Kill the rider of the white horse!”