Chapter 35: Rising to Fame in a Single Battle (Part Two)

Though Zhang Chi had always appeared to be a man without grand ambitions, drifting through life and settling for whatever came his way, when his wildness was stirred, he seemed to transform entirely. It was no wonder Ding Yizhi often remarked that Zhang Chi was like a carefree crane amid drifting clouds, unwilling to act unless pressured. In moments of crisis, he would often leave those around him anxious and frantic, while he himself remained unperturbed, content in his easy-going manner.

But what would he be like when he truly became serious?

Since crossing over, he had witnessed the scenes of war twice, and no longer resembled the green recruit he once was. Now, amid the chaos, hearing the enemy cavalry shouting, "Kill the rider of the white horse," he instantly understood their intent—he was their target.

As the cavalry surged toward him, his mind became clearer still. Mounted on his exceptional steed, he held his ground without retreat, patting Snow's neck and whispering, "It's up to you now."

Snow, sensing his words, reared and let out a long, thunderous neigh, like a dragon’s roar. The two warhorses approaching him stopped abruptly, startled by that sound, their riders urging them forward in vain, too hesitant to advance.

Then, Snow moved like a gust of wind.

How fast could Snow truly go when unleashed? Zhang Chi did not know. He only saw the men and horses around him recede swiftly, the cold gleam of sabres and spear points flickering at his side, yet all missed him as Snow darted past with unmatched speed. Though surrounded by thousands, under the threat of countless blades, Zhang Chi's mind grew steadier, heavier—he felt not a trace of panic.

The greater the danger, the calmer Zhang Chi became. He looked harmless, but he knew how to kill. With one hand gripping the reins tightly, the other holding his sabre horizontally, he pressed forward against all odds, radiating an unstoppable aura.

Snow’s lightning speed caused the cold gleam on Zhang Chi’s sabre to whirl as if by magic. The enemy cavalry watched as Zhang Chi charged, but by the time they raised their weapons, Snow had already flown past them. Several riders, unable to react in time, were overtaken and dispatched by Zhang Chi's blade.

The Northern Army was no ordinary force. They knew if they could surround Zhang Chi, leaving him no room to maneuver, a storm of blades would soon end him, even the bravest horse unable to save his life. Yet they underestimated Snow. As a dozen riders closed in, Snow lashed out, kicking two warhorses to the ground. The dragon-like neigh terrified the other mounts, making them reluctant to approach.

A cavalryman, seeing the encirclement fail, forced his mount alongside Zhang Chi and suddenly shouted, slashing at him. Zhang Chi parried, but his strength was no match for the soldier’s. With a clang, his hand stung, and his sabre was knocked away.

The man swung again, and Zhang Chi ducked low. The blade grazed his back, burning him with pain. Snow would not allow the soldier another strike, charging straight at the man’s horse. The frightened mount failed to dodge and collapsed under Snow’s assault. The soldier, about to strike, lost balance and was flung toward Zhang Chi.

Zhang Chi, weaponless and unable to dodge, seized the moment: one hand grabbed the man's hair, the other wrapped the reins around his neck. In the blink of an eye, Snow shot forward, Zhang Chi let go, clutching the horse’s neck for dear life. The unfortunate soldier, trapped by the reins and dragged by Snow’s momentum, was hauled dozens of yards before Snow finally stopped, leaving him lifeless.

Such a horse inspired terror before even reaching the enemy. In those brief, dazzling moments, a man and his steed moved as if no one could stand in their way.

To Zhang Chi's soldiers, the scene struck with a different kind of awe. Zhang Chi, dressed as a scholar, astride a pure white horse, stood out on the bloody, chaotic battlefield like a firefly in the darkness—so bright, so extraordinary. With such a commander, how could the army’s morale not soar?

Gao Yazhi watched, heart pounding with regret for underestimating his foe. Had he not charged rashly and instead waited until Zhang Chi’s forces were halfway across, launching a volley of arrows and then gathering strength for a decisive attack, Zhang Chi would surely have been trapped by now. Yet his overconfidence led him to order a charge from miles away, which, though imposing, meant that if the initial assault failed, the horses would tire and morale falter.

Morale, after all, ebbs and flows. When the enemy withstands your charge, their fighting spirit rises. How many battles have been decided by the tide of morale?

Now, seeing his own warhorses cowed by Zhang Chi’s magnificent Snow, Gao Yazhi sensed danger. He had never seen such speed—if only Zhang Chi were killed, the enemy’s morale would collapse. He shouted, “Arrows! Shoot him down!”

Since Zhang Chi’s charge, Dao Xuan had followed close behind, unable to match Snow’s speed. Now, seeing the enemy cavalry readying their bows, he grew anxious. In chaotic battle, nothing terrifies more than a storm of arrows. Zhang Chi had no blade to defend himself, and even if he had, his lack of martial skill was no help. Dao Xuan’s heart raced.

A cavalryman drew his iron bow, fitted a goose-feather arrow, and aimed at Zhang Chi’s chest. Dao Xuan, desperate, hurled his long sabre, but it could not thwart the arrow’s flight. The sabre struck the rider’s throat just as the arrow was released.

Though slightly diverted, the arrow’s aim faltered. With a hiss, it sliced through the air and buried itself in Zhang Chi’s shoulder. He did not even notice he had been shot.

Du Xi Ming and San Tong, leading the infantry behind, saw Zhang Chi wounded and took to battle with blood-red eyes, rallying their men with fierce shouts. Instead of diminishing morale, Zhang Chi’s injury only fueled their fighting spirit, breaking the cavalry’s formation. Spears thrust forward, and the cavalry had no chance to shoot again.

Dao Xuan reached Zhang Chi’s side, who was now covered in blood. The pain was sharp, but the sensation only inflamed his spirit. Dao Xuan was about to urge Zhang Chi to fall back for safety when Zhang Chi stunned him with a fierce declaration: “Brother, let’s charge together into their ranks and kill their general Gao Yazhi—do you dare?”

Dao Xuan hesitated, astonished. He did not fear for himself; such madness hadn’t crossed his mind, and while he doubted they could take the general’s head amid the chaos, his own skills could ensure escape. What worried him was Zhang Chi, who knew no martial arts.

Before Dao Xuan could speak, Zhang Chi pressed on: “They have numbers and cavalry, but if we don’t strike while our morale is high, it will soon falter. Better to gamble everything now than be captured later!”

Zhang Chi’s words left Dao Xuan no room to argue. Considering the Northern Army’s prowess and their horse advantage, the battle could not drag on. Triumph comes with a single surge; after that, spirit wanes, and defeat follows. Dao Xuan silently admired Zhang Chi: though mild and gentlemanly most days, when roused, he dared to attempt the impossible.

“Brother Zhang, you’re fearless. How could I be a coward? Let’s charge in together and defy their ten thousand Northern cavalry!” With Zhang Chi as his brother, Dao Xuan’s own spirit soared.

“Your horse is slow. Come ride with me. We’ll share Snow,” Zhang Chi said.

Dao Xuan nodded; where else could one find such a steed? He dismounted, found a single sabre, and a long spear for Zhang Chi. His reasoning was sound: a sabre was harder to wield without skill, but a spear could simply be thrust at enemies, far more effective.

Dao Xuan mounted Snow behind Zhang Chi, saying, “Brother, use the spear and let the horse’s power carry you. Leave any close-range defense to me.”

Hearing this, Zhang Chi relaxed, took a deep breath, and let his anxiety dissolve into boundless heroism. The greater the pressure, the tougher he became. Gazing at the army before him, his nervousness was swept away by an overwhelming surge of spirit.

Zhang Chi breathed deeply, and Snow shot forward like an arrow. Only then did everyone witness Snow’s true speed. What had already amazed them was not even its peak; now, at full throttle, Snow swept through the army like a rolling white cloud.

Snow’s charge stunned not only the enemy, but even Zhang Chi’s own soldiers, whose minds seemed to freeze in awe at the sight of such man and horse—like celestial beings descending upon the battlefield. Zhan Taiqi clicked his tongue, exhaling, “With such spirit, if he survives today, the whole realm shall be his!”

Ding Yizhi smiled quietly, “As for who will rule this land, you already know the answer, Daoist. Why speak it now?”

“Between us, the reasons and aims behind our actions are never truly hidden,” Zhan Taiqi replied, exchanging a knowing smile with Ding Yizhi, as if they were old friends reunited.