Chapter 80: Seizing the Bridge (V)

Retreat cut off?

At this moment, everyone on the other side had the same thought, yet Liu Ji showed not the slightest trace of surprise, nor did he regret missing any chance to salvage the situation. The Tubo’s kerosene had soaked almost every vine; a single flaming arrow was enough to make this outcome inevitable. Unless he could, in the shortest time, cover all these vines and the entire land at the bridgehead, the result could not have been avoided.

“Who among you holds the highest rank?”

Besides Xu Guangjing’s squad, another similar-sized group had crossed the river. Upon Liu Ji’s inquiry, none among them outranked his own rank of Commandant of Guoyi. The highest was merely a squad leader, not even on par with Zhang Wujia or Xu Guangjing. So Liu Ji took command without ceremony.

“Before crossing, the governor gave orders: all is to follow the Commandant’s command.”

Sure enough, there was no resistance from that squad. This was not only because Tian Zhen had spoken beforehand, but more because, facing desperate straits, their only hope lay with this bold, brash man.

“Very well. You will form up here; the left wing is yours.”

Liu Ji had no time for pleasantries, nor even to ask their names; his orders were crisp and direct.

At present, he commanded three full squads—over one hundred fifty regulars, more than forty Bolü archers. He split the squads in three directions, keeping the Bolü archers behind them. This small formation held a front of seventy to eighty paces wide. At their backs was the vanished vine bridge and, across the Bo Yi River, the Tang main force, unable to send aid.

“What are we to do?” This question hovered in every heart, yet only a Bolü man dared voice it softly. Zhu Guli’s face had paled; within a single hour, he had swung from peril to hope, from hope to despair, his heart pounding so fiercely it could scarce endure more.

“Follow his orders. Fight!”

In the end, he gritted his teeth, unfastened the leather quiver from his back, and placed it by his feet, so he could reach for an arrow with a single motion.

What else could they do? Even if they turned on the Tang in front, they would not stand a chance against a hundred and fifty well-armed soldiers—let alone that their families were still held by these men.

Let death come, then. At least this young Tang officer had promised to treat those in his village well. As long as someone survived, there was hope.

“Armor up.”

At Liu Ji’s command, the thirty men who had not worn armor—having crossed the snow mountains—took up the suits brought by Xu Guangjing and the others. Silently, with practiced hands, they donned each piece of the bright lamellar armor. Their thoughts were no different from the Bolü men’s: if death must come, let it be a battle worthy of the sons of Anxi, in full view of their comrades.

When all was ready, the flaming arrows had ceased. The Bolü archers had loosed nine volleys to ensure the fire’s effect, until the blaze behind the Tang lines leapt high, like a great Tang banner snapping in the wind.

“Prepare to engage!”

Liu Ji, fully armored and wielding his long saber, strode to the front of the formation. Behind him, the standard-bearer unfurled a triangular, serrated-edged company banner and drove its tip deep into the earth. Grabbing the tiger-headed square shield by his feet, Liu Ji drew his horizontal saber at his waist, raising it in a defensive stance.

If the banner fell, so should they; such was the charge for him and the two flag guards at his side.

“Dongben! Dongben!” A trusted subordinate called several times before Xi Dongzan seemed to rouse from a dream. By now his line had advanced to within a hundred paces of the Tang’s small formation. With the wall of fire between them, he could see every Tang movement under his very eyes—his heart filled with both admiration and a hint of shock.

Surrounded, hopelessly outnumbered, yet they still formed an orderly line and dared to fight to the end?

Very well. Let them have their wish.

“Switch to arrows. Leave not a single armored man alive!”

Xi Dongzan had no intention of fighting these Tang head-on. If arrows would suffice, let them die before their own comrades’ eyes. He leapt from his mount, reached into a leather bag behind the saddle for a handful of roasted broad beans, mixed them with barley, and fed them bit by bit to his horse. All the cavalrymen did the same. This was not arrogance; should anything go amiss, they and their steeds would be ready for battle, with their strength at its peak.

He looked forward to the moment—perhaps the Tang who had slain Danangqi was among these men. Perhaps he would be granted a surprise.

“Shields!”

Three shouts rang out almost as one. On all three fronts, the Tang shield bearers instantly locked their square shields, covering every gap for their fifty men. As for the Bolü, they too had round shields built for foot soldiers. Without needing orders, they crouched low, lessening their profile and bracing for the coming arrow storm.

The hiss of arrows was incessant, soon blanketing the small area. The shafts clattered against the shields with metallic clangs, and Liu Ji, crouched below, experienced for the first time the true nature of ancient warfare.

So this was war in ages past.

The locust-like arrow storm lasted nearly half an hour. When it ceased, Liu Ji looked around and saw the muddy ground thick with arrow shafts, like a wheat field after the harvesters had passed but not gathered every stalk. With so many arrows, there were bound to be casualties. Judging by the screams, no more than ten had been struck. Clearly the enemy knew volley after volley was not effective; archers, too, needed rest and could not shoot forever.

After a long while, silence fell. No more arrows whistled through the air. Liu Ji crawled out from under the flag shield, plunged his saber into the ground, spread his arms, and faced the enemy—just as he had faced a pack of wolves before—shouting loudly.

“Ah!”

“Heh!”

The Tang soldiers behind him responded in unison, raising swords and spears, beating their shields, as though they were the ones surrounding their foes. At that, even the Tang army across the river joined in, shouting with all their might, sending their cheers to their embattled comrades.

Desperation, like the heavy shroud of night, pressed on every heart. Only those in the midst of it could feel the defiant roar of these battle-hardened veterans, as if they were determined to tear open the darkness and let in a sliver of light.

On either bank, all who witnessed this felt, for the first time, that Wulang’s brazen arrogance was entirely justified.

To follow such a commander to one’s death—what more could one ask?