In the heart of the Longyan’er Plains, the battlefield was a scene of desperation for Dong Zhuo’s main force of six thousand cavalry, now trapped in a dire situation. Meanwhile, the eight thousand White Feather Light Cavalry, personally commanded by Yuan Nanting, moved with increasing ease, relentlessly harvesting the heads of their enemies.
The two thousand cavalry led by Yelü Chucai, commander of the Crow Barricade, clashed fiercely with an equal number of White Feather Light Cavalry, neither side showing signs of faltering.
Qi Dangguo’s six thousand Iron Pagodas unexpectedly encountered Hong Jingyan’s six thousand Rouran Iron Cavalry, who had left their post without orders. Both forces arrived on the battlefield almost simultaneously.
Two armored tides collided head-on.
The Rouran Iron Cavalry sought to rescue the remaining three thousand or so riders of the Dong family’s main force, charging straight toward Yuan Nanting’s six thousand cavalry, who were expanding their gains. Meanwhile, the Iron Pagodas maneuvered around the left flank, bypassing the entangled skirmish between the Liang and Mang light cavalry.
Light cavalry against light cavalry, iron cavalry against iron cavalry!
At the forefront of the six thousand Iron Pagodas, their commander Qi Dangguo stood in the center of the vanguard, leading the charge with his horse and iron spear, setting an example for his troops.
Among the six adopted sons of the old Liang King Xu Xiao, Chen Zhibao was renowned for his brilliance and numerous military achievements, earning the title of “White-Clad Saint of War” after defeating the legendary strategist Ye Baikui during the Spring and Autumn Era. Though he later defected to Western Shu, his formidable reputation remained untarnished.
Chu Lushan, infamous in the Central Plains, secured his place in history with his thousand-strong cavalry charge into Shu. Later, in the heart of the Northern Mang, he halted Dong Zhuo’s twelve consecutive victories, earning the joint title “Southern Chu, Northern Dong” alongside the former Southern Court King of Northern Mang. He was widely regarded as Dong Zhuo’s nemesis in the art of war.
Yuan Zuozong’s victory at the Princess Tomb left even the Western Chu in disbelief. Historians and military strategists later praised his tactics, concluding that without the “White Bear” Yuan Zuozong, Xu Xiao’s hastily assembled Liyang army would never have had the chance to fight the decisive battle at Xilei Wall. Now, as the rightful commander of the Northern Liang cavalry, his reputation was secure.
Yao Jian and Ye Xizhen, during their lifetimes, were highly regarded in court circles for their scholarly elegance and strategic acumen. Had they not tarnished their legacies, their close ties with the young Prince of Shu would have easily secured them positions as provincial governors.
Only Qi Dangguo was consistently overlooked—not just by the Liyang court and Central Plains officials but even within Northern Liang itself. His prominence paled in comparison to rising stars like Ning Emei, and his appointment as commander of the Iron Pagodas was dismissed as mere nepotism by the new Liang King, unrelated to any actual military talent.
Even among those familiar with the Xu family’s affairs on Qingliang Mountain, most dismissed Qi Dangguo as a reckless vanguard officer with little strategic depth. His greatest skill, it seemed, was carrying the Xu royal banner in the wake of the “Butcher King.” His crowning achievement? Somehow becoming Xu Xiao’s adopted son. Mediocre talent, negligible reputation, and scant military achievements—that was Qi Dangguo. When Yao Jian and Ye Xizhen faced execution, Chu Lushan refused to intercede, and Yuan Zuozong remained silent. Only Qi Dangguo dared to speak out. When Chen Zhibao chose to leave Northern Liang alone, Chu Lushan was indifferent, and Yuan Zuozong watched coldly. Again, it was Qi Dangguo who secretly tried to persuade him to stay—though to no avail.
How could such a man, who always stirred the pot at the worst possible times, earn respect in Northern Liang, where military merit was paramount?
Qi Dangguo’s spear pierced through the chest of a Rouran Iron Cavalry centurion. With a furious roar, he continued his charge, not only flinging the corpse from its saddle but driving his bloodied spear straight into the chest of the next rider!
Unstoppable.
With Qi Dangguo as their spearhead, the Iron Pagodas tore through the Rouran formation like a hot knife through butter.
Along the flanks of Qi Dangguo’s charge, nearly two hundred riders from both sides fell in an instant. Unlike light cavalry skirmishes, where the wounded might be beheaded, here, any unfortunate soul who fell was trampled to death beneath the hooves of enemy horses—no chance of survival.
In iron cavalry clashes, falling meant death.
Of the four thousand Rouran riders who had joined the fray, two thousand remained at a distance, watching impassively—an incongruous sight on the vast battlefield.
Spotting this, Yelü Chucai deflected an arrow aimed at his face by a Northern Liang light cavalry captain and galloped away from the battle. He rode up to the motionless two thousand riders and angrily confronted their cold-faced leader. “Hong Jingyan! Why are you standing by while our men die?!”
The towering man with snow-white eyes stared at the noble-born royal relative and retorted, “How am I standing by? Aren’t four thousand Rouran riders already fighting to save them?”
Yelü Chucai laughed bitterly and pointed his saber at the martial arts master who had once vied with his brother-in-law for the title of Southern Court King. “At this critical juncture, you’re still holding back?! What, did the Northern Liang cavalry break your courage at Hulu Pass? Are you saving these two thousand riders to flee for your life?!”
Hong Jingyan smirked. “I never had faith in you or Lin Fu succeeding. The only reason I risked coming was to prevent you, Yelü Chucai, from dying pointlessly here. Of course, with hundreds of White Mane scouts returning alive while your forces are wiped out, the Emperor will surely demand answers. Appleton Baoding, after all, bears the imperial surname—he has nothing to fear. But I, Hong Jingyan, lack such protection. Though holding back was the rational choice, sometimes sentiment outweighs reason. That’s why I’m here. Did you really think I came just for fun?”
Hong Jingyan eyed the fuming general mockingly. “Military merit? Where’s the so-called merit you and Lin Fu boasted of earlier?”
He shifted his gaze to the distant battlefield and sneered. “If your Crow Barricade and Black Fox Barricade died in vain, then my four thousand elite riders died even more pointlessly.”
Yelü Chucai, humiliated and furious, spat blood and glared hatefully at the Rouran commander.
Hong Jingyan said calmly, “Yelü Chucai, remember this: while the martial world has its terrestrial immortals, the battlefield has no gods who can overturn fate. Your brother-in-law’s eight thousand private riders died here because it was inevitable. My only duty is to bring you back alive to the Southern Court. Don’t hope for more—you don’t deserve it.”
Without turning, Yelü Chucai pointed his saber toward the battlefield behind him. “Don’t you want to claim the head of Qi Dangguo, the third-rank commander of the Iron Pagodas? His head could make you a marquis in one step! And he’s Xu Xiao’s adopted son, damn it!”
Hong Jingyan’s smile turned sardonic, as if the question wasn’t worth answering.
Yelü Chucai straightened in his saddle, releasing his bloodstained hand, and looked at the formidable Rouran riders behind Hong Jingyan. He laughed. “You savages from the Rouran Mountains are lucky to have such a cowardly leader. You’ll never earn military glory, but at least you won’t die on the battlefield!”
Several Rouran captains bristled, hands on their sabers.
Hong Jingyan raised a hand to stop them. Gripping his reins lightly, he gazed into the distance and smiled. “Yelü Chucai, I must say, you’re far inferior to your slippery brother-in-law. The only thing he lacked was your noble surname. A pity.”
For some reason, Yelü Chucai suddenly calmed. He glanced south at the carnage, then north at the eerie stillness.
The young general, born into privilege as Hong Jingyan had said, spoke quietly. “I don’t need your rescue. But I beg one thing of you, Hong Jingyan: save as many of Dong’s riders as you can. If you agree, I apologize for my earlier words.”
Hong Jingyan, in no hurry to promise, asked curiously, “And you?”
Yelü Chucai’s eyes hardened with the stubbornness familiar to all steppe warriors. “My brother-in-law once said, ‘In business, one must be willing to lose capital.’ I’ll fight alongside your four thousand Rouran riders to the end. How many of Dong’s men you save with my life is up to you. Do we have a deal?”
Hong Jingyan narrowed his eyes and finally nodded.
Yelü Chucai turned his horse away, his back to Hong Jingyan, and murmured, “I’m a dead man. Don’t take my words out on Dong’s men. The truth is, you won’t kill Qi Dangguo yourself because you fear the young Prince of Shu hunting you down later. But I think if Tuoba Pusa were here, he’d act.”
A flash of icy killing intent crossed Hong Jingyan’s eyes.
But in the end, he only smiled. “Go die in peace. Maybe I’ll avenge you myself.”
Yelü Chucai rode toward his death with a laugh. As he charged, he remembered the little girl Tao Manwu, who often sang a tune at his brother-in-law’s side. He’d once tried to sing along with her and his sister, only to be teased by his brother-in-law for sounding worse than a horse’s snort. After that, he’d given up.
*Green grass sprouts next year, wild geese return again.*
*Spring winds blow this year, but will my lord come back?*
*Green Stone slab, green grass, a blue-robed youth on the bridge,*
*Humming a Jinling tune—*
*Which maiden hides her smile?*
*Yellow leaves fall this year, year after year.*
*Autumn winds rise next year, but will my lady remain?*
*Yellow river, yellow flowers, a yellow-robed girl in the city,*
*Chasing yellow butterflies—*
*Which youth keeps his sword sheathed?*
Yelü Chucai glanced at his battle-worn saber, now cracked in two places, then threw back his head and laughed.
*”The wild geese return, but this year, my lord, I shall not!”*
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