Angry Banana
Chapter 909: Dirge
No longer daring to follow curved paths, the cavalry charged toward the wall of Huaxia soldiers. Ahead of them, rows upon rows of smoke billowed into the air.
Warhorses tumbled in their headlong rush, throwing their riders to the ground. The weight of the thousand-catty steeds crushed the knights beneath them, bones snapping and blood erupting from torn skin. Those behind them fell in succession.
In the moment of full engagement, Ning Yi sat astride his horse, surveying the scene.
In a later-era film, this would be the time for grand and tragic music to swell, perhaps titled "The Twilight of an Empire" or "Ruthless History"...
A masterless sea falcon circled in the sky.
Wen Sa fell into a pool of blood.
He had been indirectly tripped by the second volley of rockets. His armor clattered against the ground, stunning him momentarily. When he came to, a buzzing cacophony swirled in his head.
A warhorse with a broken leg whinnied and struggled nearby. In the distance, he saw the charred remains of horses blasted apart, flames still dancing on the ground. Wounded horses and men rose unsteadily... He turned his gaze toward the other end of the battlefield, where the surging cavalry had charged into the Huaxia army's lines, only to crash like waves against a reef. The leading horses fell like mountains, while the rest scattered like foam in every direction.
His mind couldn't even form a coherent thought. Even the realization that "it's over" hadn't yet sunk in.
As a seasoned Jurchen general, he had experienced countless battles, tasted victory, and endured defeat. He had even crawled from beneath the bodies of his fallen comrades before. But the feeling of powerlessness that gripped him now, both real and surreal, was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
That Han Chinese named Ning Yi had revealed his unbelievable hand. The Great Jin's thirty thousand elite troops were now pinned beneath his palm.
This realization was mixed with a vague, nascent awareness. Before the battle, the possibility that Ning Yi might be employing a ruse had not been lost on the army. But at most, they had only imagined a defeat for the thirty thousand, followed by a regrouping after a retreat.
No one, even in their most pessimistic fantasies, had ever discussed the possibility of thirty thousand elite Jurchen troops being swallowed whole by six thousand Black Banner soldiers.
But what if it were true?
The smoke, flames, and bloodshot vision made it difficult to make out the situation on the Huaxia army's side of the field, but he could still recall Ning Yi's cold gaze.
The Han Chinese who had slain Commander-in-Chief Ci Bushi in the Northwest had, on this day, turned that nightmare into reality.
What would happen next...
That thought flashed through his mind. Then, covered in blood, he let out a roar. Since Hubudagang, they had rampaged across the world. Wen Sa had heard the same cries from the mouths of his opponents many times before: from the killing fields, from the prisoners who had lost their families and their wars. Those people covered in blood, with tears and despair in their eyes, always made him feel powerful.
Now, for the first time, he was the one uttering that same, hysterical cry.
...
The wall of men was continuously thinned by bullets, bodies torn apart. Bombing flames formed a barrier, clearing a burning zone in the midst of the horde. Shells twisted human bodies into grotesque shapes.
On this day at Wangyuan Bridge, it couldn't be said that the participating Jurchen forces lacked courage or made particularly bad choices. Looking back, it was a mistake to fight across the river and allow Ning Yi to choose the moment of engagement, but with thirty thousand against six thousand, Wanyan Xiebao's concession could only be considered a non-combat offense.
Faced with a technological advancement that crossed a threshold, someone was always going to be on the receiving end of the blade. Confronted with such a dramatic shift, Xiebao's initial judgment and reaction were up to the standard of a great general. He couldn't have ordered thirty thousand men to turn tail at the start of the battle. The only choice was to strike quickly and break through the strange barrier they had formed.
And the vast majority of the Jin soldiers, especially the middle and lower-ranking officers, felt that urgency the moment the horns sounded.
At least at the very beginning of the battle, the Jin troops launched a charge of almost perfect unity.
However, the feeling of dread began to grow among some of them shortly after the second round of rocket bombardments.
The second saturation barrage of rockets was launched in groups of five. Seven groups, thirty-five rockets in total, fell in quick succession on the center of the thirty thousand-man charge, the rising flames almost drowning out the sound of the Jurchen army. Each group of rockets traced a fiery arc across the ground, clearing out swaths of men. The charging ranks behind them would suddenly halt, followed by a surging wave of compression and trampling.
One group of rockets landed directly on the Jin's artillery ammunition, creating an even more violent chain reaction.
The center of the charge erupted into chaos.
Some even lost their nerve and stumbled.
And on the front lines, the volley of over four thousand firearms absorbed a torrent of blood. The sight of thousands being shot and nearly two thousand tumbling to the ground in a short period of time was truly magnificent, like a dam bursting and floodwaters sweeping across the land. This scene, accompanied by enormous plumes of smoke, was pushed forward by those behind, but the entire charging line was already twisted out of shape.
Typically, seasoned veterans were accustomed to a saying: on the battlefield, ordinary armies would collapse after losing ten percent of their forces. An army that could withstand twenty percent was a skilled force, and one that could withstand losses of thirty percent or more without breaking was a powerful army capable of dominating the world. But this saying also had its limits.
The distinctions between ten percent, twenty percent, and thirty percent losses mainly referred to the losses an army could sustain within a certain time frame during a battle. Ordinary armies that had lost ten percent could still regroup and continue fighting, but the same ratios didn't apply to continuous campaigns. And in the present situation, the revenge army led by Xiebao was, in terms of quality, a strong force capable of fighting even after losing more than thirty percent in a normal battle. But even that metric was useless on the current battlefield.
The initial losses were too great.
The courage ignited at the start of the battle could make men temporarily forget their fear and charge forward without hesitation. But such courage had its limits. If something were to strike down hard at the peak of that courage, or if the charging soldiers suddenly realized their situation, that seemingly limitless courage would plummet to the depths.
The three ranks of firearms fired one volley, then another, and the surging army fell like wheat before a scythe. The thirty thousand Jurchens were charging across six or seven hundred meters. By the time they reached the hundred-meter mark, their speed had slowed. The shouts were still deafening, and the soldiers who hadn't yet realized what was happening still maintained their spirited morale, but no one actually entered the line where they could engage the Huaxia army in close combat.
The Jurchen generals wearing heavy armor were probably still lagging behind, while the soldiers wearing light, thin armor were unable to resist the penetrating power of the firearms after crossing the hundred-meter line—or even the fifty-meter line.
The firearms fired mechanically in several volleys. A few soldiers were injured by arrows, and several firearms exploded during firing, injuring the shooters themselves, but the others in the ranks simply loaded, aimed, and fired mechanically. Then, the third round of rocket launches sent dozens of rockets streaking across the Jurchen's hundred-meter line.
Fear could no longer be contained.
Some soldiers who had fallen to the ground began to play dead. Some of the running soldiers in the crowd stopped, their legs giving way. They looked around, even behind them. Chaos had begun to spread. Wanyan Xiebao raised his saber and shouted to the surrounding generals, "Follow me and kill the enemy!"
Then someone else shouted, "Death to those who stop!" Such cries did have some effect, but in reality, the charge had completely lost its formation, and the military police had no room to enforce the law.
In the Huaxia army's lines, Ning Yi directed the rocket battery, "Prepare three groups, and draw a line behind them. Tell them they can't leave!"
After that, some Jurchen generals and soldiers launched round after round of charges at the Huaxia army's lines, but it was all in vain.
Before midday was over, countless plumes of smoke rose from the plains south of Wangyuan Bridge. The Huaxia army's riflemen began to advance in formation, officers shouting, "Surrender and live!" Rockets flew out from time to time, landing among the fleeing or attacking crowds. Large numbers of soldiers began to retreat towards the river, the location of Wangyuan Bridge subjected to concentrated rocket fire. Most of the Jurchen soldiers couldn't swim and were unable to escape into the river.
On the plains, groups of people threw down their weapons and knelt. More tried to scatter and flee in every direction. The cavalry of a thousand men led by Han Jing had already arrived to reinforce the area. Although their numbers were small, they were perfect for hunting down routed troops.
Wanyan Xiebao's heroic charge didn't have much of an impact on the battle. In fact, his only chance to place a bet had been the choice between "attack" or "flee" at the start of the battle. And after seeing the situation collapse, he didn't choose to flee right away. He had to make at least one attempt.
Perhaps—he thought—there might still be a chance.
Many years ago, the Jurchen army, still incredibly weak, had risen up against the Liao Dynasty. Aguda had defeated seven thousand men with just three thousand seven hundred at ChugeDian. But they were facing more than just those seven thousand men. Later, at Hubudagang, they had defeated seven hundred thousand with twenty thousand. At that time, the Jurchens had no guarantee of victory either.
"When you're not sure, you have to gamble with your life."
The Jurchens' many years of glory had all been achieved that way.
He prayed to the war god in his heart, and the light shone on the charging army. During the charge, Xiebao's horse was first shot dead by a flying bullet. He himself fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Many of his guards tried to rush over to save him, but most were shot down during the charge.
...
My White Tiger Mountain God, roar!
I am the one who has overcome ten thousand and been favored by Heaven!
...
He woke up once more, shook off the support of those around him, waved his sword, and shouted, "Charge!" Then he was struck on the armor by a flying bullet and fell to the ground.
In a daze, he remembered his father, he remembered his proud nation and people, he remembered his mama...
...
Sun of the Southern Nine Mountains!
Grandfather of the East, unyielding!
Watch over me!
...
The Huaxia army soldiers came over, grabbed him, and after a brief examination, dragged him forward. The heat in Xiebao's heart gradually faded. In this unprecedented situation, he thought about the possible consequences and began to struggle desperately, shouting hysterically. The Huaxia army soldiers dragged him through areas with black smoke rising from explosions. Xiebao looked up, and a man wearing a long military coat walked towards him.
It was Ning Yi.
This was also the first time he had faced the demon of the Han Chinese head-on. His face was like that of a scholar, but his eyes were fierce.
...
Watch over me!
...
"I..."
Xiebao roared!
"...I'll kill you! You use witchcraft! This is sorcery!"
His hands were tied behind his back, his mouth was full of blood, which he spat out. His face was twisted and contorted. He strained his legs, wanting to pounce on the other man and bite him. At this moment, even if he died, he wanted to give the demon a scare and let him understand the bravery of the Jurchens.
The White Tiger God and the ancestors were singing for him. But the expression on Ning Yi's face as he approached didn't change at all. His steps continued, his right hand raised.
Almost the next moment Xiebao lunged, Ning Yi's heavy fist whistled out and slammed into Xiebao's face.
The singing in his head stopped with a buzz. Xiebao's body spun in the air and crashed heavily to the ground, half the teeth in his mouth falling out. His mind was a blur.
With great difficulty, he turned around. Ning Yi stood in front of him, looking coldly at his face. The Huaxia army soldiers came over and dragged him up from the ground.
"Don't let him die. I want to execute him in front of Wanyan Zonghan."
Before Xiebao could struggle again, someone dislocated his jaw and tied him up tightly.
The battle at Wangyuan Bridge began at the third quarter of the hour of noon on February 28th. Before the hour of Wei had arrived, the main battle was actually over. The subsequent cleanup of the battlefield took an hour or two. After the hour of Wei had passed, Zonghan and the others in the Lion Ridge camp received the first intelligence from Wangyuan Bridge. Wanyan Sheyema shouted, "This must be false! Tie up the messenger!"
Confirming the intelligence didn't actually take long.
What followed was a taste they had never experienced before.
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