I'm afraid this time it will be more bad than good.
But so what?
At this point, fighting might bring the hope of survival, but not fighting means certain death.
"Hold out for another three days, and all the people of Bazhou will have completed their retreat," Xia Yong said, feeling the thunderous sound of hooves ahead and noticing the fearful expressions of the surrounding Zhou Soldiers. He shouted sharply, raising the crossbow in his hand, "Kill."
He charged ahead with the formation.
The soldiers had already formed a habit; they followed the army's movements without hesitation, charging forward.
"Kill!"
Without a single stray thought, they spurred their horses forward, maintaining formation, rolling toward the advancing woodcutters with Xia Yong.
The clash of hooves brought down dust as the two armies collided.
The killing shook the heavens.
Watching the brutal battle between the two sides, soldiers lined up in the formation stood still, expressionless, without sorrow or joy, without awareness, awaiting orders.
Zhao Hanqing rode his warhorse, circling around the open space within the formation, seemingly restless and impatient.
"Hanqing, are you scared?" Miss Jun suddenly asked.
"Scared of what?" Zhao Hanqing replied, his eyes bright, fixed on the front. "Sis, when can I join the battle?"
He wasn't really paying attention to what Miss Jun was saying.
Miss Jun smiled.
"This time may be rather bad," she said, her expression somewhat solemn. "The Jurchen people have gathered a large army heading this way."
Zhao Hanqing let out an 'oh' in response.
"Are you scared?" she asked.
Miss Jun smiled and shook her head.
Zhao Hanqing also smiled and shook his head.
"Why would I be scared?" she said, with an air of defiance. "Am I inferior to you? Whatever you can do, I can do too."
Let my father know that I'm no worse than anyone else.
Miss Jun laughed heartily, putting down the crossbow.
"I may not be as good as you with the crossbow," she said, pulling out a long whip. "I'll use this instead."
Zhao Hanqing gasped.
"You know how to use that? Why didn't you ever mention it?" she said. "I want to learn too."
Miss Jun smiled and nodded.
"Alright, when we get back after this, I'll teach you," she said.
Yang Jing, standing to the side, lowered his gaze.
If they could even go back.
Now that Miss Jun was going to the frontlines, it was evident she'd made the decision to face death.
After such prolonged combat, both manpower and weapons were greatly depleted. The woodcutters amassing in the south kept increasing, making this battle indeed perilous.
...........................
Within Baozhou's borders, the situation was more tragic compared to Bazhou.
One reason was Duke of Chengguo stationed near Baozhou; due to trust in the Duke, the civilians were sluggish in retreating. Secondly, the nearby state cities were initially on guard and refused to open their gates.
By the time Zhu Zan led the Shenzhou army to Baozhou, the negotiations formally ended, Zhou Soldiers retreated, and the woodcutters flooded in like a tide.
Within Baozhou's borders, fleeing civilians were everywhere, with woodcutters closely pursuing behind.
Villages and towns were trampled, smoke and fire filled the air, and everywhere there were shattered remnants of walls.
In front of a village, the sounds of slaughter echoed.
As the last woodcutter was cleaved into two by a cavalry saber, the battle finally ended.
Corpses lay scattered on the ground, some were woodcutters, others were Zhou Soldiers.
Covered in blood, Zhu Zan surveyed the surroundings. Out of the seven hundred soldiers they departed with, less than three hundred remained, and all were wounded.
He wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve.
It was a mix of his own and the woodcutters' blood.
But because his sleeve was also stained, the wipe only made his face more gruesome.
Assigning a few to tend to the dead and injured comrades, Zhu Zan waved to the rest.
"Check if there are any survivors left in this village," he said.
The village had just been raided by the woodcutters; houses were still burning, emitting a charred stench.
It stank terribly.
A few soldiers couldn't help but cover their noses, but Zhu Zan and the woodcutters' scouts suddenly changed their expressions, quickening their steps and rushing toward the source of the smell.
What's wrong? The Shenzhou soldiers hurried to follow, but as soon as they entered the village, their steps froze, and every hair on their bodies stood on end.
Soldiers who were long accustomed to death let out low gasps, stiffening at the sight ahead.
Near the entrance to the village, a pile of "wood" was burning, and the stench originated from there.
On closer inspection, it wasn't wood but a pile of corpses.
Though many were scorched black, one could still make out they were men, women, the elderly, and children, clearly villagers from the area.
Although soldiers in the northern lands had spilled blood fighting Jin thieves, they'd fought on battlefields and cleared bandits, none had seen anything this brutally horrific in these years.
Several soldiers gagged, covering their mouths.
Zhu Zan stared at the scene and suddenly burst into laughter—laughing until his bloodshot eyes seemed stained further.
"Look, look at this! This is the fate of losing one's home and nation!" he rasped, pointing with his hand toward the burning pile of bodies. "My great Zhou, my great Zhou! People treated as wood; people treated as wood!"
My great Zhou, how did it become like this?
Everyone stood frozen at the village entrance. The injuries on their bodies hadn't drawn their tears, but now, looking at this scene, many had tears brimming in their eyes.
Zhu Zan laughed a few times, then turned and sprinted out of the village.
"Kill the thieves," he shouted.
The scattered horses were quickly gathered, and the soldiers mounted, following Zhu Zan as they galloped northward toward a faintly visible town ahead.
"Lord Heir!" A soldier chased from behind, shouting, "Do not go!"
He rode his horse to block the way, his expression urgent.
"The woodcutters have already occupied the town, and more than ten thousand woodcutters are headed this way," he said. "Guard Jiang implores Lord Heir to retreat quickly; this place can no longer be held."
Zhu Zan pulled his reins, looking ahead. From the wilderness, faint cries of the populace seemed to drift over.
"How can I abandon them? How can I abandon them?" he muttered softly. Without another word, he spurred his horse, his long saber pointing forward, galloping past the blocking soldier.
The soldiers behind him didn't hesitate; they followed closely, rolling forward after Zhu Zan.
"You're all mad!" The soldier shouted, his tone both anxious and bewildered. "The woodcutters are coming!"
It was precisely because the woodcutters were coming that they charged ahead without hesitation.
No abandonment, no surrender—save one if possible, for otherwise, the fate that awaited these people was something they had just seen with their own eyes.
The warhorses raced forward, and the town ahead became clearer.
Every soldier clenched their long sabers tightly, preparing for the imminent bloodshed.
A distant sound seemed to come from the horizon.
Galloping men and horses hesitated slightly; Zhu Zan raised his head, his eyes showing a flicker of astonishment.
Was that a call to retreat?
.......................
It was the Jurchen people's call to retreat.
Yang Jing was certain as he listened to the retreat horns ahead and saw the woodcutters retreating after a wave of battle.
What was going on?
Ahead, after regrouping post-battle, Xia Yong, Li Guorui, and others also looked puzzled.
They panted heavily, their faces and bodies stained with blood, watching the tide-like retreat of the woodcutters without showing any signs of relief.
"Could it be that the woodcutters are gathering their forces to prepare for a new round of attack?" a general suggested.
Highly likely.
Xia Yong gripped his saber tightly with his injured hand.
"Form up, prepare for battle," he barked.
...................
The sun blazed high, and the spring breeze danced gently, but the air was thick with the scent of blood, making it impossible to enjoy.
The formation stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, yet no woodcutters charged forth again.
Blood slid down Xia Yong's forehead, pooling at the corner of his eye, blurring his vision until blinking no longer helped. He had to raise his hand to wipe it away.
This action stood out in the neatly formed ranks.
As a leader, it was an unacceptable gesture, but Xia Yong couldn't concern himself with such details now.
"Something's not right," he turned and said.
********************************
Thanks to Xiuyu Zanghua, MAX Stone, Winjill, 11 Page Famous, and Jing Sanshao for their rewards of He's Bi (*^__^*) Hehe...
Thank you, everyone. Still seeking monthly votes; it's double right now. Please support.