Chapter 1268 – Overthrowing Huang Song, Unifying Dongqing (Part 10)
Jiang Pengji’s troops turned into a meat grinder, first slicing the enemy’s forces into countless small pieces, then shrinking their battle line to crush them completely.
Yuan Xin’s troops were nowhere near the caliber of Jiang Pengji’s well-trained elite soldiers.
The disparity wasn’t about individual strength but rather the speed and effectiveness of their command execution.
Yang Si ordered them to form a relaxed yet tight formation; they complied obediently, luring the enemy into a sense of complacency while sending their main forces to charge. When both armies clashed, Jiang Pengji’s soldiers still managed to support each other and maintain formation, leaving Yuan Xin at a disadvantage.
As the two forces engaged in close combat, the gap between them only widened ever more.
Just as Jiang Pengji had likened, one side was like thick porridge that wouldn’t topple when a chopstick is placed, solid and cohesive, while the other side was a watery slop, loose and weak.
When thick porridge and watery slop collided, it was naturally the watery slop that dispersed first.
Jiang Pengji commanded her frontline troops to let the enemy charge into their formation, and they executed her orders with loyalty.
When the time was ripe, she again commanded the frontline to tighten their defense, and they complied without hesitation.
Their powerful execution brought about immense efficiency, as the battlefield was ever-changing, and being a step ahead of the enemy meant seizing the initiative. Jiang Pengji had always led Yuan Xin and the others by the nose, forcing them to follow her rhythm until they crumbled like a house of cards.
In this wave, Jiang Pengji managed to encircle at least five thousand of Yuan Xin’s troops on her territory.
“Attack!”
Five thousand troops were but a mere drop in the bucket to Jiang Pengji’s fifty thousand soldiers.
As they were scattered and absorbed into her forces, they resembled a grain of sand lost in a desert—tiny and helpless.
Just then, Jiang Pengji issued a command to surround and annihilate, and the drumming soldiers responded in unison with a shout of “Huo.”
Bright blades and spear tips came charging from all directions, directly transforming the fragmented enemy troops into bloody pincushions.
The rhythm of the drumming soldiers slowed down, but their momentum only heightened.
Hundreds of large drums echoed as one, their sound reverberating across the battlefield, overwhelming the opposing side with sheer force.
The battlefield shifted so rapidly, all happening within mere dozens of breaths.
Yuan Xin, realizing Jiang Pengji’s intent to encroach, immediately ordered his troops to fight while retreating, using defensive tactics against the enemy.
However, their execution was lacking; as soon as Yuan Xin’s command was given, the soldiers had yet to react before they were surrounded like dumplings.
In one go, thousands of corpses littered the ground, barely leaving anyone with a chance to survive.
Let alone surviving, in the chaos, a complete corpse would be a stroke of luck.
The ground’s gravel was deeply stained with blood, as the trickling crimson formed small pools resembling serpents writhing in a trail.
Seeing this, Yuan Xin angrily pounded the horse’s back, causing his steed to let out a shrill whinny of pain.
With a crimson gaze, he tightened the reins, forcing his horse to calm down.
“General Yuan Xin, the enemy is clearly prepared. Perhaps we should retreat to conserve our forces.”
In just fifteen minutes of engagement, they had lost thousands of troops, their morale plummeting while the enemy suffered only minor losses. Given this trend, continuing the fight would only lead to more casualties. If Yuan Xin had been cautious from the start, he wouldn’t have found himself in such a dire situation.
Upon hearing Nie Xun’s words, Yuan Xin’s eyes turned bloodshot with fury and killing intent, making Nie Xun’s heart quiver.
“The army is not defeated; our soldiers still possess fighting strength. To suggest such a retreat is to waver our morale—an act of treason!”
Yuan Xin glanced down at the sword in his hand, nearly unable to contain the wild killing intent surging within him.
Nie Xun replied, “Although the enemy has many troops, their supplies are rather scarce. Fifty thousand men; within a month, or even just a few days, we can deplete their rations. We don’t need to engage them head-on, merely harass and encircle will do to disrupt their war-supported strategy—”
Nie Xun’s approach was indeed vicious; if he used it against Jiang Pengji, she would surely falter.
To avoid delays in speed and mobility, the army could only carry enough supplies for a few days.
If Nie Xun employed guerrilla tactics to disrupt her supply lines, Jiang Pengji wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.
As Nie Xun had predicted, Jiang Pengji feared not facing them directly but rather the endless harassment and encirclement of the enemy.
Yuan Xin, however, refused to listen. He was an extremely arrogant and obstinate person.
His prejudice against Nie Xun would persist, unyielding to the passage of time.
Just then, when Nie Xun stepped in to block him again, Yuan Xin was already boiling with rage.
Suddenly, a white flash streaked through the air; Nie Xun squinted as the light blinded him. He instinctively raised his hand and turned sideways to evade the blade that was aimed at his neck, but the blade still grazed his shoulder and abdomen. An intense pain surged through his body, causing his muscles to convulse and tremble. Nie Xun’s world was drenched in blood in that instant, the wound spraying a long, crimson trail on the ground.
Several vice generals witnessed all of this, their limbs turning icy as they helplessly watched Nie Xun collapse to the ground.
A pool of blood formed beneath him.
Everyone gasped, as if falling into an ice pit.
Was Yuan Xin really this brazen?
Nie Xun was Huang Song’s strategist; regardless of what mistake he made, it should eventually be resolved by Huang Song. Why did Yuan Xin feel justified in striking at Nie Xun?
Using his lineage as the main family, was he so brazen to act without fear?
“Take him away! This person wavers our morale at the frontlines—his heart is treacherous… kill him, to serve as a warning!”
In the aftermath of his impulsiveness, a sliver of regret seeped into Yuan Xin’s heart but was quickly drowned out by rage.
Though Yuan Xin’s words lacked conviction, he had already drawn his bow—there was no turning back. Should he apologize?
A vice general stepped forward, “General, Nie Xun is the close confidant of our Lord. Slaying him on the frontlines mightn’t bode well for you!”
On the surface, it seemed like he was standing up for Yuan Xin, but ultimately, he was advocating for Nie Xun.
Although the wound was severe, it was not fatal; if bleeding could be staunched in time, there was a chance to save his life.
Yuan Xin was more concerned about his own fate; if Nie Xun truly died, it would indeed cause him trouble.
His tone softened slightly.
“Take him away and keep watch!”
The vice general, fearing a change of heart, quickly agreed, “As you command!”
Nie Xun’s wound was long and deep, and the blood loss was alarming; only a short time later, his garments were already soaked red.
The soldiers supporting him found their hands stained warm with blood.
Nie Xun’s complexion was quite pale; even with a short beard to appear more mature, it couldn’t hide his genteel nature.
From excessive bleeding, his previously fair skin turned ghostly white, and his lips darkened.
Faced with such a grievous wound and blood loss, the military doctor found himself in a dilemma.
In the end, he could only take a risk—
“I’ve heard that the military doctor under Liu Xi is exceptionally skilled at suturing wounds. Perhaps we should give it a shot?”
When Huang Song allied with Xu Pei, they had ambushed Qi Guanrang’s guards at Hujun, seizing a cart filled with medical supplies.
With this cart and the retired military doctors they secretly bribed, Huang Song had also set up medical logistics similar to Jiang Pengji’s.
However, Huang Song’s lack of experience led to a haphazard imitation, and there were not many doctors capable of suturing wounds.
With Nie Xun’s wound this severe, not suturing meant certain death; they might as well gamble on a dead horse being treated as a live one.
With the aid of hemostatic powder, perhaps there was a chance to salvage his life.
The vice general hastily urged, “Let’s try, let’s try! Whether he lives or dies is up to fate!”
