Anyone capable of leading a two-hundred-thousand-strong army on a campaign was naturally no ordinary person. The commander was none other than Lu Gaozhi, General of Pacifying the West and Marquis Huaiyuan of Zhao. Though Marquis Huaiyuan was not as widely renowned as Marquis Ping'an, he was nonetheless a seasoned veteran who had fought on the battlefield for fifty years.
Marquis Huaiyuan was exceptionally prudent in his military conduct—first ensuring his own invulnerability before seeking victory over the enemy—and had suffered few defeats in his lifetime. Placing him in command of the combined infantry and cavalry army to march straight toward Hanyang Pass and lure Qingming into sending reinforcements was truly a strategy of meeting all contingencies with composure.
Yet Lu Gaozhi had never encountered a situation like this before.
Given Lu Gaozhi's command experience, he naturally would not advance his troops in a single-file snake formation. He divided his forces into three columns: infantry in the center, and mixed infantry and cavalry on both flanks to protect the main force's sides. The three armies marched ten li apart, maintaining constant communication.
Originally, this was considered a foolproof arrangement. Suddenly, however, every scouting rider dispatched came galloping back with urgent reports of an approaching enemy. And the foe moved with astonishing speed, arriving almost on the very heels of the scouts!
Lu Gaozhi ascended into the air to observe, only to see hundreds of cavalry detachments emerging from every direction, none of them particularly large. Looking as far as his eyes could reach, he saw the enemy spread evenly across the field; he could not even tell where their main force was.
These cavalry squads arrived almost simultaneously, immediately launching assaults against the Zhao army from all angles. They were brazen to the extreme—many squads even thrust directly between the vanguard, center, and rear of the middle column, splitting and attacking them piecemeal.
In an instant, countless flashbangs and sonic bombs detonated amid the Zhao ranks. As soon as the cavalry squads drew near, they raised their guns and fired. Amid deafening roars, sweeping waves of poisoned iron grit and steel shot tore into the Zhao troops. While not many were killed on the spot, soldiers collapsed and writhed on the ground in agonizing screams in wave upon wave. What was more, every cavalry unit carried a considerable number of artillery shells, which they hurled directly into the Zhao formations, blowing apart many more.
Even though the Zhao army was comprised of battle-hardened elites, chaos inevitably ensued.
Lu Gaozhi trembled with rage. He wanted to order a counterattack, but the same dilemma remained: where was the enemy's main force? Hundreds of cavalry squads, scattered wide like loose sand—did they really think they could surround a superior force with fewer numbers?
Left with no other choice, Lu Gaozhi could only order his men to form defensive lines where they stood and return fire individually. However, Zhao's bows, crossbows, and homemade fire guns lagged far behind Qingming's. The Qingming cavalry squads unleashed ferocious firepower, cutting down Zhao soldiers in swathes and suppressing the shieldbearers in the ranks so heavily that none dared poke their heads out.
Everywhere in the air, flying-sword guns screeched back and forth. When a dharma idol general took to the skies in an attempt to strike back, he was instantly riddled like a sieve by a barrage of dozens of flying swords.
Although Lu Gaozhi sat protected in the central army surrounded by numerous personal guards, even he was flustered by the countless flying swords whistling through the air. His guards brought out dharma treasures one after another, but none could hold out long before being shattered by the flying swords.
After observing a while longer, Lu Gaozhi suddenly realized that many of these cavalry squads were not fighting independently. Neighboring squads constantly coordinated with one another: one would charge the line to throw the defenders into disarray, while two others severed a portion of the Zhao troops from the formation. Then, joining forces with several other squads, they would rapidly annihilate the isolated troops.
Once the encircled Zhao soldiers were eliminated, the squads would disperse again, seeking out new opportunities on their own, before regrouping at random with other squads to fight yet another battle of division and encirclement.
Whether out of supreme confidence born of skill or reckless ignorance, these cavalry squads sometimes annihilated severed Zhao units right under the noses of large Zhao contingents. The moment a Zhao general lost his patience and led his unit out in an assault, the surrounding cavalry squads would rush in like sharks scenting blood, cutting off the relief force as well and forming an even larger pocket.
Once the encirclement was complete, the Qingming cavalry galloped in tight circles around it, raising their guns to pour relentless volleys into the trapped Zhao soldiers.
One elite heavy infantry unit was accidentally cut off and surrounded. Keeping his cool in the face of danger, the commanding colonel immediately formed a dense shield formation that even shielded overhead, impervious to gunfire. Yet a Qingming cavalryman grabbed an artillery shell and skimmed it along the ground right into the shield wall. The next moment, the shield formation burst apart like blossoming petals.
Such shield formations were hardly uncommon; Smoke and Fire of the Mortal World had long since devised counters for them. Before an infantry gun, all shield walls were nothing more than sitting ducks.
Thus, as one small battle of localized encirclement and annihilation followed another, the accumulated toll grew staggering.
Each Qingming cavalry unit was like an immortal sword—agile, dancing freely, and incomparably sharp—continually carving pieces from the behemoth that was the Zhao army. Though each individual wound was small, their sheer volume would eventually bleed the beast dry.
Lu Gaozhi had never fought a battle like this. The enemy was surrounding a larger force with fewer men, daring beyond belief, yet their maneuver was exceedingly exquisite; every squad moved like her own fingers, deft and precise. No matter how the Zhao army attempted to mount a counterattack, they struck only empty air, and on several occasions they were encircled by over a dozen enemy squads and wiped out in major actions.
Lu Gaozhi felt a chill run through him. All the countless military treatises he had studied since his youth flooded his mind, yet not a single one seemed to apply here. He did not even know how to fight back!
In the end, seeing that the Zhao army was on the verge of collapse, Lu Gaozhi had no choice but to sound the retreat horn. Several trusted aides led elite units to form a rearguard, protecting the main force as it slowly withdrew toward the nearby hills. As long as they occupied the high ground where the enemy cavalry could not gallop back and forth, the effectiveness of these tactics would be greatly diminished.
At the cost of nearly wiping out the elite rearguard, they finally managed to cover the remnant forces in seizing a low hill. Surrounding the hill were woods, unsuited for cavalry maneuvers. But just as Lu Gaozhi breathed a sigh of relief, he heard heavy, thudding footsteps, followed by the sight of a squadron of chariots rolling onto the battlefield.
Unlike barbarian chariots with dozens of bare, hairy legs, the cultivators propelling the Qingming chariots wore combat boots forged with nether iron, impervious to having their feet hacked off.
Zhang Sheng appeared atop one of the chariots, standing with her hands clasped behind her back. She said indifferently, "Is the old general not hurrying back to Zhao? Do you plan to spend the night here instead? The Western Regions are fraught with peril; lingering too long invites trouble. It would be rather unfortunate if you couldn't return at all."
Lu Gaozhi stepped to the front of his line and asked, "Who are you?"
"Palace of Grand Beginning, Zhang Sheng."
Lu Gaozhi said in a deep voice, "In today's defeat, this marquis is thoroughly convinced. Never did I imagine troops could be commanded in such a manner, maneuvering a hundred thousand cavalry as easily as moving one's own arms and fingers. It is truly extraordinary. Young lady, you are destined to become a famed general of your generation!"
Eight immortal swords materialized around Zhang Sheng. She said indifferently, "The old general overpraises me. However... are you still not leaving?"
A thunderous roar suddenly erupted from the Zhao ranks: "A petty Dao Foundation dares to spout such insolence?! Your grandfather will teach you how to behave!"
A general built like an iron tower soared into the air, radiating murderous aura as he pounced toward Zhang Sheng. Yet though his dharmic powers were formidable, his movement technique was mediocre; Zhang Sheng had to wait a full breath just for him to fly over.
Right at that moment, a shadow suddenly rose from the ground. A giant hand dozens of feet across descended, grasping Zhang Sheng in a single clutch. Then triumphant laughter rang out from the shadows: "Petty Dao Foundation, your grandfather here is the real killing blow! Watch me crush you to paste! Hmm, you look so pretty, crushing you really is a bit of a pity..."
Another Zhao general emerged from the shadows, grinning savagely as he poured frantic torrents of dharmic power into the giant hand, then squeezed ruthlessly!
Yet the squeeze felt like grasping a ball of solid steel. Far from crushing it, he could not even leave a dent. The Dao power of the person within the giant hand was unimaginably profound, surpassing even his own as a late-stage dharma idol!
A surging wave of Dao power erupted, directly blasting the spell-wrought hand to pieces. Within, the pure and bright Zhang Sheng, who shone like swordlight, was gone; in her place was the exquisitely enchanting Bao Yun.
Bao Yun gave the Zhao general a faint smile, her eyes suddenly turning bottomless. The general froze on the spot, an expression of sheer terror washing over his face as if witnessing some unimaginable horror. Blood suddenly welled from both his eyes, and immediately afterward, thick streams of blood poured continuously from his seven facial orifices before he toppled over backward onto the ground.
The Zhao general who had been flying over at a sluggish pace let out a cry of "Big Brother!" and accelerated to full speed. But Zhang Sheng suddenly appeared, blocking his path. Around her still hovered the eight immortal swords.
Frantic with worry and rage, the Zhao general barked, "Get out of my way, you blind little Dao Foundation!"
He produced a gourd, pulled out the stopper, and pointed it at Zhang Sheng and unleashed its suction; instantly, the eight immortal swords broke free of Zhang Sheng's control and plunged one by one into the gourd.
The Zhao general sneered, "Eight pieces of Mortal Tier trash, and you dare make a fool of yourself?! Get lost! Laozi doesn't kill pretty women!"
Zhang Sheng said calmly, "Pleading for mercy now is too late."
Beneath the Zhao general's feet, countless immortal swords abruptly manifested. Exactly two hundred and fifty-six multi-colored immortal swords coalesced into a colossal seven-colored sword lotus. The petals immediately closed into a bud, from whose crevices torrents of blood gushed out frantically.
Then the sword lotus vanished, and the mid-stage dharma idol Zhao general was nowhere to be found. Neither physical flesh nor dharma idol left the slightest trace; even the blood that had just poured from between the swords seemed as if it had never existed.
Zhang Sheng bent down to pick up the gourd, slipped it into her pocket, and looked toward Lu Gaozhi. "Old General, if you don't leave now, it truly will be too late."
Seeing the chariots line up with their cannon barrels angled upward, Lu Gaozhi finally came to his senses. He hurriedly ordered the army to withdraw, abandon the hilltop, and retreat all the way back toward Zhao.
Zhang Sheng returned to Bao Yun's side, and soon Li Zhi, Cui Yu, and the others hurried over as well. Li Zhi cupped his hands and said, "Today's battle is truly unprecedented; it will surely go down in the annals of history!"
Zhang Sheng said casually, "Merely an offhand effort, not worth mentioning. Go clean up the battlefield."
Knowing Zhang Sheng had words for Bao Yun, Li Zhi and Cui Yu split off to tend to their duties.
Once the two had moved far enough away, Zhang Sheng said, "Earlier, when you posed as me before the two armies, your hands behind your back should have been held a bit further back. The way you did it was gentle enough, but it fell three parts short of that unmatched 'who else but me' aura. When future generations speak of today's battle, they might hold just a touch less reverence..."
Chapter 718