A Great Victory

At dusk,

The sky turned somewhat dim and yellow. Jiang Hao sensed that the weather was changing; a heavy snowfall seemed imminent.

The north wind was bitterly cold, mixed with sand and stones that battered their faces, making their cheeks sting and forcing them to squint. Yet the soldiers paid no mind to it. They all gripped their blades and spears tightly, glaring fiercely at the enemy ahead.

At that moment, Jiang Hao suddenly recalled a poem by Emperor Gaozu of Han:

A great wind rises, clouds fly high.

My might spans the realm; I return to my homeland.

Where can I find fierce warriors to guard the four corners?

As though linked by some unspoken understanding, Jiang Hao and the Right Virtuous King each sent out two thousand-man units to test the other's strength.

"Kill!"

The Hanyang Army formed a wedge formation and charged forward.

The horses of both sides thundered ahead, quickly reaching full speed. Though they had been a thousand meters apart, the charging horses were so fast that the two forces collided in an instant.

The Hanyang Army's vanguard was like an arrowhead, driving viciously into the Xiongnu cavalry. The Xiongnu were equally unmatched in mounted combat and quickly halted the Hanyang Army's momentum. The two sides began a brutal melee where they stood.

Sabers hacked down fiercely, spraying blood. Spears thrust out, and people screamed as they fell from their horses. Warhorses neighed wildly and joined their masters in the chaotic fighting.

"Clang! Clang!"

Everyone knew there was no retreat. Only by fighting could they survive; only by killing every enemy could they live.

Kill!

Kill them!

Fewer and fewer men remained, yet neither commander ordered a retreat. Both were waiting—waiting for their own soldiers to slaughter the enemy, waiting for the other side's soldiers