Just as Zhao Yuan had said, the Hu Tribe army had now collapsed across the board.
Just like the Chongshan Town army at Fushan City back then, defeat came like a landslide; once a rout began, it was total.
Even the Hu Cavalry, always famed for their ferocity, could only flee with their heads in their hands in the face of such utter chaos.
However, compared with the Chongshan Town army back then, the Hu Tribe army's rout was still somewhat organized and orderly.
Yang Zhengshan had only one hundred cavalrymen, so naturally he could not rush into the heart of the battlefield and clash head-on with the enemy. They roamed the outer area of the routed Hu troops, hunting down stragglers who had fallen behind.
Though doing this would not win them any great merit, a mosquito's leg was still meat; even if it was only a few heads, it was worth a day's ride.
Besides, what they gained was not just a few heads, but several hundred.
By the time the sky was fully bright, every one of the hundred cavalrymen behind Yang Zhengshan had at least three heads hanging from his saddle.
Yang Zhengshan looked at the spirited soldiers, and the smile deepened the lines around the corners of his eyes.
This was the kind of battle he liked best—like hunters surrounding prey, easy and safe. After more than two hours of hunting, they had not lost a single man.
Of course, that was also because they had only been roaming the outer area.
Looking at the routed soldiers gradually disappearing to the north, Yang Zhengshan shook his head with some regret. "What a pity!"
"What's a pity?" Zhao Yuan grinned so wide his missing teeth showed.
He had personally cut off ten heads, and his subordinates