"Chen Xiaoqing, that bastard, abandoned us!" These were all veterans who had survived battlefields of blood and fire; none of them were fools, and someone quickly realized what had happened.
Though the intelligence they had was pitifully scarce, the same thought arose in everyone's mind. Ever since Pan Mei had refused to save Yang Ye in the early Northern Song, examples of allies being abandoned as cannon fodder had become all too common.
As the men cursed Chen Xiaoqing's ancestors for eighteen generations, Guo Jing merely frowned. With his temperament, he naturally would not curse Chen Xiaoqing alongside ordinary soldiers. Instead, he pondered the information hidden behind this—had Chen Xiaoqing withdrawn on his own out of fear of death, or had someone ordered him to do so?
Unfortunately, he had never been skilled at analyzing political matters. After thinking until his head ached, he still reached no conclusion and could only sigh inwardly. If only Rong'er were here. With a turn of his wife's eyes, she would probably have figured out the whole story.
"Commander Guo, the Jurchen pursuers are here!" A deputy general beside him suddenly cried out, pointing northward, his voice full of despair. What had kept them going until now was the thought of the Song Army at Lingbi, but Lingbi had already fallen, the main army had treated them as expendable pawns, and now the pursuers had caught up to them. They had no chance of survival.
Gazing at the billowing dust in the north, Guo Jing pulled on the reins and shouted, "Follow me!" With that, he spurred his horse toward the southeast. Over these past days, he had become everyone's pillar, so despite their utterly shattered morale, the men instinctively followed him.
After fleeing dozens of li southeastward, Guo Jing and the others had