Hooves Fly, Blades Fall, a Thousand Barbarians Perish; Wind Carries Blood Mist to the Borderlands

"This army is definitely not the Zhao Army!"

Amid his shock, Gaolin Cha suddenly came to his senses. Clenching his teeth, he made a decisive judgment.

He had spent half his life campaigning and had fought the Zhao Army many times. Zhao State might be able to scrape together a well-equipped force, but it could never train such terrifying master archers.

Such precise, swift archery, performed steadily atop galloping horses, had already surpassed everything he knew about the armies of the Central Plains—even surpassing his understanding of Xiongnu master archers.

The overall quality of this army was simply unimaginable, utterly beyond comparison with the feeble Zhao Army.

But with the arrow already on the string, there was no path of retreat.

The Blood-Clad Army had already charged before them. Though the forty thousand warriors of the Gaolin Tribe had been cowed by that first volley of arrows, they could only brace themselves and fight.

Gaolin Cha drew a deep breath, suppressing the chill and wariness in his heart as he swiftly considered a response. For now, only by avoiding their edge could they find a sliver of hope.

He abruptly raised his bronze curved blade and barked an order at the soldiers under his command. His voice pierced through the chaotic cries of agony and rang clearly across the entire defensive line. "All of you, heed my command!

"Hide behind the defensive works! Do not show your heads, and do not exchange fire with them!"

After a pause, his gaze swept across the adobe walls, chevaux-de-frise, and trenches before him, his tone growing ever sharper. "Wait until they charge close and their horses are slowed by the chevaux-de-frise and trenches, when their formation falls into disarray—then all of you charge out at once!

"This place is covered in chevaux-de-frise and