"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
"Hyah! Hyah!"
"Neigh!!"
Two Jurchen cavalry forces chased and slaughtered each other across the empty snowfield. Now and then, men and horses were wounded and fell, and faint, short, low screams could be heard. Standing on the hill of Hetu Ala and gazing into the distance, the sight of cavalry pursuing one another over the snow always seemed "clumsy" and "slow." But Maha Aguda knew that was actually an illusion. Warhorses running over snow exhausted their strength far more easily than on ordinary days, and were far more likely to trip and fall over snow packed around their hooves. And once a warhorse spent its strength or fell, victory and defeat were decided.
Thus, a winter pursuit across snow would instead end earlier than in normal seasons. Life or death, escape or capture—from the moment a warrior fled on horseback, it was decided by the four-legged mount beneath him, not by the rider himself.
"The Main God has seen it—the battle is over! These Tame Jurchen from the Jianzhou mountains are truly weak beyond bearing. They can't compare at all to the ferocity of the tribes along the Huntong River and in Haixi!"
On the hill, Maha Aguda shook his head and stopped paying attention to what was happening below. He jumped down from his horse, hefted his Wolf Tooth Mace, and searched around the hill. Very quickly, he found the "lair" where this group of enemies had lain in ambush: a temporary firepit still steaming with heat, and beside it, saddlebags, leather pouches, and miscellaneous items left in a chaotic mess, with no time to pack them away.
"Eh! What's this?"
Maha Aguda narrowed his eyes, reversed the Wolf Tooth Mace as if it weighed nothing, and poked through the large and small bags made of cloth