The Shang Army had been defeated.
One could say this was Great Shang's first crushing defeat in recent years.
Even their feigned defeats had never been this disastrous.
According to Deng Xiu and Zhao Sheng, who had fled back in a sorry state, they had pursued the enemy to some unknown place when a black wind suddenly rose around them. It seemed to hold thousands upon thousands of spears and halberds. If an ordinary person encountered it, they were fine so long as they escaped injury. Once wounded, however, they were immediately poisoned, their faces drained of color and their bodies unable to move, before their vital blood was depleted and they died.
As for the troops on the two wings, who had hurried after them to encircle the enemy, forget encirclement-they could not even see the enemy. Every last one fell back. That was called running from the poison.
Seeing their poison formation succeed, the Nanyue forces' morale soared. They turned and charged back, and quite a few even worked up the courage to attack the mountain woods.
The soldiers hiding in the woods, beating gongs and drums merely to put on a show of strength, were caught dead to rights and suffered heavy casualties. Forget clearing the battlefield-they had to worry about collecting their own corpses.
From collecting the bodies to forming ranks and entering the pass, the soldiers of Three Mountains Pass were steeped in an inescapable gloom. Even the sky seemed to have darkened.
Watching the generals express their displeasure with Deng Xiu, and Deng Jiugong scold him with both fists and feet, Zi Shou felt rather envious.
If he could swap himself into Deng Xiu's role, that would be the finishing blow. Unfortunately, he could not.
Recklessly pursuing the enemy and throwing away soldiers' lives