The torrential rain and darkness plunged the Shang Army swarming into the pass into grave trouble.
Battle cries rang out all around them. They had no idea where they were or how many enemies they faced, and could only swing their weapons and hack wildly.
The Zhou Army was in much the same position, but during their days inside the pass, they had become familiar with the terrain. And Ji Shuqian's seemingly futile attempt to stop a chariot with a mantis's forelegs actually pinned the Shang Army firmly in place, fixing their position so the other Zhou troops knew where to attack once the torches went out.
With this arrangement, even though the Zhou Army could not see clearly either, they were far less likely to injure their own men.
The Shang Army, by contrast, had descended into complete panic. Had Lu Xiong not maintained such firm control, reinforced by the deterrent of the earlier distinction drawn between soldiers and generals, they would likely have dissolved into a mob already.
Even so, they were suffering badly. More men were wounded by their own comrades than by the Zhou Army.
Some Shang soldiers even had their bellies pierced by their flustered comrades, their intestines spilling out.
Countless Shang soldiers discovered to their horror that the pain of a ruptured belly was secondary to their fear. More than their physical agony or the unseen enemy, it was their own comrades who terrified them.
Yet there was nothing they could do. In the darkness, they could only stuff blindly with both hands, trying to push their spilled organs back into their bellies, like the women awaiting childbirth in Chaoge. They thought that if they could just stuff everything back in and have themselves stitched up, perhaps they might survive.
In their panic, however,