The west wind howled, sweeping up the horses' whinnies, and an imposing, stern aura radiated from the ranks of the Taiping Army.
Luo Xiao dared to form ranks and meet the enemy because he was confident. If he truly had no rice to cook with, he would not have relied on his own abilities to dash an egg against a rock.
The Great Peace Army had advantages of its own: its resolve was firmer than the Han Army's, and its elite Great Peace strongmen possessed exceptional individual abilities and were numerous.
Although they were at an absolute disadvantage, they were not in a position to be crushed without any power to fight back.
If Zhang Jue or anyone else in the world had been in command, facing Huangfu Song's peerless command and the powerful Han Army, defeat would naturally have been inevitable.
But Luo Xiao was different. He was the exception. Back then, Han Wumu had taken a group of raw recruits and pacified the North in just a few years. Now, with the common people of the Nine Provinces behind him, shaking the Han Dynasty's rule was no problem for Luo Ziling.
In other words, here in Hebei alone, on this particular battlefield, even without an ingenious stratagem, Luo Xiao could use the clearly weaker Taiping Army to fight the Han Army to a standstill.
This was what it meant for the Mandate of Heaven to have been lost, leaving each to rely on his own abilities.
Weapons bristled like a forest, murderous intent filled the sky, and before the traces of yesterday's great battle had been cleared away, another round began.
The Han infantry stood arrayed in gleaming armor, their deployment remarkably orderly, clearly an elite force. Horses snorted incessantly beneath their riders as the cavalry roamed behind