Before the morning was half over, the two sides formally joined battle.
In theory, when two predominantly infantry armies met on level ground with comparable numbers-ten thousand against nine thousand in total, or eight thousand against seven thousand in actual field strength-neither possessed enough mobile troops to settle matters with a single hammer blow. They would often become entangled in a prolonged struggle along the battle line, sometimes fighting for days without either side accomplishing anything.
In practice, however, a clear shift occurred in the battle line not long after fighting began. The Qiang vanguard under Yao Yinmai could not hold and withdrew directly toward the rear of their flank.
When the news arrived, Liu Cheng was naturally delighted.
This was not because the rout of Yao Yinmai's few hundred men, who had broken but not scattered, would dramatically alter the battle. Rather, it offered a measure of confirmation for the two things that had concerned Liu Cheng most:
First, the oblique attack was working. Yao Yinmai had failed to hold because his vanguard numbered only a few hundred, yet had run into Zhou Cheng's forces, who had deliberately formed a broad battle line, before immediately taking a flank attack from Gao Heng's forces. Under such an assault by several times his own numbers, failing to hold was only natural;
Second, how quickly this had worked meant the Qiang were no superhumans among the Five Hu. In two years, they had not recovered their former peak strength after the successive devastating defeats at Yecheng, Fangtou, and the Ying River.
For now, this looked like a battle they could fight.
But soon, fretting over gains and losses, Liu Acheng grew worried again. If Yao Yinmai turned tail and Zhou Cheng became too engrossed in fighting, would he pursue too quickly, catch