The cavalry commander who came to reinforce Chen Alan was from the same hometown-even the same village-as him. His name was Chen Dazhuang, but he was the exact opposite of the dark-faced, burly Chen Alan: tall and thin, with a fair, clean face.
Everyone from Hong Cheng to General Shangguan had mentioned to Ouyang Mingyue, the supreme commander, that she needed to beware of the Self-Defense Army's cavalry. Ever since its cavalry had slaughtered the thirty-thousand-strong vanguard of the main army in a trap, she had kept sending men to search for Yang Qingliu's cavalry. Yet after ten days or so, the reports she received were all different: some said the Self-Defense Army's cavalry was here, others said it was there.
Now that they had finally lured out the Self-Defense Army's cavalry, only to see Chen Alan defeated, how could Chen Dazhuang let the matter rest?
Though he was not leading the main cavalry force this time, as a cavalryman of the Desert Star Cavalry, he looked down on every other cavalry force in the world, including the Northern Barbarian cavalry of the North Sea Kingdom. Otherwise, how could the Desert Star have resisted an invasion by hundreds of thousands of North Sea Kingdom troops with only tens of thousands of its own?
He possessed an inborn pride, bolstered further by his pride as a Desert Star cavalryman.
Although their warhorses instinctively feared war wolves, Chen Dazhuang ordered their eyes and nostrils covered. Unable to see the war wolves or smell their scent, the horses naturally had nothing to fear. Thus, the two sides began a chase across the boundless plains.
Of course, neither side could pursue at a charging gallop; that could not be sustained. Only armchair strategists would think cavalry always galloped at full speed when pursuing other