North of the Great River, east of the Golden River, a fierce battle was unfolding, one that seemed somewhat short, direct, and swift.
Yu Jieluo did not enter the fray directly as a Grandmaster. Instead, he raised his true qi and calmly directed the battle from above... First, he ordered the vanguard to withdraw a little, drawing the enemy out to extend the battle line. Then, in small formations of roughly a thousand men, divided broadly by function into cavalry, spearmen, archers, shield-bearers, and so on, he repeatedly executed defensive maneuvers, charges, covering actions, penetrations, and flank attacks. His entire army darted in and out, seeking local superiority and inflicting casualties.
On the other side, it was not that the Wu Clan did not want to direct their troops, but their tribes had their own inherent fighting characteristics. When attacking, they dared not press forward without hesitation and often shrank back before solid formations; when defending, they often could not hold their ground... Thus, faced with these dense, rapid sequences of small tactical maneuvers, they were often caught off guard and drawn into them. Once actual casualties were inflicted, they would often scatter before their organization had deteriorated to the point where they could no longer execute tactics.
It was not that there were no countermeasures. Tuli, Dusuwu, and even some experienced tribal chiefs all understood the problem-they could have exploited their cavalry advantage, abandoned this battlefield, and conducted harassment and diversionary maneuvers farther out. But now they were locked onto this battlefield, unable to use their strengths at all.
And what locked them onto this battlefield was not merely geography-the river channels and the Poison Desert-or merely the enemy before them, but also their allies behind them and on their flanks.
One general's triumph was built on ten thousand