The Death of Xueshou
Just after Yan and Julang led the Fire Tribe to set up an ambush in the Little Mountain, that afternoon, Xueshou of the Wolf Tribe arrived near the Little Mountain entrance with nine hundred Wolf Tribe cavalry. Xueshou rode a tall, chestnut-red horse, its body drenched in sweat, the mane clumped with perspiration. The horse's Zongmao were pressed against the back of its head; after running for most of the day, the horse was exhausted. His black leather armor was covered in a layer of dust, the cuffs and collar were covered in dirt, and his face was also covered in dust. The skin on his cheekbones was tanned dark by the sun, and his lips were chapped, but his eyes were still bright, staring at the gradually narrowing valley path ahead. His right hand gripped the Jiangsheng, and he had only one thought in his mind: hurry, hurry, his elder brother was still waiting for backup.
Huibao, a Xiaotou beside Xueshou, quickened his pace to ride alongside Xueshou. Huibao was a man in his thirties, wearing a grayish-brown linen robe with oil stains on the front. A hemp rope was tied around his waist. He had a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. His eyes weren't large, but they were very bright and alert. He was usually responsible for scouting and guarding the area, and his mind worked faster than the average soldier. He moved closer to Xueshou, tilting his head to glance at the valley path ahead. The entrance to the valley wasn't wide, and the cliffs on either side looked as if they had been cleaved in two. The cliff faces were steep, covered with sparse vegetation. Bushes and weeds lined a path that stretched from the entrance into the distance, its end nowhere in sight. Huibao frowned slightly, then brought his mouth close to Xueshou's ear, speaking in a low but clear voice, "Xueshou, there's Little Mountain ahead. Something doesn't look right. The cliffs on both sides are too high. Should we rest for a bit and send scouts to check and make sure it's safe before we go? We've traveled this valley path a few times, but this time is different. If the Fire Tribe arrives early and ambushes us on the cliffs, we might get in but not out."
Upon hearing this, Xueshou's eyes widened immediately. His already fierce face twisted into a deep frown, his brows furrowing and the lines around his eyes tightening. Without a word, he raised his right hand, the riding crop whistling through the air as it struck Huibao on the forehead with a sharp crack. Huibao's head snapped to the side, a bloody gash appearing on his face from his forehead to his cheekbone. The flesh was torn open, and blood seeped from the wound, trickling down his cheekbone and dripping onto his collar. Xueshou retrieved the riding crop and gripped it tightly in his hand. Chao Huibao shouted, "You cowardly bastard! My brother is waiting for us at the Great Rock River camp, and you're making us stop to do this useless thing! We've walked this valley path so many times without incident, what are you afraid of? Even the Fire Tribe couldn't get here this quickly. They're attacking from the Great Rock River, they don't have time to come all this way to block us! Get out of my way right now, or if you delay my brother's arrival, I'll make an example of you!"
Huibao covered his face and stepped aside, his right hand pressed against the wound, blood seeping from between his fingers, staining his fingers and palm red. He didn't speak again, but simply lowered his head, pulled the Jiangsheng to the side, and retreated to the rear of the group. His left eye peeked out from between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the back of the Xueshou's head, his eyes filled with a resentment born of humiliation. His lips were pressed into a thin line, the wound at the corner of his mouth causing him too much pain to open his mouth; he could only swallow a mouthful of saliva, swallowing back the words he wanted to say.
The rest of the Wolf Tribe dared not provoke Xueshou. Some of the cavalrymen following behind wanted to offer advice, but seeing the bloody gash on Huibao's face, they all lowered their heads, kept their mouths shut, and dared not say another word. They all followed Xueshou, their hooves kicking up a cloud of dust on the dirt road, enveloping the entire column as they charged toward the entrance to the Little Mountain.
Soon, the nine hundred cavalrymen of the Wolf Tribe, led by Xueshou, rushed swiftly towards the Little Mountain. Xueshou rode at the very front, his horse moving at top speed. His chestnut horse plunged into the valley entrance, and the cavalrymen behind him followed. The nine hundred horses were squeezed into a narrow path that could only accommodate five or six riders side by side, and the column was stretched into a long line, extending from the entrance all the way into the depths of the valley.
After Xueshou and his men charged into the Little Mountain, a deep, resonant bull's horn suddenly echoed from the cliff face. The sound echoed back and forth between the cliffs, reverberating from the valley entrance to the valley's end, creating a buzzing sound. Xueshou was startled by the sudden horn; his body stiffened on his horse, his Jiangsheng on the reins tightening and then loosening. His gaze swept across the cliffs on either side, where loud shouts of battle erupted. The sounds were rapid and intense, raining down from the cliff tops. First, Shitou, some as large as a man's head, rained down from the dozens of meters above, striking horses on the head. The horses cried out in pain and collapsed, throwing their riders off their backs, who then crashed into the riders, breaking bones. The sounds were indistinct, mingled with the shouts of battle. Then came a dense barrage of arrows with bronze arrowheads, raining down from the cliff top. These arrows, with their bronze arrowheads, pierced men and created bloody holes; when they struck horses, they sent them into a frenzy, throwing their riders off. The nine hundred Wolf Tribe cavalry were caught completely off guard, suffering heavy losses and cries of agony. Some fell from their horses, trampled in the chest by the horses behind them; some slid off their horses clutching their necks; some lay on their horses' backs, riddled with arrows; some tried to turn back, but the troops behind them continued to surge forward. The entire valley path was packed with people, shouts, and the neighing of horses mingled together. Dust rose from the valley floor, shimmering a grayish-yellow in the afternoon light, enveloping the entire valley.
By the time the Wolf Tribe reacted, they had lost at least five hundred men. Those killed by falling Shitou, arrows, trampled by horses, or thrown from their horses lay scattered along the way. The remaining four hundred or so were mostly wounded; some had arrows in their arms, some had gashes in their heads from falling Shitou, some had arrows piercing their legs, and some had their horses crushed and forced to walk. The arrows from the cliff continued to fall, and the Wolf Tribe's losses persisted. Every few steps, someone would be struck by an arrow and fall, blood seeping from beneath the corpses, staining the dirt road in the valley dark red.
Xueshou was also reeling from the impact. A Shitou grazed his shoulder, tearing a piece of his leather armor at the shoulder. An arrow lodged in his right arm, the arrowhead embedded in the flesh, the shaft still sticking out. He and his chestnut horse were also riddled with arrows; the horse had one in its neck and two in its body, shaking its head in pain and emitting a low whinny. Xueshou's left shoulder was also struck by a Shitou, twisting to one side, but he gritted his teeth and pressed himself low on the horse's back. He knew that falling now meant certain death. His eyes were bloodshot as he scanned the cliff top towards the exit ahead. Seeing the exit ahead still lit by daylight, he let out a hoarse roar, shouting to the cavalrymen still following him. His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, each word seemingly forced out of his throat. "Charge with me! Charge forward! Charge out and you'll live!" He led his dozens of personal guards forward, howling, their hooves kicking up dust on the dirt road, obscuring their silhouettes. By the time they reached the exit, only thirty or forty riders remained. The cavalrymen who had charged out with him were all wounded, their horses drenched in sweat, white foam mixed with blood dripping from their mouths.
Yan had already led six hundred cavalrymen, ready for battle. He mounted his horse, which stood in the middle of the main road west of the valley exit, head facing east, spear tip pointing forward. The six hundred cavalrymen formed three rows across the road, completely blocking the exit. Seeing Xueshou leading his men charging, Yan immediately gripped his bronze spear and led his men to surround and attack. He raised the spear from his waist, spear tip pointing forward, spurred his horse eastward, and the six hundred cavalrymen behind him followed suit, their hooves thudding on the dirt road. Although Xueshou was powerful in the Wolf Tribe, able to fight Xueya for dozens of rounds without being at a disadvantage, he was no match for Yan. Yan's martial arts were the strongest in the Fire Tribe; he was strong, fast, and his moves were tricky. After knocking away several Wolf Tribe cavalrymen, Yan saw Xueshou charging and immediately unleashed a sweeping attack. As Yan charged forward, his bronze spear swept horizontally, the shaft whistling through the air, aiming for Xueshou's ribs. Xueshou could only raise his bronze dagger to parry, holding it to his side for a brief moment. But Yan's sweeping attack was incredibly powerful; the spear shaft struck the blade with a crisp sound, nearly knocking the self-proclaimed Dali Xueshou off his horse. His body lurched to the side on his horse, the wound on his left shoulder reopening, blood gushing from it and staining his leather armor red. Then, as the two horses passed each other, Yan swiftly countered with a backhand thrust, the spear tip piercing Xueshou's back. Xueshou had no time to dodge; the spearhead pierced his back, penetrating from his back to his chest. Xueshou opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out; he fell from his horse onto the dirt road, blood gushing from his wound, turning the ground beneath him into a dark red puddle of mud.
Yan's personal guards followed up with finishing blows. They charged forward on horseback, their blades striking Xueshou's neck, chest, and arms. Xueshou was unresponsive, his eyes still open, his face frozen, but he was no longer moving. Yan ignored this and immediately drew his bronze scimitar, slashing at the other Wolf Tribe cavalrymen coming towards him. His scimitar was made of bronze, its blade curved and polished to a gleaming shine. It could cleave leather armor and create notches in bone. Yan turned his horse and continued charging forward. After Yan had killed through Xueshou's thirty or forty riders and turned his horse around, he saw that the Wolf Tribe cavalrymen had all been cut down. How could cavalrymen who had lost their horses escape? They were immediately slaughtered by the Fire Tribe cavalry. The dirt road was littered with the corpses of men and horses, blood seeping from beneath them, staining the entire road dark red.
After a quick glance, Yan left three hundred men to guard the exit, while the rest of the cavalry followed him to clear out the remaining Wolf Tribe cavalry in the Little Mountain. He wiped the blood off his scimitar on his trouser leg, then sheathed it at his waist. He then shouted to the cavalry behind him, "Don't let a single person escape! The rest of you, follow me into the valley and wipe out all the remaining Wolf Tribe remnants!"
The cavalry behind him split into two groups. Three hundred men remained on either side of the exit, forming two rows across the road with their spears pointing outwards. The rest followed Yan into the valley. The horses' hooves pounded violently on the dirt road at the bottom of the valley, which was littered with corpses and Shitou. Yan lowered his body and looked into the depths of the valley, where sporadic shouts of battle could still be heard. A small portion of the nine hundred men brought by Xueshou were still hiding behind Shitou and at the foot of cliffs in the valley, putting up a stubborn resistance. Yan drew his sword back from his waist and charged towards the remnants of the Wolf Tribe.