Chapter 129: The Crippling Kick

Hurhan didn’t hesitate a moment longer. He ran.

This wasn’t his first fight with Yang Xin. He’d already seen what Yang Xin was like back in Kaiyuan. Even recognized as one of the Jiannu’s fiercest warriors, he knew the gap between himself and a monster like that was just too vast.

If he delayed any longer, escape would be impossible.

As for Amin…

If Amin died right here, Wild Boar Skin would be pleased. Hurhan knew that perfectly well.

Right as those fierce Jiannu elites desperately tried to block Yang Xin, the de facto commander of the battlefield quietly mounted his horse. By then, Ming infantry were already crossing the river to the north. Even the dust kicked up by a large cavalry force upstream along the Qinghe River had appeared. Reinforcements from that direction could only be from the Yehe Tribe. Due to insufficient Ming troops and the unique situation at Zhenbei Pass, a Yehe cavalry unit was actually stationed there, only commanded by Zhou Yuji.

Hurhan took one last look at Yang Xin, relentlessly closing in, and Amin, still locked in brutal combat. He swiftly headed for Guangshun Pass.

Behind him, the signal for retreat sounded.

The Jiannu cavalry, still deep in the fight, rapidly began withdrawing after him.

“Amin!” Yang Xin roared.

“Your master abandoned you!” he turned and bellowed in Amin’s direction.

Amin was now trapped deep in the fray. Lost to rage, he’d completely forgotten his role as commander. Leading his elite guard in a direct assault on Yang Xin, he plunged straight past him after Yang Xin deliberately yielded. Immediately, Amin was surrounded by the Mongolian cavalry. The battle blazed fiercely. Hurhan’s desertion meant Amin was now the sacrifice. Deep in the bloodbath, Amin naturally wouldn’t accept this, especially as the battle was still fiercely contested, even slightly favoring his side. After all, Jiannu combat prowess was at its peak; their large formations had almost no equal in open battle, forcing both the Ming cavalry and Mongolian cavalry back slightly. Retreat was hardly necessary yet; Hurhan was just fearful of dying.

But Amin was the overall commander.

The battle flag next to him was swiftly raised.

Continue fighting!

But Hurhan had no interest in obeying. Yang Xin wasn’t charging him.

If they kept fighting, maybe they’d win, but Hurhan was certain he’d die by Yang Xin’s hand.

“Amin, don’t be laughable! A dog like you can’t command Hurhan? At least Hurhan is Wild Boar Skin’s houseman! You? You’re just a kicked cur whimpering for scraps!” Yang Xin continued to shout, goading.

Maddened by fury, Amin once again commanded to continue the fight.

But now, the two commanders – senior and deputy – alternated conflicting signals: one ordering retreat, the other fighting on. Across the vast battlefield, the Jiannu cavalry were utterly bewildered. This clash involved twenty thousand cavalry, the field immense. The constant chase and melee had drawn some units more than ten miles from the center. All communication depended on signals. Now, one signal said retreat, the other said fight. Which to follow? Amin’s Bordered Blue Banner troops naturally obeyed Amin. Other banners preferred Hurhan. But in chaotic cavalry battles like this, clear formations vanished; it was small squadrons maneuvering and mutually supporting. Anyone pulling back endangered nearby allies. The Jiannu weren’t the kind to leave their buddies stuck; their ability for true coordination was key to their battlefield dominance.

Curses erupted among the scattered commanders – the jia-lan and niru captains – across the chaotic field.

Utter confusion reigned!

This command chaos became the wedge. The Allies, previously at a disadvantage, rapidly began to turn the tide. Crucially, some Jiannu units that couldn’t see Amin’s signal had already started retreating.

Watching this, Hurhan was furious too.

Retreat was the wise choice.

This battle shouldn’t have even happened. Their orders weren’t for a decisive engagement, especially not one to the death. Retreating now was still feasible, losses could be minimized, and disengagement was possible.

But he wasn’t the real commander.

Amin was.

Amin’s order was to fight on.

If Amin died here, Wild Boar Skin would surely punish Hurhan severely, but wouldn’t kill him. And he’d likely be reinstated quickly because Wild Boar Skin wanted Amin dead anyway. But… if Amin survived the battle, he’d pin the entire defeat on Hurhan. He’d claim Hurhan’s unauthorized retreat order caused the failure. All blame would fall on Hurhan, forcing Wild Boar Skin to execute him. Wild Boar Skin would sacrifice him. Military law had to be upheld; someone had to answer for defeat.

Yang Xin mocked Amin as a dog, but Amin was the Beile of the Bordered Blue Banner! He commanded the entire banner, was one of the Four Great Beile, the Second Beile right after Daišan! Shurhaci’s old followers looked to Amin. Even Hong Taiji, who later had Amin killed, could only give the Bordered Blue Banner to Amin’s brother Jì’ěrhālǎng, not dare to absorb it himself. Those thirty-plus niru, comprising over ten thousand elite troops, recognized only Shurhaci’s descendants. If Amin were truly bent on revenge, Wild Boar Skin would have to sacrifice Hurhan to preserve internal unity. And then Hurhan’s family would suffer too.

Hurhan stopped.

He hesitated.

That hesitation sealed his fate.

Yang Xin, who’d been watching him all along, suddenly hurled the Green Dragon Crescent Blade forward. The massive weapon blasted through flesh and blood as it flew. Freed from the burden of 120-pounds, Yang Xin surged forward like an agile leopard. He weaved rapidly between the halted Jiannu horses, closing the gap to Hurhan amidst the cries of startled riders.

But Hurhan lost sight of him.

In that chaotic melee, tens of thousands of cavalry – finding one man on foot was near impossible. No longer on high ground, Hurhan scanned a nightmare scene: tangled swathes of combat, riderless horses bolting wildly, riderless men, tangled riders locked in duels, riderless beasts galloping wild, corpses of men and horses littering the ground everywhere. Worse yet, halting his retreat meant the pursuing enemy caught up to his men instantly. Dergele’s Yehe Cavalry in particular had clung to their heels; stopping meant being overtaken. Hurhan’s personal guards were forced back into a desperate close-quarters fight.

By the time Hurhan sensed something wrong, Yang Xin was less than thirty yards away.

“STOP HIM!” Hurhan shrieked.

Panic erased all thought. As his personal guards rushed Yang Xin, Hurhan spurred his horse into a frantic gallop again.

Immediately, Yang Xin drew two Triangular Awls.

Hurhan’s guards reached him. Two Garlic-Head Hammers whistled down at him from both sides. In his charge, Yang Xin leaned back desperately, dropping to a kneel just as the hammers whistled over his head. Yang Xin snapped both arms outward, the Awls plunging deep into the thighs of the attackers. He ripped them free alongside spraying fountains of blood as the guards shrieked. Lunging forward before a thrusting spear could land, he reached a guard behind them. His left Awl sank into the man’s side. His right Awl left his hand, flying straight to pierce the chest of a fourth guard. The next instant, Yang Xin leaped high, snatching the Awl out of the air as he soared.

Now he was less than twenty meters from Hurhan’s panicked back.

Both Awls launched again.

Their target? Not the man. The horse. Sharpened steel flew the distance with lethal speed, striking deep into the creature’s hind quarters. The horse screamed terribly as it crashed down. Hurhan reacted with lightning speed, flipping clear as the horse fell. He landed on his feet, snatching his sword from the saddle scabbard beside him. His other hand instinctively grabbed his Garlic-Head Hammer. Sword and Hammer, he stood like a cornered beast, eyes burning with hate at Yang Xin. Behind Yang Xin, several Jiannu drew bows – but Dergele and a few Yehe Cavalry were already near. Arrow shafts sang through the air, clearing Yang Xin’s rear swiftly.

Yang Xin paid them no mind. Still empty-handed, he walked impassively toward Hurhan.

Hurhan roared, charging first, the hammer smashing toward Yang Xin’s head.

Yang Xin side-stepped as casually as a man strolling through a garden. But as he avoided the hammer-head, Hurhan’s sword stabbed straight for his chest. The tip touched the Flying Fish Robe – and Yang Xin’s right hand clamped onto Hurhan’s sword hand. Hurhan bellowed, straining forward with all his might. But the sword point didn’t budge an inch. He looked up, face flushed red and sweating. Yang Xin stood impossibly close, wearing a look of pure scorn. Hurhan swung his left hammer down. Yang Xin’s left hand shot out like an iron vice, catching his wrist.

Then Yang Xin’s right foot kicked upward from below…

Hard. Like the crude fighters who don’t care about fair play.

“AHHH!” Hurhan instantly let out an agonized, inhuman scream, sharp enough to pierce clouds. Because Yang Xin still gripped both his arms with unbreakable strength, the immense upward force hitting that tender spot lifted Hurhan clean off his feet, yanking his shoulder joints into brutal, unnatural angles. He flew up, reached his apex, and began to fall back down. Before he touched soil, Yang Xin’s left foot kicked upward identically. Hurhan was yanked upwards again by the axis of his tortured joints, this time back arching upward. Pain had already driven him into merciful darkness… only for the agony to jolt him awake again as he fell back a second time, only to be kicked upward once more.

Yang Xin’s feelings, of course, were irrelevant. His hands were shackles binding Hurhan’s arms, allowing him to effortlessly kick Hurhan like a practice sack. Again. And again. And again…

The poor man only endured up to the tenth brutal impact.

“Worthless,” Yang Xin spat out, dropping the mangled corpse with disdain.

Poor Hurhan stared at Yang Xin, eyes refusing to close. Strangely, his face remained unmarked. This detail was crucial. The severed heads of E Yi Dou and Abatai had fetched Yang Xin twenty thousand taels of silver last time. Hurhan’s head was worth the same – one head, ten thousand taels! Yang Xin, his wealth greatly depleted, counted on these heads to refill his coffers. Absolutely no damage to the face!

Jiannu soldiers fleeing past him on either side surged like a tide. None dared venture near him. None dared disturb his spoils of war.

To the northeast of the battlefield, a tidal wave of cavalry swept forward, thousands upon thousands strong. As it crashed into the Jiannu lines, the entire fighting force collapsed.

Because at the head of the charge roared Jin Taiji.

The main host of the Yehe Tribe had arrived.