Chapter 36: Fame Won in a Single Battle (Part Two)

Snow White was but a fleeting shadow as she charged into the midst of the cavalry, leaving her opponents stunned and unable to respond. Her speed was unmatched, and with the chaos within their own ranks, the enemy dared not loose their arrows for fear of harming their own men. Though each cavalryman carried bow and arrows, in this moment they hesitated, and not a single arrow was released.

Zhang Chi pressed forward with his long spear, aiming straight for the banner of Gao Yazhi, indifferent to the blades and spears that flashed around him. Dao Xuan, wielding a single saber, fended off every attack, relying on Snow White’s agility to keep them unharmed; none could bar their path.

Snow White, like a white dragon, swept through the cavalry, scattering their formation into disarray. Gao Yazhi watched Zhang Chi gallop forward like the wind, momentarily stupefied, unable to believe that the gentle scholar he had once seen in Miss Wang’s tent now displayed such boldness.

As Zhang Chi reached the banner, the guards moved to block his advance, a dozen riders forming a wall before him. Yet even their mounts recoiled, intimidated by Snow White’s presence.

Without so much as a pause, Zhang Chi charged ahead, his spear thrusting a cavalryman from his saddle. Riders on both flanks surged in, blades flashing in a storm, but Dao Xuan behind him swept his saber in a relentless arc, parrying each weapon. Still, Zhang Chi’s arms and thighs were slashed several times by the merciless blades.

He knew well that Snow White’s speed, though extraordinary, could not last. If surrounded for long, exhaustion would be inevitable. With this in mind, Zhang Chi drove his spear into the head of a horse to his left, striking its eye and sending it crashing to the ground. Using the force of the recoil, he tugged the reins, and Snow White, almost sensing his intent, leapt aside with supernatural agility.

Bearing both Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan, Snow White soared five fathoms in a single leap, as if sprouting wings, vaulting through the gap in the cavalry and landing directly before Gao Yazhi’s mount. Zhang Chi’s spear was already aimed at Gao Yazhi’s chest.

All this transpired in a heartbeat, and the sudden turn of events shattered morale. The cavalry’s formation fell into chaos, while Du Ximing and Santong led the infantry to tear through the enemy lines. With five thousand infantry, they routed eight thousand cavalry in a storm of spirit and momentum.

The Northern Army was famed for its martial prowess, for most of its soldiers were northern refugees, bearing deep blood feuds with the nomads, and thus naturally brave and fierce. Gao Yazhi, their general, had never suffered defeat, not because of his own skill, but because his troops fought well. Yet his unbroken record fostered arrogance.

Now, eight thousand cavalry had been thrown into disorder by five thousand infantry, their morale shattered. He felt little desire to continue, considering the day a humiliation he wished would simply end.

The proud cannot tolerate disgrace. Once shamed, they lose their vigor, and many who once strode with glory and confidence cannot withstand defeat, often succumbing to despair or even taking their own lives.

Gao Yazhi was such a man now. Watching Zhang Chi gallop toward him, he could not muster the will to resist. He could not believe his invincible Northern Cavalry was bested by fewer than five thousand infantry, and these soldiers were new recruits, their combat experience incomparable to the seasoned Northern Army. Yet Zhang Chi, with such troops, tore through the Northern Army’s lines.

“The general’s sword must be forged from courage, strengthened by heroes, sharpened by wisdom. This sword must not be shown lightly, but when drawn, it gathers soldiers for a thousand miles and inspires the army. Mask its strength, reveal its advantage, unleash its power after the enemy, but strike first. It encompasses all seasons, dominates all directions; wherever its point turns, it claims Luoyang, and before its edge dulls, it will seize Chang’an. It cleaves the clouds above, cuts the earth below. Hidden, it intimidates the disloyal; drawn, it restores the North. Only then is it truly the general’s sword!”

As Zhang Chi’s spear thrust toward him, Gao Yazhi recalled not evasion, but the words Zhang Chi had once spoken in Miss Wang’s tent. That phrase had lingered in his mind, and today, as he watched his forces subdued by five thousand new infantry, he finally understood—this was the general’s sword. Perhaps, he thought, he was not suited to be a general.

As Snow White surged forward like the wind, Gao Yazhi’s spirit failed him, but his horse, terrified by Snow White, reared up violently. Still unsettled, Gao Yazhi was thrown from the saddle.

Zhang Chi’s spear missed its mark, and as he tried again, the surrounding cavalry intercepted him.

The general’s fall stunned everyone on the battlefield. In an age of cold steel—no telephones, no telescopes, no amplifiers—orders relied solely on human messengers. When sudden events occurred, soldiers rarely knew what happened; seeing their general fall, they assumed Zhang Chi had slain him, and the Northern Cavalry’s morale collapsed.

Though Santong knew little of tactics, his mind was quick, and he seized the opportunity, pointing ahead and shouting, “Look! Their general is dead!”

His words stirred a tidal wave. With their general slain, their spirits soared. “Their general is dead!” echoed across the battlefield.

Du Ximing led the charge, and though infantry fighting cavalry was perilous, their morale surged like a tiger hunting rabbits. The Northern Army’s lines, already fractured, quickly disintegrated.

Zhang Chi, astride his fine steed and driven by passion, killed with abandon for the first time on an ancient battlefield, his eyes red with blood, unable to discern direction or grasp the battle’s flow. Dao Xuan had seen such scenes many times; noticing the enemy guards had gathered tightly around Gao Yazhi and fearing Snow White’s endurance might falter, he whispered behind Zhang Chi, “Brother Zhang, a general must see the whole field, not linger in battle.”

Dao Xuan’s words cooled Zhang Chi like a bucket of water, awakening him instantly. There was no time for sentiment on the battlefield. Looking back, he saw his five thousand infantry surging like a tide, scattering the Northern Cavalry. He touched Snow White’s mane, now slick with sweat.

Snow White’s lightning-fast charge had drained her strength, Zhang Chi realized, and he dared not tarry. Ignoring the fallen Gao Yazhi, he turned his mount around. Though sweat clung to Snow White, her speed did not falter, and she swiftly left several pursuing cavalrymen far behind.

Zhang Chi’s five thousand men had shattered the cavalry, and though cavalry could flee quickly, infantry could not hope to catch them. So they did not pursue; the remaining cavalry were left alone. The army rallied behind the banner and marched northwest.

In ancient warfare, soldiers followed the banner, knowing little else. Du Ximing and Santong, responsible for the rear guard, did not lead the way; when Zhang Chi caught up, he found the guide was the old Daoist Zhan Taiqi.

The battle had lifted Zhang Chi’s spirits, and riding alongside Zhan Taiqi, he couldn’t help but ask, “We’ve won a great victory—why are we in such a hurry to retreat?”

Zhang Chi, flushed with triumph, was puzzled. Why not press the attack after victory? Why retreat before the defeated enemy even fled? Zhan Taiqi had been absent during the charge, yet led the way in withdrawal, which Zhang Chi found odd.

“You are new to command, so your question is natural,” Zhan Taiqi replied with a smile. “Though we won today by seizing the momentum, infantry cannot annihilate cavalry. This battle, for all its ferocity, cost neither side much. The Northern Army lost due to your resolve and daring, but if we do not withdraw swiftly, once your troops’ morale wanes, the outcome may reverse.”

The old Daoist’s words were wise; clearly, Zhang Chi was far from mastering the art of command. He sighed, realizing his understanding of military matters was shallow.

“Yes—of the thirty-six stratagems, retreat is the best,” Zhang Chi nodded.

“Retreat is best, how marvelous!” The old Daoist was so delighted he stroked his beard while riding. “We faced the Northern Iron Cavalry—only spirit could win the day, but spirit fades. Thus, we had three options: fight, surrender, or retreat. Only retreat is the best! But who was this Master Tan? And what are the other thirty-five stratagems?”

Zhang Chi was caught off guard. The thirty-six stratagems with ‘retreat as the best’ was a saying from later times. Zhang Chi, fond of reading, knew Master Tan referred to the famous northern campaigner Tan Daoji.

Tan Daoji was a renowned general, destined to destroy the Yao Qin regime in Jiangbei, then contend with Northern Wei, only to be killed by his own emperor, who feared his power. None of his eleven sons survived. Later, when Northern Wei troops reached the Yangtze, the emperor lamented, “If only Tan Daoji were alive, the barbarians would never have gotten this far!”

So many famous generals in history died not on the battlefield, but at the hands of the courts they served. Zhang Chi sighed.

Tan Daoji! The thought startled him. He knew little of this era’s history, but he did know some famous figures. Was Tan Daoji, renowned for his feats with the Northern Army under Liu Yu, living in this very time? Could he really share an era with the legendary Tan Daoji?

Zhan Taiqi, having asked about Master Tan, noticed Zhang Chi’s strange expression and pressed again, “Sir, who is Master Tan?”

Zhang Chi snapped out of his reverie and replied with a nonchalant “Oh,” saying, “It’s nothing, just a hermit I once met.”

“Brother Zhang, your wounds are bleeding still. You should dismount and have them bandaged,” Dao Xuan said from behind.

After this battle, Zhang Chi had several wounds, especially the one where a cavalryman struck his saber away and cut his back, the gash running from shoulder to waist. Though not deep, it bled profusely, staining Dao Xuan’s chest red. At first, he felt no pain, but Dao Xuan’s words brought it crashing down. Without Dao Xuan’s support, he would have fallen from the saddle.

The thrill of battle had dulled all pain. Zhang Chi couldn’t help but marvel at himself.

Despite the pain, Zhang Chi gritted his teeth and said, “The Northern Cavalry lost little today; we broke through on spirit alone. If they regroup and counterattack, the consequences would be dire. We must reach safety first.”

Though he said this, if the cavalry pursued, the infantry could never outrun them. Zhang Chi frowned, realizing the danger was far from over.

Just as he thought this, Zhan Taiqi grinned mysteriously and said, “Sir, you need not worry. Did you forget what I told you? Just a few miles ahead, I’ve arranged an ambush of one hundred thousand troops for you.”