Chapter 52: True and False Reinforcements (Please vote for recommendations)

“Oh dear, why hasn’t General Zhong ordered the drums to signal retreat yet?” Wang Yan was anxious, uncertain about what Zhong Shidao was planning. The situation had reached a critical point, and yet there was still no command to withdraw—was he truly intending to fight the Jin army to the bitter end here?

Restless, Wang Yan quickened his movements, hoping to force Yelü Yuanyi into retreat so he could break away and rejoin the main force.

But Yelü Yuanyi had already anticipated Wang Yan’s intentions. Like a cunning serpent, he kept close to Wang Yan, refusing to give him any chance to withdraw.

“General Wang, since you’re here, you might as well stay!” Yelü Yuanyi said smugly.

“Hmph! So you think you have me cornered,” Wang Yan sneered. Since escape was impossible, he resolved to fight with all his might. Death was no stranger to him—ever since he formed the Eight Character Army, he had foreseen his fate. With that thought, a sense of calm washed over him.

Freed from worry, Wang Yan’s fighting spirit soared. He pressed Yelü Yuanyi so relentlessly that the latter could barely defend himself, unable to strike back at all.

“Don’t waste your strength. Do you really believe you alone can change the course of the entire battle? Impossible,” Yelü Yuanyi continued to persuade him.

“Hmph, even if I can’t change anything, killing you will be enough. If I take another with me, that’s a profit!” Wang Yan replied indifferently.

Wang Yan was but a microcosm of the Song army—his struggle mirrored the larger battlefield, where the Song forces were being pushed back by the Jin. Outnumbered and lacking the fighting prowess of the nomadic warriors, the Han soldiers faced almost certain defeat unless some miracle occurred.

Yet, after the recent streamlining, the Song army’s combat effectiveness had markedly increased, especially their cohesion. Though they were suffering defeat after defeat, there was no sign of complete collapse.

The battlefield was a great crucible. If a soldier fled, those nearby would be influenced and follow suit. Conversely, if those around him fought fearlessly, even the timid could overcome their fears and press forward. This was the Song army now: when a soldier in the front fell, another would step up to fill his place—if a father died, his son charged in; if a brother fell, his sibling took his place. Even if they all perished, they would not flee. Blood-red eyed, the only thought in their hearts was to kill.

Zhong Shidao sat steadily atop the city wall, seemingly oblivious to the Song army’s defeat.

“General, we must withdraw—otherwise, our whole force will be lost here,” his deputy urged urgently.

“Not yet. Wait a little longer,” Zhong Shidao replied, waving his hand.

His words made the deputy even more anxious. “General, we can’t wait any longer. Are you really going to stand by and watch the whole army be annihilated?”

Zhong Shidao shot him a fierce glare.

The deputy’s heart skipped a beat under that gaze. He hurriedly said, “Forgive me, General, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Zhong Shidao ignored him, instead looking into the distance. He watched as soldiers fell one after another below; as commander, he was the most anxious of them all.

“Kill!” Suddenly, a thunderous shout rose from afar. A cavalry force charged from the west, numbering in the tens of thousands.

The sudden appearance of this force stunned both sides. They carried no banner, and it was unclear whose reinforcements they were. The Song soldiers worried—if these were Jin reinforcements, it would be disastrous. They were already at a disadvantage; a few more thousand enemies would make victory impossible.

Wanyan Chang frowned and asked Wanyan Yuanchun at his side, “Where did this force come from? Has the general sent reinforcements?”

Wanyan Yuanchun was equally perplexed. He shook his head. “No word of it.”

“That’s odd. Could they be Song troops?” Wanyan Chang wondered aloud.

“They don’t seem like it. If they were Song soldiers, they’d be carrying banners. But if you look, their attire resembles ours more than the Song’s,” Wanyan Yuanchun replied.

Wanyan Chang examined them closely and saw that Yuanchun was right.

“Excellent! With this, we can wipe out the Song army beneath Zhen Ding City,” Wanyan Chang said, delighted.

“General, I’ll go find out which unit this is. Perhaps Luoyang or Kaifeng has already fallen,” Wanyan Yuanchun said to Wanyan Chang.

Wanyan Chang nodded. “Good, bring their commander to speak with me.”

Wanyan Yuanchun went to carry out his orders, and by then, the cavalry had already drawn near.

“Which unit are you? Call your commander out—our general wishes to speak with him,” Wanyan Yuanchun shouted.

“Very well, take me to your general!” replied the burly leader, whose appearance and Jin-style uniform made him seem every bit a Jin soldier. Wanyan Yuanchun suspected nothing and prepared to lead him to Wanyan Chang, only to be killed by the man’s blade as he turned away.

“Look! It’s our army, the Song army!” Suddenly, within the ranks of the newcomers, a massive Song dragon banner was raised high.

That flag, billowing in the wind, was like a shot of adrenaline to the beleaguered Song forces. Soldiers who had been on the brink of despair found hope again, their fighting spirit rekindled as they launched a desperate counterattack.

It was no wonder: death had seemed certain, but now hope had returned. Perhaps if they held out a little longer, the Jin army would be defeated and they would survive. In such circumstances, what soldier would not fight with all his might?

Conversely, the Jin army’s morale took a heavy blow. They now had to contend not only with the Song troops before them, but with those behind as well—a perilous predicament. Most alarming was that the Song soldiers behind them wore Jin uniforms. On the battlefield, not every soldier could recognize his comrades; what was thought to be an ally might, in a heartbeat, turn out to be an enemy.