Chapter Twenty-Three: Never Let the Barbarian Cavalry Cross the Yin Mountains

Chen Ying assembled three regiments of the Right Guard Cavalry, totaling over nine hundred men. Instead of circling around through the eastern gate, he ordered the western gate thrown open and charged directly toward the massive Turkic army.

From his vantage point, Chen Ying looked west and saw the Turkic forces arranged in three distinct waves, pushing forward like layered tides. The first wave consisted of approximately two thousand men, the second of over three thousand, and the third of more than four thousand, with several hundred paces of distance between each.

The pressing problem of fuel shortages in Lingzhou had left Chen Ying deeply frustrated, and a simmering, inexplicable anger burned within him. Watching the Turkic battle lines approach, he felt a measure of relief; the Turkic Tuojie soldiers were neither strong nor well-mounted, and some lacked even basic leather armor.

"Boom... boom..." The war drums sounded. Chen Ying shouted, "Shigui, take the left! Shixin, take the right! Breakthrough the center!"

Since their departure, the Right Guard Cavalry had only fought lopsided battles and had never faced a life-or-death struggle against a superior force. While their morale was high due to a string of victories, they had not yet been truly tempered. Despite this, the nine hundred soldiers roared in unison, "Great Tang, eternal victory!"

Though only nine hundred strong, their cry carried the intensity of thousands.

Each of these three cavalry regiments was equipped not with crossbows or broadswords, but with hook-sickle spears. On their left arms, however, they wore small shields. Chen Ying had been inspired by the arm-mounted shields worn by Jackie Chan in the film *Dragon Blade*. After he shared the concept with Lin Chuanfu, the armorer had forged a batch of folding shields.

These folding shields weighed nine catties each and had no handles, strapping directly to the left forearm. When folded, they were only a foot and a half long and a foot wide, but when deployed, they formed a steel shield three feet long and two feet wide. Though they were three-quarters lighter than standard forty-catty heavy shields, their defensive strength was remarkable. Tests showed that only a powerful three-stone bow could penetrate them at twenty paces, and even then, only by an inch. Against the light bows of the Turkic cavalry, they were virtually impenetrable.

As Chen Ying led the charge, feeling the bitter wind whistle past his ears, his blood began to boil. He roared, "Advance! Advance!" The Tang soldiers echoed the command, "Advance! Advance!"

The Turkic cavalry shouted in confusion, seemingly calling for their comrades to "hold" and "defend." Seeing that the Tang soldiers carried no composite bows, the Turkic Tuojie were emboldened and eagerly notched their arrows.

At that very moment, following Chen Ying’s lead, the Tang cavalrymen deployed their folding shields, which effectively covered their vital points.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" The Turkic cavalry unleashed their arrows. To the shock of the Turks, the three volleys—nearly ten thousand arrows in total—brought down only a handful of Tang riders. The Tang formation remained unbroken as they charged rapidly toward the enemy.

When the two armies collided, the nine hundred hook-sickle spears struck at the Turkic ranks.

Although the Chibi tribe’s horses were weak and their equipment inferior, their horsemanship was exceptional. Apart from a few who were skewered and tumbled from their mounts, most managed to dodge the thrusts by pulling hard on their reins, hiding along the sides of their horses, or shifting their weight.

Chen Ying shouted, "Hook!"

While the initial thrusts missed, the true power of the hook-sickle spears now became apparent. Leveraging the momentum of the charging horses, the hooks tore through everything they caught: horse heads were severed, legs were broken, and limbs were lopped off. If a hook caught a man’s neck, it meant certain death.

In a single collision, the first line of two thousand Turks—a formation that had appeared solid—was pierced like a watermelon under pressure. Half the force was decimated, and the rest broke into a rout. Just then, the second wave of a thousand Turkic cavalrymen surged forward. Having not yet engaged the Tang spear wall, they were instead struck by their own fleeing comrades, and tragedy ensued.

Before the second line could even clash with the Tang, their formation was in chaos. Shili Fu-she hurriedly led his elite guard to intervene, but the momentum of Chen Ying’s Tang cavalry was unstoppable. The small force of less than a thousand riders swept back and forth, crushing the weaker elements of the Turkic army, and even the entry of the second line failed to reverse the disadvantage.

Chen Ying drove the first wave of fleeing Turks into the second, scattering them entirely. By the time the third wave arrived, the outcome was already decided. Even if Shili Fu-she had committed his entire reserve, he could not have salvaged the situation.

The victory had come too easily. Nine hundred Tang cavalry had faced nearly ten thousand Turks, fighting with a ten-to-one disadvantage. Not only had they routed three waves of the enemy in less than a quarter of an hour, but they had also inflicted casualties exceeding half of the Turkic force.

Seeing the ease of the victory, Chen Ying feared a trap and ordered his men to withdraw while they were ahead.

He did not, however, order a retreat to the city, as he noticed that Shili Fu-she’s personal guard had remained stationary outside the battlefield.

Chen Ying’s caution was well-founded, for the carnage wrought by his hook-sickle cavalry was truly terrifying. Out of nearly ten thousand Tuojie riders, at least four or five thousand lay dead within fifteen minutes, and the survivors were almost all wounded.

Such a horrific display of prowess sent a chill through the very bones of the Turks. Though the Great Tang was newly established, it already controlled the lands east of Lingzhou, the Guanzhong region, Bashu, and Hebei, occupying a quarter of the world's territory. With a population of over two million households, they could easily raise an army of two hundred thousand. Now, a mere thousand Tang soldiers had not only annihilated nearly twenty thousand of Shili Fu-she’s men, but had also, right before their eyes, overcome overwhelming odds to slaughter five thousand more.

To antagonize the Great Tang was sheer folly. In that instant, this became the consensus among all the Turks.

Seeing that the Turks dared not attack, the Tang cavalry utilized their hooks to retrieve the heads of the fallen Tuojie riders while the blood was still warm, hanging them from their horses' necks.

By the time Chen Ying and Luo Shixin regrouped and pulled away from the battlefield, Chen estimated that each Tang soldier had collected at least three heads, with some securing as many as six.

Luo Shixin’s horse, however, carried no heads. Despite his staggering kill count—at least thirty Turks had fallen to his spear—he did not bother to collect trophies; he was not incapable of it, merely disdainful.

As the Tang soldiers withdrew toward Lingzhou City with an air of triumph, the gathered Turkic forces collectively gasped in terror—a sound that drowned out the dying screams on the field.

Watching the fearful expressions of the Turkic soldiers, Chen Ying felt a surge of heroic spirit and sang aloud:

"The bright moon of the Qin, the passes of the Han,
Ten thousand miles of long march, and none have returned.
If only the flying general of Longcheng were here,
He would never let the Hu horses cross the Yin Mountains."