Chapter Thirty-Six: Drawing Boundaries as Imprisonment (First Update—Please Subscribe)

The battlefield is ruthless, yet it seems as if fate has played a cruel joke on those involved. The more a man embraces death without fear, the less likely he is to die in battle; conversely, those who fear death the most are the ones who fall. Facing the Tang cavalry’s fanatical and fearless charge, the soldiers of the Turkic and Liang forces were gripped with terror.

At this moment, Ashina Yizhen realized he had made a fatal mistake. He had severely underestimated the strength of the Tang army. The newly established Tang dynasty, less than a year old, was by no means comparable to the Sui dynasty.

The Tang’s might was formidable; to wage war against them was sheer folly.

Standing atop the walls of Lingzhou, Yang Ze shouted excitedly, “Heaven bless the Tang! To have such a worthy general is truly a joyous blessing. After this battle, we will annihilate these foes, and Commander Chen’s invincible reputation will spread for thousands of miles. As long as Commander Chen plants his banner here, no Hu invader will dare set foot in Lingzhou!”

Chen Ying led the Tang cavalry in relentless pursuit of the fleeing Turkic and Liang troops. Suddenly, on the snowy plain ahead, hundreds of Turkic soldiers appeared. Seeing the unstoppable tide of the Tang assault, they dismounted and surrendered voluntarily.

Watching this scene, Zhang Shigui asked, “Commander, what shall we do now?”

“What shall we do?” Chen Ying was troubled. Accepting prisoners would mean diverting forces, but he only had about four thousand troops, with hundreds already wounded and withdrawn from combat. The number of effective soldiers was under three thousand eight hundred. He did not want to release the surrendering soldiers without cause, yet he lacked the manpower to guard them. Still, he was unwilling to let them go free.

At that moment, a strange smile crept across Chen Ying’s face. “Draw a circle on the ground and tell them: whoever steps outside the circle will die.”

“Commander, you mean to imprison them by drawing a circle?” Zhang Shigui was well aware of the ancient precedent. Long ago, when society was self-disciplined and virtuous, if someone erred, a circle would be drawn around them to confine and punish them. Even if alone, the offender would not dare step beyond the circle. This was a gentle form of punishment in ancient times, akin to a primitive prison.

Chen Ying nodded without objection.

Zhang Shigui remarked, “These Turkic men fear force but not virtue; expecting them to self-discipline is like playing the lute to a cow.”

“Hmph, if they dare run, so much the better!” Chen Ying replied. “Killing prisoners is inauspicious. If I slaughter them, the court’s censors will surely impeach me. But if I draw a circle—should any of them break out, I’ll kill them then, and the censors will have no grounds to complain.”

Before them, hundreds of Turkic and Liang soldiers knelt in surrender.

Several Tang soldiers dismounted, neither confiscating the prisoners’ weapons nor binding them, but simply used hook spears to draw a large circle on the ground.

“Those who cross this line shall die!”

This phrase was spoken to the prisoners in both Tang and Turkic languages. As Chen Ying’s troops passed, they confiscated the prisoners’ horses; the Tang cavalry needed mounts for their charges, and without horses, the prisoners could not flee swiftly.

The Tang soldiers remounted and resumed pursuit of the fleeing enemies. Inside the circle, the surrendering Turkic soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain of what to do.

“Should we run?” someone whispered.

Yet no one dared voice the thought. Thus, a strange sight unfolded on the battlefield: a large or small snowy circle marked on the loess plateau, within which sat or knelt groups of Turkic and Liang soldiers. Even without a single Tang guard, none dared step beyond the circle’s boundary.

They shivered like fools in the biting wind. It wasn’t cowardice; rather, the shock of the spear cavalry’s relentless charge was too profound.

When Poland established its winged hussars, the nation was on the brink of extinction. They faced two great enemies: the Teutonic Knights to the northwest and the Mongols to the east. The Polish forces were no match for the Mongols’ mobile cavalry on the open eastern plains; even the capital Kraków was sacked. In response, Poland founded the winged hussars, specialized to counter light cavalry. Despite the later wartime ridicule for charging tanks with lances, there was no denying that in the age of cold steel, the winged hussars were invincible.

Chen Ying’s spear cavalry, though a simplified version, was more than enough against the Turkic forces, who were not known for exceptional martial prowess. From their establishment until their downfall, the Turks never held much advantage against the Han Chinese. During the Sui dynasty, the Turks were crushed, only gaining ground during the chaos of the late Sui era.

However, after the Battle of Dingxiang in the fourth year of the Zhenguan era, the Eastern Turks were annihilated.

Chen Ying’s pursuit yielded an increasing number of captured horses. With fewer than four thousand cavalry, he had gathered nearly twenty thousand mounts. Each rider maintained five or six horses on average. Had it not been for the expertise of the Yu Guni unit in horse control, managing such a herd would have been overwhelming.

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Thirty li northwest of Lingzhou lies Wild Boar Ridge, one of many hills on the loess plateau. From the side, it resembles a massive wild boar lying on the earth. The terrain slopes downward from north to south. At the boar’s belly is a sizable valley that blocks the northwest cold winds. Within the valley are several small hot springs, making Wild Boar Ridge a favored refuge against the biting cold.

Stationed at Wild Boar Ridge was Ashina Shibobi, one of the four great Yabghus of the Turks. Though his name might be unfamiliar, his title surely rings a bell: he was the last Khagan of the Eastern Turks, Khagan Tulik.

Though only sixteen, Ashina Shibobi was impressively tall—eight feet—and sported a full beard, making him appear at least thirty.

He had not directly engaged in the Lingzhou battle but monitored it closely. When Liang’s army collapsed and Ashina Yizhen was utterly defeated, he had already received the news.

What surprised Ashina Shibobi most was that Yizhen, in his desperation, fled with his shattered troops to Wild Boar Ridge—right under his nose. Meanwhile, Chen Ying’s Tang cavalry pursued relentlessly, dogging Yizhen’s rear.

Watching the waves stirred in the mare’s milk within the royal tent, Ashina Shibobi could estimate without looking that the Tang cavalry numbered around twenty thousand. His face darkened.

“Yabghu, what shall we do?”

“How the hell should I know?” Ashina Shibobi raged, cursing Yizhen’s entire ancestry.

A cautious commander suggested, “The Tang have just won and their morale is high. Perhaps we should avoid direct conflict for now.”

Ashina Shibobi hesitated. “If we retreat without a fight, it will only bring ridicule upon Yizhen and Sulifu.”

Yesterday, my apologies for the mix-up—I mistakenly posted two Chapter 34s in a row. Since the editors are off on weekends, I could only correct it on Monday.