Nightwatcher-Chapter 462: Surprise Manoeuvre

# 462. Surprise Manoeuvre

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Cannon fire and crossbow bolts exploded endlessly across both armies. The shockwaves and shrapnel from the blasts were lethal to ordinary soldiers.

In terms of heavy weaponry, the Great Feng army was virtually crushing Kang’s army with its overwhelming force. This was one of the foundations of the Great Feng’s dominance over Jiuzhou. Although the Church of the Warlock God had secretly embezzled a large number of cannons and crossbows over the years, without arcanists to maintain them, the performance of these artefacts and the power of their munitions were greatly diminished.

What’s more, artefacts were constantly being upgraded, there was a vast gulf between old and new weapons.

Nangong Qianrou led the heavy cavalry away from the main camp, avoiding the range of cannon and ballista fire, and launched a charge from the right flank of Kang’s army.

The Kang troops quickly noticed the approaching heavy cavalry. Their cannons and ballistae remained trained on the Great Feng army, continuing the artillery exchange. Archers and musketmen began to fire volleys.

Their target was the ten-thousand-strong heavy cavalry.

After several rounds, the archers and musketmen promptly retreated. At that moment, from within the Kang army, a group of _modao_ sabre cavalry emerged, three thousand strong.

These long anti-cavalry sabres, or *modao*,[^1] rose to prominence in the early Great Zhou. Weighing over eighty pounds and forged of fine steel, they could only be wielded by elite warriors. Back in the days when the Great Zhou had no arcanists, they conquered all with twenty thousand modao troops.

Every modao wielder stood at the peak of the Refining Body stage, swinging the massive blade with ease. Under a single stroke, both horse and rider were cleaved, perfect for countering heavy cavalry.

Great Zhou was truly a nation founded on martial prowess, the most glorious age of martial cultivation.

In its mid-to-late years, as the empire weakened, the prestige of the modao army declined. By the time of the Great Feng, the limited martial attainment of its soldiers meant the modao army faded into history.

Yet in the Northeast, the modao forces were preserved and passed down. This was largely thanks to the Church of the Warlock God, whose warlocks could stimulate soldiers’ potential and enhance their vitality, temporarily boosting combat strength.

As such, the bar for joining the modao army had lowered considerably.

Three thousand modao troops charged the ten-thousand-strong Great Feng heavy cavalry, utterly fearless, instead, they surged with bloodlust.

On Nangong Qianrou’s charming face surfaced a twisted grin. Across Jiuzhou, it was known that the strongest cavalry were the northern barbarians, after the Battle of Shanhai Pass, the honour passed to Jing.

The Great Feng’s cavalry were barely worth mentioning.

Was that really the case?

The scarcity of Great Feng cavalry was only due to the lack of fine horses and pastures suitable for rearing them.

Small in number did not mean weak. In the past twenty years, Wei Yuan had analysed every minor defeat at Shanhai Pass, concluding they were all due to the crushing disadvantage in cavalry.

The Great Feng lacked the fierce, battle-hardened modao army. Its soldiers could not compare to the peak martial prowess of the Great Zhou. So how could the power of heavy cavalry be strengthened with existing resources?

Wei Yuan’s solution: equipment.

The Great Feng had no warlocks to awaken latent potential. No elite warriors like those of Great Zhou.

But it had the Sitianjian. It had arcanists.

Few knew why Wei Yuan had frequented the Stargazing Tower over the past twenty years. But after this battle, the ten thousand sets of heavy cavalry armour he had poured his heart and fortune into would make their mark in history.

The long-abandoned modao army was no more than a relic buried in dust.

The ten-thousand-strong heavy cavalry smashed through the modao troops, leaving chaos and overturned bodies in their wake.

Nangong Qianrou charged at the front. His brown irises turned blood-red, veins bulged across his face, he no longer looked human, but like a beast driven mad.

Whether it was the Kang’s army or even the Great Feng forces on the other side, all who witnessed it felt their brows rise up.

Until now, the heavy cavalry hadn’t truly had their moment on the battlefield, even in the previous sieges, so even their own side didn’t know the full extent of their strength.

All except Wei Yuan and Nangong Qianrou.

Then, from within the Kang forces, came a grand and ethereal chant, layered and indistinct, the words unclear.

Spiritual power surged across the battlefield. The modao troops who had just fallen, their blood not yet cold, began to rise. Some without heads, others missing arms, some pierced through the chest, yet they all climbed back to their feet.

And rejoined the fight.

For a warlock, as long as a corpse wasn’t dismembered or burnt to ash, it remained an inexhaustible source of troops.

“Awoo...”

Endless roars echoed from high above. Giant flying beasts soared and glided overhead, flapping past the Great Feng forces and dropping stones, fire oil, and other payloads.

The gates of the Yan capital opened, and the army of Yan surged out, attempting to pincer the Great Feng forces with Kang.

“Raise shields!”

Military rising star, Commander of twelve thousand Imperial Guards, Chen Ying, calmly issued orders: “Artillery teams One, Six, Eight, rotate targets. Crossbowmen Two, Four, adjust formation. Assault battalion, charge with me...”

He shouted while signalling with flags to relay his commands.

The infantry raised their shields to block aerial attacks. Several artillery and ballista teams rotated their aim and fired upon Yan troops bursting from the city.

Amid the thunder of cannon fire, Chen Ying led five thousand light cavalry and ten thousand infantry in a fierce charge toward Yan forces.

…

The battle raged from day until night. Yan lost over eight thousand men and retreated into the city. Kang also suffered heavy casualties, retreating thirty miles.

But the Great Feng forces were now in an extremely precarious situation, for three reasons.

First: a loss of advantage.

The Yan Capital was easy to defend and hard to assault, far tougher than the seven cities already taken. With powerful warriors in abundance, ample troops, and a third rank warlock holding the citadel, taking it quickly was all but impossible.

Now that reinforcements from the Kang had arrived, storming the city was no longer feasible.

Second: the supply lines were cut.

Without a supply line, the Great Feng forces were like a tower without a foundation, collapse was only a matter of time. The blade that had pierced deep into Yan’s heart had now been dulled.

The campfire blazed inside the command tent.

Chen Ying, representing the young and vigorous faction, and Nangong Qianrou, representing Wei Yuan's camp, gathered under one roof.

Chen Ying stood before the sand table, pointing as he spoke with fervour:

“The strategy of Kang and Yan is clear. They’ve boxed us in beneath the Yan Capital, waiting for us to run out of supplies or scatter and collapse. Then they'll divide us like spoils. Our provisions are almost gone. By the day after tomorrow, we’ll have to slaughter the horses for meat.”

One of the generals grinned. “I'll take charge of raiding for supplies. There are plenty of villages near the Yan Capital, we can scavenge something. We mustn’t slaughter the horses. Absolutely not.”

Chen Ying chuckled. “Very well, General Zhao, it’s yours. Duke Wei’s orders are for us to hold for ten days. We’re on day six. Just four more to go, then we retreat.”

He paused, sweeping his gaze over the gathered officers. Seeing their low spirits, he considered a moment and then spoke frankly:

“To be honest, this battle makes no sense. Our supplies getting cut off makes even less sense. I still don’t understand Duke Wei’s intentions. But an order is an order. Even if he told me to charge into a pit of fire, I wouldn’t blink.

“We’ve still got thirty thousand men. Four days from now, I don’t know how many of them will still be alive, or whether I’ll still be alive. But the Church of the Warlock God has pushed us around for too long.

“Colluding with corrupt officials, stealing our military supplies, backing mountain bandits in Yunzhou and plunging the people into misery. And now, they’re trying to seize the North and encircle our northeastern borders.

“Even if we’re wiped out, we must bleed Yan and Kang dry. Gentlemen, are you afraid of death?”

“Afraid of shit. If you’re on the battlefield, you don’t fear death,” a general spat.

“It’s just four days. I’ll still be kicking after four.”

“If Duke Wei wants us to hold out, I’ll do it. Four days, forty days, it doesn’t matter.”

All eyes turned to Nangong Qianrou. The androgynous Gold Gong said coolly, “Tonight, I’ll be leaving with ten thousand heavy cavalry.”

Chen Ying’s gaze sharpened. “Duke Wei’s orders?”

Nangong Qianrou gave a low “Mm.”

Chen Ying stared at him for a long moment, then the handsome young commander smiled. “Good. Do what you need to do. Leave this side to us.”

Nangong Qianrou said nothing, turned, and walked out.

Just as he reached the tent’s exit, he halted. He slowly swept his gaze across every face in the tent, studying them carefully. He took a deep breath and cupped his fists:

“Take care, all of you.”

“Take care!”

The officers responded solemnly.

Nangong Qianrou removed his helmet, set it gently on the ground, bent at the waist for a few seconds, then strode out.

…

The Yan Capital.

The great hall blazed with candlelight. Nurhaci sat high upon his throne, listening as his ministers discussed strategy.

Compared to the straits of the the Great Feng army, the atmosphere here was noticeably relaxed, almost celebratory.

They had held the city for six days. The Great Feng’s troops had only launched an assault on the first day, leaving thousands of corpses behind before slinking away in defeat. They hadn’t tried a second assault since.

On the contrary, with reinforcements from Kang, they had launched a pincer attack and cut off the Great Feng’s supply lines, severing their provisions.

In just a few more days, the Great Feng would be forced to retreat. And with the troops they had left, they couldn’t possibly assault the city again. The capital was safe. There was no need to fear the Great Feng.

Once the enemy withdrew, Yan and Kang could even pursue them.

Victory would belong to the Church of the Warlock God.

In this light, the so-called “god of war” of the Great Feng didn’t seem quite so fearsome.

The shift in momentum gave Yan’s court great confidence. The dread aura left by Wei Yuan’s campaign at Shanhai Pass had lightened significantly.

“Heh, looks like the Great Feng’s god of war isn’t so good at sieges huh.”

“Maybe twenty years of court politics dulled his edge. After all, he hasn’t commanded troops in two decades. Everything’s changed.”

“With this one battle, our Yan Kingdom will trample over Wei Yuan’s name and shake all of Jiuzhou.”

“He thought he could strike straight our main altar with only a hundred thousand men? What a delusion.”

Wei Yuan leading a northern expedition, suffering fierce resistance in Yan, ultimately defeated and fleeing back to the Great Feng with the remnants of his forces... The historians would surely record this.

Nurhaci turned to look at the National Teacher Irbu, robed and holding a golden staff, and said with a smile:

“National Teacher Irbu, once we’ve driven off Wei Yuan, we’ll send troops north to aid Kang in subduing the frontier. After this campaign, the Great Feng won’t be able to send reinforcements again. Thirty thousand li of territory will fall under our sect’s dominion.”

Irbu replied calmly, “The northern war can wait. Headquarters has ordered that the the Great Feng army must be destroyed within our borders, especially Wei Yuan. He must not be allowed to return to the Great Feng.”

Irbu paused, frowning faintly.

He couldn’t understand the meaning behind this command from headquarters. War wasn’t a brawl; the long-term picture always mattered more than a single person.

Driving out the Great Feng and seizing the northern territories would matter far more than killing Wei Yuan.

He added, “That said, being able to trap Wei Yuan within Yan territory is an unexpected boon. Your task is complete. I’ll request honours for you from headquarters.”

Nurhaci smiled. “My thanks, National Teacher.”

Suddenly, Irbu tilted his head, as if listening to something.

Whispers drifted into his ears, illusive, unreal, layered upon each other, as though countless voices were speaking at once, as though from another world.

Irbu’s expression shifted from calm to grim, then from grim to livid in an instant, startling Nurhaci.

“The Warlock God is summoning me… Wei Yuan?!”

He turned into a beam of black light and shot out of the hall, vanishing into the night.

“Wei Yuan?”

Nurhaci frowned, clearly confused.

The ministers and generals looked at each other, utterly bewildered.

What had Wei Yuan done to provoke such fury from the National Teacher?

Thousands of miles away in Kang’s capital, another beam of black light pierced the skies, racing swiftly northeast.

…

At the break of dawn, Nangong Qianrou led ten thousand heavy cavalry to the location designated by Wei Yuan.

It was a valley surrounded on three sides by mountains, with a stream flowing gently through it.

Nangong Qianrou ordered the cavalry to rest in place. Throughout the march, he had strictly followed the rules set by Wei Yuan, resting every ten li, rinsing the horses' mouths and noses, watering and feeding every thirty li.

The campfire blazed, cooking a pot of vegetable soup.

The grain had been pillaged from villages along the way; the vegetables were brought from home. Speaking of this, Nangong Qianrou couldn’t help but think of that brat who competed with him for affection.

Before the army set out, Xu Qi’an had offered Wei Yuan a plan: dry and bake the vegetables, extract every bit of moisture, and seal them in sheep intestines.

Each soldier carried a kilogram of dehydrated vegetables, not heavy, but once rehydrated with water, it made a filling meal. Sprinkle on a pinch of coarse salt, and the taste was moving.

Nangong Qianrou drank the vegetable soup, eating rice with his hand, while pondering the purpose behind his adoptive father's order to separate from the main army.

Wei Yuan had sent him south, in a direction opposite to the army’s advance. freewebnoveℓ.com

Nangong Qianrou vaguely sensed that his adopted father had spent twenty years painstakingly designing and forging these ten thousand suits of heavy cavalry armour, perhaps for another purpose.

So they had to be separated from the army. Wei Yuan's intention was to preserve this heavy cavalry force from suffering major losses.

But what was the point?

Just as that thought occurred, he suddenly heard a voice behind him: “You…”

He whirled around and saw a plain-faced arcanist in white robes, who had somehow appeared behind him without warning.

This white-robed arcanist had the gentle features typical of a Central Plains native, neither sharp nor deep-set, with thick lips that gave an honest impression.

Nangong Qianrou reacted instinctively, leaping like an antelope and swiftly drawing his sabre, shouting, “Who are you?”

The heavy cavalry immediately dropped their bowls, drew sabres, and mounted their horses in swift, disciplined motion.

The white-robed arcanist said unhurriedly, “Have…”

Nangong Qianrou shouted again, “Who are you?”

For someone to appear silently behind him, this man’s cultivation was definitely above Yang Qianhuan’s.

The white-robed arcanist said, “Come…”

After a while, he finally finished the sentence: “…late.”

*You have come late?!* Nangong Qianrou finally understood and asked in surprise, “You were waiting for me? Did father send you?”

The white-robed arcanist nodded.

Nangong Qianrou let out a breath of relief and quickly asked, “Who are you? What arrangements did my adopted father make?”

The arcanist looked at him calmly and said in an even tone, “I am the Jianzheng…”

Nangong Qianrou’s face changed drastically.

*The Jianzheng?*

*He’s the Jianzheng?! No, that’s impossible. It’s not like I haven’t seen the Jianzheng before… Wait, it might not be his real body, could be an avatar. Yes, that would explain how he got behind me unnoticed…*

*But why would my adopted father send us to meet the Jianzheng?*

Nangong Qianrou took a deep breath and bowed respectfully, expressing his reverence. Then he heard the white-robed arcanist continue, “…’s Second disciple!”

*Second disciple?* Nangong Qianrou was stunned, then reacted suddenly, “You’re the Jianzheng’s second disciple?!”

The arcanist smiled and nodded steadily.

*…Nangong Qianrou’s face twitched repeatedly.*

Suppressing his irritation, he asked, “What arrangements did my adopted father make?”

The arcanist said solemnly, “I…”

Then he fell silent.

After the earlier exchange, Nangong Qianrou wasn’t in a rush. He waited patiently, using the time to recall this man’s identity. The Jianzheng’s second disciple had long been wandering abroad. Nangong Qianrou had only heard of him, never met him.

He hadn’t expected to finally meet him today. As for the second disciple himself… well, he certainly lived up to the Jianzheng’s name.

Ten minutes later, the white-robed arcanist finally blurted out the second half of his sentence: “…don’t know!”

*You don’t know…* Nangong Qianrou’s face was already contorting with frustration.

The arcanist smiled obliviously at him, raised his hand, and gently wiped the air. In that instant, he wiped away the existence of Nangong Qianrou, wiped away the existence of ten thousand heavy cavalry.

…

At dawn, golden-red sunlight spilled over the sea, scattering into glittering waves of light.

Atop Mount Jing, on a tall watchtower.

A sentry clad in sheepskin and a fur-lined hat yawned, took off his water flask, and drank a gulp of fermented goat’s milk.

Since autumn, the climate of Mount Jing had turned rapidly; the salty, damp sea breeze now blew like fine blades across the skin, drying and roughening it.

The sentry glanced into the distance. On a high altar, he could just make out two blurred statues, which had stood for over a thousand years.

To mortals who lived no more than sixty years, those statues seemed eternal and unchanging.

“Hey, wake up, it’s almost shift change.”

The sentry drinking goat’s milk kicked his companion awake.

The companion rubbed his eyes, bleary and dark-circled, yawned, and said lazily, “Fusur, I hear things are going great in the north. I really want to get on the battlefield and earn some merit. That way, I could get promoted and loot some wealth. Then I’d have money to marry a wife.”

Fusur took another swig of goat’s milk and shrugged. “Idiot. If you can get on the battlefield, why pay for a wife? Just snatch eight or ten barbarian women, much more fun.”

His companion scoffed, “Barbarian women are fiercer than wolves. You think that pathetic bit of meat between your legs is enough for them to suck on? You’re only good for showing off to the ewes.”

“You bastard, what did the poor ewes do to deserve that?” Fusur cursed.

Suddenly, Fusur, who had been gazing out at the sea, froze. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he’d seen wrong.

On the glimmering sea, at the far edge of the horizon, a massive warship appeared. Then another. Then three, five…

A full twenty warships in a wedge formation, cutting swiftly through the waves.

Banners fluttered high on the ships.

At the prow of the lead vessel stood a figure in azure robes, hands behind his back, robes billowing in the wind, gazing calmly toward Mount Jing.

“Brrrrrtt….”

The horn blared from the watchtower, echoing across Mount Jing and the city beneath, Mount Jing City, this citadel of the highest ranked warlocks.

----

[^1]: Also called _zhanmadao_ “horse-butchering blades”