Chapter 2: End of Heat
The Mang River wound lazily through the valley, its shallow waters barely reaching above the horses' hooves. Shortly after the main army had crossed, a small contingent of the Zhenxi Army was spotted. Though brave, they were vastly outnumbered. Clad in distinctive armor and wielding powerful bows, these soldiers were no ordinary troops.
Liang Huan had already assessed the situation. Shrugging off Pei Yuan’s pursuit, he rejoined the main army and reported to Yu Liao with renewed energy.
"General Liao, these men ride three horses each and wield formidable crossbows. They must be the personal guards Pei Xian left behind to protect Li Yi."
Yu Liao’s experienced eyes scanned the retreating enemy. Despite their flight, the formation remained disciplined. He nodded, voice firm:
"We must not let them escape today."
The Zhenxi soldiers moved with incredible speed, their three horses each and deadly archery making them elusive. Undeterred, Yu Liao led the pursuit. After three or four miles, the sky darkened ominously. Thunder rumbled, and the drizzle escalated into a torrential downpour.
The heavy rain battered the army, making every step treacherous. Yu Liao’s light cavalry slipped in the mud; the horses struggled against the river-swollen terrain. Lightning flared across the sky, illuminating the chaos. Visibility dropped to near zero, a white blur of rain engulfing everything.
Liang Huan wiped the rain from his eyes, shouting, "General Liao, why don’t you stop the army? I can take a few thousand light cavalry to continue the chase!"
Yu Liao’s gaze swept the relentless storm. The rain struck like a waterfall, drenching even the oil-coated soldiers. "Li Yi may have tricks up his sleeve," he murmured. "We must press forward and leave nothing to chance."
Five or six miles further, exhausted horses littered the roadside. The enemy had no choice but to abandon their mounts. Suddenly, another Zhenxi group emerged from the mountains, attempting a desperate ambush. Yu Liao dismissed them, leaving a small detachment to deal with the harassment while he pressed on.
The rain finally eased. Ahead, Li Yi and his men, panicked, had fled into the shallow Mang River. The rocky banks hindered escape, but the riders navigated the muddy water with remarkable skill, their retreat turning increasingly chaotic. Yu Liao’s generals, seasoned veterans, sensed victory—and the potential to capture the emperor's grandson alive.
The river widened, flooding the plains to knee level. Li Yi’s men abandoned their horses, wading into dense thickets. Yu Liao remained calm, deploying two generals with 20,000 troops each to form a pincer, while he and his central army approached cautiously. Encirclement was imminent.
A mile and a half into the flooded terrain, Yu Liao saw the enemy’s flags. Veteran instincts pricked—something was off. The long grass swayed as Li Yi’s men, soaked and covered in mud, regrouped on a small circular slope barely large enough for a hundred soldiers.
Li Yi admired the enemy’s discipline. "The formation is rigorous—a veteran general indeed."
Old Bao, the fat, rat-faced officer, squinted at Yu Liao’s approaching army. "They’re close! A light cavalry charge would reach them in an instant."
"He won’t charge," Li Yi replied calmly. "He suspects a trick. It would be perfect if he captured me alive—but if not, let him come close enough to be pierced by a strong bow."
Old Bao’s eyes narrowed. "Even ordinary bows can reach him at this distance."
"The bowstrings are wet," Li Yi said, observing the terrain. "He’ll hold fire until he’s closer." He spotted a distant empty ridge and added, "We must delay them a bit."
Old Bao suggested sending a few men forward. Li Yi shook his head, pointing at a flag. Reluctantly, Old Bao complied. Zhao Liu hoisted the two large flags: one black with gold embroidery proclaiming "Grand Marshal of the Rebellion Suppression," the other black with a red border, reading "Zhenxi."
Li Yi’s voice cut across the battlefield. "Yu Liao! You descend from Marquis Yu, blessed for generations. Yet you cling to a traitor, betraying your master. Aren’t you afraid of being despised by the world?"
Yu Liao’s eyebrows twitched, but he remained silent.
Li Yi continued, voice rising: "Sun Jing murdered the late emperor, the crown prince, and countless princes! What glory and wealth can justify betrayal? Are you not afraid of facing Yu Hou in the underworld?"
Liang Huan could no longer hold back. Riding forward, he shouted, "Don’t deceive the people! The late emperor was betrayed by treacherous ministers. Our Liao Marshal was framed, imprisoned, and nearly lost everything!"
Liang Huan gritted his teeth. "At the longevity banquet, Yang Ming staged a coup, holding the late emperor hostage and forging an imperial edict to kill the Grand Commander. To save the emperor, the Grand Commander executed the ministers but was outnumbered and severely injured…"
Li Yi, unfazed by the distortion, asked deeply, "If your Grand Commander Sun is loyal yet failed to save the emperor, why lead this army to force me here?"
Liang Huan smiled, "I led my men to escort His Royal Highness the Grandson back to the capital."
Li Yi’s eyes caught a dead tree on a distant ridge—the signal. He raised his bow and released a swift arrow. Shields clanged as Yu Liao’s guards blocked the shot. Liang Huan glanced at Yu Liao, whose face remained an unreadable, dark calm.
The army advanced step by step. When a hundred paces away, Yu Liao ordered the archers to string their bows, soaked but ready. Li Yi, calm, held a reed tube in his mouth. Old Bao and the Zhenxi soldiers did the same, tying ropes around their waists and preparing to wade through the water.
Suddenly, Yu Liao felt a sinking sensation. A faint roar, muffled like distant thunder, reached him—the war horses neighed, sensing the approaching flood from the mountains. Liang Huan shouted at his mount, trying to control the panic. Only then did they realize: the roar was not thunder at all. It was a flood, rushing down from the mountains.
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