As the Mongol riders finally reined in their horses, dust still hanging thick in the air, Zao Ying—riding at the very front—did not hesitate in the slightest.
She threw her arm forward and roared, her voice cutting through the wind like a blade.
"Turn around! Turn around!"
The order was short.
Sharp.
Absolutely unmistakable.
The Gao Family Village Cavalry Battalion did not ask questions.
They did not hesitate.
Almost in the same breath, the entire formation wheeled their horses around, movements crisp and practiced. Hooves thundered across the grassland as the cavalry carved a wide, elegant arc through the open plain.
From a distance, it looked almost artistic—
a sweeping semicircle etched into the steppe itself.
Then laughter erupted.
Loud, unrestrained laughter burst from the riders' throats as they galloped, echoing across the grassland.
This maneuver—
This tactic—
Was something the Mongols knew far too well.
It was their tactic.
The world-famous Mongol light cavalry technique:
Hit and Run.
The Wushen tribe leader and the Ordos tribe leader realized it at almost the same moment.
Their expressions changed violently.
"No good!"
"Damn it!"
They shouted nearly in unison.
"Those bastards are charging us again!"
Sure enough.
The Gao Family Village Cavalry Battalion completed their arc with terrifying precision. Without slowing, they turned once more and surged forward, bearing down on the Mongol formation again.
They were still at a considerable distance—
A distance that Mongol cavalry traditionally considered safe.
But the riders did not draw bows.
They raised carbines.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The gunfire erupted once more.
The sharp cracks tore across the steppe, punching straight through the confidence of the Mongol cavalry. Riders who had just managed to steady their horses were struck again, bodies jolting violently as several were blasted clean off their mounts.
Blood splashed onto the grass.
Horses screamed.
Formation collapsed.
"Damn them!" a group of enraged Mongol cavalrymen cursed furiously.
They kicked their horses forward, spurring them into another desperate charge toward the Gao Family Village riders.
But before they could even close the distance—
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Another volley.
More riders fell.
Then, as smoothly as before, the Gao Family Village Cavalry Battalion swept into another wide arc and galloped away, leaving only smoke, corpses, and shattered nerves behind.
The moment the Han cavalry completed their turn, excitement suddenly rippled through the Mongol light cavalry at the front.
"They're within bow range!"
One of them shouted wildly, eyes blazing.
"These damned Han people have finally entered our bow range!"
A Mongol soldier immediately drew his bow, muscles taut, movements fluid and precise. He nocked an arrow, took aim, and loosed it.
The arrow screamed through the air.
Truly worthy of a Mongol light cavalryman—
his archery was flawless.
Even at the absolute edge of effective range, the arrow struck its target squarely in the vital area of the militia soldier's back.
Yet—
Thunk.
The arrow hit.
And stopped.
Its remaining momentum was so weak it could not pierce even the thinnest silk.
The cotton armor absorbed it completely.
The soldier barely felt more than a dull tap.
However—
That did not mean he escaped punishment.
Zao Ying's face darkened instantly.
Her temper flared.
"I told you all," she snapped sharply, voice carrying even over the galloping hooves, "to practice your horsemanship properly!"
She pointed straight at the unlucky soldier.
"Look at you! You can't even judge distance for a proper hit-and-run tactic, and you still managed to get hit!"
She glared.
"Good thing it didn't hit your eye. Otherwise, you'd be a one-eyed bandit."
A pause.
Then the verdict fell like thunder.
"Go back and write me a five-hundred-word self-critique!"
The soldier's soul nearly left his body.
Being scolded was nothing.
But a self-critique?
For an illiterate?
That was a fate worse than death.
Five hundred words?!
By the ancestors—
that was worse than heartbreak.
Clutching his carbine, his eyes immediately turned red—not with fear, but with pure, undiluted resentment.
If he had to suffer, someone else was going to pay.
With a sharp click, he reloaded, swung around in the saddle, and fired.
"Boom!"
A Mongol soldier fell straight off his horse.
By now, the Mongols finally understood.
If they charged—
The Han fled, firing as they retreated.
If they stopped chasing—
The Han turned back and charged, firing as they advanced.
It was painfully familiar.
In the past, they had used this exact tactic against others.
Never, in their wildest dreams, had they imagined it would one day be turned against them.
Only now—
only after enduring it themselves—
Did they truly understand how tormenting it was.
The torment!
The agony!
With a weapon range disadvantage of over a hundred meters, this battle felt suffocating. Every instinct screamed at them to charge, yet charging meant death.
Still—
The Mongol cavalry retained one advantage.
Their horsemanship.
If they truly committed to fleeing, the Han cavalry would never catch them.
The Wushen tribe leader and the Ordos tribe leader made their decisions almost simultaneously.
"Withdraw!"
"Disengage!"
The two Mongol cavalry forces split apart, one fleeing northwest, the other northeast, vanishing across the grassland in opposite directions.
For a moment, the Gao Family Village Cavalry Battalion hesitated.
Zheng Daniu frowned.
"Which way do we chase?"
Zao Ying narrowed her eyes, thinking.
"Our main target is the Wushen," she said slowly. "Perhaps we—"
Before she could finish, Shi Jian spoke up.
"Neither."
Everyone looked at him.
He thought carefully for a moment, then spoke with absolute certainty.
"We won't catch them."
He raised his hand and pointed.
"In a situation like this, there's only one correct move."
"We strike their settlement directly."
Mongols did not have fixed homes.
They migrated constantly.
But when they found fertile pastureland, they would pitch their tents and settle temporarily. Over time, these camps expanded into vast settlements of yurts.
The problem was—
They moved often.
Han people could rarely locate them accurately.
But Gao Family Village was different.
A reconnaissance hot air balloon rose quietly into the sky.
Moments later, the supreme directive arrived.
From Dao Xuan Tianzhun.
"Eighteen li to the northeast."
No explanation.
No elaboration.
Absolute certainty.
Shi Jian grinned.
"Let's go."
Zao Ying laughed.
"Well then," she said, eyes gleaming, "it's our turn to plunder the Mongols."
The cavalry battalion ignored both fleeing Mongol forces.
Instead, they thundered straight toward the Wushen tribe's current settlement.
When the Wushen tribe leader realized their trajectory, his face drained of color.
"Damn it!" he shouted. "They're heading for our tribe!"
The Ordos tribe leader, watching from afar, actually laughed.
"Well now," he murmured, amused, "this is going to be interesting."
The Wushen tribe leader nearly exploded.
"Quick! We must return to defend!"
A subordinate hesitated.
"How do we defend?" he asked bitterly. "How do we fight cavalry armed with those firearms?"
The leader fell silent.
For a brief moment, he had no answer.
But even knowing it was futile—
They had no choice.
If they didn't try, everything would be lost.
Their tents.
Their cattle and sheep.
Their women and children.
Grinding his teeth, the Wushen tribe leader roared:
"Chase them down!"
What would they do once they caught up?
He didn't know.
Thus, an absurd scene unfolded across the grassland.
The Gao Family Village Cavalry Battalion rode ahead.
The Wushen cavalry chased desperately along their flank.
And far behind, the Ordos cavalry watched like spectators.
One after another, all three forces arrived at the Wushen settlement.
Yurts dotted the land.
Cattle and sheep grazed freely.
At the center, the settlement resembled a small Han market—women sitting, working, talking.
Then came the thunder of hooves.
The women froze.
They looked up.
When they realized the approaching riders were not Mongols—but Han soldiers—
Panic erupted.
They screamed, scrambling desperately into their tents.
Along the borderlands, raids were common.
Mongols raided Han.
Han raided Mongols.
It was a brutal cycle.
Mongol women feared Han cavalry just as much.
They were human.
They feared slaughter.
But this time—
They encountered Gao Family Village.
The cavalry did not massacre.
They did not butcher the weak.
They fired a few symbolic shots, deliberately raising their muzzles, bullets tearing through empty air.
"Boom! Boom!"
The sound alone was enough.
The women fled screaming, terrified beyond reason.
From afar, the pursuing Wushen cavalry could no longer endure it.
They roared as one, eyes bloodshot, and charged.
"Don't go!" the Wushen tribe leader screamed hoarsely. "Don't go over there—!"
No one listened.
Only the cold reply of carbines answered them.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
And once again—
Wushen riders fell.