Chapter 86 – Xiao Sixian Struggles to Hold
Xiao Sixian reined in his horse.
His eyes followed the scattered flow of his troops—
measuring, in an instant, where the line had broken, and where it still held.
It had not completely collapsed.
The center had been torn apart, but the flanks—
the flanks still held together.
He turned at once.
"Left wing! Hold!"
His voice tore at his throat.
A few slowed.
Some turned their heads.
"Raise your spears! Dress the line!"
Part of the scattering force stopped.
Disordered spearpoints gradually turned forward.
"Lock shields!"
The movement was clumsy—
but a line began to form.
Gaps closed, little by little.
Xiao Sixian rode forward and took position before them.
"We hold here!"
Strength returned to his voice.
One fleeing soldier hesitated.
Another slowed beside him.
For a brief moment,
the flow faltered.
Xiao Sixian stepped forward.
"Turn back!"
He raised his blade and pointed ahead.
"Forward!"
That command caught a few ranks.
For a heartbeat,
the line lived again.
Breath returned.
Then—
arrows fell from the flank.
Slanting fire tore into the side of the barely formed line.
Shields did not catch them.
One man fell.
The space behind him opened.
The gap widened.
"Close ranks!"
Xiao Sixian shouted.
Too late.
From the front, the heavy cavalry surged again.
Like a raging tide.
The Liao formation rocked like a small boat in a storm.
The line wavered.
Spearpoints trembled.
Then the fleeing current struck from behind.
It crashed into those who had stopped.
The line that had held—
was pushed backward.
One step.
Then another.
It broke.
Xiao Sixian clenched his teeth.
He drove his horse forward.
"Hold! Stand your ground!"
He raised his blade and blocked their path.
The soldiers did not stop.
They did not meet his eyes.
They no longer saw him.
They passed him to live.
They brushed past him—
and were gone.
His command no longer reached them.
Xiao Sixian lifted his head.
This was no longer an army.
It was a broken current.
Another name for rout.
He did not shout again.
He turned his horse—
and withdrew.
Yeong-u called out—
"Where is Xiao Sixian's command?"
Cheolryong rode close and answered.
"How would we find him? When things collapse, they run first."
"Then?"
"We sweep them all. That's the only way. Besides—this armor's good. You don't die even when you're hit."
"Good?"
"Good. Let's crush them all."
"Where?"
"There."
Cheolryong pointed.
Banners clustered in the distance—
even in the dim light, it marked the center.
"Charge!"
They drove westward.
A vast silver wave surged forward.
The enemy blocking their path shattered.
Too easily.
They broke apart in all directions.
By the time dawn began to rise,
no one remained standing in formation.
The army that had numbered in the tens of thousands—
was empty.
All that remained were fleeing Liao soldiers,
and the Jurchen cavalry pursuing them.
Jongmang slowed his horse.
As the momentum of the charge settled for a breath,
he finally saw.
The scattered enemy filled the entire field.
But it was no longer an army.
No banners.
No formation.
No command.
Only a mass of men,
drifting in the same direction.
Moments ago, they had stood and fought.
Now, they ran—
backs turned.
Through them, the silver heavy cavalry passed.
Without stopping.
Without looking back.
Driving the flow forward still.
Jongmang's eyes narrowed.
This was not a battle.
He had seen countless battlefields—
clashes, resistance, collapse.
But this—
was different.
This did not break lines.
It did not slay commanders.
It broke the flow of the entire army.
Once a back was turned—
it could not turn again.
Jongmang felt his grip tighten on the reins.
He had never seen this before.
It did not strike the front.
It split within, tore the flanks, shook the rear.
And in that space—
the will of men collapsed first.
This was not fighting.
It was flow.
His gaze turned back to Yeong-u.
The man who charged first and never stopped.
The man who drove forward without looking back.
That single movement—
changed the direction of the entire army.
Without a word,
the battlefield followed him.
Jongmang held his breath.
Was that tactics?
Or something else—
that moved men themselves?
There was no answer.
Only the realization—
of a new way of war.
Now he understood what Yeong-u had intended.
Now he understood why he had insisted on heavier armor.
And all that remained—
was the battlefield,
already broken beyond repair.