Chapter Seven: Armored Cavalry

“Boom—boom—boom—”
A torrential rain poured from the sky, accompanied by thunder and lightning. Darkness enveloped the vast wilderness, and all eyes were fixed on the figure standing before the gate.

It was none other than Wang Wu, the father of Tietou!

He should have been away on campaign with Li Xiao’s father, yet here he was, back at Hexi Fort.

Judging by his appearance, his clothes tattered and filthy, stained with grime and old blood on the bandages wrapping his arm, he looked utterly wretched.

Seeing Wang Wu like this, Li Xiao’s heart sank with a foreboding sense of doom.

“Something’s happened…”

Sure enough, under the heavy gaze of the crowd, Wang Wu began to tremble uncontrollably. Tears welled up in his eyes before he collapsed to the ground, sobbing bitterly.

“Wuwuwu—”

“Ahhhhhh—”

No one expected a man in his thirties to cry so mournfully, catching everyone off guard.

The old patriarch, a seasoned warrior with years of battle experience, seemed to sense something immediately.

His eyes sharpened with icy resolve, fingers clutching the hilt of his sword tightly. In a deep voice, he demanded fiercely:

“Speak! What happened?”

He stared at Wang Wu with terrifying intensity.

“Wuwuwu…”

“We lost… we were defeated…”

Under the patriarch’s overwhelming presence, Wang Wu spoke haltingly.

The moment these words were uttered, the villagers around erupted into a clamor.

“What? Defeated?”

“What about the others? Why are you the only one back?”

“Tell us, what exactly happened?”

Third Grandfather and the others, faces etched with anxiety, all dismounted from their horses and gathered around Wang Wu, pressing for answers.

Among the hundred able-bodied men sent on campaign were their own children!

The old patriarch also dismounted, stepping heavily through the muddy ground as he approached Wang Wu.

Though outwardly calm, Li Xiao, following closely behind, clearly felt the old man’s body tremble involuntarily.

Perhaps he dreaded hearing the worst news.

Surrounded by the elders, Wang Wu shook his head bitterly and explained:

“The situation was chaotic. Gǔluòluò cavalry was everywhere. We could only flee desperately, and many were scattered.”

“Er Dan and I ran towards the village and along the way met Old Zhu and a few others.”

“Despite the pouring rain, we barely made it back to the village.”

As Wang Wu spoke, several figures appeared in the courtyard—Er Dan, Old Zhu, and the others he had mentioned.

Originally they had all gone home separately, hastily eating when they heard the commotion and hurried back.

Third Grandfather’s eyes were bloodshot, his body shaking as he turned to scan the group, his voice trembling:

“Only six of you came back?”

“What about the others?”

A hundred sons were sent off—could it be that only six returned?

His voice was thick with grief and despair, matched by the solemn stares of the others locking onto the six survivors, silently praying to avoid hearing further tragedy.

“Third Uncle, I—I don’t know…”

Old Zhu and the others stood in the pouring rain. The bloodstains on their tattered leather armor washed down by the rain pooled into a crimson puddle in the courtyard.

Old Zhu, the eldest among them, wore a face etched with sorrow as he spoke bitterly:

“Da He Chuluo doesn’t know how to command a war at all. He was blindly directing, never even scouted the enemy’s situation.”

“Seeing the Gǔluòluò troops were fewer than ours, he ordered a massive attack…”

Da He Chuluo was a Khitan noble holding the title of Bashiha of Jinzhou!

After Yelü Dashi conquered the northern frontier, he reorganized the region into four prefectures following the Tang Protectorate system for easier governance: Jinzhou, Damo, Yinshan, and Beihai.

Each prefecture had a Xiangwenfu to manage the local herders and civilians.

The highest officer of the Xiangwenfu was called Bashiha, wielding both military and civil authority as the top local official.

The Han people of the northern frontier found the Khitan titles cumbersome and still referred to the Xiangwenfu as Dudu Fu, meaning “Military Governor’s Office.”

Da He Chuluo was the Military Governor of Jinzhou.

According to Old Zhu, this bastard was nothing but a gilded noble playboy: skilled in horse riding and archery but utterly incompetent at commanding troops.

Before a decisive battle, any commander would dispatch numerous scouts to gather intelligence, check for hidden enemy forces, and so forth.

But Da He Chuluo seemed to dismiss the Gǔluòluò altogether, assuming that since his own forces outnumbered the enemy two to one, an all-out charge would suffice.

The result was predictable.

It was a trap laid by the Gǔluòluò; their frontal troops were bait.

When the Western Liao army engaged and seemed poised to win, two other Gǔluòluò units charged from the flanks, encircling the Western Liao forces.

Most devastatingly, the Gǔluòluò had a hidden heavy cavalry unit.

On open grasslands, heavy cavalry posed limited threat to light cavalry because they couldn’t catch them and would be worn down instead.

But in this scenario, the Western Liao cavalry was trapped in a narrow strip of land, surrounded on three sides by Gǔluòluò forces, with high soldier density.

Tragedy struck.

The Gǔluòluò heavy cavalry became a merciless reaping machine, slaughtering many Western Liao soldiers.

“What? The Gǔluòluò actually fielded heavy cavalry?” Third Grandfather exclaimed in shock.

He exchanged a glance with the old patriarch, both disbelieving.

Heavy cavalry was fundamentally different from light cavalry.

Anyone with a horse, sword, and bow, plus skilled horsemanship, could be a competent light cavalryman—like all the men of Hexi Fort, who were nearly all light cavalry.

But not a single set of heavy armor could be assembled at Hexi Fort.

Not only because heavy cavalry equipment was expensive and required constant maintenance, but because the Western Liao court forbade subordinate kingdoms, tribes, or villages from possessing heavy cavalry.

Discovery meant severe punishment by the royal army.

Yet the Gǔluòluò tribe in Jinzhou had quietly developed a heavy cavalry force.

This absurdity enraged the old patriarch and others.

“Are the officials at the Military Governor’s Office blind?” Third Grandfather gritted his teeth in anger.

Had they known the Jinzhou Military Governor’s Office was so useless, Hexi Fort would have spared no expense to raise a heavy cavalry unit!

Not out of envy for the Gǔluòluò, but frustration at their own lack.

“The Gǔluòluò rebellion is far from simple; someone is backing them,” the old patriarch said grimly.

Under the strict supervision of the Western Liao Empire, the Gǔluòluò tribe in Jinzhou still managed to equip heavy cavalry.

Everyone understood this rebellion was premeditated.

Jinzhou’s Gǔluòluò likely represented other unseen forces.

But now was not the time to dwell on this—it was a matter for the royal court. The old patriarch only cared about the hundred sons of Hexi Fort.

“Continue.”

Hearing the patriarch’s somber voice, Old Zhu inhaled deeply and resumed:

“The Gǔluòluò heavy cavalry numbered only about a hundred. At that point, we still had a chance to turn the tide.”

“If Da He Chuluo had any sense, he would have consolidated his forces and regrouped.”

“But he completely lost control; the various units were scattered like loose sand.”

“Finally, he ordered Da Haige to lead the left-wing battalion to hold back the Gǔluòluò and claimed he would personally lead the center army to flank and support the left wing.”

“But in the end—”

“In the end, many of our brothers died in battle, and the center army never came.”

“Wuwuwu—”

Before finishing, Old Zhu and the others broke down again, tears streaming amid their injuries and bloodstains—some of which were no longer distinguishable as friend or foe.

This revealed the fierce brutality of the battle.

After hearing this, the old patriarch suddenly staggered as if about to collapse. Li Xiao rushed forward to steady him, soothing:

“Grandfather, don’t rush to despair. It might not be as bad as it seems.”

“The others may have scattered but will return in the coming days.”

Li Xiao refused to believe only six of the hundred had survived.

Even with the Gǔluòluò heavy cavalry, their numbers were still insufficient to completely encircle and annihilate the Jinzhou army.

Yet Li Xiao’s consolation had little effect; the old patriarch pushed him away brusquely, eyes blazing like a ravenous tiger, terrifyingly fierce.

Fixing his gaze on Old Zhu, he growled hoarsely:

“And then?”

“And then…”

“And then…”

Old Zhu hesitated, unable to continue.

Beside him, Er Dan’s voice trembled:

“I saw Da Haige… he was pierced by more than ten arrows…”

Hearing this, the old patriarch could hold on no longer. Blood surged to his heart and he spat a mouthful of blood.

His body swayed precariously; Li Xiao hurried to support him.

At that moment, the old patriarch’s frame seemed to collapse inward, his spirit waned, his expression dazed—his pillar of strength shattered in an instant.

Nothing was more cruel than a parent burying their child.

“Da He Chuluo…”

The old patriarch gripped Li Xiao’s hand tightly, eyes fierce as he stared into the dark night, teeth clenched as he spoke the name.

It was Da He Chuluo who had caused his son’s death!

Li Xiao’s heart was a storm of mixed emotions—uneasy and bitter.

His impression of this stepfather existed only in memories of a past life; in truth, he had never met him and barely knew him—no closer than a stranger.

Thus, he should not have felt grief over the stepfather’s death, yet a strange sour sadness lingered within.

Perhaps it was the influence of his former life.

In this mournful atmosphere, Li Xiao’s eyes reddened as he shed a few tears.

“What about the second son?”

The old patriarch forced himself to ask again about his second boy.

Old Zhu responded quietly:

“Afterward, we were chased and blocked by more Gǔluòluò cavalry. Our forces broke apart quickly. The last I saw, Er Jiang was also pierced by several arrows, carrying Da Haige’s body as he fled west.”

Upon hearing this, the old patriarch’s face went blank, saying no more.

The eldest son was dead, the second son’s fate uncertain.

Today’s events dealt a crushing blow to the old man.

For a moment, Li Xiao noticed the old patriarch’s back had bent considerably, a heavy weariness about him.

Yet a lifetime of decisive battles and inner strength meant he would not be easily defeated.

Pushing aside Li Xiao’s support, the old patriarch resolutely approached his horse, mounted with steady steps.

In a low voice he said to all:

“Go back and rest.”

“The Gǔluòluò are coming. Many fierce battles lie ahead.”

With that, he turned his horse’s head, urged it gently forward, and slowly rode out of the courtyard.

Amid the steady rain and the splashing of hooves, his silhouette blurred in the downpour.

Though still standing straight as a pine, the rain washed over him relentlessly, making him appear so solitary and forlorn.