Chapter 82: The Formation of Blossoms—Assemble!

Kill! Kill! Kill!
The cavalry formations clashed. Gongsun Zan wiped a smear of warmth from his face, preparing for a desperate fight to the death, when suddenly he saw nearly ten thousand Xiliang iron cavalry sweep past without turning, heading straight east. His eyes nearly burst from their sockets in shock.
He wished to turn back and reinforce the main camp, but another squad of iron cavalry blocked his way, arrayed before him.
Peering under the moonlight, his heart chilled even further.
When he led his cavalry in the charge earlier, he had assumed Dong Zhuo had not left Fei Xiong behind and had even felt a secret joy.
“Brother, it’s Fei Xiong,” Gongsun Yue said, his face grave.
“Yes. Take the White Horse Volunteers and strike their flank,” Gongsun Zan replied, his face as dark as water, gripping his long spear tightly.
For now, it seemed they held an absolute advantage in cavalry numbers.
But Fei Xiong was unlike any ordinary cavalry.
Though not true heavy cavalry, they were close enough. Half of Dong Zhuo’s fortune was clad on these fierce riders.
Each rode a legendary Ferghana stallion, equipped with hand crossbows, longbows, lances, and sabers.
Most deadly of all was their armor: both rider and horse were protected.
Their leather armor, known as rhinoceros-hide cuirass, though not as strong as the iron armor worn by generals, was not far behind.
Crucially, this armor was light yet offered far better protection than ordinary stitched leather.
But superb equipment was not all—they were a force seasoned by a hundred battles.
Their ferocity far surpassed the patchwork cavalry cobbled together from the eighteen warlords. Those so-called cavalry had barely seen real battle; to call them cavalry was generous—mounted infantry was more accurate.
If Gongsun Zan turned his back to Fei Xiong now, the battle would devolve into a one-sided massacre.
“Draw!” Niu Fu flourished his Tai’e sword with pride.
Li Jue, strong?
At this moment, Niu Fu felt that, with Fei Xiong at his command, he surpassed Li Jue!
Swish!
Three thousand Fei Xiong archers pulled bowstrings in unison.
“Charge!”
Gongsun Zan didn’t hesitate for a heartbeat. To exchange volleys with such seasoned cavalry was suicide.
He could only hope the White Horses would distinguish themselves.
“Loose!”
A rain of arrows fell, instantly cutting down over three hundred allied cavalry in a single volley.
Niu Fu sneered at the White Horse Volunteers approaching from the flank, pointed his sword south, and shouted, “Circle and kill!”
Compared to Xu Rong, Niu Fu was indeed somewhat of a bungler.
Yet as Dong Zhuo’s son-in-law, he’d had plenty of chances to practice his command.
From the chaos in Xiliang to the Yellow Turban Rebellion, the turmoil in Luoyang, and the battle at Hulao Gate—his shadow had graced every field. After so much command, even a pig would learn to deploy troops.
The hooves of warhorses thundered—Fei Xiong finally moved. From east to south, west to north, the explosive power of their Ferghana stallions quickly widened the gap from the White Horse Volunteers on the flank.
As they advanced, Fei Xiong’s cavalry shot their enemies from horseback.
The White Horse Volunteers, forced to pursue, were disadvantaged in mounted archery; moreover, the main army cut them off from the center, preventing them from breaking into Fei Xiong’s formation.
After several exchanges of arrows, they managed to wound only a dozen or so foes, losing nearly a hundred themselves.
As for the over ten thousand allied cavalry Gongsun Zan led, their pursuit devolved into chaos: many were knocked off their horses by their own comrades.
In the confusion, as they neared Fei Xiong, they were met by a barrage of close-range crossbow bolts—within less than half a stick of incense, a thousand were unhorsed.
Until—
Flames burst skyward from the main camp.
Niu Fu was startled, his mind blank for a moment.
He pointed Tai’e at the camp and blurted, “Attack!”
He had meant to shout “enemy attack,” only to recall he was now the commander; there was no need to warn others, and he swallowed the first word.
The circling maneuver thus halted halfway through, leaving his troops just east of the allied cavalry, with Tai’e still pointing at the camp to the west.
At his command, Fei Xiong swiftly put away their bows, leveled their lances, and charged the allied cavalry’s formation.
In valor and skill, Fei Xiong far outclassed their foes.
Yet charging into a cavalry formation several times their own size was hardly wise.
What’s more, the allied formation was already a tangled mess, horses and riders strewn in all directions, fallen cavalry and toppled mounts forming a natural web of obstacles.
The clash quickly devolved into a chaotic melee, where the lances lost their efficacy and Fei Xiong had to resort to sabers for close combat.
The allied cavalry, though lacking in skill, managed to take down a few simply by weight of numbers.
What should have been a brief, decisive clash became an extended, near-infantry brawl—almost half a stick of incense passed before the two sides finally disentangled.
When Fei Xiong regrouped, they found over five hundred of their own unhorsed and trapped.
The allied cavalry’s losses were even more dire—nearly two thousand fallen.
Normally, even if they fought to the last man, they would not have managed to bring down five hundred elite Fei Xiong riders.
In his anxiety, Niu Fu could not care about regaining his dignity, and bellowed, “Enemy attack—fall back!”
He then exposed his back squarely to the lances of the pursuing White Horse Volunteers.
So absurd was this maneuver that even the stern Gongsun Zan and his White Horses burst out laughing, hailing Niu Fu as a “divine general.”
“Brother, so...?” Gongsun Yue, watching Fei Xiong’s retreating backs, was utterly at a loss. After a while, he asked, “Should we pursue Fei Xiong or go back to the camp?”
“Pursue!” Gongsun Zan answered without hesitation.
The enemy raid on the camp would not be fatal for now, but if this fierce cavalry defeated Chen Cong and the others, then turned to guard Hukou, their night’s effort would be in vain.

Chen Cong waited a moment longer until the others arrived.
Fortunately, there were no casualties—only Pan Feng, that unlucky fellow, had been struck again, this time in the inside of his thigh.
Luckily, the wound was shallow. Yue Jin helped him pull out the arrow and quickly bandaged it with rags to stop the bleeding.
“Feng, you didn’t even cry out in pain?”
“You jest, Zining. I am a general too—a mere scratch is nothing.”
“Oh? I’ve heard those who are always hurt in the thigh tend to have a certain problem.”
“What?”
Chen Cong arched an eyebrow and chuckled, “Difficult to sire sons.”
Pan Feng instinctively squeezed his legs together, only to touch the wound and grimace in pain.
Judging that the time was right, Chen Cong composed himself and stopped teasing.
The camp was ablaze.
With such flames, it would be impossible for the Xiliang cavalry not to notice.
Now the real test was about to begin.
Succeed, and their names would go down in history.
Fail, and history would remember them only as refuse.
As for throwing himself into the river, Chen Cong would not stoop to that unless it was the last resort.
“They’re coming,” Chen Cong said in a low voice. The group tightened their grip on their weapons, readying themselves.
Firelight leaped to the sky, hoofbeats thundered—a jarring sound in the stillness of night.
“Wedge formation, ten paces between men. I’ll take the point, Xu Chu and Zhang Fei the wings, the rest line up!”
The wedge was a formation with a sharp, driving point and mighty flanks—Cao Cao had taught Chen Cong this first method of cavalry assault.
The vanguard would pierce the enemy line with force, the wings would follow to expand the breach, a formation designed for decisive, outnumbered breakthroughs.
With little cavalry, a single general could serve as the wedge’s tip—swiftly forming up, they presented an imposing sight.
As for why Xu Chu was chosen for the wing over the perhaps more skilled Guan Yu, it was simply because, in Chen Cong’s experience, Zhang Fei and Xu Chu were the two wildest, fiercest warriors he’d ever seen.