96. Slaughter

"Kane, did you remind them not to kill those two old men?" Mo Fei watched as the bear soldiers outside the city continuously fell under the onslaught of the Berserker Heavy Cavalry's charge formation. He was genuinely worried that, caught up in the frenzy, his men might mistakenly cut down the two elders as well.

"Young master, don't worry. I've told them already—everyone except those two old men is to be killed," Kane replied. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "But, young master, I can't understand—why spare those two old men? If we could finish them off now, wouldn't that have a huge impact on the bear tribe?"

"Of course it would," Mo Fei replied with a faint smile. "If those few elders who obviously clash with the military were gone, wouldn't that make a significant difference to them?"

"I see," Kane said, suddenly enlightened. "The commanders of their army might actually be hoping we’d do them that favor."

"I don't think it's just a matter of not getting along with the military," Mo Fei analyzed. "Think about it—the bear tribe should be similar to your own Berserker clan; the chief manages things, while the council of elders assists. But looking at this..."

"I heard in the city a few days ago that their young chief has just ascended. Could it be...?"

"It's probably that several elders in their council have come together to sideline the young chief. Otherwise, why would two elders take direct command in battle? I suspect that young chief is hoping we’ll do his dirty work for him."

"Young master, that young chief is quite the talent. Last time, if not for us, he might have succeeded."

"But now, I imagine he must be terribly frustrated. Let him stew in it a while longer—I won’t be lending him a hand. If he gained control of the army right now, it wouldn’t be good for us. I intend to let them remain in chaos as long as possible—best if the bear tribe splits from within, resolving the problem once and for all so we don’t have to keep worrying about them."

"That’s true..." Kane admitted, unable to think so far ahead. "Young master, what do you make of those two old men?"

On the battlefield, after nearly ten thousand of their vanguard had fallen, the two elders, flustered and desperate, actually ordered all bear warriors to launch a mass frontal assault against the Berserker cavalry.

After the Berserker cavalry, taking advantage of surprise, trampled nearly ten thousand enemy warriors, they saw the enemy rear assembling for a counterattack. With a single whistle, all thirty-five thousand cavalrymen, without suffering a single casualty, wheeled around and retreated, opening distance and reforming their ranks.

During the initial charge, these elite cavalrymen of the Empire of Death, seeking complete surprise, had not unleashed their customary storm of arrows. The charge relied solely on the shock power of their mounts and the ensuing chaos and trampling within the enemy lines, causing the bear vanguard to lose nearly ten thousand men.

But this time, they would show no mercy. At the commander's order, all at once, the cavalry raised their massive crossbows. This time, they would make sure the enemy never forgot this lesson—next time, they'd know to give them a wide berth.

As the bear troops finished regrouping and prepared to counterattack, they saw the enemy withdraw. The two elders breathed a sigh of relief. "So, they know fear too! Soon, with a massed assault, we’ll destroy them in one blow!" the Second Elder boasted arrogantly.

The generals nearby seethed with anger. The enemy had just charged and felled nearly ten thousand of their own men, then retreated in perfect formation, crossbows ready, yet this old fool claimed they’d retreated out of fear. If they really advanced now, few would make it back alive.

"Elder, the enemy has already reformed their battle line and have ranged weapons. If we charge now, we’ll suffer heavy losses," one general couldn't help but voice his concern.

"They have fewer men than us—so what if they have bows? As long as we get close, their bows are useless!" the Second Elder retorted angrily.

He had no idea the Berserker cavalry wielded crossbows, not bows, and under Elder Orff's improvements, those massive weapons were now repeating crossbows. At this distance, each could fire twenty bolts from their magazines without pause. With thirty-five thousand cavalry unleashing a storm of arrows, how many of the bear tribe’s mere sixty thousand could possibly survive?

"You, cover the rear. Lead our brave warriors forward and slaughter them all," the Second Elder commanded.

Seeing the bear tribe charge without even protecting their flanks, the Berserker squad leader, entrusted with command by Kane, waved his hand, sending two signal arrows to either side. The crisp sound echoed overhead as the Berserker cavalry's wings shifted forward, transforming the straight line formation into an arc with the center slightly back.

If the bear warriors charged straight ahead, there was no doubt—they would all be left on this field.

"Nicely done! I thought he wouldn’t know how to change formation," Kane exulted atop the city wall. This time, he hadn't taken the field himself, instead handing command to a former squad leader—and it seemed his judgment had been spot on.

Mo Fei merely smiled and watched quietly.

Behind the bear army, the commanders saw the black cavalry form into an arc and knew immediately that disaster was upon them. But it was too late to change anything. If they had been in command, they might have redirected the troops who hadn’t advanced too far to protect the flanks, but with those two old fools overseeing everything, any attempt at a new formation would only result in them being scapegoated for failure. So, though they shouted orders, the commanders and their guards lagged behind, seasoned generals who knew defeat was certain, intent on surviving rather than making a pointless last stand.

Sure enough, as the square attack formation advanced, both wings were hit by a storm of arrows from the Berserker cavalry. Forced to divert some men to protect the flanks, the center weakened immediately. Within crossbow range, not a single bear warrior could get any closer.

Watching their own men fall before even reaching the enemy lines, the generals' hearts bled. But for those two ignorant old fools, how could such a farcical, disastrous battle have come to pass?

Word had it that the elders had sidelined the newly appointed young chief—whose abilities were well known. Last time in the Empire of the Flying Dragon, if not for him, even fewer would have survived the sea crossing. Now, resentment simmered among the generals, accumulating in the aftermath of this war.

Seeing their men mowed down before even reaching the enemy, the two elders, foolish as they were, finally realized ruin was upon them.

With a dark, ashen face, the Second Elder ordered, "Retreat! Pull the troops back!"

But could they retreat now? Any withdrawal would be met with a cavalry onslaught—few would survive. Charging forward meant death, but where could they run? Cavalry had six legs; they only had two. If only they had listened earlier.

"Elders, there’s no retreating now. You’d best run for your lives—any later, and you won’t make it," one grizzled general said with a cold laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" the Second Elder demanded, his face livid.

"Mean?" The old general shot him a frosty glare. "You ignored our advice before, and now you want to retreat? They’re cavalry—we’re infantry. How do you expect to outrun them on foot?"

He went on angrily, "Commanding troops without knowing the enemy’s strength, thinking that numbers alone guarantee victory? If that’s all it takes, why bother training soldiers? Just throw everyone into the army and you’ll be invincible!"

With that, the old general ignored the elders and bellowed, "Order all troops to cease attack! Form a defensive line on the spot! Rear guard, retreat immediately!"

He had no choice but to sacrifice the nearly twenty thousand warriors in the front line, hoping their desperate resistance would allow the next twenty thousand to escape. Any attempt to retreat en masse would mean certain death.

"Young master, they’re retreating. Should we...?"

"Just keep those at the front here. Let the rest run—we’ll leave it to them to stir up trouble later," Mo Fei replied with a meaningful smile.

By sparing the two old men, he would ensure they returned to the bear tribe and sowed further discord.