dognovel Chapter 197 Severely Damaging the Tatar Army
Chapter 197 Severely Damaging the Tatar Army
On the vast, windswept land of Cangling Kingdom and the northern frontier, where yellow sands swirled and the north wind howled, Shen Yanchu led 100,000 troops from the northern border and the Ye Hong Army in a fierce battle against the Tatar army on the Gobi Desert.
In an instant, yellow sand filled the sky, and shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, and the neighing of warhorses mingled together, echoing through the heavens.
On the battlefield, Shen Yanchu led from the front, wielding his spear and guiding his soldiers in a valiant fight against the enemy. His eyes revealed unwavering determination and fearlessness, as if telling everyone that they must fight for their country and its people.
Hundreds of thousands of troops instantly clashed in a chaotic battle. Shen Yanchu flicked his spear, swiftly slaying a Tatar soldier from his horse. As a general, he led from the front, amidst flying blood and deafening battle cries.
Shen Yanchu's bravery inspired his soldiers, who fought valiantly against the Tatar soldiers. On the battlefield, the clash of swords and the shouts of battle filled the air.
The Tatar army was not to be outdone; their cavalry surged forward like a tide, attempting to break through Shen Yanchu's defenses. However, Shen Yanchu's troops were well-trained, tightly united, forming an impregnable defensive line with shields and spears.
The Tatar army gradually lost ground and began to retreat in defeat. Seeing this, Shen Yanchu immediately commanded his army to pursue the fleeing enemy. He took the lead and charged into the enemy ranks, where enemies fell one after another.
Under Shen Yanchu's leadership, the soldiers were in high spirits and pursued the Tatar army relentlessly. On the battlefield, blood flowed like rivers, and countless soldiers' corpses littered the yellow sand.
In the fierce battle, Shen Yanchu's army gradually gained the upper hand. Their morale was high, and they launched continuous attacks on the Tatar army. The Tatar army began to collapse, their cavalrymen fell from their horses one after another, and their soldiers fled in all directions.
Ultimately, Shen Yanchu's army emerged victorious. They dealt a heavy blow to the Tatar army on the Gobi Desert, safeguarding the nation's security.
The setting sun, like blood, spilled across the devastated battlefield. Shen Yanchu rode a tall horse, his posture still upright, though his armor was now covered in blood and dust.
His gaze slowly swept over the endless scene before him, his expression growing increasingly solemn, like a heavy sculpture.
Before him lay the corpses of countless soldiers, scattered haphazardly across the earth. They had once been vibrant lives, each with their own stories, dreams, and concerns.
Some soldiers remained in a fighting stance, their swords deeply embedded in the ground, as if they had not given up the fight even in their last moments; others huddled together, perhaps drawing last warmth from their comrades in their final moments.
These soldiers came from every corner of the Cangling Kingdom. They rushed to the battlefield without hesitation to protect their homeland, but now they remain forever on this cold land.
This battle was like a nightmare. Although they successfully dealt a heavy blow to the Tatar army and caused the enemy's offensive to recede like a tide, they also paid a heavy price.
Every fallen soldier is a wound for the Cangling Kingdom. Shen Yanchu knew all too well that behind these casualties lay the shattering of countless families. Those loved ones waiting far away for their sons, husbands, and fathers to return would never see their familiar figures again.
He recalled the hopeful and determined faces of those who had set out on the campaign before it began, their loyalty to their country and their belief in victory leading them onto this unknown path. Now, many of them had closed their eyes forever.
A deep sense of self-reproach welled up in Shen Yanchu's heart. If his command had been more skillful, if he had been able to see through the Tatars' plot earlier, would there have been fewer casualties?
On the battlefield, the stench of blood permeated the air, mingling with the silence of death. Shen Yanchu's gaze lingered on the face of a young soldier, who looked so immature, the fine hairs on his face gleaming golden in the sunlight.
His eyes stared blankly at the sky, as if, in the final moments of his life, he was still longing for the blue sky of his hometown. Shen Yanchu's hand unconsciously tightened around the reins, his knuckles turning white.
In the distance, several vultures circled in the sky, seemingly eager to feast on the "feast" of this brutal war. Shen Yanchu frowned, a nameless anger rising within him. He ordered his men to drive away these carrion eaters, unwilling to allow the soldiers' remains to be desecrated.
In this sea of corpses, there are also the bodies of some Tatar soldiers. They, too, were victims of war, fighting for their own purposes, yet ultimately all were mercilessly devoured by the war.
Looking at these foreign enemies, Shen Yanchu felt no joy of victory, only disgust for war. War never has true winners; it only brings destruction and death.
Shen Yanchu knew he had to pull himself together. There were still many things waiting for him to do; the surviving soldiers needed his leadership, and the affairs of the fallen needed to be properly arranged.
He wanted to return to the capital with news of the great battle and report to the emperor and the people. He wanted people to know that the price of victory was so heavy, that he disliked war, yet he could not fail to protect the country.
He slowly turned his horse around and headed towards the camp. Each step seemed to carry a tremendous weight, and the horse's hooves pounded the ground with a dull thud, as if playing a lament for the lives lost.
Shen Yanchu's silhouette stretched long in the setting sun, a silhouette of a general's loneliness and resilience after the baptism of war. He would carry this responsibility and mission forward, no matter how many difficulties and obstacles lay ahead.
The battle that had just ended was like a terrifying, smoke-filled nightmare. Shen Yanchu, the prince who shouldered the mission of his country, finally breathed a sigh of relief as he stood in the army's encampment.
He came by imperial decree to repel the Tatars' fierce, iron-hoofed attack and safeguard the peace of Cangling.
This fierce battle lasted for over a month, each day a tapestry of blood and fire, each moment keeping the soldiers on edge. Now, it's finally over, but Shen Yanchu's heart is far from at ease.
He returned to his tent and immediately summoned Mu Yin. Earlier, when he set off for the campaign, his mother, worried about his safety, had called Mu Yin back to his side.
Inside the tent, Shen Yanchu gazed at the swirling yellow sand outside, his thoughts drifting far away. He had been away from the capital for far too long, so long that all news of Miss Shi had completely vanished.
The image of the girl's lively face flashed through his mind, and a bitter smile involuntarily appeared on his lips. Knowing her personality, she probably had long since forgotten about him.
Outside the tents, exhausted soldiers lay sprawled out, some lying down, some sitting. The weariness on their faces and the dust on their bodies spoke of the brutality of this great battle. At this moment, they were all waiting for the emperor's order to return home and march back to their long-lost hometown.