The Grandmaster Yeshen, whose mind had been wholly invested in the frontline battlefield, finally learned of Boyan Temur's crushing defeat, and disbelief was etched across his face: "Five thousand elite troops defeated so swiftly?"
How is that possible!
These were the steely, armored elites of the grasslands!
"It's demon technique, the mongols have used demon art!"
Yeshen quickly questioned, "Where are Boyan Tu Shaman and Grandmaster Sang Jie? Didn't they make a move? So you're saying even they couldn't counteract the mongol's demon arts?"
"Both masters are still in fierce combat with the demon army, but the enemy still has strength left."
"Still has strength left..."
Uncharacteristically, Yeshen did not erupt in fury, as he knew that the elites assigned to Boyan Temur were all his trusted followers, nominally under Temur's command but effectively answering to him.
Thus, even if Boyan Temur consistently refused to sour relations with Ming Country, aligned with the pro-South faction, it would be impossible and beyond his ability to hold back in such a critical battle.'
"Who would have thought that such a small foreign mission could cause such a great disaster."
In an instant, Yeshen seed to have aged a decade; his previously upright spine appeared slightly bent: "Could it be that my Great Yuan has indeed lost the Mandate of Heaven, allowing that Southern Dynasty Emperor to win despite being as foolish as a pig?"
The belief in the Mandate of Heaven had deeply ingrained itself into the heavily sinicized minds of the Tatars.
Nearby advisors hastily consoled, "Your Majesty, the King of Huai, we still firmly hold the upper hand; the Southern Dynasty's forces are rely resisting desperately, they won't last much longer. Do not grow despondent because of a temporary setback."
Yeshen cast him a glance, his gaze reigniting with light.
He, Yeshen of Russia, the dignified Huai King Grandmaster and general-in-chief of the Wala Tribe, ruler of the Northern Yuan Royal Court, would not grow despondent over a re few thousand enemy soldiers: "Send word down, all divisions to temporarily halt the advance. Those Ming soldiers believe that re thousands of reinforcents can save them? Then obliterate this reinforcent right before their eyes."
...
Without stopping to count the losses after defeating the five thousand Tatar cavalry in interceptive battle, Jeanne almost rode nonstop, leading all cavalry to charge toward the Wala's central army.
Jeanne was very aware of one thing.
The most important goal of this expedition was not to protect Losa, nor anyone; everyone could be sacrificed as long as the outco exchanged was the death of either Yeshen of Russia or Zhu Qizhen.
This was sothing decided once they t.
Of course, the best outco would naturally be for Losa to participate in these two significant kills; if he truly couldn't participate, then so be it.
According to Losa's hypothesis, although both individuals possessed Dragon Vein Fortune, the ability of the Dragon of Destiny seed inclined toward support, for the final two allocations, he preferred those of higher dragon species with greater lethal force.
Yet, given the impending fierce battle with the Saracens, satisfying the ten allocations to "bathe in dragon blood" at this mont would undeniably greatly enhance Losa's personal power.
In conclusion, it was a mindset of accepting fortune if gained, attributing to destiny if lost, without forced pursuit.
As Yeshen issued commands, a Tatar general, built like a tiger and bear, led a team of elite armant-clad troops to face the Mongolian and other Central Asian troops advancing with the thick fog.
These elite troops were Yeshen's personal guard, selected from the noble sons of various tribes who submitted to Yeshen, serving both as hostages and as a ans for Yeshen to win over the divisions.
For instance, when a clan leader passes away, his eldest son would be sent into the elite guard, and the second son would remain beside him as the heir.
But as the true ruler of the Yuan Court, Yeshen definitely preferred the eldest son to take over.
In this way, he could extend his influence deeply into the subordinate tribes, significantly enhancing his authority as the master of the grasslands.
Similarly, since they were of noble birth, the combat efficacy and equipnt level of these elite guards were naturally top-notch.
"Fire arrows into the fog! Stop the mongols and other Central Asians!"
The Tatar general loudly ordered, having clearly seen Boyan Temur being overwheld by the demon soldiers suddenly erging from the fog: "These foolish mongols think they're safe hiding in the fog, our ears aren't deaf!"
Detecting positions by sound was basic training for the sons of the grasslands!
Those demon soldiers seed terrifying, yet compared to real demons were far inferior.
The elite guards took down their riding bows, shooting toward the approaching sound of hooves; though unable to see the scenes within the fog, each imagined enemies charging fiercely on horseback.
Whoosh——
Arrows rained down.
Thousands of elite guards continuously fired volleys of arrows.
Cries of urgency and chaos filled the fog, even imbued with terror.
They were afraid!
And angry!
Wait!
Confusion suddenly erged on the Tatar general's face. Why wasn't there a single scream of a living person even after a barrage of arrows?
The next mont.
Flaming strong horses bearing heavy carriages burst from the fog as if erging from hell.
Their fur was ablaze, and the carriages bore fierce flas.
In the Tatar general's mind imdiately arose this term.
"Fire Ox Array?"
Many Yuan Court nobles had undergone intense sinicization, nurous familiar with this ancient story.
No, it was the Fire Horse Array.
These crazed horses with burning tails carried carts filled with gunpowder!
It was gunpowder once stored in the Wu Gang Vehicles by Ming Country's supply corps!
The terrifying sound of explosions bood.
Amidst lingering smoke,
arrows with imnse power, along with heavy spears, pierced through the air with chilling whistles.
A Tatar cavalryman clad in heavy armor had no chance to react before an arrow pierced through his chest, with enough force remaining to strike another's chest, knocking them from horseback.
The cries of battle beca gradually clearer.
Following closely, erging from smoke and fog ca heavy infantry, discarding heavy armor and wielding various weapons, charging toward the nearest Tatar cavalry like emissaries from hell, filled with murderous aura.
The Varangian Guard wielded war axes, their battle cries unevenly rising, as elite heavy infantry their performance in field battles had been scarce, and in this trial on the Great Grassland, had been re spectators.
At present, the battle intent accumulated within their chests had long boiled.
anwhile, the heavy cavalry unit led by winged cavalry had beco a torrent crashing onto the reef, parting into two lines along the fog's edge, led by Hans and Jeanne respectively, aiming straight at the Wala's White Ox Banner.
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