The pursuit lasted until evening.
Shao Xun stood by the trench, watching over a hundred enemy soldiers leap into the muddy river like dumplings being dropped into boiling water.
Only then did he order his troops to withdraw.
What a bunch of cowards! They’d rather drown than turn around and fight.
Soldiers like these are only good for bullying common folk.
Huang Biao had captured a few prisoners, now bound with ropes and being escorted to the rear.
Shao Xun leaned on his heavy sword, gazing across the trench at the city of Luoyang in the distance.
The trench had been hastily dug, with river water diverted into it for defense.
From a military perspective, the southern part of the city was quite favorable.
The distance from the city gate to the Luo River was only about ten miles, and the area was densely packed with buildings, making it unsuitable for large armies to deploy.
This was evident from the enemy’s decision to focus their main attack on the eastern and western sides of Luoyang.
At this moment, military camps were densely clustered outside the Pingchang and Kaiyang Gates, with strict security measures in place.
On the city walls, soldiers patrolled back and forth without pause.
Despite their prolonged pursuit of the enemy, no reinforcements had emerged from the city to assist them, which left Shao Xun somewhat disappointed.
He wasn’t sure whether the city’s defenders were too timid or had been ordered not to engage.
He didn’t care much either way.
Perhaps the high-ranking officials in the city didn’t even consider the troops stationed outside as human beings.
If that was the case, what more was there to say?
Shao Xun turned around and ordered a retreat.
“Yes, sir!” The squad leaders responded immediately, their efficiency noticeably improved.
“Supervisor Yang,” Shao Xun called out, walking toward Yang Bao, who was cowering in fear.
Yang Bao looked around nervously, then fell to his knees with a thud, pleading, “Supervisor Shao, spare my life!”
Shao Xun laughed heartily. “Do you submit?”
“I submit, I submit!” Yang Bao stammered repeatedly.
“Good. Now get lost.”
“Yes, sir!” Yang Bao scrambled to his feet, his face flushing red as he noticed some soldiers glancing at him from a distance.
He knew that after this battle, Shao Xun’s prestige had risen even higher, and he no longer stood a chance of competing with him.
If Shao Xun had decided to kill him with his sword and toss his body into the trench, no one would have likely stood up for him—after all, in the chaos of war, what was the death of a mere supervisor?
Fortunately, Shao Xun was merciful and not a complete tyrant.
He had let Yang Bao go like he was nothing.
From now on, Yang Bao decided he would keep his head down and stay out of trouble.
After all, he had already knelt and begged for his life—there was no shame in that.
“Shao Jun…” Battalion Commander Mi Huang hurried over from behind.
He had witnessed the entire battle and was deeply moved.
On his way over, he had felt like he had so much to say, but when he saw Shao Xun, covered in blood and with his armor in tatters, he found himself at a loss for words.
“Commander, you’ve arrived just in time,” Shao Xun said with a smile.
After the battle, he seemed much calmer.
His earlier demeanor had been somewhat “crazy,” which had worried and even frightened those around him.
“Commander, do you wish to meet with General Wang?” Shao Xun asked, looking toward the Kaiyang Gate across the drawbridge.
Mi Huang hesitated.
In his heart, he wanted to cross over, as Wang Ju was his nominal superior.
But his mission was already complete, and his forces were limited.
If he crossed the trench and was ordered to stay behind, only to encounter a large enemy force, he might not only be unable to escape but also end up as cannon fodder.
That would be a disservice to his men.
Seeing Mi Huang’s hesitation, Shao Xun felt a pang of sympathy.
If it were someone else, they would have already turned tail and retreated.
The Piyong and the nearby Imperial Academy were both independent compounds with moderate sizes, numerous buildings, and walls two to three meters thick—perfect for long-term defense.
On the other hand, staying at the Kaiyang Gate would require them to rebuild their camp, and supplies would likely be scarce.
If they encountered a large enemy force, they would truly be sacrificial pawns.
But Mi Huang, of all people, was considering the bigger picture and wondering if he could be of help.
Was he just being honest, or was he overly enthusiastic?
If the Jin Dynasty had more people like Mi Huang, perhaps it wouldn’t have fallen to such a state.
Unfortunately, everyone was too caught up in their own schemes, and nothing ever went right.
“Forget it. I’ll send someone across the river to report our victory to General Wang. As for us—we’ll retreat,” Mi Huang finally decided.
“Yes, sir,” Shao Xun replied.
Seeing Shao Xun agree so readily, Mi Huang was taken aback.
He blurted out, “Shao Jun, we just had such a successful battle, killing over five hundred enemy soldiers. Are we really retreating just like that?”
Shao Xun thought for a moment, realizing he should explain things to Mi Huang to prevent any unrealistic expectations. “Commander, there’s something you should know. While we won this battle, it was under specific conditions.”
“What conditions?” Mi Huang asked instinctively.
“First, the enemy was burdened with loot and lacked the will to fight.”
“Second, the enemy was scattered, with soldiers unable to find their officers and officers unable to find their men. They were in complete disarray.”
“Third, the enemy had just entered Luoyang and were unfamiliar with our deployment. They thought a large army had arrived, which crushed their morale.”
“With these three factors, how could they not lose?”
“But if they regroup and reorganize, the outcome of the next battle is uncertain. Our troops are indeed stronger than the westerners, but not by much. And with our limited numbers, if the enemy gathers in force, we might not be able to hold them off.”
“So it’s better to retreat, guard our positions, and wait for the situation to change. After all, we’ve already completed our mission by clearing a street for General Wang. What more can we do? Even General Wang himself probably doesn’t expect us to completely defeat Zhang Fang, does he?”
“That makes sense,” Mi Huang nodded. “We’ll do as you suggest.”
As they marched back to camp, the soldiers, buoyed by their victory, eagerly collected the enemy’s weapons and armor to replenish their own supplies.
They also didn’t forget the loot the westerners had plundered, gathering it all and loading it onto carts.
Chen Yougen, along with twenty soldiers, supervised the process, ensuring no one pocketed anything for themselves.
Behind him lay several bloodied heads—those of soldiers who had disobeyed orders and tried to keep some of the loot for themselves.
They had been caught and executed on the spot, with no mercy shown.
Supervisor Shao had made it clear: looting was allowed, but it had to be organized—or rather, “taxed,” meaning the looted parties had to hand over their valuables themselves.
All loot was to be accounted for and distributed uniformly.
In short, there had to be rules, even for looting.
With rules, the harm could be minimized.
It was about finding a balance between exploiting the people and maintaining the army, especially since the court couldn’t always provide sufficient funds and supplies.
Shao Xun walked down the street, surrounded by his men.
His armor was battered, his robe soaked in blood, and his heavy sword was chipped in several places.
Yet, his spirits were high, and he carried himself with an air of confidence, surveying his surroundings with pride.
“Supervisor.”
“Master Shao.”
“General Shao.”
Wherever he passed, people bowed their heads in deep respect.
Shao Xun smiled.
This was all too real!
No matter how much martial skill you displayed in training, nothing compared to actual performance on the battlefield.
Leading from the front, fearless and unstoppable—that was what everyone had witnessed.
And he had killed an enemy officer in such a brutal and bloody manner that no one dared to oppose him.
On the street, many commoners, dressed in various outfits and armed with sticks, cleavers, and spears, were now lined up in orderly rows, led by soldiers to collect bodies and clean up the battlefield.
Shao Xun inquired and learned that Mi Huang had gathered these people—about two or three hundred, mostly servants and slaves from wealthy families—who had spontaneously joined the fight against the enemy.
Mi Huang had then conscripted them into the army.
“Don’t let them go back,” Shao Xun told Wang Que’er, instructing him to relay the message to Mi Huang.
When dealing with the wealthy families, it was clear that Mi Huang, being from a noble background, was more suitable—even if his family’s status wasn’t particularly high in the eyes of Luoyang’s elite.
By nightfall, the troops had returned to the Piyong.
As Shao Xun entered the gates, he saw the place brightly lit, with everyone waiting for him.
There were tenants from the Pan estate, servants, craftsmen, grooms, his students, and many unfamiliar faces…
“Supervisor, you’re mighty!” they all shouted, their faces filled with excitement.
Shao Xun laughed and raised his hand, signaling for them to quiet down.
The officers stood behind him, all sharing in the glory.
Even Yang Bao, who had always been at odds with him, didn’t look as sullen as usual, and the corners of his mouth even twitched upward slightly.
“What are you all standing around for? Tend to the wounded,” Shao Xun ordered.
“Supervisor, we’ve already prepared hot water, medicine, and bandages,” Wu Qian squeezed through the crowd, grinning obsequiously.
“You’re quite sharp,” Shao Xun said, pointing at him with a smile. “We’ve been fighting for half a day, and I’m starving. Let’s eat. As for the wounded horses we captured, have someone prepare them. Stew the meat and give it to the injured soldiers to help them recover. The hides should be tanned and stored.”
“Yes, sir,” Wu Qian replied.
Even without Shao Xun’s instructions, he had already thought of these things and quickly assigned a few teenagers to handle the tasks.
With Wang Que’er’s help, Shao Xun removed his armor and stretched his body, only then feeling the sharp pain in his left arm and chest—he had been wounded.
“Master Shao,” his students gathered around, staring intently at his injuries.
Wang Que’er quickly fetched hot water and carefully cleaned the wounds.
Mao Er brought clean bandages and medicine, ready to dress the injuries.
“Haha,” Shao Xun chuckled, looking at the young faces around him.
The hostility in his heart gradually faded.
“On the battlefield, weapons are blind. No matter how skilled you are, you can’t avoid getting hurt,” he said. “But compared to you being able to study and train in peace, these injuries are nothing.”
“Master Shao…” one of the children’s eyes welled up with tears, on the verge of crying.
“What’s with the tears? Men don’t cry!” Shao Xun scolded sternly. “Even if we die on the battlefield, wrapped in horsehide, it’s the fate of us warriors. What is there to mourn?”
After a pause, his expression softened, and he continued in a gentler tone, “If you really feel bad, then study hard, train rigorously, and strive for excellence in both academics and martial arts. That would make me very happy and give me more strength to fight.”
“We will follow your teachings, Master Shao,” they all replied in unison.
“There’ll be meat soup for everyone later. You’re all growing, after all,” Shao Xun said with a smile, waiting for Mao Er to finish bandaging his wounds before standing up and gently patting the shoulders of the children and teenagers.
In a corner of the courtyard, a young man in a brocade robe watched this scene quietly, his eyes filled with surprise.
After a moment of silence, he stepped forward and walked toward Shao Xun.
(End of Chapter)