Old Zhang Fei's assault collapsed in an instant.
The battle, once brimming with chaotic energy, faltered like a bad stage performance. The bandit soldiers in the main formation hesitated, glancing nervously at the stockade. Those scaling the fortress wall slowed their advance, clearly unnerved by the thunderous roar of the cannons.
Meanwhile, the seasoned bandits who had already breached the walls, now cut off from reinforcements, found themselves isolated and swiftly wiped out by the militia behind the ramparts.
A chill of dread snaked its way down Old Zhang Fei's spine.
Before he could even react, a gate opened on the fortress flank. Out from the opening surged a cavalry troop, led by a formidable general clad in mountain-patterned armor, brandishing a long spear, his horse kicking up dust like a warlord charging through an ancient battlefield.
This guy looked like he was ready to take over the empire—or at least run a successful tea shop with a side business in good posture.
Old Zhang Fei's heart sank. "Damn it! This fortress was a trap laid by the imperial army. We've walked right into their ambush."
That was the moment he realized the battle was lost.
Leading over two hundred cavalrymen, Old Nanfeng charged forward, his expression fierce, but not quite in a "face of doom" kind of way—more like a grandfather on his way to a really good sale at the market.
However, Old Nanfeng's cavalry tactics were nothing like those of Zao Ying.
While Zao Ying would have charged in like a battering ram, cutting through enemies with sheer force, Old Nanfeng had a more subtle approach—one honed by years of fighting Mongols on the Guyuan frontier.
"Alright, idiots! Drop your spears and grab your Kaiyuan bows!" Old Nanfeng barked, his voice crackling with authority.
At his command, dozens of cavalrymen immediately dropped their spears and grabbed their bows from their backs. However, there was a clear divide: the veteran horse bandits equipped with Kaiyuan bows and the newer recruits from Chengcheng County, who were armed with hand crossbows.
"Charge!" Nanfeng shouted. "Fire as you circle! Once you shoot, turn and shoot again! Got it?"
The cavalry responded with a cheer, a surprisingly enthusiastic group considering their awkward first attempt at firing from horseback.
Old Nanfeng watched them with a critical eye. Nocking a bow and firing from horseback was a true test of skill. The bandits who had been in the game for a while let their arrows fly, but their shots were wildly inaccurate, landing all over the place like someone had thrown darts in a hurricane.
Nanfeng grumbled under his breath. "Well, that's not going to work. Mongol cavalry are raised on horseback. You can't just teach a guy to shoot a bow and expect him to turn into Genghis Khan."
But just then, a thought struck him: The new recruits with hand crossbows were actually making an impact. They didn't need the constant arm tension that bowmen did, and as a result, their bolts flew straight and true, hitting their marks with precision.
"Ah-ha!" Nanfeng thought, beaming with delight. "The hand crossbows have the advantage!"
Meanwhile, the rebel forces were still recovering from the cannon fire, their morale slipping like a bar of soap in the rain. Then, out of nowhere, a storm of arrows rained down on them. They screamed in agony, realizing too late that Old Nanfeng had turned the tide.
Old Zhang Fei, watching his bandits falter, cursed under his breath. "Hold steady, damn it! Don't break ranks!"
But his commands were as effective as a leaking bucket. As soon as the cavalry started circling and firing, the bandits' cohesion unraveled faster than a poorly knit sweater. Soldiers scattered like chickens when the fox enters the henhouse, running for cover in the woods, the ditches, and anywhere else that wasn't a cavalry target.
Old Zhang Fei's eyes widened as his forces disintegrated before him. "No! Get back in formation!"
But the bandits weren't listening anymore. The sight of the cavalry firing while charging in circles was too much for them to handle.
Meanwhile, Old Nanfeng saw his moment.
He slung his bow over his back, pulled out his long spear, and raised it high, a grin spreading across his face. "Brothers, put away your crossbows! It's time for spears—let's make this interesting!"
The cavalrymen cheered, "Aoo-aoo-aoo!"
Nanfeng, suddenly feeling far more dramatic than necessary, roared, "Charge! Whatever you grab is yours!"
One cavalryman, with the kind of sheepish grin you'd expect from someone who knew they were about to ask a dumb question, piped up: "Uh, General, I thought military discipline in Gao Family Village said all spoils must go to the public treasury?"
Awkward silence.
Nanfeng's smile faltered. "...Right. So, uh, scratch that."
He quickly recovered, though. "Alright, alright—forget the spoils! Charge, and you'll earn a great merit! Tianzun will reward you generously!"
This, of course, was the real motivator. Forget gold and silver. Tianzun special prizes were legendary.
The cavalrymen's eyes lit up as if they'd just been told their lunch had been upgraded to a five-course meal.
"For the Tianzun Special Prize!" shouted one trooper.
"Charge! I'm in it for the Miaocuijiao!" another yelled.
"I want the small pudding ice cream!" a third joined in, practically frothing at the mouth.
Old Nanfeng raised his spear, utterly bemused by the sudden shift in the cavalry's demeanor. "I think we just found the perfect motivation," he muttered as the cavalry charged forward, their battle cry now more about snacks than warfare.
"Forward! For Tianzun Special Prize!" they roared in unison, their fighting spirit now infused with +32% combat power from the promise of sweet treats.
Old Zhang Fei, now thoroughly unnerved, could only watch as the cavalry bore down on him like a tidal wave of chaotic, snack-hungry soldiers. His forces, already disbanding in all directions, were no match for the cavalry's relentless assault.
Old Nanfeng reached Zhang Fei without even breaking a sweat. With a sharp twist, he raised his spear high, aiming straight for the rebel chieftain. "Rebel chieftain!" he called out, his voice booming with unrestrained confidence. "Don't run now! Your general has come to claim your dog head!"
And with that, the final chapter of Old Zhang Fei's rebellion was about to be written… one way or another.