Traveling through the Ming Dynasty, as soon as you open your eyes, you will die

Chapter 207 A melee

Seeing his family members walking silently to the front of the formation, Yuan Zongdi was shocked. He rode a horse and galloped in front of the formation and shouted loudly: "Fathers and fellow villagers, don't come out. Retreat to the back of the formation. We will protect you. Go back, go back." "

The old man walked up to Yuan Zongdi and said: "At this critical moment of life and death, we, the people, fight for a chance to live for the young people."

Then he asked Yuan Zongdi: "My general, when the court was cruel, we rebelled for a way to survive. But now the court no longer levies exorbitant taxes and miscellaneous taxes that make people sell their sons and daughters, and no longer levies royal offerings that send us to hell. If we are forced to do corvee work that destroys our family, then what are we fighting for?”

Yuan Zongdi was stunned.

The old man sighed: "Let us go and strive for a peace that we will never see again and hope they can see. General, don't stop us, we are voluntary."

Densely packed families and people walked to the front of the formation, facing the rumbling Mongolian iron hoofs.

I don’t know who it was, but he sang Xintianyou from his hometown in Shaanxi at the top of his lungs: “This dark sky, when will it light up?”

Countless people responded in a low voice: "When will the light come on -"

"I really want to poke a hole in him——"

"I really want to poke a hole in him——"

"Man over there in Shangougou, I really want to be a brother with you——"

"Be a brother."

"But this damn ravine prevents us from seeing it——"

"I can't see you."

Listening to the familiar Xintianyou in his hometown, Yuan Zongdi lay on the saddle and cried bitterly.

It's an accusation, it's a cry of despair.

When soldiers are brought to the battlefield, that is their duty, but isn't it just the high-sounding greed of ambitious people? When people are brought to the battlefield, isn't that a tragedy?

In the Ming Dynasty, they could comfort themselves by doing this. But in a foreign land, I really feel such cruelty.

In troubled times, heroes and tycoons compete for power and the rulers are greedy. How can they be wronged by the people?

The Mongolian iron hoofs shook the earth, the Mongolian cavalry was overwhelming, the Mongolian scimitars were like a forest, and the Mongolian fangs and arrows were like rain.

The people in front sang the sad Xintianyou, silently held hands, and began to firmly face the overwhelming Mongolian iron hooves, the rain of wolf-toothed arrows, and the forest of scimitars.

Rushing over, countless people fell down and died under the Mongolian arrows, but the gap left by him or her was filled by those who came after, and the two sides just moved towards each other.

The bow strings and thunderbolts are terrifying, and the songs are plaintive but unyielding.

The first one to roar was the elm spray placed in front. Each elm spray sprayed out countless stones, just like building a wall of death in front of the enemy's charge.

The overwhelming enemy cavalry, whether they were men or horses, could no longer hold back their pace. They were like moths rushing into a flame. They were smashed into a sieve and fell to the ground in a blink of an eye.

But the brothers behind them ignored them and continued to charge past them.

After a round of elm spray shooting, what follows is a head-on collision between the two sides.

With a bang, the Mongolian cavalry and the people collided. Countless war horses knocked away the people, and countless pairs of iron hooves stepped into the chests of the elderly, children, women and children.

An old man rushed forward and was knocked away, but the speed of the war horse slowed down. Another woman rushed forward and hugged the horse's neck. Her head was chopped off with a scimitar. But a child rushed forward and hugged the horse's legs. The war horse neighed and collapsed. The warrior on the horse fell to the ground and was trampled into pulp by countless big feet in the blink of an eye.

The speed of each cavalryman was blocked, and he immediately fell into the sea of ​​people. The hands of countless men, women, and children stretched out, grabbed him, dragged him off the horse, and tore him to pieces in the blink of an eye.

The common people paid ten times or twenty times the price, and finally stopped the Mongolian cavalry's attack speed.

Standing at the back, facing the tragic death of his parents, wife and children, the soldiers had already been filled with blood. They did not need the urging of the leader to whip them. They shouted slogans of revenge and rushed forward bravely.

The cavalry is the natural enemy of the infantry, but the cavalry that lost its speed suddenly became the prey of the infantry with long weapons.

One by one, the Mongolian cavalry were stabbed down with spears.

Countless pairs of horse legs were cut off by the infantry's swords, and the cavalry on the horses were hacked to death in the blink of an eye.

Nearly three times the number of rogues, in the blink of an eye, 200,000 Mongolian cavalry were drowned in a sea of ​​more than 500,000 people, unable to move.

The rogue cavalry launched. With bloodshot eyes, the 70,000 cavalry launched a desperate charge and massacred the Mongolian cavalry that had lost their impact.

King Turgut watched all this with cold eyes, unmoved until his 200,000 warriors and 500,000 rogues fought in a complete melee. When all the cavalry on both sides fell into the sea of ​​people, they could no longer fight. As the impact moved, he blew the horn.

Under the horizon behind him, the sound of iron hooves sounded again, and a wave of cavalry like demons rushing out of hell, a total of 20,000, rushed into the battlefield.

This is the killer move of the Mongols.

At this time, they rushed over at high speed, the scimitars in their hands shaking, and rushed into the boundless battlefield, harvesting the heads of all enemies who could not move.

The entire rogue army was like ice and snow meeting boiling water, being defeated and slaughtered piece by piece.

While the 20,000 Mongolian cavalry continued to rescue their comrades, the cavalry that enabled them to move continued to grow, and their killing became more fierce. Even though all the Dashun soldiers were still fighting with gritted teeth, an imminent massacre was about to begin.

Yuan Zongdi led his soldiers, like a black lightning, moving back and forth in this sea of ​​people to fight. Waving a pair of iron whips in his hands, what started out as an effort to kill the enemy has now turned into an effort to rescue any common people, parents, or brothers who are on the verge of death.

However, his efforts were so insignificant.

Until now, he had never experienced such a cruel fight, with seven or eight million people on both sides fighting together. Even though he was the descendant of a god, he still seemed so powerless in this huge sea of ​​people.

His goose egg-thick iron whip was actually bent, and his arms were already as heavy as a thousand pounds.

He doesn't remember how many enemies he killed, nor how many relatives he saved.

But if you kill an enemy, another enemy will appear, and the relatives he rescued will die again in the blink of an eye.

The two sides fought together in a melee, and the sky was dark and the earth was dark. Both sides had no reinforcements and no strength to enter the battlefield. Now, what we fight for is will, and what we fight for is blood. The fight is on this battlefield, who will be the last to stand in the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood.

Half a day passed, and just when the sun reached noon, waves of dull war drums came from the south. Under the horizon, bright red military flags appeared.

The two sides who were fighting fiercely stopped involuntarily and looked at the third party force that appeared on the battlefield.

Then, both sides began to break away in a tacit understanding and began to pay attention to the movements of this force.

The Mongolian prince gathered his troops. In this half-day battle, 70,000 to 80,000 warriors were unable to return.

Yuan Zongdi and Hao waved their flags to gather the remaining troops, 500,000, but now less than 400,000 are still standing. Hundreds of thousands of followers lay on this wasteland.

(End of this chapter)