Chapter 339 Pursuit

Chapter 339: Pursuit

The crowd found this reasonable, thinking of their own well-supplied troops and ample provisions.

The gloom that had crept in due to the stalemate seemed to dissipate somewhat. They raised their wineskins and laughed in agreement:

"That's right! Let them struggle! Let's see how long they can hold out!"

"Once they're too weak to lift their blades, we'll slaughter them to our hearts' content!"

However, in the midst of this optimistic clamor—"Report!!!"

Suddenly, the tent flap was violently thrown open! A soldier in battered armor stumbled in, almost collapsing to the ground.

His helmet was gone, disheveled hair stuck to the wound on his forehead, and his face was a mess of blood and grime. It was the same veteran who had fought desperately to break through.

He shouted hoarsely in the Di language, his voice warped by fear and exhaustion.

"Disaster! Our grain convoy was ambushed by the Zhou at Xiangma River!"

"Clatter!" The gold-inlaid ox-horn cup slipped from Tu Wugu's hand and fell, the fragrant wine splattering onto the ornate carpet.

He shot to his feet, the ease on his face instantly frozen, then replaced by savage rage.

"What did you say?!" His roar was like thunder, reverberating within the tent.

"Xiangma River? Below the Yeguhu natural fortress, did the Zhou people fall from the sky? What about Wuzhu? Were his hundred elite cavalry all useless?"

The veteran threw himself to the ground. "General! The Zhou... they suddenly emerged from the cliffside.

Their arrows were thick and accurate! Wuzhu... he was the first to catch an arrow through the forehead... We were surrounded before we even had time to react!"

"Useless! A bunch of worthless wretches!" Tu Wugu, in a fit of fury, kicked over the low table before him, scattering cups, dishes, meat, and wine everywhere.

His chest heaved violently and his eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the man on the ground, as if he would devour him alive.

"That old bastard Han Zhen nearly got himself killed by us just a few days ago! Where do these Zhou people get the nerve? How did they manage to cross Yeguhu?"

The other generals in the tent were also stunned by the sudden devastating news. The lighthearted atmosphere evaporated, replaced by dead silence and disbelief.

A more composed general steadied himself, stepped forward, and spoke gravely.

"This is no trivial matter! This Zhou force was able to pinpoint Xiangma River, cross the Yeguhu natural fortress to set an ambush, and move with such speed and ruthlessness—this is no ordinary force."

These words were like a bucket of ice water dousing everyone's spirits. Tu Wugu's face turned ashen, and he breathed heavily.

He jerked his head up, his gaze sweeping over the generals in the tent. "We need to lead troops in pursuit immediately! We must crush these reckless Zhou bastards and take back the grain!"

Tu Wugu's face was grim, and just as he was about to order troops for pursuit, the tent flap was thrown open again!

"Report! Urgent dispatch from the front lines!" Another messenger, soaked in blood, knelt on one knee, speaking rapidly.

"Cui Ji's main force has launched a sudden, fierce assault—our right flank is about to collapse! The Great Khan orders you to lead your troops to reinforce immediately—without delay!"

Tu Wugu clenched his fists fiercely, his knuckles cracking audibly.

On one hand, the grain vital to the entire army's survival had been seized; on the other, the Great Khan's strict order demanded immediate reinforcement. He was caught in a dilemma.

If he split his forces to pursue, he might not have enough strength to succeed; if he committed all his forces to reinforce the front, that critical shipment of grain could be lost entirely.

He cursed under his breath, his gaze sweeping over the generals who had been boasting just moments ago.

The moment they met his eyes, they guiltily lowered their heads.

Tu Wugu sneered to himself. He knew these men all too well.

They were louder than anyone with their words, but on a real battlefield, they'd run faster than rabbits. Sending them to pursue would be like throwing good money after bad—a complete waste.

"General!" The messenger from the front urged him anxiously, noticing his hesitation. "The right flank is in imminent danger! If we delay and miss the opportunity, and the Great Khan holds us accountable, none of us can bear that burden!"

Those words jolted Tu Wugu back to reality. If the front collapsed, the crime of losing the grain combined with the charge of delaying the campaign—he wouldn't have enough lives to lose even if he had ten!

Tu Wugu's face was ashen, and his chest heaved violently. He paced anxiously a few steps within the tent.

His gaze swept over the cowering generals, then to the wounded messenger on the ground, and finally settled on the courier urging him to reinforce.

The front couldn't be ignored—the Great Khan's orders were absolute; but the grain was the lifeline—if it was truly seized, the consequences would be unthinkable!

He stopped abruptly, no longer meeting anyone's gaze.

Throwing open the tent flap, he strode quickly toward the western camp.

The guards dared not stop him when they saw who it was. Tu Wugu barged straight into the tent, the heavy smell of medicine washing over him.

Wuliji was sitting with his legs crossed on a felt rug, sharpening the dagger in his hand, his chest wrapped in thick bandages.

Seeing Tu Wugu barge in with a frantic expression, he furrowed his brow slightly, glanced at him, and said nothing.

"Wuliji!" Tu Wugu dispensed with all formalities, speaking urgently. "Something huge has happened! Our grain convoy was ambushed by the Zhou at Xiangma River!"

Wuliji's sharpening motion paused briefly. He raised his eyelids to look at Tu Wugu but didn't immediately respond.

Seeing his calm demeanor, Tu Wugu felt slightly reassured and quickly recounted what the surviving veteran had reported.

Wuliji listened, was silent for a moment, then sheathed his dagger and slowly rose to his feet: "I understand."

He looked at Tu Wugu and said succinctly: "Give me three hundred light cavalry. I depart in the time it takes an incense stick to burn."

Tu Wugu hadn't expected him to agree so readily. He was stunned for a moment before reacting: "Good! I'll arrange it right away!"

Watching Tu Wugu's hurried retreating figure, Wuliji made a gesture to his personal guard: "Saddle the horses."

He walked to the tent entrance, gazing at the thick smoke rising from the direction of Xiangma River, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

………

Cheng Ge stood at the edge of the cliff, calmly directing the soldiers to bundle the grain and haul it up the cliff with ropes.

"Hurry! Move faster!" He urged while helping pull the ropes.

The ropes scraped rapidly against the cliff face as sacks of grain were hoisted up to the summit one by one.

Suddenly, a scout on lookout duty came tumbling out of the underbrush, gasping for breath as he shouted:

"Instructor Cheng! Enemy cavalry spotted five li to the northwest—about three hundred of them—heading straight for us..."

Cheng Ge's eyes darkened sharply. The enemy had moved faster than he'd anticipated.

Cheng Ge made a split-second decision, shoving the freshly bundled grain sack beside him toward the cliff edge.

"Quick! Haul these up! Take as much as we can!"