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He Lingchuan set his sights on a half-slope along the side of the high ground. It rose in rough terraces, with broken carriages and all kinds of junk piled there.
Most importantly, this was where the Yuan army’s siege weapons were stored.
And siege weapons were always among the first things an enemy would want to destroy.
He had barely finished arranging his defenses when the enemy arrived in force.
Zhao Pan’s command tent stood atop the high ground, and there were several routes leading up from the riverbank. The Xun Province main force had naturally chosen the shortest, most direct path to charge, while the rest of their troops fanned out to assault from other directions, aiming to encircle the high ground from all sides.
The half-slope He Lingchuan had picked was off to the flank. Fewer enemies would come that way, giving them room to fight solidly and steadily.
As for the main force of the Xun Province?
Well, Zhao Pan’s command tent would be defended by the Yuan army’s best. Those elites were not there for show. Let them clash head-on with the heavy hitters.
You only ate as big a bowl of rice as your strength allowed. In a moment like this, the last thing He Lingchuan was going to do was greedily chase after glory.
No matter how chaotic a clash between armies looked, in the end it always broke down into small units—squads and teams—each fighting their own battle.
So long as he led his squad well, he would...
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