We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

Chapter 1121 Raid on the Camp (Part 2)

Now let's talk about Yueyun.

A silver spear danced through the air, having already felled countless Tibetan soldiers. The spear tassel was soaked in blood, which had congealed into a dark red lump.

He was like a red-hot dagger, slicing through the fertile land of the Tibetan camp, leaving men and horses in ruins and corpses lying on the ground.

However, just as Qiu Bai was getting into the swing of things, he suddenly remembered something and became alert.

Looking around, the five hundred iron cavalry that had been following closely behind now numbered less than two hundred.

Of course, not all the others died in battle.

The camp grew increasingly chaotic, with most of the cavalrymen scattered, cut off, or still fighting fiercely elsewhere.

Just then, deep bugle calls came almost simultaneously from different directions around the camp.

Then, increasingly unified shouts of battle erupted.

In the firelight, new Tibetan flags could be vaguely seen moving, and the cold glint of swords and spears began to emerge in large numbers.

Yue Yun immediately understood that the troops from the other Tibetan camps around the area had finally finished reorganizing and were rushing to the main camp to attack the Qing army from both sides!

Ancient sieges were not like those depicted on television, with continuous lines of camps leaving no gaps.

After all, the city is so large that it's impossible to block it all without missing a single one.

Instead, they would set up camps along major transportation routes and establish obstacles in other areas to achieve the goal of besieging the city.

The attack by Yueyun only targeted the main camp; the other auxiliary camps were unaffected and were able to send troops to assist.

A clear shout pierced through the clamor: "General Yue!"

Luo Yueniang rode alone, cutting through a field of smoke and fire, and arrived near Yueyun.

She had a fresh knife wound on her shoulder armor, her cheeks were covered in soot, but her eyes were piercingly bright.

With a casual thrust of her spear, Luo Yueniang knocked a Tibetan centurion off his horse who had been ambushing her. She quickly said, "Enemy reinforcements have arrived, and the encirclement is about to be complete. We cannot linger in battle any longer!"

Yue Yun nodded slightly and asked, "How is General Luo's injury?"

Luo Yueniang glanced at her shoulder and said, "It's nothing, it didn't penetrate the armor."

Yue Yun didn't say anything more, her eyes quickly scanning the entire scene.

Flames soared into the sky all around, and cries of agony filled the air.

The Tibetan camp's main structure had been completely destroyed, and it would be extremely difficult for it to recover its strength in three to five days, let alone organize an attack on the city.

The objective of delaying the enemy has been more than achieved, and continuing the fight is indeed meaningless and would only cause pointless casualties.

Qiu Bai decisively ordered: "Send the signal! Retreat immediately!"

Upon hearing the order, one of the guards beside him immediately pulled out an iron signal musket from his pocket.

He then raised his hand to the sky and pulled the trigger.

"Boom-boom!"

A beam of crimson flame shrieked as it shot into the dawn sky, exploding high above and transforming into a dazzling red cloud, clearly visible even against the backdrop of the towering flames.

This was a pre-arranged withdrawal signal from the Qing military.

In an instant, the Qing army cavalry scattered throughout the camp all saw the conspicuous signal in the sky.

"The general has ordered a retreat!"

"Turn around! Retreat as ordered!"

"Stop killing! Follow orders!"

The shouts of officers from each platoon and squad echoed throughout the camp. The Qing army's execution was definitely not low, and even the bloodthirsty soldiers were restrained by their comrades.

The Qing army cavalry, which had been scattered like stars in the sky, suddenly seemed to be drawn together by invisible threads, converging towards the breakout gap in the direction of the camp gate, and then began to turn.

Yueyun and Luo Yueniang joined forces, becoming the vanguard in the retreat from the flood.

The silver spear and the iron spear were raised together again, transforming into two angry dragons, charging back towards the direction of the gate that had been breached when they came from, one on the left and one on the right.

The Tibetan soldiers blocking their path were torn to shreds like rotten wood before these two killing gods.

The Qing cavalry behind him followed closely behind their commander, their swords flashing, repeatedly prying open the slowly closing gap.

The process of breaking out of the gate was easier than the process of charging in.

Tibetan reinforcements, having heard the news, were pressing in from the outside, causing severe congestion at the gate.

Yue Yun roared and swung his spear in a wide arc, clearing out the enemy soldiers crowding the doorway.

Luo Yueniang then took out her bow and arrows and targeted the Tibetan archers, killing them one by one to prevent them from posing a threat.

Blood flowed like a stream beneath the doorway, and corpses lay piled upon each other.

Finally, all the Qing army cavalry surged out of the flesh-and-blood tunnel and disappeared into the darkness outside the camp that had not yet completely faded.

. . . . . .

Meanwhile, near a collapsed fence in the southeast corner of the camp.

A man, his face covered in soot and blood, wearing ill-fitting Tibetan armor, was frantically crawling out from behind a burning tent and groping his way out of the camp.

This person was Dorje Tsering.

After successfully setting the fire and causing chaos, he remained hidden in the camp, planning to rendezvous with the Qing army that was attacking the camp.

Unfortunately, plans can't keep up with changes, and the chaos in the camp worsened.

He tried several times to get close to the Qing army cavalry that were charging around at high speed, but he failed each time because they were too busy to pay attention to anything else.

The ordinary Qing cavalry didn't recognize him, and in the chaos, he was almost mistaken for a Tibetan soldier and killed.

Unable to find an opportunity, he had to find a way to escape on his own.

Having finally reached the edge of the camp and just as they were about to slip through the fence, a group of Tibetan patrolmen who were putting out a fire suddenly rushed out from the side.

Under the torchlight, the junior officer in charge stared at Dorje Tsering's face for a moment, then suddenly widened his eyes.

Dorje Tsering once guarded the border. Although not all Tibetan soldiers recognized him, this junior officer happened to have seen him from afar during a military council.

"It's Dorje Tsering! That traitor! Seize him!" the officer shouted.

Dorje Tsering lamented his predicament, but he had no choice but to muster his remaining strength, pick up his waist knife, and fight the patrolmen to the death.

His martial arts skills were already quite good, and he was determined to die, so he managed to cut down several people in succession and carve out a bloody path.

But the dying officer's cries had already attracted more people, who now surged toward him.

He dared not linger and ran wildly out of the camp with all his might, pursued relentlessly by the soldiers behind him.

After an unknown amount of time, Dorje Tsering felt as if his lungs were being pulled apart by bellows, and his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

Sweat seeped into the wound, causing a stinging pain.

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats and angry shouts in Tibetan came from behind.

Dorje Tsering glanced back and saw a small troop of Tibetan cavalry catching up, their horses' hooves flying as they drew ever closer.

Dorje Tsering sighed inwardly: My life is over!

I'm exhausted after a whole night of struggling, and I'm afraid I won't be able to escape any longer.

He had no choice but to grip the stolen knife tightly, preparing for a final, desperate fight.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind rose from behind me!

Dorje Tsering thought it must be an arrow attack, but there was no way to avoid it, so he could only close his eyes and wait for death.

However, the expected excruciating pain did not come; instead, a pulling force gripped his waist and abdomen.

The next instant, he was lifted off the ground as if riding on clouds!

This feeling... why does it feel strangely familiar?

Before he could react, he landed heavily on the bridge in front of the saddle with a thud.

That was quite a blow; it nearly displaced his internal organs, and he saw stars before his eyes.

"Cough cough cough!" Dorje Tsering coughed a few times, and looked up in a daze.

The first thing that catches the eye is a suit of black scales.

Further up, you come into view of Ma Zhong's mocking face.

"General Ma?!" Dorje Tsering was both surprised and delighted, and then felt the familiar tightening around his waist.

Look down.

Sure enough, a familiar cowhide rope was wrapped around his waist, with the other end held in Ma Zhong's hand.

"you......"

Dorje Tsering immediately understood what had caused that feeling of being lifted into the air, and was filled with a mixture of shame and anger.

He was once again like prey, caught by this guy with a lasso!

Are you a horse-taming man?

Are you treating me like a horse?!

Ma Zhong laughed heartily, flicked his wrist, and deftly untied the lasso hook.

He casually patted Dorje Tsering on the shoulder: "Brother Dorje, no need to thank me, it was just a small favor!"

Dorje Tsering rolled his eyes. Although the posture was not very elegant, he had been saved by someone after all, so he had no right to complain.

"Hold on tight, we're heading back to the city!"

Having said that, Ma Zhong ignored Dorje Tsering's flushed face, spurred his horse, and led him into the torrent of Qing army cavalry that was withdrawing from the battlefield.

Behind them, the Tibetan pursuers were intercepted by other Qing cavalry responsible for covering the rear.

The sounds of battle and the flashes of fire were gradually left behind as the sky began to brighten.

The Tibetan king was left with only a scene of devastation, like a giant beast whose chest had been ripped open and was still twitching weakly.

With the assistance of Tibetan reinforcements, the fire was finally brought under control and stopped spreading.

But the embers had not yet died down, and black smoke rose from the charred wooden stakes like vengeful ghosts, filling the air with a pungent, burnt smell.

Dorjee sat on a half-burnt log, his helmet removed and placed at his feet, his gray hair matted together with sweat.

His gaze swept over everything before him with a somber expression:

As far as the eye could see, only one in ten tents remained; some had turned to ashes, while others lay charred, twisted, and collapsed.

Scattered on the ground were knives, spears, helmets, and flags. Corpses lay scattered about, many burned beyond recognition, curled up into horrifying charcoal shapes.

Blood soaked the black earth, pooling into dark red pools in the low-lying areas.

The groans and cries of the wounded rose and fell, tearing through the thin morning air.

A guard cautiously approached and said in a dry voice, "General, the battalions are taking their counts, and we cannot yet determine the exact number of casualties."

"However, the main force's elite troops have likely suffered losses exceeding 50%, and most of the supplies and provisions have been destroyed by fire. The most troublesome thing is..."

He paused, then lowered his voice even further: "There are a great many burn victims, all with charred skin and rotting flesh, and pus flowing everywhere. I'm afraid most of them won't make it through."

In this era, extensive burns are almost tantamount to a death sentence.

Wound infection, high fever, sepsis... every step is a brush with death.

Unless there is a time traveler like Li Che in the Qing army who can develop miraculous drugs like antibiotics, even if Hua Tuo were to be reborn, it would be difficult to save the situation.

These Tibetan warriors could only slowly rot and die in agony.

Another guard strode over, his face grim: "General, the light cavalry we sent out to pursue them has returned. They were ambushed and suffered heavy losses."

"The Qing army was well prepared on their retreat route, with many musketeers lying in ambush and firing in unison. Our men were scattered before they could even get close and had no choice but to retreat."

It turned out that Li Che had made preparations in advance, ordering Ying Bu to lead a thousand musketeers to ambush the only way to the area, in order to cover Yue Yun and the others' retreat.

"boom!"

Dorje slammed his fist into the charred wood beside him, his chest heaving violently, his eyes bloodshot.

He pulled out the curved knife stuck in the mud, the blade reflecting his distorted face.

"You cunning Qing people! You shameless scoundrels!" he roared, his voice hoarse like a broken gong, "Sneak attack! Arson! Ambush!"

"Emperor Qingren dares not confront us directly, he resorts to these underhanded tricks!"

"Damn it! They all deserve to die! I'll kill them all! I'll use their skulls as wine bowls and their intestines to feed the vultures of the highlands!!!"

The furious roar echoed over the ruins, yet it revealed a weakness beneath its fierce exterior.

The horrific scene before him was like icy snow water, extinguishing the flames in Dorje's heart, leaving only a sense of powerlessness.

In contrast, the scene in Chuima City was completely different.