Servants and guards clustered around the convoy, turning the corner to see the city gate not far ahead. The smiles just beginning to form on their faces froze.
Zhao Hanzhang heard a faint whistling sound, like air being split open. Her body reacted faster than her mind—she threw herself left, legs clamping the horse’s belly. An arrow whooshed past her side and embedded itself in the horse pulling a cart behind her.
The horse screamed and went mad, charging through the procession. The crowd immediately descended into chaos…
Zhao Hanzhang pulled the reins, using skillful force to right herself. Ignoring the chaos behind, she stared straight ahead and only then realized the gate was the site of fierce fighting—about a hundred Jin soldiers held the gate, preventing rebel troops from breaking through.
Zhao Hanzhang’s gaze swept quickly across the main street, taking in numerous abandoned corpses and deep cart tracks in the ground. “We’re in trouble—we’ve fallen behind the main army.”
At this position, they were sitting ducks.
The words had barely left her mouth when more rebel troops surged from side streets. They had intended to rush straight for the gate, but upon seeing this group of nobles with their numerous bundles and vehicles, they immediately turned to attack.
If they couldn’t catch the dog emperor, robbing some gold, silver, and women would do nicely.
Zhao Ji, Old Master Jia, and the other leaders saw the attacking rebels and immediately summoned their guards. “Repel the enemy!”
Guards and household soldiers charged forward with their blades, but they were merely guards—no match for actual soldiers. They barely held the line before being pushed steadily back.
Zhao Hanzhang slapped the driver, having him squeeze the carriage to the side, hoping to break through from the flank. She commanded the guards and soldiers blocking the way, “Form up! Three-man teams, advance forward…”
But the guards served different masters. Not only were these guards and household soldiers from many families mixed together, strangers to each other, even the Zhao family guards were divided into two factions.
Some obeyed Zhao Hanzhang’s orders and reluctantly formed three-man groups. Those who ignored her commands trusted only themselves, fighting merrily on their own—even if cut down, they’d only hurt briefly.
Seeing this, Zhao Hanzhang knew the situation couldn’t be reversed. She simply led the few First Branch servants who had been steadfastly following her forward, trying to clear a path for Wang Shi’s carriage.
Everyone else was shrinking back, trying to retreat. Going against the flow, Zhao Hanzhang found it extremely difficult.
Though not clever, Zhao Ji knew that retreating now meant death. The Emperor and Prince Donghai had fled—Luoyang would become an isolated city, and those who remained would likely be slaughtered. So he waved his horsewhip and roared at the servants who kept looking back, “No retreat! Break through…”
Old Master Jia and the others joined in driving their own servants forward, but there were also many commoners here who wouldn’t follow Zhao Ji’s orders.
Some tried to rush for the gate in the chaos and were killed instantly by rebel blades. Others wanted to flee down side streets and return home. The scene became utterly chaotic—the entire main street filled with shouts and weeping.
The driver, face pale, squeezed forward under Zhao Hanzhang’s direction until they directly faced the rebels. Zhao Hanzhang drew her sword and deflected a blade aimed at the horse. The force made her palm tingle. Locking eyes with the barbarian warrior below, she simply released the sword. As it fell, her wrist turned, catching the hilt. The blade nimbly twisted and, before he could react, stabbed into his chest…
Zhao Hanzhang gripped the hilt and yanked hard. The sword withdrew, blood spattering her pale face. Without pausing, she spurred her horse forward, slashing across the throat of an onrushing rebel, clearing a gap for the carriage behind her.
Guards and household soldiers from various families shared the pressure. Combined with Zhao Ji and the others driving servants forward, they quickly opened a breach.
Zhao Hanzhang broke through first, Wang Shi’s carriage following close behind.
Zhao Erlang remembered his sister’s words—stay close to Mother’s carriage—so he also spurred his horse to follow.
The soldiers guarding the gate didn’t stop them from leaving. Seeing their vehicles approach, they made way to let them pass, then joined their comrades in fighting the rebels attacking the convoy.
Zhao Ji and the others fell behind. By the time they finally squeezed through the gate, they were disheveled, having even lost their horses. Covered in dust and blood, they had apparently fallen from their mounts and rolled.
Once Zhao Hanzhang and her group broke through, their speed slowed.
Their carriage had too many people, and the constant fearful whipping along the way had exhausted the horses, which now plodded forward wheezing heavily.
Zhao Hanzhang reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, then looked back. She saw the main group slowly catching up, while the Second Branch was nowhere to be seen. Besides Chengbo, Qinggu, and Ting He in the carriage, only Zhao Cai and three other servants followed closely—all part of her dowry retinue.
Scanning the chaotic cart tracks and hoof prints on the ground, occasionally spotting blood traces, she knew rebel stragglers must be ahead, following the main army. Though she didn’t know how many, she had no desire to encounter them alone.
Better to stay with Zhao Ji and the others—at least until they truly caught up with the main force. She had already left messages for Zhao Qianli and Professor Fu. If they could bring people to find them quickly, good. If not, she would have to seek out Zhao Zhongyu and Fu Zhi—at minimum, she needed their strength to survive this stretch of road.
As Zhao Hanzhang pondered this, she spotted the Second Branch’s vehicles.
Wu Shi and the others were protected in the middle. Apart from being frightened and somewhat pale, they were unharmed, though they had lost many servants and much baggage.
Zhao Ji, however, was thoroughly disheveled. He had climbed onto an ox cart crowded with servants, his face marked with fine scratches—apparently from being scraped when he fell from his horse.
After counting heads, Zhao Ji felt both heartache and fear. “How are there so few people left?”
Zhao Hanzhang dismounted and calmed her horse before saying, “Uncle, there are pursuers behind and possibly stragglers ahead attacking the main army. Wolves ahead, tigers behind. My suggestion is to gather the able-bodied men together, protect the women, children, and elderly in the middle, form a battle formation, and advance. Perhaps we can preserve more lives.”
Zhao Ji said nothing, but Old Master Jia, equally disheveled, immediately agreed. “Sanniang is right. I was thinking the same.”
Zhao Hanzhang said, “Regardless of master or servant, all able-bodied men should be included.”
She pointed to herself. “I count as one too. What do you say?”
Old Master Jia had seen her kill earlier and knew she was no ordinary young lady. He nodded repeatedly, then looked at Zhao Ji. “What does Lord Zhao think?”
Zhao Ji hesitated.
Zhao Hanzhang said, “Though we’re mobilizing all able-bodied men, those familiar with each other should form three-man teams and guard positions near their own families.”
She continued, “This way they’ll know their loved ones are right behind them and will fight harder.”
Only then did Zhao Ji nod. “Good.”
Zhao Hanzhang breathed a sigh of relief. Without waiting for Zhao Ji to speak, she immediately began deploying personnel into formation.
Since they had agreed, she would assume they defaulted to letting her handle the arrangements.