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Jesus, God, Allah, the Three Purities and Four Sovereigns, Amitabha Buddha, whichever one of you put me here, please save me!
Xu Ning prayed to every deity he could think of, one after another. He had never been so sincere in his life. Whoever could pull him out of this nightmarish predicament right now would have his devotion forever. Even if it meant never eating meat again, that was fine. Even if it meant never marrying, that was fine, too. As long as he could just survive this moment.
He held tightly to the saddle; the violent jolting made him feel as though he could be thrown off at any moment. If he fell off his horse, the others wouldn't be able to slow down in time, and he would get trampled into a bloody pulp beneath thousands of hooves. Even with two layers of heavy armor, he wouldn't survive that. If he didn't want to die, he had to pour every ounce of effort into controlling the magnificent, high-spirited warhorse beneath him.
With the help of the double stirrups and high-backed saddle, he managed to keep his body from slipping off too easily. However, he still couldn't find his balance. Every time he tried to stand up straight to survey the situation, an overwhelming sense of panic spread from the pit of his stomach as if lifting his head even slightly would send him tumbling off the horse.
All he could do was hold his lance and shield tightly in both hands while maintaining this awkward posture. If he lost either, he would either die on the spot or be forced to flee in full view of everyone.
There were just a thousand men, yet their presence felt like a mountain shifting. Their smooth scale armor gleamed wetly in the light rain, and the lances and swords in their hands cast off a dazzling, cold glint. The heavy scale barding covering every warhorse rustled with a loud, relentless sound with every stride not some faint, subtle noise, but a war drum that never stopped beating, driving the cavalry ever onward toward the battlefield.
Shhh-shhh-shhh... shhh-shhh...
The armor plates, bound tightly together with tough oxhide cords, rubbed against one another, sounding like heavy waves sweeping past the inside of his calves. The warhorse's breathing came through with perfect clarity. Its main escaped through the gaps in the barding and whipped against his hands.
He could feel the horse's powerful, corded muscles twitching beneath its hide, even through the thick armor separating them. This was undoubtedly a magnificent horse; even the most foolish person could tell that much. Especially in an age like this, when only gold could buy such an animal. And yet, here he was, riding one himself.
He cautiously straightened his legs, refusing to remain hunched up in a tight ball. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to do so, but perhaps part of him felt that curling up like that would do a disservice to such a fine horse. As his legs straightened, his feet locked firmly into the stirrups and he felt solid support beneath him. After adjusting his hips and slowly settling his waist into position, he finally lifted his head.
That's when he saw the scenery sweeping past him, rushing from in front to behind. Lush green blades of grass stretched upward in the rain. Glistening droplets slid down their tips. These vibrant living things were trampled mercilessly beneath the horses' hooves. Some sprang back up; others merged completely into the mud. The mountains still rose in the distance, though none were particularly tall. It seemed as though everything curved away to leave this vast central basin open, as if offering it up as a stage for men to slaughter one another.
A raindrop struck his helmet and bounced into his eye. The clear, glistening droplet sent a faint chill through his eyeball. He instinctively blinked, squeezing the water out from the corner of his eye and letting it trickle down his cheek. Dense sheets of rain pattered against his body, seeping in through the gaps between his chainmail and other layers of armor and being absorbed by the thick, padded lining beneath. Still, he felt the cold.
The immense heat radiating from the warhorse's body scorched his face and carried with it the distinctive, musky odor peculiar to beasts of burden. They maintained a steady trot, each rider reining in their mount to maintain the wedge-shaped formation. The cavalrymen skillfully worked the reins and riding crops to keep their horses disciplined and the formation intact as they closed in on the hellish, churning mass of humanity.
The sound of wind, rain, armor plates rubbing together, horses breathing heavily, hooves striking the earth in a dense drumbeat, and the shouts and cries of the cavalrymen were laid bare before him, without a single filter. He had never felt the world so vividly alive or life so uniquely singular. He could hear the beating of every heart around him, the rasp of each breath within his chainmail visor, someone praying to the gods for victory in the charge ahead, and another praying for his soul to find rest after death.
Suddenly, he was no longer afraid or panicked. He listened with genuine fascination, taking it all in with keen interest. Everything in the world seemed to slow down before his eyes. His ears picked up more and more sounds, every blade of grass rustling against its neighbor was distinct and clear, and every ring of the chainmail trembled with each breath he took.
"Riding Skill Requirement: 105
Riding Skill Level: 277
Check passed."
"...?!! ...What was that voice?"
Xu Ning glanced around in alarm. A cold, mechanical voice had suddenly rung out in his ears, and the information it carried was shocking.
"My Lord!"
Arka's panicked voice called out from beside him. A rabbit hole hidden beneath the grass had suddenly appeared at close range. There was no time to redirect the horses. For a heavily armored horse and rider, a single stumble could be catastrophic and that rabbit hole was now directly beneath his horse's hooves.
Almost by pure instinct, he lightly squeezed his knees against the horse's flanks. His right hand, still gripping the lance, gave the right rein a faint tug while his body's center of gravity shifted slightly. The powerful warhorse moved as one with his intent. Its four hooves shifted in a brief, deft crossing step, carrying it cleanly around the treacherous hole. It continued at a gallop without missing a beat.
He immediately settled back into his seat, restoring his earlier posture and cutting off whatever Arka had been about to say. The words were caught in the man's throat, and he silently fell quiet, continuing to follow.
Yet Xu Ning found himself gripping his lance tighter than intended. A tangled rush of emotions welled up from deep within him: joy, irritation, relief, and above all, reassurance. He had indeed received help, but hadn't noticed until now. Only in that strange state had he finally heard that voice, which had been drowned out by the chaotic din of the battlefield all along.
Now, at last, he felt a flicker of confidence begin to take hold.
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