Ch.582The Full Stop of the Prairie War

Since both armies consisted solely of cavalry, the battlefield was terribly chaotic.

This fierce melee had no formation battles or combined infantry-cavalry tactics like hammer and anvil.

While the Ka’har could overwhelm Western forces with superior horsemanship and mounted archery, such tactics held little meaning against fellow Ka’har. The enemy could also shoot arrows from horseback—and unlike the retreating forces who had to turn their bodies to fire, they could aim straight ahead.

Therefore, battles between Ka’har inevitably devolved into cavalry-against-cavalry close combat.

It was a fierce and barbaric fight with no room for complex strategies—everything depended on warriors’ skills and commanders’ improvisation. A frenzied melee that made blood boil.

“Enemy banner troops! Regroup! We charge once more!”

Orhan’s first son, Aishan-Gioro Targiyan, divided his banner troops into several thousand-man units, sweeping across the battlefield, charging and withdrawing whenever the enemy’s flanks or rear were exposed.

In the chaos, sometimes friendly forces were caught up, but such losses were trivial compared to the gains from the charges.

“Blue banner third thousand-unit, retreat! Fourth thousand-unit, split in two and surround the pursuing enemy! First thousand-unit, volley fire at the retreating enemy banner troops! Pin them down!”

Unlike Targiyan’s aggressive command style that revealed his bellicose nature, the second son Sahakal maintained a minimum command structure even amid the chaos, moving his forces with cool composure.

Hot-blooded Targiyan and cold-headed Sahakal—their contrasting personalities were starkly evident.

“Hahaha! Is this all you’ve got? No different from livestock!”

The morale of the Aishan army was incomparably higher than the Clan Union’s. Orhan’s warriors swung their spears and swords with ecstatic laughter even as they bled profusely from spear and arrow wounds—until their last breath.

Even after a warrior’s death, their war horses would continue attacking enemy mounts with savage fury.

“Like rabid dogs…!”

“Just die already, you crazy bastards!”

Despite their overwhelming numerical advantage, the Clan Union warriors felt an indescribable terror in the face of Aishan’s near-maniacal fighting spirit. It must have felt like facing an army of demons rather than humans.

Perhaps because of this, the tide of battle was slowly, gradually turning in Aishan’s favor.

The Clan Union tried to use their numerical advantage to surround the Aishan forces, but it was impossible to contain Aishan’s champions who displayed perfect unity with their mounts.

Against the horsemanship developed by young Haschal—the art of infusing Karma into war horses to transform ordinary mounts into divine steeds—the Clan Union warriors could only helplessly fall from their horses again and again.

—-

The decisive blow in the increasingly unfavorable melee came from Orhan’s hand as it seized Adanmudur’s head after fierce combat.

His right arm, piercing straight through a wave of lightning, grabbed Adanmudur’s skull like a claw.

“Watching your antics has become rather boring, Adanmudur. Did you think lightning could break a mountain?”

Fierce killing intent flowed from his bulging eyes. They were the eyes of a wolf with its fangs sunk into prey’s neck.

“You… monster…!”

Gritting his teeth, Adanmudur used his remaining arm to try desperately to remove Orhan’s hand gripping his face.

But whether he swung his fist, clawed with his nails, or even summoned lightning to strike, the Unyielding Flesh of Orhan’s right arm remained firm without a scratch, continuing to squeeze his skull.

– Crack!

The sound of breaking skull bones was distinct.

“Aaaargh…!”

Adanmudur let out an agonized groan. It was a desperate situation. His axe had shattered into fragments, and his beloved horse had long since been cut in two by Orhan’s crescent blade.

Another tribal chief who had joined midway had also fallen, his upper body completely severed by Orhan’s strike, reduced to a miserable corpse after failing to penetrate the Unyielding Flesh.

Orhan’s blackened upper garment crumbled to ash and scattered. A body that remained unscathed after facing two hero-class warriors simultaneously. It was superhuman prowess befitting the title of Ser Khan.

“Khan!”

There was no one left who could help Adanmudur. The remaining bodyguards rushed forward, risking death to save their lord, but they too were blocked by Orhan’s subordinates, unable to advance even slightly.

“You made a poor judgment. If you wanted to kill me, you should have used hit-and-run tactics in a rotating formation rather than charging head-on.”

“You… bastard…!”

Orhan pulled Adanmudur’s head close to his face and mocked him, staring into his trembling eyes. His lips curled upward involuntarily. In the past several decades, moments as joyful as this were rare.

“I thank you for your foolishness, Adanmudur. It is you who has made me Kagan!”

Orhan clenched his fist. The pressure was too much for a human skull to withstand even for a moment. With a splat, Adanmudur’s head burst like a crushed tomato.

His eyeballs popped out, dangling by optic nerves, and crushed brain matter oozed between Orhan’s fingers. It was a miserable and wretched end unbecoming of the Great Chief of the Clan Union.

“Lord Adanmudur-!”

“You bastard, Orhaaaan!”

Adanmudur’s bodyguards howled with bitter rage at their lord’s gruesome death. Orhan turned his gaze toward them, his face like that of a wolf still hungry after devouring two heroes.

“Do you want this garbage? Then take it! Try to catch it!”

Orhan shook off the flesh from his hand, then grabbed the ankle of the convulsing, headless corpse of Adanmudur and swung it toward them.

An armored human corpse is as good as a steel bludgeon.

When Orhan swung the corpse like a club at the bodyguards, the warriors who collided with their lord’s body exploded in blood and flesh. Like a slave’s child thrown against rocks.

Screams and wails echoed like a chorus.

—-

“Victory is ours! Sing songs of triumph! Let them reach beyond the great plains!”

“Long live Ser Khan! Long live Aishan-Gioro!”

“Long live Kagan Orhan!”

The victorious Aishan warriors bound their wounds with torn cloth while shouting joyful cheers. The battlefield was filled with glorious radiance. A pleasure far more intense than rape was bleaching their minds white.

After the head-on collision between the two major Ka’har forces in fierce battle—a hellish melee—Aishan emerged victorious. No warrior could stop Orhan after he killed Adanmudur, the leader of the Clan Union.

Moreover, as defeat became inevitable, some tribes attempted to desert with their warriors or even betrayed the Union by stabbing their allies in the back. Their defeat was all but certain.

Orhan rampaged until he could no longer maintain the Unyielding Flesh, and the Clan Union warriors had no choice but to surrender or face annihilation.

Of course, the outcome was the same either way. Orhan showed mercy to tribes that surrendered before Adanmudur’s death, but executed all who surrendered afterward.

Those with enough rebellious spirit to surrender only when annihilation was certain would bare their teeth again someday. Therefore, it was more efficient to kill them all and let their Karma be absorbed by his warriors.

He accepted some surrendering troops only because Aishan had also suffered significant losses; otherwise, not a single warrior would have been spared.

As the sun began to set in the twilight hours, the plains piled with tens of thousands of corpses radiated a vivid red, soaked in blood.

To commemorate this great victory, Orhan named this plain Purgiyan-Aihuma, meaning “Red Turtle.” It was indeed an appropriate name, as the hills of corpses resembled a turtle’s shell.

—-

After annihilating the Clan Union warriors, Orhan abandoned his former title of Ser Khan and proclaimed himself Kagan—Khan of Khans.

It was the moment when the Ka’har, who had been divided into many tribes waging civil wars for hundreds of years, were finally unified. Even Orhan must have been overcome with emotion.

Afterward, after regrouping his forces and returning to Ordos, Orhan ordered Sahakal to take four thousand Blue Banner troops to stabilize eastern Ordos. With all warriors either killed or subjugated, that territory now belonged to Aishan.

It was time to receive oaths of allegiance from tribes where only women, children, and the elderly remained, then manage and incorporate them as citizens.

Targiyan was somewhat displeased that such an important task was not given to him as the eldest son, but anyone could see that Sahakal was a much more appropriate choice. Targiyan would have trampled everything under hooves first and asked questions later.

If the plan had been to enslave all the eastern tribes, it might have made sense, but since they had decided to accept them as members of the Golden Nation—Aishan Gurun—brandishing weapons immediately was hardly appropriate.

So Sahakal led four thousand Blue Banner troops eastward. The remaining forces dispersed throughout Aishan territory to heal their losses and prepare for the next war.

The war on the great plains was over. Though scattered resistance from retreating tribes would continue, such futile resistance could be suppressed by the four thousand Blue Banner troops alone. Now it was time to seek new enemies.

The West was waiting for them.