With all communication cut off, they had no idea about the situation of the central army and other camps, and could only fight on their own, putting them in a precarious situation.
In the central army camp, Ma Zongliang rushed out of the main tent the moment the enemy attack began.
When he saw flames shooting up from all sides of the camp, and the shouts of battle sounding like they came from the deepest hell, and countless dark figures hacking and slashing wildly in the firelight, his heart sank to the bottom.
"Hold the line! Crossbowmen, advance! Spearmen, form ranks! Shieldbearers, protect the flanks!"
Ma Zongliang roared at the top of his lungs, trying to take advantage of the Fengtian Army's formation warfare.
However, the sandstorms greatly reduced the range and accuracy of the crossbows, and most of the arrows fired were weak and ineffective, making it difficult to inflict significant damage on the fast-moving Northern Di cavalry.
The chaotic situation made it impossible for troops to assemble effectively, and orders were sent out as if they had been thrown into the sea.
Even more deadly was that Wuzhu's most elite Northern Di cavalry, the "Tiger and Leopard Army," ignored the fighting in other directions and had a clear objective: to strike directly at the location of the Fengtian Army's central command flag!
This cavalry force consisted entirely of heavily armored men and horses, and the knights were all seasoned warriors who had survived countless battles, making them far more powerful than ordinary Northern Di cavalry.
They formed a tight charging formation, like a highly efficient killing machine.
Wherever they went, the Fengtian Army that tried to stop them was torn to shreds like paper.
"Protect the commander!"
Ma Zongliang's personal guard commander, his eyes blazing with fury, led his most loyal guards to meet him.
This was an unequal clash.
Although the Royal Guard was brave, it lacked heavy armor and a disciplined formation. Under the iron hooves and heavy weapons of the Tiger and Leopard Army, it was like a small boat in a storm, quickly submerged.
Ma Zongliang felt excruciating pain as he watched his trusted confidants, who had followed him for many years, fall one by one into pools of blood.
He drew his sword and personally charged forward to fight, piercing the throat of a charging Di cavalryman with a single blow, warm blood splattering all over his face.
However, he was often in command positions, and his martial arts skills seemed to have become somewhat rusty. He was soon surrounded by several Di cavalrymen, and was in grave danger.
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