Han Ji

Yuan's soldiers ran out of their tents, barefoot and unarmored, some carrying knives, others nothing. Some ran into the fire, trying to save their provisions, but were choked by the smoke. Others ran out of the camp, into the clutches of the cavalry. Some knelt on the ground, unsure which way to go.

Zhang Fei rode his horse recklessly through the camp. He had switched back to his serpent spear, piercing one enemy after another with each thrust. The stubble on his face was reflected red by the flames, and only the pupils and whites of his eyes were visible in the fire. His mouth was open, and sweat and blood streamed down his face.

Zhao Yun led his cavalry to form ranks outside the camp. South of Wuchao was the main road; if Yuan Shao's reinforcements were to arrive, they would certainly come from this direction. Zhao Yun divided his men into three ranks: crossbowmen in the front, spearmen in the back, and archers in the rear. The crossbows were strung, the spears pointed outwards, and the archers stood at the very back, their quivers removed and hung on their waists.

By daybreak, Wuchao's stored grain had been burned to ashes.

The burning grains had their own unique burnt smell; the pungent odor of charred rice husks mixed with the stench of dried meat charred by the fire enveloped the entire camp.

The sky above the entire camp was orange-red, with thick smoke billowing upwards and obscuring the still-dawn sky. The grain bins collapsed like a smoldering furnace, sending ash and sparks flying several meters high before falling back down beside the tents still dripping with kerosene in the distance.

Chunyu Qiong was carried out of the main tent by two guards. He was still drunk, his legs were weak, and his face was illuminated by the firelight. In his drunken stupor, he staggered two steps toward the grain bins before collapsing to the ground. When a guard tried to pull him away, he shook him off.

Zhang Fei saw him. Chunyu Qiong's helmet plume was askew in the firelight, and his gold-rimmed helmet remained on even into the night. Zhang Fei spurred his horse forward, his spear sweeping across, knocking away Chunyu Qiong's personal guard.

Chunyu Qiong sat on the ground, looking up at Zhang Fei. His mouth was open, emitting a strong smell of alcohol, and his facial features were contorted, making it difficult to tell whether it was fear or lingering drunkenness. Zhang Fei reached out, grabbed his armor, and lifted him up. He kicked twice as his feet left the ground.

"Tie him up!"

Of the more than 10,000 soldiers defending Wuchao, most fled, more than 2,000 were killed or wounded, and the rest scattered in the wilderness. Some ran north, some ran towards the Yellow River, and some hid in the bushes and did not come out.

The grain and fodder were burned to ashes, and the plume of smoke rose high, visible from miles away on the north bank. The laborers at the Yellow River ferry stopped what they were doing and stood there watching.

Its daybreak.

Yuan Shao was awakened in his tent. His personal guard rushed in and knelt on the ground. The guard's voice trembled as he relayed the news of the fire at Wuchao. Yuan Shao jumped up from his bed, stood barefoot on the felt rug, pushed the guard aside, and rushed out of the tent without even taking off his shoes.

He saw that the sky to the north was black. Thick smoke rose high into the sky, blown askew by the wind. Sparks were mixed in with the smoke, but they went out in mid-air.

Shen Pei ran over, his face pale. His hat was askew, and his coat was unbuttoned, revealing a white undershirt underneath. "My lord, Wuchao..." He paused, then stopped when he saw the column of smoke.

Yuan Shao's hand gripped the curtain at the tent entrance; he ripped it open with a crisp tearing sound. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

Forward camp. Dawn had just broken.

The message hadn't reached the ordinary soldiers yet. But they had already seen the smoke column on the opposite bank. Someone standing on the watchtower pointed to the smoke to the north and said it was Wuchao. The word spread, and the entire forward camp looked out.

Guan Yu stood on the earthen wall of the front camp and also saw the smoke. He held his Green Dragon Crescent Blade in his hand, the blade reflecting a bluish light in the morning glow.

"All troops are on high alert," he said.

The lieutenant ran over and looked up at him from under the earthen wall. "General, is Yuan Shao going to attack the camp?"

Guan Yu said, "It will be soon."

There was movement in Yuan's vanguard camp opposite them. People were running around in the camp, and others were shouting. Those standing far away couldn't see what they were doing, but they could feel the panic. One flag fell over, someone picked it up, and it fell over again.

Then people started running. First a few people, then a group, then the whole battalion. Some ran north, some ran towards the river, some ran east, and some didn't know where to go and just wandered around in circles in the camp. The shouts could be heard across the river.

Zhang He was putting on his armor in his tent. He did it quickly, fastening his wrist guards, buckling his shoulder guards, and hanging his sword at his waist. Gao Lan ran in from outside.

"General Zhang, Wuchao is burned. It's completely burned. The soldiers are starting to run away."

Zhang He said, "I saw it."

Gao Lan asked, "Where is Yuan Shao?"

Zhang He said, "I don't know. Some people said he ran north."

Gao Lan was silent for a moment. "We should go too."

Zhang He didn't speak. He fastened the last leather buckle, stood up, and walked out of the tent.

The camp was in chaos. People were running everywhere, and weapons and armor were scattered about. The granaries were empty; the front camp's food supplies were already meager, relying entirely on Wuchao. Now that Wuchao was gone, the front camp's food would only last two days. And after that?

Zhang He stood at the tent entrance and watched for a while. Then he turned to Gao Lan and said, "Go find Liu Bei."

Gao Lan was taken aback. "Surrender?"

Zhang He said, "Yuan Shao is finished. Following him is a dead end. Liu Bei has fought for half a year without making a mistake; he's worth surrendering to."

Gao Lan thought for a moment and nodded.

The two men, leading their troops, left Yuan's vanguard camp and headed south. They encountered fleeing soldiers along the way, who asked where they were going, but Zhang He did not answer. Some followed, while others continued running north.

Upon reaching the Yellow River, Zhang He raised a white flag—a torn piece of tent cloth, its whiteness gleaming. He ordered his men to hold the flag high and walk towards the other side. The river water was above their knees and waists, and the white cloth was splashed with water, but they still held it aloft.

Guan Yu spotted the white flag on the earthen wall. His adjutant said it was Zhang He. Guan Yu ordered them to be let over.

When Zhang He came ashore, he was soaking wet, water dripping from his stubble. He walked up to Guan Yu and knelt on one knee. "This humble general, Zhang He, is willing to surrender to General Liu."

Gao Lan also knelt down. More than two thousand soldiers behind him followed suit and knelt down as well.

Guan Yu looked down at them. He said that Liu Bei had not yet returned from Wuchao, and that this matter would be dealt with upon his return. Then he instructed his deputy to lead them to the vacant camp for temporary garrisoning, to collect weapons, and to register their names.

Yuan Shao was retreating. When the fire broke out at Wuchao, he was still trying to regroup his vanguard. He issued three orders: first, ordering Zhang He to lead troops to Wuchao to salvage the grain supplies; second, ordering Shen Pei to stabilize the various camps; and third, ordering Guo Tu to lead a law enforcement team to stop deserters. However, none of these three orders were actually implemented.

Zhang He left. Shen Pei managed to block one camp gate, but not the other three. Guo Tu led the enforcement team to stop deserters, but there were simply too many deserters to stop them, and the team ended up being scattered.

Yuan Tan ran out from another tent and found Yuan Shao. Yuan Tan was Yuan Shao's eldest son, in his early twenties, tall and thin with a long face. He was tying packs to his horse, his fingers bleeding from the knots of the rope, but he didn't stop.

"Father, let's go. Wuchao is gone, the grain is gone, the army has scattered. If we don't leave now, we'll never be able to leave again."