Han Ji

It was the hour of Mao (5-7 AM). The sun hadn't risen yet, but it was already bright. The morning light spilled over from behind the mountain ridges, turning the entire grassland gray. The dew was heavy; water droplets clung to the withered grass, and your trousers would get wet as soon as you walked by.

Liu Bei mounted his jade-colored steed. Sensing the tension on its master's body, the steed pawed at the ground with its front hooves, digging a shallow hole. Liu Bei held the reins with one hand and gripped the hilt of his sword with the other, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

"Leave the mountain."

The column surged out of the mountain pass. First to go out were Zhao Yun's cavalry, five hundred elite riders. They didn't fly flags or beat drums; the sound of hooves echoed muffledly across the grassland. The riders lay prone on their horses, their swords still sheathed, their bodies pressed against their horses' necks, both men and horses lowering their center of gravity.

Following behind were Guan Yu's vanguard infantry, their spear tips pointing diagonally forward, their footsteps echoing in unison. Further back was Zhang Fei's left flank, leading the column, his ring-pommel sword already drawn, the back of the blade resting on his shoulder, the edge reflecting the morning light. The central army brought up the rear, with Liu Bei riding his jade-white steed, the great banner yet to be unfurled.

Pufulu's camp.

As dawn broke, the changing of the guard began. The man on duty yawned, walked to the antlers, squatted down, and urinated. The urine steamed on the dry grass. As he urinated, he glanced unconsciously into the distance, and then he saw the cavalry.

The cavalry charged out of the morning light, first as a row of black dots, then the outlines of the horses, and then the riders on horseback could be seen crouching low and the glint of swords slowly being drawn from their sheaths.

The sentry who was urinating stopped halfway through, ignoring the wet patch on his pants. He tried to shout, but before a sound could escape his lips, a crossbow bolt shot from the direction of the special forces battalion and pierced his throat. The shaft trembled. He fell backward, the back of his head hitting a deer antler, his legs twitched a few times, and then he lay still.

Qian Zhao sheathed his crossbow, drew his sword, and stood up from the bushes. "Charge!"

Five hundred elite cavalrymen trampled the deer antlers and charged into the camp. Their hooves overturned the campfires, sparks flew onto the tents, and the tents burst into flames. Wuhuan soldiers ran out of the tents, some shirtless, some wearing only trousers, some clutching knives, still in their scabbards, to defend themselves.

Zhao Yun charged ahead, his blade flashing across his horse, felling a soldier who had just emerged from his tent. The blade sliced ​​from the soldier's left shoulder to his right rib; the soldier spun around and crashed to the ground, blood splattering onto the tent fabric.

Pufulu burst out of his large tent. He was wearing armor, but the belt was not fastened properly, and his breastplate swayed askew on his chest. In his hand he gripped a scimitar with a horn-inlaid hilt.

He saw Zhao Yun charging towards him on horseback, raising his scimitar to slash at the horse's legs. Zhao Yun gave him no chance, sidestepping on horseback and slashing with his blade between Pufulu's neck and shoulder, severing his collarbone and sending a trail of broken armor fragments flying.

Pufulu's knife slipped from his hand. He didn't fall immediately, but staggered a couple of steps, clutching his neck, blood spurting from between his fingers. Then he knelt down, falling face down to the ground, his fingers still digging into the grass roots.

Guan Yu's vanguard surrounded them from the flank. He held his Green Dragon Crescent Blade horizontally on his horse, the back of the blade against the horse's mane, the edge facing outwards. The Wuhuan soldiers ran towards the rear of the camp to retrieve their horses, but were intercepted by Guan Yu's troops at the horse stables.

Next to the horse post, a fierce hand-to-hand battle raged, blades clashing against blades, bone against bone. Some men, their hands severed, still reached out with their other hands to untie their horse's reins. The horses, startled, bolted wildly, knocking the horse post askew and dragging down several tents.

From the first shout of battle to the complete rout of Pufulu's camp, less than half an hour had passed. The fire was still burning, the tents were charred frames, and smoke billowed straight into the sky. The surrendered Wuhuan soldiers knelt on the ground, their hands covering their heads, the backs of their hands covered in bloody cuts, and the cold wind carried the stench of blood throughout the valley.

Liu Bei rode his horse into the camp. His horse's hooves trampled over charred tent cloths and overturned deer antlers. He glanced at Pufulu on the ground, then looked up towards the main peak of White Wolf Mountain.

The Wuhuan camp on White Wolf Mountain began to stir. Figures ran around in front of the tents, and the distant sound of horns could be heard. The horns sounded muffled and long, as if someone was choking and dragging them out.

"Pufulu is dead. The signal has been sent," Jia Xu said.

"Taton knows we're here. What will he do?"

"Either consolidate your forces and defend White Wolf Mountain, or lead your cavalry to charge down." Jia Xu flipped the chess piece over. "He's a steppe chieftain; he won't defend the mountain. He'll charge down."

Guan Yu rubbed his Green Dragon Crescent Blade against the sole of his boot, wiping away the blood. "This humble general is willing to lead the vanguard and await him at the foot of the mountain."

Liu Bei glanced at the commotion on the mountain. Halfway up White Wolf Mountain, in front of the tents, the cavalry were already preparing their horses, and the large banner with the tail of a yak was still fluttering.

"Form ranks. Line up at the foot of the slope. Infantry in front, cavalry on the flanks. Let him charge."

At the foot of White Wolf Mountain, on the open ground at the exit of the North Gully, Liu Bei's army began to form ranks. The central infantry were arranged in three square formations, each with two thousand men. The front rank consisted of shield bearers, their shields stacked together, edge to edge, forming a wall.

Long spears extended between the shields, their tips pointing diagonally forward, the meter-long spearheads gleaming bluish-white in the sunlight. The second rank consisted of swordsmen and shieldmen, their short swords drawn and shields held high in front of their chests.

The third rank consisted of crossbowmen. They used their feet to press the crossbows into the ground to engage the strings, and the archers drew arrows from their quivers and planted them in the ground in front of them, the shafts swaying slightly in the mud. Gaps were left between the square formations to allow cavalry to move in and out.

On the left flank were Zhao Yun's three thousand elite cavalry, with Liangzhou Qiang cavalry in front. The riders tightened their fur coats, their horses pawing the ground, standing side by side, head to head. On the right flank were Guan Yu's Youzhou elite cavalry, fifteen hundred riders, with Guan Yu at the very front, his Green Dragon Crescent Blade held horizontally in front of his saddle.

Zhang Fei led 5,000 infantrymen on the left flank, positioned on the left side of the square formation, their spears like a forest. Qian Zhao's special forces battalion was scattered in front of the formation and on the hillsides on both sides, their crossbows cocked and their men lying prone in the grass, watching every movement in the direction of White Wolf Mountain.

The supply wagons were pushed to the rear of the formation and arranged in a semi-circle to serve as the rear defensive line.

Liu Bei stood at the forefront of the central army formation, riding his jade-white steed. The great banner was finally unfurled, the black banner with the red character "Liu" fluttering in the north wind. He wore a two-piece armor, grayish-blue, the plates gleaming matte in the morning light. A double-edged sword hung at his waist, the cloth wrapped around its hilt worn and frayed.

The sound of horns came from the direction of White Wolf Mountain. The horns were bull horns, and when blown, they produced a long, dull, and piercing sound, like the mournful howl of a bull before it was slaughtered. The deep sound echoed across the grassland, making one's chest feel heavy.

One horn sound after another rang out, spreading and rotating from the main peak in all directions. Each unit took turns responding, and the dull sound echoed throughout the entire valley.

Then came the sound of horses' hooves. At first, it was a distant buzzing sound, then it grew louder and closer, until finally the whole earth was shaking.

On the mountainside of Bailang Mountain, the Wuhuan cavalry began to press down. First, hundreds of horses poured out from the gaps in the tents, and then thousands of horses rushed down together. The herd of horses drove down the mountainside, their hooves breaking the dry grass and overturning the gravel, kicking up large clouds of dust.

Riders pressed themselves against their horses' necks, their bare arms waving scimitars in circles above their heads, their shouts of battle mingling with the sound of hooves, making it impossible to distinguish between the hoofbeats and their own voices.

Tadun was among the cavalry. He rode a tall, dark blue horse, half a head taller than the others, its mane braided into long braids with red ribbons tied to the ends.

Tadun wore no armor, only a wolfskin robe and a belt studded with copper nails. In his hand he held a long-handled curved sword with a blade as wide as a cleaver. Behind him were his personal guards, about five hundred riders, all seasoned veterans with the best horsemanship. Neither the riders nor the horses made any unnecessary movements.