Han Ji

"My older brother is worried."

"Hmm." Liu Bei gazed at the starry sky. "Zhang Jiao has a million men, while we only have thirty thousand. Even if we win every single battle, how long will it take?"

"Win until you can't win anymore," Guan Yu said calmly. "Win until you die."

Zhang Fei glared at him: "Yun Chang, what are you saying?!"

"To tell you the truth," Guan Yu said, looking at Liu Bei, "Brother, this battle isn't about winning, it's about fighting because it's necessary. A battle that should be fought, even if we lose, is still a battle we should fight."

Liu Bei was stunned for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Yun Chang is right."

He got up and patted the dirt off his clothes.

"If a battle needs to be fought, then fight it."

The starlight in the night sky was cold and clear, illuminating the dilapidated eaves of the small town.

The distant camp echoed with the snores of soldiers.

Liu Bei stood in the courtyard, his hand on his sword, listening and watching.

Behind them, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei also stood up, one on the left and one on the right, like two mountains.

Wen County is sleeping peacefully.

Further north, however, blood and fire are raging.

It is located 20 li north of Heyang County, at a bend in the Yellow River.

Zhao Hong set up his camp here, with his back to the earthen mound and facing the river. The camp was three-tiered, the moat was wide and deep, and the banks were lined with chevaux-de-frise and sharpened wooden stakes.

When the scout returned, Lu Zhi was looking at a map.

"Zhao Hong's forces numbered about eight thousand, of which two thousand were the original garrison of Heyang, fully equipped. The rest were mostly displaced people who had been coerced into serving, but they held their positions in strategic locations."

Liu Bei stood to the side, drawing a line on the map with his finger: "What if we cross at night from the old ferry crossing ten miles upstream, circling around to his flank?"

"The old ferry crossing is shallow, but the river is narrow, and there are shallows on the opposite bank that cavalry can cross," Lu Zhi pondered. "But Zhao Hong is not a fool; he must have set up sentry posts along the river."

"So we must act quickly," Liu Bei said. "We must cross the river at midnight and launch our attack before dawn. By the time they discover us, it will be too late."

"Who's going?"

"I'll go." Liu Bei looked up. "Teacher, you will launch a feint attack from the front to draw his attention. I will lead a thousand elite troops across the river and strike straight at his central army."

"A thousand people is too few."

"The quality of an army is more important than its quantity." Liu Bei paused, "I need three hundred elite cavalry from Youzhou and seven hundred cavalry from the Three Rivers region. Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Qian Qi, Jian Qichen, and Zhang Fei will all go."

Lu Zhi looked at him for a long time, then nodded: "Alright. But if things don't work out, retreat immediately. Don't be reckless."

"The student understands."

At the hour of Hai (9-11 PM) that night, Liu Bei led his troops to set off.

A thousand men, each with gags in their mouths and their horses with their hooves wrapped in cloth, made their way north along the west bank of the Yellow River. The night was as dark as ink, with only the sound of rushing water.

Zhang Fei led the way, his eyes wide as he stared at the opposite bank. Guan Yu brought up the rear, his Green Dragon Crescent Blade held horizontally across his horse. Qian Zhao and his scouts were scattered on either side, like a flock of silent owls.

After walking for an hour, we arrived at the old ferry crossing.

The opposite bank was dark, with only the outlines of trees faintly visible. The river narrowed here, and the current slowed.

"Zhang Wu."

"Yes, brother."

"Lead the men across first and take out the sentry post."

"Yes, sir!"

Zhang Wu selected twenty men skilled in swimming, removed their armor, and, carrying only short swords, silently slipped into the river. The water was bone-chillingly cold, but no one made a sound.

A quarter of an hour later, several very faint muffled thuds were heard from the opposite bank, like stones falling into the water. Then, three flashes of light appeared, signaling that it was safe.

"Crossing the river."

Bamboo rafts and leather rafts were pushed into the water, and cavalrymen led their horses across. The water reached the horses' bellies, and the horses were startled, but their owners held on tightly to the bridles.

Liu Bei was the last to board the raft. Jian Yong was punting, the bamboo pole inserted into the riverbed, and he pushed hard.

The raft left the shore.

The other side was getting closer. Liu Bei could see Zhang Wu standing on the shallows, with several corpses lying at his feet, the blood staining a small patch of the river black.

They went ashore and lined up.

A thousand people stood soaking wet on the north bank, their teeth chattering in the cold wind. No one spoke, only suppressed gasps filled the air.

Liu Bei glanced at the sky; it was three quarters past midnight.

"Prepare your armor and check your weapons," he said in a low voice. "We'll depart in a quarter of an hour."

The soldiers silently tidied themselves up. Water dripped from their armor, forming small puddles at their feet.

Guan Yu walked up to Liu Bei and handed him a leather pouch: "Wine, to ward off the cold."

Liu Bei took it, drank a sip, and found it spicy, burning from his throat to his stomach.

"Yun Chang, are you afraid?"

"When I killed the powerful and influential in Jieliang, I wasn't afraid either," Guan Yu paused, "but this battle is different."

"It's different." Liu Bei returned the skin to him. "Before, I killed for personal grudges. Now, I kill for... for something I don't know."

"Do what needs to be done," Guan Yu said.

Liu Bei smiled: "Yes, it's something that should be done."

Arrive in 15 minutes.

"Mount up."

A thousand men mounted their horses, the stirrups lightly touching, the armor plates rubbing together, producing a soft, rustling sound.

"Target: Zhao Hong's central army." Liu Bei drew his sword, the tip pointing into the darkness ahead. "In this battle, there is no turning back."

"No retreat!" A low growl rolled through the night.

The cavalry began to move, first walking slowly, then trotting, and finally galloping at full speed.

The thunderous sound of hooves crashed onto the frozen ground.

Zhao Hongda Camp.

The central command tent was brightly lit. Zhao Hong sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed. He was in his early forties and had originally served as the Commandant of Heyang County. During the Yellow Turban Rebellion, he killed the governor and declared himself the leader.

But I don't feel at ease.

During the day, the vanguard of the government troops reached the opposite bank, but instead of attacking, they simply set up camp on the shore. This was unlike Lu Zhi's style; that old fellow was always ruthless and direct in his military tactics.

"Report—" a guard rushed in, "We've lost contact with the western sentry post!"

Zhao Hong suddenly stood up: "How long has it been?"

"The signal hasn't changed for half an hour."

"Damn it..." Zhao Hong grabbed his helmet. "Order the entire army to be on high alert! The government troops might launch a night attack!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than shouts of battle suddenly came from the direction of the eastern camp gate.

coming!

Zhao Hong charged out of the tent, sword in hand. Flames erupted to the east, and the banners of government troops could be vaguely seen; it was Lu Zhi's main force, launching a fierce attack on the camp gate.

"As expected." Zhao Hong sneered, "Trying to break through head-on? I've been building this camp for three months; is it made of paper?"

He dispatched troops to reinforce the east.

Just then, an even more intense roar came from the west. It wasn't the sound of fighting, but the sound of horses' hooves—the sound of thousands upon thousands of hooves, like a flash flood.

"What's going on?!" Zhao Hong turned around.

A blood-soaked sentry scrambled over, shouting, "General! General! Cavalry from the west... cavalry from the west! They're attacking from behind!"

Zhao Hong's mind went blank.

We've fallen for their trap!

Lu Zhi launched a feint attack from the front, while his main force crossed the river from the rear!

"Hold on! Hold on!" he roared, charging westward with his sword in hand.

But it was too late.

Liu Bei's thousand cavalry, like a red-hot knife, plunged fiercely into the Yellow Turban camp. The palisades were smashed open, the barricades were trampled, and the defenders were crushed by the iron hooves before they could even react.

Zhang Fei charged at the forefront, his eighteen-foot spear sweeping through the enemy ranks. Guan Yu was on the left flank, his Green Dragon Crescent Blade sending heads flying with each swing. Qian Zhao was on the right flank, his mounted archers firing in rapid succession, targeting officers.

Liu Bei, positioned in the center, pointed his sword forward: "Straight to the central army banner!"

The cavalry, in a wedge formation, charged fiercely into the heart of the camp.

The Yellow Turban army was thrown into chaos. They were not a regular army to begin with, and caught in a pincer attack, they collapsed instantly. Some fled east, only to run into Lu Zhi's attacking forces. Others tried to escape west, but were pursued and killed by cavalry. Many more knelt and surrendered, their weapons scattered on the ground.