Han Ji

Zhao Hong led his personal guards westward against the flow of people and ran into Liu Bei.

In the firelight, he saw a young general, clad in black armor, riding a red horse, his sword dripping with blood. To his left and right were two figures: one with a red face and a long beard, like a god; the other with a black face and piercing eyes, like a demon.

"Zhao Hong!" Liu Bei reined in his horse. "Those who surrender will be spared!"

"Dream on!" Zhao Hong grinned maliciously, brandishing his knife as he charged forward.

Guan Yu wanted to greet him, but Liu Bei stopped him.

"I'll do it."

Liu Bei spurred his horse forward. Chi Yun was as fast as lightning, and in the blink of an eye, he was in front of Zhao Hong. Zhao Hong swung his sword down, but Liu Bei dodged to the side and slashed upwards with his own sword.

"clang!"

Swords clashed. Zhao Hong's arm went numb, and he was horrified! This young man has incredible strength!

The second sword was even faster, aimed straight for his heart. Zhao Hong barely managed to parry it, his hand splitting open. The third sword swept across, and he ducked to avoid it, his helmet being sliced ​​off.

After three moves, the difference in skill level was immediately apparent.

Zhao Hong, feeling the urge to retreat, feinted with his sword and turned his horse to leave.

Liu Bei didn't pursue, but raised his hand: "Bow."

Zhang Wu handed over a strong bow. Liu Bei nocked an arrow, drew it taut, and the bowstring was like a full moon.

The arrow is fired.

Zhao Hong was shot in the back with an arrow, screamed, and fell from his horse. His personal guards scattered in a panic.

Liu Bei sheathed his bow and looked at the central army banner: "Cut it down."

Zhang Fei charged forward, his spear sweeping across, snapping the flagpole in two, and the Yellow Turban banner crashed to the ground.

Resistance in the camp abruptly ceased.

"The bandit leader has been killed! Those who surrender will not be killed!" A thousand men roared in unison, their voices echoing across the land.

The Yellow Turban soldiers knelt down one after another, throwing their weapons all over the ground.

To the east, Lu Zhi's attack also ceased. Government troops poured in through the camp gates and began to take over the camp.

The battle ended at dawn.

Results of the battle: Over two thousand were beheaded and four thousand were captured. The government troops suffered one hundred and thirty-seven dead and over three hundred wounded.

Zhao Hong wasn't quite dead; the arrow had missed his heart by half an inch. The army doctor pulled him back from the brink of death, tied him up like a dumpling, and threw him into a prison cart.

Liu Bei stood on a high point in the camp, watching his soldiers clean up the battlefield. Corpses were carried out one by one, and blood seeped into the soil, staining the ground dark red.

Guan Yu walked over, his armor covered in blood.

"Brother, the wound needs to be treated." He pointed to Liu Bei's left arm, where there was a cut, not deep, but the blood had soaked through his sleeve.

"It's just a minor injury." Liu Bei tore off a strip of cloth and hastily bandaged the wound. "Where are the brothers?"

"Yide was hit in the leg by an arrow, but it's nothing serious. Zijing took a hit in the shoulder, Jian Yong is fine, and Zhang Wu only got a minor scrape."

"Let's go take a look."

The wounded soldiers' camp was set up in the former Yellow Turban granary. Jian Yongzheng led his men to distribute medicine for the wounded, working up a sweat.

Zhang Fei sat on a pile of hay as the army medic removed an arrow from his body. The arrowhead had barbs, and when it was pulled out, a small piece of flesh came out with it. Zhang Fei's face paled, but he didn't utter a sound.

"How is it?" Liu Bei asked.

"I won't die," Zhang Fei grinned. "It's just that this arrow is extremely poisonous; I'll need a few days to recover."

Qian Zhao had burlap wrapped around his shoulder, and blood was seeping out. When he saw Liu Bei, he tried to get up, but was pushed back down.

"Don't move." Liu Bei squatted down and examined the bones. "Are they alright?"

"It's nothing, just a superficial wound."

Liu Bei checked on everyone one by one, and only breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that everyone was alright.

Lu Zhi waited as he left the wounded soldiers' camp.

"Well done." Lu Zhi patted him on the shoulder. "With this battle, the gates of Hanoi have been opened."

"Is Huaicheng next?"

"No." Lu Zhi laughed. "There's no need to fight Huaicheng."

He handed over a secret letter. Liu Bei unfolded it; it was written jointly by several gentry families of Huaicheng, saying they were willing to surrender the city, only asking the court to pardon them for their crime of following the rebels.

"Zhao Hong's defeat has terrified them," Lu Zhi said. "I have already replied and approved it."

"Winning without bloodshed...that's a good thing."

"But the battle isn't over yet." Lu Zhi looked north. "Zhang Jiao won't sit idly by and watch Hanoi fall. The real battle is yet to come."

Liu Bei nodded.

In the distance, the river flows eastward in a rolling torrent.

The sun was fully up, and the light shone brightly on the blood-stained camp.

The soldiers were digging pits to bury the bodies, carrying them in one by one, filling them with soil, and tamping it down. There were no tombstones, only slightly raised mounds of earth.

Four thousand prisoners squatted on the open ground, their eyes blank.

Liu Bei walked over. The prisoners stirred when they saw him.

"Who among you has been to school?" he asked.

After a moment of silence, a thin young man raised his hand: "This humble one...this humble one has read the Classic of Filial Piety."

"What's your name?"

"Li Ping is from Wen County, Hanoi."

"come out."

Li Ping stood up, trembling, and walked to the front.

"Can you read and do arithmetic?"

"Yes... I know a little."

"Alright," Liu Bei said to Jian Yong. "Register the names and hometowns of the prisoners and assign them to the auxiliary troops. Li Ping will be in charge of the roster."

Jian Yong noted it down.

Li Ping was stunned: "General...you believe me?"

"I'm giving you a chance," Liu Bei said, looking at him. "If you do well, you'll have a future. If you don't, you'll be dealt with according to military law."

Li Ping knelt down with a thud and kowtowed three times.

Liu Bei turned and walked away.

Zhang Fei limped after him, asking, "Brother, what if those prisoners rebel again?"

"They are all poor people who have been dragged into this," Liu Bei said. "Let Jian Yong supervise them properly, and let them govern themselves. That will be more effective than us governing them."

Guan Yu pondered: "Winning hearts and minds?"

"Hmm." Liu Bei stopped and looked at the busy soldiers in the distance. "Killing people is easy, but winning their hearts is difficult. The Yellow Turban rebels have taken a large number of civilians with them in this battle. If we wipe them out completely, it will only make the enemy more united and determined to resist to the end."

Zhang Fei scratched his head: "I don't understand, but whatever my brother says goes."

Guan Yu glared at him again, then laughed.

At noon, Lu Zhi convened a military meeting.

The map was laid out, clearly marking the mountains, rivers, and cities from Hanoi to Julu.

"Zhang Jiao's main force is at Julu, about 150,000 men," Lu Zhi pointed to the map, "but he has too many places to defend: Ye City, Handan, Guangzong, Xiaquyang... his forces are scattered."

"So we must act quickly," Liu Bei said. "We must defeat them one by one before they can gather their forces."

"Indeed." Lu Zhi looked at the generals. "Next stop, Ye City. Ye City is besieged by Han Zhong, the leader of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and the defenders are still holding out. If we can lift the siege of Ye City, then Wei Commandery can be secured."

"When do we depart?"

"Tomorrow," Lu Zhi stood up, "let the soldiers rest for a day, eat their fill, and sleep soundly. The day after tomorrow, we will march on Ye City."

The generals clasped their hands in a fist salute: "Yes, sir!"

After the meeting, Liu Bei returned to his tent.

Jian Yong followed him in and handed him a bowl of hot soup: "Brother, drink it while it's hot."

The soup was made with minced meat and a few wild vegetables floating on top. Liu Bei took it and drank it slowly.

"Constitutional peace".

"Why."

"Many people will die if we continue fighting along this path."

Jian Yong was silent for a moment: "In chaotic times... how can you quell the chaos without losing lives?"

"I'm thinking," Liu Bei put down his bowl, "that if the war is over, how will the survivors live?"

"That's for later."

"We'll have to think about this in the future too." Liu Bei looked outside the tent. "We can't fight for nothing, and we can't shed blood in vain."

Jian Yong laughed: "Brother, you're becoming more and more like Lord Lu."

"Does it look like it?"

"Yes," Jian Yong said. "His heart is filled with things and people."

Liu Bei remained silent.

The soldiers' singing drifted from outside the tent; it was rough, the tune off, but they sang with great effort:

"How can we say we have no clothes? We share our robes with you..."

The voice was hoarse and carried on the wind.

As Liu Bei listened, he slowly closed his eyes.