The Three Kingdoms: Rise of the Western Liang Cavalry

My head was throbbing, as if I were being repeatedly pounded by a giant hammer, and every bone in my body was groaning.

Qin Lie suddenly opened his eyes, and what came into view was not the familiar dormitory ceiling, but a rough, dark, oily cowhide tent top.

The air was filled with a strong, complex smell, a mixture of sweat, leather, and cheap tung oil.

"Captain! Captain, you're awake?"

A rough and anxious voice rang in my ears.

Qin Lie struggled to turn his neck, the sharp pain causing him to gasp.

He saw a weathered, dark face, and the man was wearing a badly worn suit of armor, his eyes filled with fear.

At this moment, the torrent of memories burst its banks, and two completely different lives collided violently like two raging rivers.

A graduate student in the Department of Modern History, a passionate enthusiast of the history of the late Han Dynasty and the Three Kingdoms period, specializing in Qin Lie, who studied the tactical evolution of the Western Liang army.

Qin Lie, the eldest son of the Qin family of the Northern Lands and the Commandant of the Great Han Dynasty, was stationed at the border camp of Fufeng.

"I...time traveled?"

The thought flashed through his mind like lightning, only to be overwhelmed by the overwhelming bloodlust and resentment he felt before his death on the battlefield.

He remembered that during an encounter with a group of roaming Qiang cavalry, in order to cover his soldiers, the original owner was shot in the chest with an arrow and fell from his horse, hitting the back of his head hard on a rock...

"Captain, something terrible has happened!"

When Qin An, the captain of the personal guard, saw that his eyes had regained their clarity, his voice was trembling.

He grabbed Qin Lie's cold, iron arm, lowered his voice, and each word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

"The news from Chang'an has just spread throughout the camps—Grand Tutor Dong... is dead!"

"boom!"

Qin Lie felt as if he had been hit by a giant hammer again, but this time, it wasn't pain, but extreme clarity.

Dong Zhuo is dead!

In the third year of the Chuping era, in April, Wang Yun and Lü Bu executed Dong Zhuo at Weiyang Palace!

He sat up abruptly, his heavy, elaborate armor rattling loudly.

The commotion outside the tent seemed amplified countless times, merging into a heart-pounding wave that pounded against the leather tent flap.

It wasn't the shouts of soldiers during daily drills, nor the laughter and commotion around the campfire, but rather a cacophony of screams and cries filled with terror, anger, and bewilderment.

"It's over! With the Grand Tutor dead, the imperial court will definitely settle scores with us Xiliang people!"

"My wife and children are still in Jincheng. If that old dog Wang Yun orders the massacre of Liangzhou, I..."

"What's there to be afraid of! Generals Li Jue and Guo Si have already gathered their troops and are ready to march back to Chang'an to avenge the Grand Tutor!"

"Revenge? What can we use to avenge them? That traitor Lü Bu has rebelled, and the Grand Tutor's Flying Bear Army has suffered heavy losses. What can we possibly do with our small force?"

Rumors spread like wildfire through the camp, mingled with the piercing sounds of clashing weapons, and the atmosphere of panic almost solidified into a tangible reality.

Qin Lie's eyes instantly turned as sharp as an eagle's.

As a researcher specializing in this period of history, he understood better than anyone what these few days meant for the entire Xiliang military group.

Historically, it was Wang Yun's series of foolish purging policies after Dong Zhuo's death, coupled with the internal discord and shortsightedness of the generals in Xiliang, that ultimately led to the tragedy of Li Jue and Guo Si's counterattack on Chang'an.

That catastrophe not only caused the Han Dynasty, which had just seen a glimmer of hope, to completely collapse, but also forever bound the name "Xiliang Army" to "bandits," "massacre," and "disaster to the country and the people," nailing it to the pillar of historical shame.

And he, Qin Lie, is now a member of this army that is about to be destroyed, a Po Lu Colonel in charge of five thousand elite troops.

He must not let history repeat itself!

"Qin An!"

Qin Lie's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable calmness and authority, instantly drowning out the noise outside the tent.

"Your subordinate is here!"

Qin An was intimidated by his imposing presence and instinctively straightened his back.

"Summon my personal guard, three hundred iron cavalry, and immediately seal off all four gates of the camp!"

"No one is allowed to enter or leave without authorization; anyone who disobeys will be executed!"

"This... Captain, the brothers are in a state of panic. Doing this might incite a mutiny..."

Qin An looked troubled.

Qin Lie's gaze was as cold as ice in the winter wind.

"Should we watch them cause trouble now, or wait for them to fall apart and be surrounded and annihilated by the imperial army, or be dragged along by Li Jue and Guo Si to become cannon fodder under the walls of Chang'an?"

"Execute the command!"

"promise!"

Qin An nodded heavily, turned around and strode out of the tent, his powerful command ringing out immediately.

"Issue my next order!"

Qin Lie did not stop. He lifted the tent flap, stood at the entrance of the commander's tent, and his gaze swept across the restless crowd in the camp like a blade.

The torchlight illuminated faces filled with fear, anger, or confusion. These battle-hardened soldiers, who had roamed the Northwest and struck fear into the hearts of the Qiang and Hu tribes, now resembled a flock of lost lambs.

"Order the military commander to immediately take a headcount of the personnel in each unit and report the whereabouts of all officers!"

"Order the granary official, the armory manager, and the horse supervisor to report the quantities of grain, weapons, and warhorses to my tent within a quarter of an hour!"

"Not a single copper coin, not a single arrow can be missed!"

"Finally, issue an order to the entire camp: anyone who dares to gather in crowds to cause trouble or spread rumors, regardless of rank, will be executed immediately!"

Qin Lie used all his strength to utter the last three words, his voice booming like thunder, instantly drowning out all the noise.

The camp fell silent suddenly.

All eyes were drawn to the tall, upright figure standing at the entrance of the command tent.

The captain's armor reflected a cold light in the firelight, and his young yet resolute face gave them a long-lost sense of security.

When news of Dong Zhuo's death arrived and everyone was in a state of panic, their captain, Qin Lie of the Qin family in the north, was the first to step forward and, in the most ruthless way, forcefully stabilized the situation that was about to collapse.

Qin Lie ignored the complicated gazes and turned back into the tent.

He walked to a huge sand table, which precisely depicted the terrain from Fufeng to Chang'an, and even the entire Guanzhong Plain.

Supplies, armor, morale, public sentiment... countless pieces of information intertwined in his mind, eventually converging into several clear data streams, as if a sophisticated program was running at high speed.

This is his advantage as a modern person, and also his greatest asset: a brain comparable to a supercomputer, capable of quantifying, analyzing, and finding the optimal solution from all chaotic information.

"Captain!"

A soldier in charge of documents hurriedly entered the tent and presented a scroll of bamboo slips that had just been written.

"The numbers for each department have been tallied!"

Qin Lie grabbed the bamboo slips and quickly unfolded them.

【Fufeng Border Camp】

[Commander: Qin Lie, Colonel of the Vanguard]

[Total number of troops: 5,013. Of these, 3,000 are Qin family private soldiers, and 2,013 are elite border troops.]

[Warhorses: 2,327, of which over 800 are top-tier warhorses suitable for charging into battle.]

[Food and provisions: Enough for ninety-two days.]

[Arsenal: 5,000 sets of armor, 8,000 spears, 5,000 ring-pommel swords, 3,000 bows, 300,000 arrows... The armory is intact and without shortage.]

Morale: Unstable. Approximately a thousand soldiers, originally from Jincheng and Wuwei, still have their families in Liangzhou. They yearn to return home, and over a hundred have already formed alliances, intending to flee west.