Traveling back in time to Liu Feng, starting with rescuing soldier Guan Yu.

Chapter 118 Sun Shiwan, cornered as a dog, will jump over the wall.

For five days now, smoke has been billowing over the camp on the south bank of the Liuyang River.

The pine wood fence on the stockade wall was riddled with crossbow bolts, and several breaches in the crenellations were breached by battering rams, which were then filled in by the garrison overnight with sandbags and rubble.

The moat in front of the stockade had been mostly filled with corpses, some of them from Wu soldiers and others from Shu Han, piled up in layers in the mud.

On the stockade wall, Liu Feng's soldiers were still holding their ground.

In the past five days, they have repelled no fewer than twenty attacks by Wu's army. The defenders took turns resting behind the battlements, and some even fell asleep leaning against the stockade wall, still clutching half-eaten dry biscuits in their hands.

The healers were so busy in the wounded soldiers' camp that they didn't have time to rest. The crushed herbs were piled up into small mountains, and the linen used for bandaging was washed and reused repeatedly. The water in the basin was as red as dissolved cinnabar.

Sun Quan's central command tent was set up on a high ground on the north bank of the Liuyang River. The tent was brightly lit, but the atmosphere was as somber as iron.

Despite five days of relentless attacks and thousands of casualties, they were still unable to capture the camp.

Liu Feng's forces numbered only a few thousand, yet they held firm at the ferry crossing like a nail, making it impossible for Liu Feng's tens of thousands of troops to advance.

What troubled Sun Quan even more was the food supply: Shamoke's barbarian soldiers kept harassing the supply routes in the Mufu Mountains, and the supply convoys in the rear were complaining bitterly. The army's food reserves had dropped from half a month's worth to less than ten days' worth.

He must break through this defensive line as soon as possible, otherwise the army's morale will be completely worn down, and the shortage of military supplies will only continue to grow.

Sun Quan looked around at everyone and said in a deep voice, "A single camp has held me off for five days. If this drags on any longer, our military supplies will run out, our morale will be completely extinguished, and what will be the point of attacking Linxiang? We must come up with a solution today."

None of the generals responded.

Han Dang's expression was solemn, while Zhou Tai stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the location of the camp on the map.

At this moment, Quan Cong stepped forward.

This general, a renowned scholar from Wu Commandery, appeared remarkably composed among the armored warriors, dressed in simple robes and a belt. He clasped his hands in a fist salute to Sun Quan and said, "My lord, this humble general has a plan."

Sun Quan gestured for him to continue.

"General Yu Jin still commands over 20,000 fierce soldiers from the north. These men have yet to achieve any merit. It would be better to let them lead the charge, dividing them into five teams to take turns attacking the camp. My lord can personally lead the elite central army to form ranks on the south bank, with axemen following behind. Draw a line on the beachhead; anyone who dares to retreat beyond this line will be executed on the spot."

Quan Cong's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, as if he were stating something that was perfectly ordinary.

"No matter how elite Liu Feng's troops are, they only number a few thousand. With twenty thousand surrendered soldiers attacking day and night in shifts, they will eventually breach the fortified walls. These men are not worth the loss, but they can save the lives of the men of Jiangdong. Isn't that a win-win situation?"

The tent was completely silent.

Yu Jin abruptly raised his head, his white beard trembling slightly in the candlelight. His voice was hoarse, yet filled with long-suppressed anger: "General Quan! Those surrendered soldiers are human too! They've been imprisoned in Jiangling for over a year, starving and freezing. Now, just released, they're being pushed to the front lines as human shields. If you treat them like this, how can they not harbor rebellious thoughts? If a mutiny breaks out, the consequences will be unimaginable!"

Quan Cong coldly replied, "General Yu, you are mistaken. These surrendered soldiers were defeated generals, people who knelt and begged for survival. If it weren't for our lord's mercy, they would have died long ago in the Jiangling prison. Giving them a chance to atone for their crimes is already a great favor. As for mutiny, we still have tens of thousands of elite troops lined up behind us. Even if they wanted to rebel, what waves could they possibly stir up?"

Yu Jin's face flushed red, his hands clenched so tightly in his sleeves that his knuckles turned white, but he ultimately remained silent. He was a surrendered general, and the twenty thousand surrendered soldiers behind him were also surrendered troops.

In Sun Quan's eyes, these people were indeed just pawns on the chessboard.

Sun Quan pondered for a moment, then slowly spoke: "This plan is feasible. General Wenze, tomorrow you will lead the Mo troops to spearhead the attack, dividing them into five teams to take turns attacking the camp. I will personally supervise the battle, with the elite troops of the central army as the supervisory team. Draw a line as the boundary, and anyone who retreats beyond the line will be executed."

Yu Jin remained silent for a long time before finally clasping his hands in agreement, his voice hoarse and heavy.

The following morning, on the riverbank south of the Liuyang River, five squads of surrendered soldiers from the north had already formed ranks. Their armor was still the old Cao Wei style, some of the plates were rusted, and the swords and spears in their hands were newly issued, the blades not yet sharpened.

These people endured long years in the Jiangling prison, thinking that seeing the light of day again would be their only way out, but they were unexpectedly pushed to the front lines of the battlefield.

Their eyes were filled with a mixture of fear, numbness, and despair, but no one dared to retreat. The white line drawn on the beach by Sun Quan's personal guards with the tip of their swords was clearly visible, and behind the white line were the menacing swords and axes of the supervising team.

Yu Jin, mounted on his horse, had a livid face.

He looked at his emaciated former subordinates, his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke in a hoarse voice: "On my command, each team will attack in turn, and no one is allowed to retreat."

The sound of war drums rang out over the south bank.

Urged on by their squad leaders, the first troop of surrendered soldiers charged toward the camp, shields raised. Their formation was loose, their steps disorderly, a stark contrast to the disciplined ranks of the Jiangdong elite.

The crossbowmen on the stockade sat on the ground, their feet on copper stirrups, aiming their arrows at the poor people who had been driven into battle.

The crossbow bolts flew out with a sharp whooshing sound, piercing through shields and rusty old armor, pinning the surrendered soldiers at the forefront to the mudflats.

Screams rose and fell as the first group of surrendered soldiers began to retreat when they were still more than two hundred paces from the stockade wall. They turned and ran back, but when they reached the white line, they were met with the cold blades of the supervising officers.

Several heads rolled down beside the white line, and the remaining surrendered soldiers were forced back and charged toward the camp again.

The second team followed, then the third team, and then the fourth and fifth teams took turns attacking.

The surrendered soldiers, like a flock of sheep being driven, crashed into the stockade wall wave after wave, only to be driven back wave after wave by crossbow bolts, boulders, and boiling oil.

The moat in front of the stockade had been filled with corpses. Later surrendered soldiers rushed up the pile of corpses by stepping on the bodies of their comrades, only to be pinned to the pile by new crossbow bolts.

Blood flowed from the mudflats into the Liuyang River, turning the river water a pale red.

The fierce battle raged from dawn until afternoon, and then from afternoon until dusk. Yu Jin remained silent as he rode his horse, gazing at his old subordinates who had been treated as expendable resources, his eyes swirling with indescribable emotions.

His lips were chapped, his eyes were sunken, and the veins on the back of his hand gripping the knife bulged. With each falling batch of surrendered soldiers, his knuckles tightened their grip, but he never uttered a single word.

He couldn't say anything, nor dared to say anything.

From the stockade wall, Liu Feng took in all of this.

He gazed at the mountains of corpses piled up on the mudflats, at the emaciated, desperate surrendered soldiers being driven to their deaths by the supervising officers, and whispered to Kou Wei beside him, "Sun Quan is desperate. He's resorting to such tactics; he's almost run out of cards."

Kou Wei's face was covered in gunpowder and blood: "My lord, although the surrendered Wu soldiers are not good at fighting, there are too many of them. We have used up more than half of our arrows in the camp. If we continue like this, I'm afraid we won't be able to hold out until tomorrow."

"No need to hold out until tomorrow."

Liu Feng withdrew his gaze, dusted off his hands, and said, "We'll retreat tonight and burn the camp as planned."

He turned around and looked at the official road to the south, shrouded in twilight. Fifty miles away was the last Han army camp that Ma Liang had set up beforehand.

Further south lies Linxiang City.

At the hour of Hai (9-11 PM) that night, Yu Jin's five detachments of surrendered soldiers were repelled in the final wave of attack, and the mudflats fell into a brief silence.

The surrendered soldiers dragged the wounded back to the north bank, and the executioners of the supervisory team watched coldly without swinging their swords again.

Yu Jin led his remaining troops back to the camp on the north bank. As he dismounted, he stumbled and was helped up by his personal guards. He glanced back at the camp on the south bank, still standing amidst the flames, his gaze complex.

On that day, he lost thousands of men. Those emaciated figures, those heads chopped off by the supervising team beside the white line, weighed heavily on his heart.

Just as Wu Jun was resting, flames suddenly shot into the sky from the camp on the south bank.

The night was as dark as ink, and the camps on the south bank of the Liuyang River collapsed with a series of loud crashes amidst the raging flames. Thick smoke billowed into the night sky, obscuring the stars and moon, and the firelight reflected on the surface of the Liuyang River, turning half of the river a dark red.

Sun Huan stood on a small earthen slope on the north bank, with several personal guards behind him. The firelight cast flickering shadows on his young face, making his otherwise handsome features appear sharply defined.

His gaze shifted from the towering flames on the opposite bank to the dark end of the official road to the south.

Liu Feng was retreating, heading towards the last camp outside Linxiang City. From Laodao River to Liuyang River, and then continuing south from Liuyang River, Liu Feng's tactics were crystal clear: each defensive line was positioned at the throat of the Wu army, and each camp was burned to ashes at the most critical moment.

But this time is different.

This time, Sun Huan saw something that others had not seen.

His light passed over the firelight, over the official road, and stopped at the camp that Ma Liang had built beforehand, about twenty miles north of Linxiang City.

That location was too tricky; it was positioned precisely on the only road the Wu army could take to Linxiang City. If the Wu army wanted to attack the city, they had to take down this camp first.

If the city is not captured, when the main army presses down on Linxiang, the garrison in the camp will launch an attack from the rear, forming a pincer movement with the city's defenders.

A pincer movement. This camp is the corner of Linxiang City, and Linxiang City is the support behind this camp. The two depend on each other and are indispensable.

At that moment, Liu Feng was retreating to that camp. His soldiers were exhausted and their formation was loose, making them the most vulnerable.

Once he safely enters the camp, this pincer movement will be unshakeable.