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

The Danshui River Valley is located ten miles south of Danshui City.

As night fell, Liu Feng led the Wancheng camp to the valley entrance. The campfires in the valley flickered, their reflections shimmering on the stream, creating countless trembling spots of light.

The arrangement of the camp was better than Liu Feng had expected—at least there was a fence around the perimeter, a sentry post at the valley entrance, and the sentries were not dozing off.

This is thanks to Wei Zheng.

But that's where it ends.

Inside the fence, the atmosphere of chaos still seeped out from every detail. The air was filled with a mixture of the smells of smoke, sweat, and livestock dung.

Some people gambled around the campfire, their curses and the clatter of dice blending together. Others squatted by the stream washing clothes, then poured the dirty water back into the stream afterward. Still others argued loudly between the tents, speaking in the local dialect of the Nanyang area, their voices so loud it sounded like they were shouting across the mountains.

Wei Zheng jogged out from the depths of the camp to greet him, his armor covered in mud and his trousers half-wet—he must have just returned from patrolling the stream.

"Military Appointment Sima Weizheng, paying respects to the Deputy Army General!"

His voice was loud, but there was a hint of nervousness hidden within it. Liu Feng dismounted and helped him up.

"Kou Zun told me that these 30,000 troops were all maintained by your efforts?"

Wei Zheng's thick eyebrows furrowed even more tightly.

"Reporting to the Deputy General, I have done my best. But there are simply too many people. I have used every means at my disposal—daily roll call, dividing into battalions and units, and prohibiting private fights."

"But when military law is enforced, they don't understand. If the punishment is too harsh, they run away. If the punishment is too lenient, they laugh. Your humble servant..."

His voice gradually faded.

"This humble general is incompetent."

Liu Feng looked at him without blaming him. If everyone could easily command 30,000 troops, then the talents of military commanders in this era would be far too worthless.

Liu Feng's gaze swept past Wei Zheng, across the bewildered, numb, or brutish faces around the campfire. Thirty thousand people who had left their homes had no complete military system, no hierarchical officer corps, and no clear sense of belonging.

With just Wei Zheng and a few dozen temporary underlings, they simply couldn't manage it all.

The following morning, the sound of bugle calls rang out over the Danshui River Valley. The bugle calls echoed among the cliffs, startling a flock of crows perched on withered trees, which fluttered and flew into the gray sky.

The Yimin Allied Army poured out of their various camps and lined up in the open space in the middle of the valley. The formation was crooked and the noise rose and fell, but at least everyone stood still—Wei Zheng had notified all the battalions last night that Deputy Commander Liu would be giving a speech today.

Liu Feng stood on a slightly elevated earthen slope at the northern end of the open space. Behind him, 1,200 soldiers of the Wancheng Camp were already arrayed in a square formation. Straight lines, like knife cuts, stood silently as mountains in the morning light.

Liu Feng didn't rush to speak. He waited until everyone had stopped and the noise had subsided before raising his hand.

"reward."

A military order consisting of just one word—brief and concise.

Since Deng Ai had difficulty speaking, his deputy Wei Zheng stepped forward with a scroll of bamboo slips and loudly read out a long list of names.

Each name corresponds to a soldier from Wancheng Camp who distinguished himself in the battle to capture Xiangyang and behead Cao Ren.

Those whose names were called stepped forward one by one and received their rewards from the captain—some were copper coins, some were cloth, and the most common was a copper plaque engraved with the character "勇" (yong, meaning bravery). This plaque was specially made by Liu Feng when he was in Xiangyang and was awarded to brave warriors who killed enemies.

As the last man returned to his place, the 1,200 soldiers of Wancheng Camp suddenly shouted in unison.

"I am willing to die for the deputy general!"

The sound waves, like blades slicing through a stream, caused the front ranks of the Righteous People's Army on the opposite side to involuntarily take a half-step back. Some people in the ranks whispered among themselves, only to be nudged by the elbows of those next to them, and reluctantly shut their mouths.

Liu Feng turned around to face the Allied Forces of the Righteous People. His gaze slowly swept from the far left to the far right of the formation, and he remained silent for a long time.

"Bring him here."

Hu Meng and his sixteen men were bound hand and foot and escorted out from the back of the column, pushed to the center of an open space.

The night of detention had left them in a sorry state; Hu Meng's beard was covered in bits of grass and dried blood, and his triangular eyes were swollen shut.

He knelt on the ground, his neck stiff, trying to say something, but his mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth.

"These seventeen people." Liu Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it could be heard clearly in every corner of the valley.

"The day before yesterday at the ferry crossing in Yunxian County, they burned down three houses, robbed four households, injured an old woman, and harassed a woman. They were carrying my banner."

He took the scroll from his bosom and unfolded it.

"Hu Meng. He stole two shi of grain, burned down a house, and injured two people. According to military law—"

"cut."

As the first word "slay" was uttered, Hu struggled violently, letting out a muffled roar.

His triangular eyes widened in disbelief, as if only now truly believing that Liu Feng would kill him. But the veteran soldier of Wancheng Camp gave him no chance to struggle; with a single, clean stroke, the blade fell.

Seventeen cuts, seventeen heads neatly arranged on the rocks by the stream, blood flowing into the stream through the cracks in the rocks, staining a small patch of water a pale red.

The open space was completely silent.

Liu Feng remained expressionless, turning back to face the Righteous People's Alliance, his tone slightly more gentle than before.

"You, like the Wancheng camp, are pitiful people who are oppressed by Cao Cao's army and can't survive! But they..."

Liu Feng pointed to the 1,200 armored soldiers standing there, "They fought bravely against the enemy, and in Xiangyang and Fancheng, they personally killed Cao Ren, the culprit who massacred the elders of Wancheng! They avenged their elders, their wives and children!"

At this point, Wei Zheng puffed out his thin chest. Although he had not personally participated in the Battle of Xiangfan, he was the deputy commander of the Wancheng Battalion and was honored to be a part of it.

"They are the real men! True heroes!"

Liu Feng turned his gaze back to the ranks of the righteous people, his face ashen. "And look at you? Cowards, cowards! You've all forgotten the suffering you endured in Nanyang, and now you turn around and oppress people elsewhere!"

Upon hearing Liu Feng's foul language, a commotion immediately broke out among the 30,000 righteous people. Some of the more hot-tempered ones were about to retaliate with their own curses.

Just then, Deng Ai stepped forward, drew his sword with a clang, and the soldiers of Wancheng slammed their spears on the ground, shouting in unison, "Kill!"

Instantly, the roar echoed above the Dan River Valley. A chilling atmosphere permeated the surroundings. Although the number of soldiers from Wancheng was small, they were veterans who had truly experienced battles. This sudden shout immediately intimidated the restless righteous people below.

Liu Feng smiled slightly.

"But the difference between you and them is not courage, but discipline. What are the rules? Five men form a squad leader, ten men form a platoon leader, and a hundred men form a battalion leader. Orders are obeyed, and prohibitions are observed. Merits are rewarded, and transgressions are punished. You have no squad leaders, no platoon leaders. No one has taught you the rules. This is General Wei's oversight, and also my oversight."

He paused, then raised his hand and pointed towards Wancheng Camp.

"Then today, I will give you a chance to establish rules."

"A martial arts contest! We will set up three arenas in this valley, corresponding to the ranks of squad leader, platoon leader, and platoon leader. The top 100 will be selected from the squad leader arena, the top 30 from the platoon leader arena, and the top 10 from the platoon leader arena. The winners will not only be granted their positions on the spot, but will also receive corresponding rations bonuses—squad leaders will receive an extra three liters of grain per month, platoon leaders an extra one dou, and platoon leaders an extra three dou."

"Listen up, everyone. If you're capable, come and show your skills in the ring."