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

Pan Jun's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

He turned sharply to Xi Zhen, his lips trembling as he tried to say something, but Sun Jiao didn't give him a chance to explain.

With a wave of the command flag on the hillside, five thousand Jiefan soldiers poured down the north slope like a flood.

During their charge, they automatically dispersed into three wedge formations. The central wedge went straight for Pan Jun's central army, the left wedge encircled the east bank of the stream to cut off their retreat, and the right wedge meandered along the foot of the mountain to block all paths leading into the forest.

Even in the heat of battle, this elite guard of Jiangdong maintained a disciplined formation and clear tactical coordination. This was the Jie Fan Army, not just any ordinary elite force, but a war machine truly tempered by sword and fire.

Pan Jun's surrendered Jingzhou soldiers hastily lined up to meet the enemy, but before their formation could be fully deployed, they were caught in the middle of the Jie Fan army's wedge formation.

The shield bearers in the front row were directly overrun. The steel swords of the Jiefan Army were three inches longer than the ring-pommel swords of the Jingzhou soldiers. These three inches were a fatal difference in close combat.

One after another, hundred-refined steel blades pierced through the gaps in the shields, and when they were pulled out, they brought out puffs of blood mist.

The Jingzhou soldiers retreated step by step, and most of the arrows fired by the archers in the rear row in their panic struck the double-layered leather armor of the Jiefan army. They could not even penetrate the iron plate of the inner lining from fifty paces away.

Sun Jiao stood on the hillside, looking down at the battlefield. His gaze swept over Pan Jun's retreating central army, over Xi Zhen's motionless barbarian troops, and his pupils suddenly contracted sharply.

Xi Zhen did not participate in the war.

The more than one thousand barbarian soldiers formed a defensive formation—shields erected and spears pointed at an angle—firmly blocking the front of the troops.

The barbarian soldiers half-crouched and half-standing, using the captured Jiefan Army shields to protect the front ranks, while the rear ranks drew their crossbows and nocked arrows, but did not fire, simply silently facing forward.

The entire array remained as stable as a rock, completely still.

A hint of doubt flashed through Sun Jiao's mind, but the battlefield gave him no time to think. Pan Jun was in retreat, and his rear guard had begun to crumble.

The most urgent task is to get rid of Pan Jun; we can deal with Xi Zhen's situation later.

"Send the order! Speed ​​up the encirclement! Do not let Pan Jun escape!" Sun Jiao ordered sternly.

Pan Jun's Jingzhou troops completely collapsed under the three-pronged attack of the Jie Fan army. Some threw down their weapons and knelt to surrender, only to be trampled down by the Jie Fan army's charging formation. Others turned and jumped into the stream, only to be riddled with crossbow bolts from both banks.

Pan Jun, mounted on his green horse, frantically brandished his sword, shouting at the top of his lungs, "General Sun! It's a misunderstanding! This is a misunderstanding!"

His voice was drowned out by the deafening shouts of battle; no one heard it, and no one wanted to hear it.

Sun Jiao showed no intention of holding back.

He stood on the hillside, sword drawn, surrounded by his guards, coldly watching Pan Jun's troops fall one by one. Pan Jun shouted until his voice was hoarse, finally realizing that no words would make a difference now. He abruptly turned his horse around, leading his last hundred or so guards towards Xi Zhen's army.

"General Xi, save me!" Pan Jun cried out hoarsely, as a stray arrow flew from behind him and pierced his left shoulder. He groaned and nearly fell off his horse.

Xi Zhen looked at him coldly, raised her right hand slightly, and the barbarian troops silently advanced ten steps forward, pushing Pan Jun and his defeated soldiers back like an iron gate, blocking them in front of the Jie Fan Army.

This is an extremely simple yet extremely effective method.

As expected, the retreating formation of Pan Jun's troops was briefly thrown into disarray after colliding with the barbarian troops' array—these barbarian troops wore captured Jie Fan army armor and used captured Jie Fan army shields, making them almost identical to the Jie Fan army in the twilight.

In this predicament, the Jingzhou soldiers were stunned for a moment, and in the chaos, they almost thought they were surrounded by the Jiefan Army. Several soldiers who wanted to lay down their weapons and surrender were immediately ordered to be executed by Xi Zhen!

The two sides were locked in a stalemate on the west bank of the stream for a while. Pan Jun's Jingzhou soldiers retreated several times, but were stopped by the Yi soldiers who acted as a supervisory force. They had no choice but to regroup and charge forward towards the real Eastern Wu Jiefan Army.

The fighting continued until dusk.

The stream in the valley had turned dark red, and the pebble beach was littered with corpses. Jie Fan's army had won, but the victory was not easy.

Although Pan Jun's two thousand surrendered soldiers were not as elite as the Jiefan Army, they knew that they were doomed to die today, and fought like cornered beasts, inflicting considerable casualties on the Jiefan Army.

After the chaotic battle, the Jie Fan Army's formation finally loosened up—not because they were afraid of fighting, but because they were too exhausted and all the men and horses were showing signs of fatigue.

This was the moment Liu Feng had been waiting for.

Three short, loud whistles rang out from the distant mountains and forests.

Immediately afterwards, deafening shouts of battle erupted simultaneously from the mountains and forests on the south, west, and east sides of the valley.

Guan Ping led two thousand elite troops out of the dense forest on the right flank, while Kou Wei led two thousand elite troops out of the dense forest on the left flank. The two groups of troops, like two long knives, fiercely cut into the rear of Jie Fan Army.

Jie Fanjun had just caught his breath and had not yet reorganized his formation when he was forced to turn around and fight.

Guan Ping pierced through a Jie Fan Army sergeant with his long sword, then used the momentum to twist and flick, sending the man and his shield flying. The tip of his sword then pierced the man's side rib.

Guan Ping spun around, drew his long sword, and with a flurry of parries and strikes, cut down another man. His battle robe was soaked in blood, but he moved back and forth in the battle as if he were in an empty field, like Guan Yu who had become decades younger.

The veteran soldiers of the Fengzi Battalion beside him shouted in unison, their swords and shields advancing like a wall, crushing the left flank of the Jiefan Army inch by inch.

Kou Wei fought fiercely on the right flank as well. Every thrust of his spear was imbued with an almost obsessive ferocity. A garrison commander from Jiefan Army swung his sword, but Kou Wei dodged to the side, grabbed the back of the sword with his left hand, and thrust his spear upwards from below, the tip piercing the man's jaw and going straight to the top of his skull.

Before the body even hit the ground, he had already drawn his spear and lunged at his next opponent.

The Jiefan Army was indeed elite; even when attacked from the flanks and rear and exhausted, they did not collapse.

The veterans in the central army spontaneously shrank into a circular formation, protecting Sun Jiao at the core. Shields were stacked on top of each other on the outside, and spears pierced out from the gaps in the shields, each thrust precise and deadly.

Liu Feng's soldiers fell one after another as they charged, but the breach was quickly filled by the Jie Fan army behind them. This most proud personal guard of Jiangdong would die standing, even in dire straits.

But they never expected a third group of people.

Ding Feng led over a hundred cavalrymen to the rear of the valley entrance, just in time to block the only retreat route for the Jie Fan army.

His fighting style was different from that of all regular army captains; he had no formation, no rules, and not even a clear direction of attack.

He leaped off his horse, and the Jie Fan army, thinking it was an enemy soldier who had fallen, were about to rush forward to finish him off when Ding Feng rolled low to the ground to dodge the flurry of blows. His ring-pommel sword swung upwards, severing the arm of the man in the lead. Blood splattered all over Ding Feng's face, but he grinned, revealing a set of white teeth that looked particularly ferocious in the afterglow of the torchlight.

The dozens of old soldiers behind Ding Feng also jumped off their horses and charged into the enemy ranks with roars, not as if they were going to fight, but as if they were going to a long-awaited feast.

Sun Jiao, standing at the core of the circular formation, looked at the Shu Han elite troops covering the surrounding mountains and plains, and at Ding Feng charging left and right in the chaos, feeling panicked and anxious.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, held his long sword horizontally in front of his chest, and whispered to the few hundred guards remaining beside him, "The Jiefan Army can die, but they cannot surrender."

The fighting continued until late at night.

The circular formation of Jie Fan Army finally shattered under the attack from three sides, scattering into countless small groups that fought independently.

But they did not surrender; every small battle group fought to the death. Some, with a missing arm, still fought the enemy with a knife in one hand; some, pinned to the ground by spears, still clung tightly to the leg of a Shu Han soldier; some, before falling, threw their steel swords at the nearest enemy.

The firelight illuminated this tragic end, and the Shu Han soldiers, watching these enemies fight to the last moment, unconsciously slowed their movements.

When the last soldier of the Jiefan Army fell, a brief silence suddenly fell over the valley.

No one cheered, and even Ding Feng stopped smiling.

He looked down at a very young soldier of the Jiefan Army at his feet. The man was lying face up by the stream, his eyes still open, and he was still tightly gripping a steel knife that was longer than his arm. The knife was engraved with two words: Jiefan.

"He's a real man."

Ding Feng bent down, reached out and closed the soldier's eyelids, straightened up, and slowly sheathed his ring-pommel sword.

Sun Jiao stood alone in the middle of the pile of corpses. Her bright armor was torn in many places, and her right leg was pierced by a spear, with blood flowing down her leg armor and into her boot.

He leaned on his sword, barely managing not to fall. Guan Ping rode forward, his blade pointed at Sun Jiao's throat.

The two men exchanged a glance, and Guan Ping did not strike.

"Remove his armor and tie him up," Guan Ping said loudly.

Sun Jiao closed her eyes.

Liu Feng spurred his horse into the valley. The Jade Lion Horse galloped across the riverbank littered with corpses, its hooves making a crisp sound as they trod on the gravel.

He dismounted and saw Pan Jun sitting on the ground, the arrow in his left arm already pulled out by a physician, blood still seeping out. He was surrounded by a human wall of barbarian soldiers, their swords and spears blocking his way.

"Pan Zhizhong." Liu Feng reined in his horse in front of him and looked down at him.

Hearing someone still address him by his old official title in Liu Bei's army, Pan Jun raised his head.

His gaze passed over Liu Feng, looked at the brightly armored Shu Han soldiers, looked at Sun Jiao who was bound hand and foot, and finally landed back on Liu Feng's face.

"So it's the young general! What a brilliant strategy and cunning you have! First, you feigned surrender to deceive me, then you sowed discord among Sun Jiao, making him suspicious of me. You used one tiger to devour another, and then reaped the benefits! I, Pan Jun, am truly impressed!"

Liu Feng's face remained calm and composed amidst the firelight, revealing no emotion.

"Pan Zhizhong was able to understand Feng's painstaking plan in such a short time, which shows his talent. It's just a pity..."

Liu Feng shook his head, swallowing his words. After a moment of silence, he said again, "Pan Zhizhong, what else do you have to say about today's events?"

Pan Jun's lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something—that it was a misunderstanding, that he was willing to surrender, or that his surrender to Eastern Wu was only due to the circumstances.

But when those words reached his lips, he couldn't utter a single one. Pan Jun simply shook his head.

Liu Feng turned his horse around and said coldly, "Cut off this man's head, and one day display it beneath the walls of Yiling to the world. This is the fate of those who betray their lord and rebel against the Han!"