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

When Pan Jun was led to an old locust tree on the west bank of the valley, it was completely dark. The torchlight flickered in the night wind, casting his ashen face in shifting light.

A flash of light appeared.

A moment later, a guard presented a severed head on a wooden tray. Liu Feng didn't even glance at it, simply waving his hand to dismiss the guard. He then turned and walked towards Sun Jiao, who was tied to another tree opposite him.

Sun Jiao was bound hand and foot, his bright armor removed, leaving him only in a blood-soaked undergarment. His right leg, wounded by a spear, was tightly bound with strips of cloth. He sat leaning against a tree trunk, his face pale but his expression arrogant.

Several soldiers from the Fengzi Battalion stood guard beside him, their knives pointed at his throat.

Liu Feng walked up to Sun Jiao, but didn't rush to speak. He looked at Sun Jiao's face and figure with great interest—slender face, slightly high cheekbones, and a short mustache commonly seen on Jiangdong generals.

He was about the same size as Liu Feng, with broad shoulders and a thick back, a physique clearly honed through years of military service.

"So you are Liu Feng?" Sun Jiao raised her head and met Liu Feng's gaze. "You are indeed young."

Liu Feng didn't reply, but continued to sized him up.

Sun Jiao sneered, "What are you looking at? The pathetic state of a defeated general? Liu Feng, don't be too smug." He licked his chapped lips, his voice hoarse yet still arrogant, "So what if you've defeated my five thousand Jie Fan troops? Lü Meng is in Jiangling, Lu Xun is in Yidu, and the Yangtze River waterway is still in the hands of Eastern Wu. You think you can reclaim Jingnan? Dream on."

Upon hearing this, Liu Feng's lips twitched slightly. It wasn't anger, but rather the expression of a hunter scrutinizing his prey.

He crouched down to be at eye level with Sun Jiao.

"General Sun," Liu Feng said, "how about we make a bet? We'll wager your head. When our army recaptures Jiangling, we'll use your head to consecrate our flag. What do you say?"

Sun Jiao's pupils contracted slightly.

Liu Feng stood up, no longer looking at him, and turned to walk back into the camp. "Keep this man under strict guard, and provide him with good food and drink. He's Sun Quan's cousin; he's more useful alive than dead."

Back in the makeshift central command tent, Ma Liang was sorting through the captured documents under the lamplight. Liu Feng lifted the curtain and entered, followed by Ding Feng.

Ding Fenggang washed his face by the stream; the bloodstains on his battle robe were still wet. As soon as he entered the room, he sat down by the fire to warm his hands.

Liu Feng looked at Ding Feng and suddenly said, "Chengyuan, stand up."

Ding Feng, not understanding why, stood up.

Liu Feng pulled him under the lamp, looked him up and down for a moment, and then turned to look at Sun Jiao, who was tied to a tree outside the tent. The two were almost the same size and had similar shoulder width. Although their faces were different, if they wore helmets to cover their faces, it would be extremely difficult to distinguish them by their figures alone in the night.

"Mr. Ji Chang, come and see." Liu Feng said.

Ma Liang put down his pen, walked to Ding Feng, and carefully examined him for a moment by the firelight. Then he looked at Sun Jiao under the tree in the distance. His brows gradually relaxed, and a glint flashed in his eyes: "Does Deputy Commander Liu mean—to have Cheng Yuan impersonate Sun Jiao?"

"Exactly," Liu Feng said. "Where are the captured armor and helmet of Sun Jiao?"

Ma Liang ordered his men to bring Sun Jiao's armor.

The bright armor was knocked off by Guan Ping during the battle, leaving only a crack on the chest where a blade had cut through it; otherwise, it remained largely intact. Half of the red tassel on the helmet was stained black with blood.

Ding Feng put on his armor and helmet, leaving only his eyes exposed. Ma Liang stepped back a few paces to examine him, and then called in a surrendered soldier to identify him.

The surrendered soldier, kneeling on the ground, looked up and blurted out, "General Sun!"

The generals in the tent exchanged glances. Ma Liang slowly nodded: "In the darkness, it's enough to fool the eye."

Liu Feng immediately ordered: "General Xi, have all your barbarian soldiers change into the captured Jie Fan Army uniforms and armor. Remember, each man should wear a red scarf on his left arm for identification; in night battle, you will recognize the scarf, not the man."

He then turned to Ding Feng, "Chengyuan, put on this armor and impersonate Sun Jiao. General Xi will accompany you to trick the Wu army's camp gates open."

Ding Feng removed his helmet, grinned, and said, "I've served in the Eastern Wu camp for several years, so my speech naturally carries a Jiangdong accent. Speaking fluent Jiangdong Mandarin is no problem for me. Don't worry, Deputy Commander Liu, I guarantee those gatekeepers will open the gate themselves."

That night, more than two thousand Yi soldiers lined up in the valley. They took off their tattered cloth clothes and leather armor and put on the newly captured Jiefan army armor—double-layered leather armor with iron plates inside, black helmets, and in their hands, they replaced their armor with hundred-reinforced steel swords and crossbows. Their shields were also the large shields of the Jiefan army.

Under the moonlight, the entire group clearly resembled an elite force of the Relief Army. Each person wore a red scarf tied around their arm, which fluttered slightly in the night breeze.

Ding Feng, clad in Sun Jiao's gleaming armor and helmet, rode a captured yellow horse. Xi Zhen rode beside him, and the two thousand men, bearing Sun Jiao's banner, marched into the night towards the Eastern Wu camp at the foot of Jing Mountain.

Liu Feng, along with Guan Ping and Kou Wei, led the Wancheng Camp and the Fengzi Camp to follow, maintaining a distance of three li from the front, waiting for the camp gate to be breached before launching a general attack.

Sun Jiao was tied to a tree outside the tent and saw everything clearly. He watched the barbarian soldiers put on the armor of the Jie Fan Army, and watched Ding Feng put on his helmet and mount his horse. Suddenly, he struggled violently, and the iron chains scraped against the tree trunk with a harsh grating sound.

"Liu Feng! You shameless bastard!" he roared hoarsely, veins bulging on his neck. "You dared to use my armor to trick my troops! You—you—"

Liu Feng walked up to him and looked down at him.

Sun Jiao gasped for breath, his eyes burning with humiliation and resentment. This Jiangdong clan general, who had maintained his composure since his capture, had completely lost his composure at this moment—not because he was afraid of death, but because he felt that watching his identity being used as a weapon by the enemy was more painful than being killed.

"Liu Feng! I swear to kill you!" Sun Jiao's roar echoed through the valley, like a caged beast chained in iron. Liu Feng waved his hand, and two guards stepped forward and stuffed a wad of cloth into Sun Jiao's mouth. The roar turned into a muffled sob.

The Eastern Wu camp was situated on a terrace at the southern foot of Mount Jing, backed by cliffs and facing a stream, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack. Three thousand Jie Fan soldiers remained in the camp, commanded by Sun Jiao's deputy, Sun Yi. Sun Yi was Sun Jiao's cousin, a cautious man. Before leaving, Sun Jiao entrusted the camp to him with only one sentence: "Guard the camp gate well; do not trust anyone who comes."

It was late at night, and torches illuminated the camp walls. Soldiers patrolled back and forth, while crossbowmen on the watchtowers drew their bows, ready to pounce.

In the distance, a troop of soldiers appeared from around the bend in the mountain path. Leading them was a banner bearing the character "Sun," its surface fluttering in the night wind.

As the procession drew closer, the sentries on the camp wall raised torches and peered down—the approaching troops were dressed in the armor of the Jiefan Army, with the lead general riding a yellow horse, clad in gleaming armor, the red tassel on his helmet particularly striking in the torchlight. Sun Yi quickly climbed the camp wall, his hand on his sword hilt as he peered down.

"Who goes there!" the camp gate captain shouted.

Xi Zhen spurred his horse forward and shouted in a slightly accented Jingshan dialect, "General Sun, return to camp! Open the gates immediately!" His voice carried far on the night wind, tinged with obvious anxiety. "Pan Jun colluded with Xi Zhen to ambush us in the mountains! General Sun has been wounded by an arrow. Open the gates quickly!"

A commotion broke out on the camp wall.

Sun Yi stared intently at the man on the yellow horse. The man was half-lying on the horse's back, one hand covering his cheek, with bloodstains faintly visible between his fingers.

The gleaming armor on his body was unmistakably Sun Jiao's, and the slash across his chest, made by a blade, was clearly visible in the firelight. Behind him, the soldiers of the Jiefan Army were disheveled, many covered in blood, a clear sign of the aftermath of a fierce battle.

"It's Sun Zhenglu!" The camp gate captain turned to look at Sun Yi. "General, open the camp gate quickly!"

Sun Yi hesitated for a moment.

He stared at the figure lying on the horse's back, feeling that something was amiss—Sun Jiao had led five thousand men when he left the camp this morning, but the troops in front of him numbered no more than three thousand.

What about the other two thousand? Could they have died in battle? Impossible! Xi Zhen's barbarian soldiers were poorly equipped; how could they have routed five thousand Jie Fan troops so badly?

"Why are there only these few men left?" Sun Yi asked loudly. "Where are the rest of our brothers?"

Without hesitation, Xi Zhen replied, "Pan Jun and I have joined forces, with no less than ten thousand men! Our army was ambushed and suffered more than half its casualties. Sun Zhenglu led us in a desperate breakout, and the rest are still behind!"

As he spoke, he turned back and pointed to the dark mountain path. Sure enough, in the distance, the faint light of torches was moving—it was Liu Feng and Guan Ping's men, barely visible in the darkness.

Ding Feng lay on his horse, covering half his face with his sleeve, and shouted in a hoarse voice, "Why aren't you opening the camp gates yet! Do you want to see me die out there?!" He spoke in authentic Jiangdong Mandarin, his tone carrying the unquestionable arrogance that Sun Jiao was accustomed to.

Sun Yi's last shred of doubt was dispelled by those words. Though he was quite far away and couldn't hear clearly, the other person's speech clearly carried a Jiangdong accent!

It is indeed Sun Jiao!

"Open the camp gates!" Sun Yi shouted, waving his hand.

The heavy camp gate slowly opened, driven by the winch. The suspension bridge crossed the stream and landed heavily on the opposite bank.

The guards inside the camp gate lined up to welcome them. No one noticed that the three thousand "Relief Troubles Army" all had red scarves tied around their left arms, and no one noticed that there were no fresh wounds between the fingers of "Sun Jiao" covering her cheek.

Ding Feng was the first to ride his horse into the camp gate.

His horse's hooves had barely touched the drainage ditch inside the camp gate when his ring-pommel sword silently slid from beside the saddle into his hand. Xi Zhen followed closely behind, gesturing behind his back with his right hand to the barbarian soldiers—a signal used by barbarian hunters when they were hunting, meaning: wait for them all to come in.

Three thousand barbarian soldiers filed in. As the last man crossed the drawbridge, Ding Feng suddenly sat up straight on his horse. He ripped off the sleeve covering his face, revealing a face completely different from Sun Jiao's. The visor fell off, and he grinned, showing a set of white teeth.

"Kill them!" The ring-pommel sword drew an arc in the firelight.