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

As Pan Zhang gave the low command, the Wu soldiers drew their swords, the blades rubbing against the scabbards to produce a series of fine, low metallic hisses.

More than seven hundred riders suddenly rose from the ditch and, like a black venomous snake, silently and swiftly pounced on the left flank of the Han-Manchu allied forces' camp. Although their hooves were wrapped in cloth, the ground still began to tremble slightly as hundreds of riders charged simultaneously.

Pan Zhangchong was at the very front.

When he was less than three hundred paces from the camp gate, he spurred his horse, and the yellow steed shot off like an arrow. The night wind whistled past his ears, the blades gleamed faintly in the darkness, and the figures of the sentries on the camp gate drew ever closer. He could even see one of the sentries gaping in panic, frantically reaching for his horn at his waist.

However, when Wu's vanguard cavalry charged to within a hundred paces of the camp gate, the first few riders suddenly collapsed with a miserable cry.

A series of muffled thuds, like the bones breaking and flesh tearing, echoed in the darkness.

It was a series of tripping pits dug during the day, each pit reaching the horse's knees, with thick hemp ropes strung across the edges.

Pan Zhang charged too fast; the front rank cavalry couldn't distinguish the traps in the darkness. Men and horses that fell rolled and howled under the hooves, and the second rank cavalry also collided with the tripped horses.

Worse still, the cavalry continued to charge forward, colliding with their fallen comrades, and the entire charge line formed a wall of flesh, with men and horses overlapping, less than a hundred paces from the camp gate.

The "sentinels" on the camp wall suddenly stopped panicking.

They threw down their spears, raised their crossbows, which were already cocked, from behind the crenellations, and pulled the triggers towards the chaotic array in front of the camp gate. Arrows rained down like a storm, while shrill horns tore through the night sky.

The entire left flank of the Han-Manchu allied forces was activated in an instant. Behind the palisade, which had been empty just moments before, countless tribal archers emerged from behind the crossbowmen's posts on the inner side of the trenches—they were prepared, lying down fully clothed, with their bows and crossbows nocked, ready to aim and fire at any moment.

The barbarian soldiers' poisoned arrows, mixed with the Han army's powerful crossbow bolts, rained down. Pan Zhang's personal guards, blocked by the front ranks, were now crammed into a small area in front of the camp gate, unable to move forward or backward, and each of them became a sitting duck.

The sounds of arrows piercing flesh were incessant. Some people had just stood up when they were hit by several arrows and fell down, while others were shot through the throat and collapsed on top of their companions with a muffled groan.

Pan Zhang's mount was tripped by the tripwire, throwing him off. He leaped up, deflecting a crossbow bolt aimed at his face with the back of his sword, and roared, "Don't panic! Raise your shields! Back off!"

But his voice sounded particularly weak amidst the deafening shouts of battle. The Wu soldiers were huddled together, unable to raise their shields, and the cavalrymen's horses bolted wildly in the darkness, knocking their own troops to the ground.

To make matters worse, the archers of the central Wancheng camp, under the command of Kou Wei, had somehow sneaked in from the flank, cutting off the Wu cavalry's retreat to the north. Arrows rained down from the side and rear, and more and more Wu soldiers fell, the corpses piled up to half a person's height in front of the camp gate.

Pan Zhang led a few of his personal guards and charged desperately outwards. He slashed down a barbarian garrison commander who was attacking from the flank with one stroke, and kicked away another barbarian soldier who was trying to hold his right leg. His swordsmanship was still ruthless and precise, but for every one he cut down, more allied soldiers surged out of the darkness.

Pan Zhang's arm wound had already reopened, and blood was flowing down his arm armor. He didn't even bother to look at it, gritting his teeth and forcing the wound open.

Just then, he heard the sound of bugles behind him—Ma Zhong was leading a thousand reinforcements from the direction of the main camp to meet him.

Ma Zhong's reinforcements began beating drums two miles from the battlefield. The drumbeats were rapid and deep, carrying across the plains on the night wind. The Wu army reinforcements advanced in well-organized formations, with swordsmen and shieldmen holding off the pursuers in front, and archers and crossbowmen providing ranged suppression from the rear.

The Han-Manchu allied forces pursued for a while before withdrawing, allowing the remnants of the Wu army to retreat into the darkness. Kou Wei personally held the line on the camp wall, not allowing the pursuers to stray too far from the camp. He always remembered Liu Feng's teachings: "Night battles are dangerous; never pursue a desperate enemy."

The remaining Wu cavalrymen protected Pan Zhang as they desperately retreated towards their own camp. Two more knife wounds appeared on Pan Zhang's back, the blood staining his battle robe dark red.

The group ran in the darkness for half an hour, looking disheveled, before finally seeing the lights of Wu's army camp.

Pan Zhang did not turn around, his grip on the ring-pommel sword remaining tight as he was slowly retreated into the camp gate, protected by his personal guards. Only when the gate slammed shut behind him did he loosen his grip on the sword, causing both new and old wounds on his arm to burst open, blood dripping from his wrist to the ground.

Pan Zhang, covered in blood, dismounted.

He stood for a moment, gripping the saddle, his chest heaving, but he remained silent. The guards who surrounded him looked ashamed, their heads bowed, unable to meet his gaze.

Pan Zhang took a deep breath, slowly straightened up, his blood-stained face looking sinister and terrifying in the firelight.

"I've fought half my life."

Pan Zhang forced out a few words through gritted teeth, "Couldn't even get a taste of power from that callow brat Liu Feng?"

He didn't finish his sentence, but suddenly kicked over a wooden shelf displaying miscellaneous items. A copper basin tumbled and rolled off the shelf, splashing water all over the floor.

The guards all lowered their heads, none of them daring to utter a word.

Ma Zhong rushed to his side, looked him up and down, and only felt relieved after confirming that there were no fatal injuries.

"General, Liu Feng is indeed no ordinary man. Tonight, the camp appears relaxed, but it is actually fraught with danger. I just glanced around and saw that at least twenty or thirty tripping pits have been dug in the open area in front of the left flank camp, all covered with straw mats and loose soil to make it look like flat ground. Behind the palisade are rows of crossbowmen that have been set up in advance, and the number of hidden sentries is more than three times that of the visible ones. Liu Feng was clearly prepared all along, waiting for us to come from beginning to end."

Pan Zhang did not respond.

He slowly straightened up, slammed his ring-pommel sword onto the table, and remained silent for a long time. Then he raised his sinister eyes, looked at the faintly visible firelight of the Han-Manchu allied army camp in the south, and squeezed out a hoarse but determined voice from deep in his throat: "I admit defeat tonight. But this round is not over. After dawn, we will see who is truly superior on the battlefield."

Kou Wei lifted the curtain of Liu Feng's central command tent and strode into the tent.

Inside the tent, under a solitary lamp.

Liu Feng was engrossed in reading a military treatise when he looked up and saw Kou Wei enter the tent. He immediately put down the bamboo slips in his hand and laughed loudly, "How is it, Ziwu!"

Kou Wei grinned and cupped his hands in reply, "Brother! Just as you predicted, that scoundrel Pan Zhang came to raid the camp under cover of night, and he chose the camp of the Left Wing Shamoke Chieftain."

Liu Feng nodded and said, "Of course. Although the Wuxi barbarian troops are numerous, their discipline is not as strict as ours. Without your command, I'm afraid that scoundrel Pan Zhang would have found an opening!"

Kou Wei nodded in agreement.

"Brother! This night raid on Pan Zhang cost you four or five hundred cavalry. The Eastern Wu army is already short of horses. Tomorrow's battle should be easier!"

Liu Feng remained silent for a moment, then shook his head and said, "After all, the Eastern Wu forces are well-equipped, while our army, mainly composed of barbarian soldiers, is ultimately inferior in combat strength. But in battle, what matters is not just brute force, but also strategy, determination, and courage!"

"Ziwu, you must remember this well when you lead the army in the future!"

That night, the plains were littered with corpses, and the stench of blood was carried away by the night wind. After both sides withdrew their troops and returned to their camps, a few lights shone in each camp—in the Wu army camp, the physicians worked through the night, the sounds of pounding medicine and the groans of the wounded mingling together.

In the allied camp, the barbarian soldiers silently sharpened their knives around the campfire, and occasionally someone would hum a few lines of a barbarian song in a low voice. The melody was desolate and long, as if they were seeing off their comrades who had died in battle during the day.

The darkness is deepest before dawn.

Liu Feng, fully clothed, slept in his tent for less than two hours before getting up to inspect the wounded soldiers' camp. The medics were cleaning the wounds with saline solution, while several elderly barbarian soldiers with missing arms chewed on wooden sticks in silence.

Outside the tent, the cooks had already set up large pots to cook porridge, and the salty aroma of dried meat mingled with the morning mist throughout the camp.

As dawn broke, a low and continuous horn sounded from the Wu army camp opposite.

That was the bugle call signaling the mobilization of Wu's troops.

Liu Feng mounted his horse and galloped up a raised earthen slope, looking towards the opposite military camp.

Wu Jun's camp opened all three gates simultaneously.

The infantry filed out from the left and right gates and lined up in the open field in front of the camp, while more than a hundred cavalrymen poured out from the middle gate and spread out on both flanks of the infantry.

The formation of eight thousand armored soldiers in the morning light, when viewed from above, resembled a giant goose about to take flight—thick and prominent in the center, with gradually thinning and spreading wings, a perfect example of the goose formation.

Pan Zhang deployed his most elite armored infantry in the center of the army, forming an iron wall of shields, with spears thrusting out densely from between the shields, their tips gleaming coldly in the morning light.

The left vanguard consisted of about a hundred cavalrymen, lightly armored and armed with lances. The right vanguard also consisted of about a hundred cavalrymen, but with thicker armor, clearly a heavy cavalry force prepared for close combat.

In fact, the cavalry that Pan Zhang and his troops had gathered in the sneak attack last night was all the cavalry that he could muster.

However, most of them fell into the traps and tripwires that Liu Feng had set up in advance, and the losses were devastating!

Behind the cavalry on both flanks were archers and crossbowmen, forming an impenetrable formation.

Pan Zhang himself stood at the highest point of the central army, with a large banner bearing the character "Pan" fluttering in the wind behind him.

He had changed into a new set of gleaming armor, the arrow wound on his arm completely covered by iron gauntlets, and the ring-pommel sword in his hand gleamed coldly in the morning light.

After Wu Jun finished lining up his troops, dozens of loud-voiced soldiers in front of him began to shout curses in unison.

"Shamoke, you barbarian leader! You dare come out of camp to meet your death!"

"Are the barbarians of Wuxi only good at hiding in the mountains and shooting arrows from the shadows?"

"Liu Feng, you brat, you're still wet behind the ears, yet you dare to come and die!"