In this realistic war game, only I understand the course of the battle.

The snow continued to fall until noon the next day. It wasn't a heavy, blanket of snowflakes, but rather a fine, bone-deep snowfall, whipped by the northwest wind, whipping at faces, seeping into armor crevices, melting into icy water, then freezing into thin ice. Every few steps, you could hear the clattering of armor plates against each other. Outside Dongchang City, everything was a vast expanse of white; the antlers and trenches were mostly covered by snow, only the tips of the antlers protruding like withered bones emerging from the snow. Sheng Yong's infantry stood silently behind the trenches, a thin layer of snow accumulated on their spear tips and shields, appearing from afar like a long, greyish-white dike.

Zhu Di reined in his horse on an earthen embankment three miles north of Dongchang City and scanned Sheng Yong's defenses with his binoculars. What he saw was a perfectly standard field defensive formation—deer antlers in front, a trench behind, infantry arranged in three horizontal rows behind the trench, musketeers interspersed among the spearmen, and the cannons and crossbow positions on the city walls were twice as dense as usual. It was very solid, very thick, without any obvious weaknesses.

But he had seen this formation countless times. Sheng Yong's tactics had remained unchanged since Jinan—frontal defense, step-by-step advance, relying on muskets and lime to wear down the attacking forces. The weakness of this formation lay in its flanks; if a breach could be created on the flank of the infantry, the entire defensive line would collapse from the edges towards the center. Zhu Di put away his binoculars and told the messenger behind him, "Have Zhang Yu lead elite cavalry to flank diagonally from the right, bypassing the easternmost edge of the antler zone, and cut in from the right side of the infantry. Zhu Neng will lead the breaching battalion to reinforce it. The rest of the troops will follow me to press forward from the front to provide support."

He was Zhu Di. From the time he raised his army in Beiping until now, he had used his cavalry to break through no fewer than dozens of infantry lines. Li Jinglong's 600,000-strong army at the Baigou River was pierced through by him in the same way. Sheng Yong's forces were only half the size of Li Jinglong's, and no matter how thick their defenses were, they couldn't withstand the repeated attacks of the cavalry.

Zhang Yu, on horseback, clasped his hands in acceptance of the order and led three thousand elite cavalry to break away from the main force on the right flank. Shen Du, standing below the earthen embankment, was tucking his sword into his waistband when he heard the messenger finish reporting the deployment. He glanced up at the dust kicked up by the right-wing cavalry and his brow furrowed slightly. He walked to Zhu Neng's horse and whispered, "Sheng Yong's formation this time isn't on the city walls, but in the open field. This deployment isn't a defensive one—it's waiting for us to charge."

Zhu Neng tugged at the horse's reins: "What did you figure out?"

"The infantry formation behind the trench is too close to the antler area. Normal field battles wouldn't have such tight spacing. He pushed the infantry behind the antlers to lure us in." Shen Du pointed to the gentle slopes on both sides of the infantry formation. "There's no space left for cavalry to maneuver on either side. He's pressed his flanks against the city wall—this doesn't seem like he's defending against cavalry; it's more like he's blocking our flanking routes."

"you mean?"

"If Sheng Yong had known in advance that we were going to flank us, his entire formation wouldn't have been a defense, it would have been a trap." Shen Du grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed the mud off his hands. "When General Zhu leads the City-Breaking Battalion to follow, please make sure to maintain formation and don't break apart."

Zhang Yu's three thousand elite cavalrymen stretched out like a black arrow through the snow.

The horses' hooves shattered the frozen ground beneath the snow, sending slush and bits of grass flying into the air. Three thousand cavalrymen circled around the eastern edge of the Deer Horn District outside Dongchang City, their speed already at two-thirds of its full capacity. Zhang Yu rode at the very front of the column, carrying an iron spear, his helmet plume soaked with snow and clinging to it. He had fought for decades, always charging ahead.

There was indeed a gap at the eastern end of the antler area. Through the telescope, the gap appeared to be about seven or eight zhang wide, half of which was covered by snow. There was no trench behind it, and beyond that was the right side of Sheng Yong's infantry formation. The location of this gap was exactly as Zhu Di had predicted—the antlers on the right flank of the infantry formation were sparser than those on the front, indicating that Sheng Yong had placed his main defensive forces on the front and left flank.

Zhang Yu was the first to rush into the breach.

Then the earth cracked open.

The snow behind the breach suddenly collapsed, not naturally—the reed mats covering the trench had been broken by horses' hooves. Sheng Yong's men had dug a hidden trench behind the breach beforehand, covering it with a layer of reed mats and thin planks to create a false ground, then covering it with snow and straw. From a distance, it looked no different from ordinary snow, but the weight of the horses broke the mats instantly. Zhang Yu's warhorse lost its footing and plunged forward into the trench, throwing Zhang Yu off and causing him to crash heavily onto the frozen ground opposite the trench. The elite cavalry behind him didn't have time to rein in their horses, and the first few ranks plunged into the trench like dumplings being dropped into a pot. The cavalry behind them quickly reined in their horses and tried to turn, but visibility in the snow was too low, and the cavalry on both sides collided, instantly throwing their formation into chaos.

Something was buried in the trench. Not bamboo skewers, not gunpowder. It was something far more insidious than either—a poisoned crossbow. Dozens of pre-struck crossbows were mounted at the bottom of the trench, their triggers attached to a rope two inches above a mat. If the mat broke, the rope would snap, and the crossbow bolts would shoot upwards from the bottom of the trench. The arrowheads weren't coated with ordinary poison, but aconite juice—instantaneous and lethal. The first cavalrymen to fall into the trench were shot from below, their horses' bellies and armor seams pierced by the crossbow bolts. They and their horses tumbled into the trench, their screams trampled before they could even reach the surface by the subsequent surging horses.

When Zhang Yu got up from the ground, his left shoulder had been dislocated, and his iron spear had flown out of his hand and stuck in the snow. He drew his goose-feather saber from his waist with his right hand, and before he could shout "Form ranks!" a row of musketeers suddenly stood up in the snow on the right side of the infantry formation—they were covered with white cloth and had been lying motionless in the snow all night, their faces blue from the cold, but their fingers pulling the triggers were as steady as cast iron.

The first volley of muskets fired. Lead bullets struck the chaotic cavalry ranks, felling many riders and horses in the front ranks. Immediately afterward, the second volley of musketeers rose from the rear and fired a second volley, followed by the third volley. The intervals between the three volleys were no more than three breaths, and the right flank of three thousand elite cavalry was shredded.

Zhang Yu stood up, leaning on his sword, his left arm dangling at his side. He raised his goose-feather saber with his right hand and roared behind him, "Don't stop! Charge through the musket formation! Once we get past them, their muskets will be useless!"

His voice was broken and fragmented in the wind and snow. The cavalrymen in the rear tried to rein in their frightened horses and move closer to him, but the trenches had not yet been filled in, and the smoke from the muskets mixed with the snow fog shrouded the entire position in a gray haze, reducing visibility to only a few feet.

Then Sheng Yong's infantry pressed forward. Not from the front, but from the flanks—the left and right wings of the infantry formation moved forward simultaneously, heavy spearmen in front and musketeers behind, trapping Zhang Yu and his remaining elite cavalry in the middle, tightening their grip step by step. Sheng Yong stood on the city wall watching all this. His command flag fluttered in the wind and snow, his fingers pressed against the cold bricks of the crenellations, his expression unchanged, only the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—not a smile, but a long-awaited confirmation. He had waited by this hidden moat all night, and Zhu Di's elite cavalry had indeed come.

"Give the order to block Zhang Yu's retreat. No retreat allowed." Sheng Yong turned around and whispered to the man in blue standing beside him, "Lord Han, the poisoned crossbow formation you set up beforehand has worked. Zhang is the top general of the Yan army, and you deserve much credit for keeping him here today."

The man in the green robe bowed. "Thank you for your trust, General Sheng. With Zhang Yu here, Zhu Di will certainly not stand idly by. If he personally leads the rescue, the second layer of the ambush can be closed."

Zhang Yu fell during the sixth volley of musket fire.

His left shoulder was dislocated, and his right leg was pierced through the thigh armor by a crossbow bolt, the blood staining his riding breeches crimson. But he did not retreat, using his goose-feather saber as a crutch to prop himself up, inching forward step by step, managing to tear a small opening in the musket array on the east side of the trench with the remaining guards. Then a volley of crossbow bolts came from the side, three arrows simultaneously piercing his breastplate, right rib, and neck.

Zhang Yu swayed, his goose-feather saber slipping from his hand and embedding itself in the snow. He knelt on one knee, his left hand still clutching a broken horse rein. The wind and snow lashed his face, smearing his bloodless lips. His pupils rapidly dilated, and only a barely audible whisper escaped his throat—"Your Highness." Then he fell forward, leaving a small patch of dark red staining the silvery-white snow.

"General Zhang Yu has been killed in action!"

As the messenger's voice boomed through the snowstorm, Zhu Di was leading his cavalry, providing frontal support, towards the right flank. His horse had already reached the edge of the deer antler area, less than a mile from where Zhang Yu was surrounded. He heard the voice, and then froze for a moment on his horse. Not fear, not anger, but an expression only a general who had lost loved ones on the battlefield could understand—his facial muscles didn't move, but the light in his eyes seemed to have been suddenly extinguished.

Zhang Yu had followed him for over a decade. He had been with him since the very first day of the uprising in Beiping, was the first to charge into the city gates of Jizhou, made a 120-mile raid on Zunhua in one night, and personally carried a battering ram to break through the gates of Songting Pass. He was a man of few words, only sharpening his sword to its gleaming shine before each siege, and then calmly returning to camp to report his orders upon his safe return. Now he is gone.

Zhu Di drew his sword, the tip pointing in the direction Zhang Yu had fallen. "Everyone—charge with me!" His voice trembled, but he didn't hesitate for a moment as he spurred his horse. The black horse shot off like an arrow.

"Your Highness!" Zhu Neng rode up from behind, his right hand still burned, so he could only grip the reins with his left. "Sheng Yong has set up an ambush! General Zhang is already trapped. Your Highness cannot go any further! Once you are trapped, the entire Yan army will be finished—"

"I said—Charge!" Zhu Di did not turn around.

Zhu Neng gritted his teeth, drew his ghost-head saber, and roared at the Broken City Battalion behind him, "Broken City Battalion! Follow me!"

Shen Du only received the order after the fourth rank of cavalry was blocked.

The messenger charged in from the right flank, but was struck in the leg by a stray arrow and fell to the ground in the snow. Shen Du quickly pulled him up. The messenger, his face covered in blood, stammered, "General Zhang has been ambushed and surrounded! His Highness personally led a rescue team—General Zhu Neng has ordered the centurions to follow up and provide support!"

"Which direction?"

"East—the eastern end of the Deer Horn District!"

That gap. All the details he had seen flashed through Shen Du's mind like lightning—the gap at the eastern end of the Deer Horn District, the tightly packed infantry formation, the gentle slopes on both sides pressed against the city wall. Sheng Yong had left it there on purpose.

"Zhao Laoliu!" Shen Du stood up, leaning on his sword. The old injury in his left leg, aggravated by standing in the snow for so long, made him break out in a cold sweat, but he steadied himself. A burning sensation surged through the soles of his feet. "Take the breaching team to the front of the antler area! Don't go through the gaps—go to the densest antler area on the front! Split the antlers! Musket bullets won't hit the base of the antlers, and there will be the fewest hidden weapons on the front!"

"The front? That's the thickest part—" Zhao Laoliu was stunned.

"The gap is a trap; the front is the only way out." Shen Du drew his sword. The passive state of the pawn crossing the river began to activate as he advanced eastward. Power surged through his limbs like molten iron. "Splitter the frontal antlers! The breaching camp can charge in from the front and draw the infantry's attention, halving the pressure on Your Highness. Splitter the antlers!"

Zhang Yu was dead. In all the historical records he'd reviewed, this man shouldn't have died here—no, no one had ever told him where Zhang Yu would die. War isn't a textbook; war is the reality of these living, breathing people, shot to death by poisoned crossbow bolts in the trenches on this snowy day. He didn't have time to think about what would happen after the Yan army was severely weakened, what would happen during the Jingnan Rebellion, or whether these lives should have been lost beneath the walls of Dongchang. He only knew one thing—Zhang Yu was gone, and Zhu Di couldn't be left behind. With Zhu Di gone, the war would truly be over.

On the north city wall, Sheng Yong's binoculars were aimed at the front of the antler-shaped area. He saw a group of Yan infantrymen not following Zhu Di's cavalry through the gap, but instead charging in the opposite direction, heading towards the densest part of the antlers. The centurion at the head of the group, leaning on a horizontal sword, had a slight limp in his left leg, but his speed was not slow. The old soldiers behind him wielded short-handled axes, splitting open the first layer of antlers, the sound of breaking wooden stakes piercing through the gunfire and the sound of wind and snow.

Sheng Yong adjusted the focus, framing the outline of the centurion within the lens.

"Li Jingzhong." The man in green robes beside Sheng Yong simultaneously raised his binoculars, his gaze piercing through the snow, his tone resolute. "He figured the breach was a trap, and he's attacking from the hardest spot to distract us. General, Zhang Yu is dead, and Zhu Di is trapped. What's the next step?"

"Give the order to tighten the encirclement, pin Zhu Di behind the hidden trench, and don't let him out." Sheng Yong lowered his binoculars and turned his gaze to the direction of the Ping An reinforcements who were rushing towards them at full speed. "Ping An's 200,000 troops have arrived southeast of Dongchang City and can join the encirclement immediately. In today's battle, the Yan army will have no chance—"

Before he could finish speaking, a loud explosion suddenly erupted from below the city wall. It wasn't a musket, nor gunpowder—it was the sound of the antlers being torn down along with their concrete foundations as they were pushed aside. Shen Du's breaching team had already cleaved a large gash in the front of the antlers, and Zhao Laoliu, pipe in hand, led his men in, followed closely by Gu Zhang and his swordsmen and shieldmen. Behind them, Zhu Neng's main force of the breaching camp had already assembled in front of the trench, poised to press forward and relentlessly attack the very center of Sheng Yong's infantry formation.