A divine healer, a general, a young marquis! Who can rival them!

The banner was turned down at noon.

No one chopped it down when it fell. The barbarians who were supporting the banner ran away first, and without anyone to support it, the banner slowly tilted to the east, getting stuck between two corpses halfway down, just lying there at an angle, not completely falling.

But everyone on the battlefield could see that it was crooked.

The barbarian formation began to crumble from that moment.

It didn't scatter from the middle, but from the edges. Those on the outermost circle who came on foot retreated northwards first, and as they retreated, they started running. Once they started running, the middle layer couldn't stay stable either.

Shao Qi's two thousand spears finally pressed forward.

Before pressing forward, he did one thing: he arranged the three rows of spears into two rows, with the front row crouching and the back row standing, pushing forward step by step, not allowing anyone to run.

"Don't chase!" he shouted from the rear of the formation, his voice audible throughout the entire line. "If you run, the formation will break down! And if the formation breaks down, they can easily wipe you out with a single counterattack!"

Two thousand people moved forward to the beat of a drum. After moving three hundred steps, the barbarian layer never looked back.

The sound of horses' hooves from the east indicates that the horses will return at the end of the 11 PM.

It was Colonel Pang. His force made two round trips in the southeast, leading six thousand barbarian cavalry more than twenty miles away; when the six thousand realized they had been tricked and turned back, they ran into a rout of soldiers retreating from the battlefield.

"They didn't catch them," Captain Pang later said. "Six thousand cavalrymen reined in their horses and stood there, watching their own men run past them, without moving for the length of an incense stick burning."

"Why aren't you moving?"

"I don't know where to attack," said Captain Pang. "Their banner is askew, and no one in the central army is giving the order. The six thousand cavalry waited for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn before following them north."

"General, should we pursue them or not?" Cui Ting's horse galloped up to Yang Hu, and he shouted until his voice cracked.

"Chase them," Yang Hu said. "Chase them for thirty li, but don't let them cross that shallow ridge."

"Why not?"

"Once we cross the ridge, it will be dark," Yang Hu said. "If we chase after them in the dark, we'll be trading lives for heads."

They chased him until late afternoon that day.

The barbarians left behind more things than people as they retreated north: pots, felt blankets, dismantled tent poles, and bundles of unused arrows.

When they had chased for about twenty miles, Liu Ye and his men intercepted them.

Those weren't defeated soldiers. It was a temporarily fenced-off area, half of which was surrounded by vehicles, and there were more than three hundred people lying inside.

"General," Liu Ye reported back, her face grim, "they abandoned the patient. This is the second time."

Yang Hu reined in his horse.

"How many are still alive?"

"I can't tell. There are over three hundred lying down, but less than fifty can move."

"Where are the guards?"

"There were no guards. There were two poles outside the wagon enclosure, with sheep heads hanging from them."

Cui Ting, who was listening nearby, gasped: "General, those are markings they made themselves, a warning sign."

"I know."

"General, please don't go there."

Yang Hu sat on the horse for a while.

The sun had already dipped low over the shallow ridge. The bugle calls that had been silenced on the battlefield sounded again and again.

"Give the order," he said. "The pursuers stop twenty li away. No one is allowed to approach that encirclement within a li radius."

"Yes."

"Leave ten of Willow Leaf's scouts to guard a mile away. No one is allowed to go in, nor is anyone allowed to come out from inside and walk this way."

Cui Ting paused.

"General... are you stopping those coming out from inside as well?"

"Stop them too."

"If those people climb this way..."

"Then shout from a mile away, tell them to go back." Yang Hu turned his horse around, "Tell them to head north and return to their own camp."

"Their camp has been disbanded."

"Then head north and find their own people," Yang Hu said. "None of my six thousand men can touch them."

Cui Ting opened his mouth, but ultimately didn't ask any more questions.

Yang Hu rode out for a dozen steps, then stopped again.

"Su Heng".

Su Heng caught up from behind.

"General."

"How much medicine is left?"

"We used seven boxes today, and we have twenty-nine boxes left."

Yang Hu remained silent for a while.

"Put it out in five boxes."

Su Heng was taken aback.

"Place five days' worth of dry rations about a mile outside that cart enclosure," Yang Hu said. "Put them down and leave. Don't go in, and don't let anyone stay."

"General..." Cui Ting cried out anxiously, "Those are barbarians!"

"Those were over three hundred patients abandoned by their own people," Yang Hu said. "More than two thousand of their soldiers died by my blade today, and I don't regret any of them. But these three hundred are no longer soldiers."

He placed his hands on the saddle.

"Besides, these five boxes of medicine won't save them."

"Then why did the general release it?"

"It's for those who go back alive."

Cui Ting was stunned.

"More than 10,000 escaped today," Yang Hu said. "They will come back for these 300. Once they find them, they will see five boxes of medicine and five days' worth of rations nearby, which we placed there."

He turned the horse's head to the south.

"This is more effective than killing two thousand."

The number of the great victory was calculated that night.

The fire burned in the depression all night long, and no one stopped it.

Cui Ting reported the numbers until midnight.

"4,712 heads were taken. 839 prisoners were captured. 2,100 horses, 140 carts, and countless weapons and armor were seized."

"And what about us?"

"Six hundred and fifty-four dead, and over one thousand two hundred wounded." Cui Ting's voice was a little hoarse. "General, there were nine thousand one hundred when we left the border, and now there are five thousand four hundred and twenty who can still stand."

Yang Hu wrote down the number.

Nine thousand one hundred went out, five thousand four hundred and twenty were standing, plus those lying down and those being carried, totaling more than six thousand seven hundred.

There was a shortfall of more than 2,300 people.

Give me that booklet.

Cui Ting handed it over. Yang Hu turned to the last page, picked up his pen, and wrote a line.

On March 30th, the main force of the barbarian tribe was defeated 120 li north of Black Stone Ridge.

After finishing writing, he paused for a moment and added a line of smaller characters.

The list of fallen soldiers is attached separately, totaling 2,341, including those killed in the ambush, those who died from the plague, and those who succumbed to their wounds.

Cui Ting looked at that line, his eyes reddening.

"General, if the Ministry of War were to allocate funds again this time..."

"I'll report it again if you make another mistake."

He put down his pen and rubbed his wrist.

"And one more thing. Eight hundred and thirty-nine prisoners, separated into different ports."

"separate?"

"Distinguish them according to whether they are sick or not," Yang Hu said. "Look at one place where they are healthy, and another place where they are coughing, have a fever, or have spots on their body. The two places should be fifty paces apart. The guards are not allowed to go between them."

"The general is afraid..."

"It's not fear, it's inevitable," Yang Hu said. "When those 15,000 men came from the north, they were carrying something. Among the 800-plus people we've captured today, there must be something."

"What about those who are sick?"

"rule."

Cui Ting's pen stopped again.

"General, shall we use our medicine to treat the prisoners?"

"Treat them," Yang Hu said. "If we don't treat them, they'll spread the disease to the guards in three days, and the guards will spread it to the whole camp. My 5,420 men can't withstand a second round."

He stood up.

"Write this down in the booklet too. Make it clear: it's not that I'm being kind-hearted, it's that I've done the math."

After daybreak, the movements of the three parties gradually came into play.

The news spread fastest in the army. Before dawn, it had spread throughout the right wing: General Yue was able to sit up. The first thing he did after sitting up was to ask about the kills. After asking, he pointed to the arrow shaft in his chest to the people who came to see him and said that this was the arrow that the general had stuck in his chest, and that it could only go out and not go in.

The imperial court was the slowest to react. The military report was sent out on the second day of the fourth month, still via the northern route. As usual, Yang and Hu divided it into two copies: the battle report went to the Ministry of War, and the list of names went to the pension department.

The news from the barbarian royal court was brought back by Liu Ye.

"General, the more than 10,000 who retreated north did not return to their original camp."

"Where did they go?"

"Further north." Liu Ye pushed the plank in front of him and pointed to the northernmost point. "The scouts followed for three days, until they dared not follow any longer. They didn't stop or set up camp along the way; they were moving extremely fast."

"What direction is that?"

Liu Ye shook her head.

"I don't know. But among the prisoners we captured, there was one who knew a few words of the language spoken inside the Great Wall. He said one word."

"What word?"

Liu Ye tried to pronounce those three words, but she didn't quite get it right.

Su Heng heard this from the side and looked up.

He was referring to the royal court.