The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

On the 26th day of the fourth month of the 23rd year of Yonghe, in Shuozhou.

The first wave of attacks by the Hu people began at dawn.

As dawn approached but before daybreak, the torches of the soldiers guarding the city walls still flickered in the thin mist.

A deep horn sound came from the distant grassland.

The bugle call was not as clear and resonant as the bronze horns of the Great Zhou army.

Instead, it was a horn made of ox horn, a deep and resonant sound, like muffled thunder coming from the depths of the earth.

Before the bugle call had even faded, a dark mass of cavalry surged forth from the horizon.

The vanguard of the five-tribe coalition of Hu people consisted entirely of light cavalry.

Neither the riders nor the horses wore heavy armor, and they moved with incredible speed, the dust kicked up by their hooves obscuring the sky.

From a distance, it looked like a black tide surging towards the city of Shuozhou.

Each horse's mane was tied with strips of cloth of various colors.

White represents the Left Wise King's tribe.

Black represents the Right Valley King's tribe.

Cyan represents the Xiutu King's tribe.

Red represents the Hunxie King's tribe.

Beneath the enormous wolf-head banner at the very center stood the leader of the alliance, jointly elected by the five tribes.

Attila the Left's elite guards were all dressed in black horses and black armor, even their horse bits were black.

On the city wall, Marquis Chen Jing, wrapped in a thick cotton robe, stood at the highest point of the city tower.

His bodyguard tried to help him sit down, but he pushed his hand away and stood up, leaning on his long sword.

His eyes were sunken and his complexion was sallow, but his cloudy old eyes were surprisingly bright at that moment.

That's the kind of light that only veterans who have fought on the battlefield for decades possess.

It's not that I'm not afraid of death, it's that I've long since seen through the nature of death.

"Crossbowmen, prepare!" His voice wasn't loud, but the message was relayed down the city walls, layer by layer.

Hundreds of crossbows simultaneously tightened their strings.

The iron crossbow made a uniform clicking sound when it was turned.

It was particularly jarring in the pre-dawn silence.

The Hu cavalry charged to within 500 paces of the city.

Chen Jing did not order the arrows to be fired.

Four hundred steps, three hundred steps.

The faces of the Hu cavalrymen were already clearly visible.

They were men from the grasslands wearing leather hats and with indigo battle patterns painted on their faces.

Some were brandishing scimitars, while others were on horseback drawing their bows and arrows.

Two hundred steps.

Chen Jing finally raised his right hand, then slashed downwards with a fierce blow, his voice hoarse yet sharp as a knife: "Release!"

Hundreds of crossbow bolts were released simultaneously, the bowstrings vibrating and producing a muffled hum as the arrows rained down like a storm.

The Hu cavalry at the forefront were shot into a pincushion before they could even scream.

The cavalrymen behind them didn't have time to rein in their horses, and they were tripped by the corpses in front of them, causing chaos and confusion.

But the Hu people were, after all, a people raised on horseback, and the cavalry quickly bypassed the pile of corpses ahead and began to fight back.

The Hu people were skilled archers. Although their horse bows did not have the range of the Great Zhou's crossbows, they had the advantage of a faster rate of fire.

A volley of arrows rained down from below the city walls, and the walls were filled with the muffled thuds of arrows piercing wooden shields and the screams of wounded soldiers.

"Third team, go up to the city! Push the ladders down!" Zhao Meng, the captain of the vanguard battalion, had already shouted himself hoarse as he waved his arms to direct the men.

Several ladders were simultaneously erected on the city wall at the crenellations.

Dozens of Hu (non-Han) assassins, with curved swords in their mouths, climbed the ladder with the agility of monkeys.

The soldiers of the vanguard battalion used forked poles to brace against the ladder and pushed it outwards with all their might.

But the Hu people's assassins kept coming, and as soon as one was knocked down, two more were put up.

Amidst the bloodshed, the pressure on the north side of the city wall was the most intense.

That was the direction the Hu people were attacking, and Attila the Left Wise King's elite guards were personally overseeing the battle.

There were twenty or thirty siege ladders lined up densely at the foot of the city wall.

The Hu people's suicide soldiers charged forward almost without regard for casualties, forcing the defenders on the city walls to retreat step by step.

Huo Qubing looked up at the city wall and spat the grass stems in his mouth onto the ground.

The Hu (non-Han) soldiers were almost at the top of the battlements, and the defenders' formation began to crumble under the continuous pressure.

If this continues, the north wall will be breached in less than 15 minutes.

He turned to the brothers of the Third Company behind him, raised his chin, and said in a low but clear voice, "Follow me."

No one questioned it, no one hesitated.

The twenty or so men in the third squad were all veterans of the vanguard battalion who had fought in tough battles.

He followed Huo Qubing in charging into battle no less than twenty or thirty times, and he was more frantic than anyone else during the charges.

But their survival to this day is not solely due to their bravery.

Huo Qubing established the following rules: absolute obedience, mutual protection, execution for those who act rashly without authorization, and execution for those who abandon their comrades.

These two rules resulted in the Third Battalion having the lowest casualty rate among the vanguard battalions.

Huo Qubing charged ahead to the top of the battlements, his ring-pommel sword slashing diagonally down the jaw of a Hu (non-Han) assassin.

The blade sliced ​​through the leather cap, skull, and brain, producing an extremely short and dull thud.

The assassin fell backward from the ladder without uttering a sound, knocking over the two people climbing below.

Huo Qubing didn't look at the corpse; he swept his blade across the body.

They cut off the fingers of the Hu people on another cloud ladder.

The man screamed and released his grip, falling from the three-zhang-high ladder.

Under his leadership, the soldiers of the Third Company quickly filled the gap in the crenellations.

They advanced northward along the city wall, forcefully repelling the attacks of the Hu people wherever they went.

Huo Qubing charged back and forth on the battlements, his blade flashing as fast as streaks of silver lightning.

Each strike landed precisely on the vital points of the barbarian.

Chen Jing, perched atop the city wall, leaned on his long sword and watched the young man charging back and forth across the battlements.

His personal guards reported in hushed tones.

It was Huo Qubing, the third squad leader of the vanguard battalion, the same soldier who had killed the county magistrate and was recommended by the captain earlier.

Chen Jing did not respond, but continued to stare at the young man's figure for a long time, a rare smile slowly appearing on his lips.

He's been judging people for forty years; he can't be wrong.

This young man is a natural-born cavalryman; to have him plug the breaches in the city wall is like using a thoroughbred horse as an ox.

The siege lasted from dawn until afternoon.

The Hu people left more than a thousand corpses outside the city of Shuozhou and finally sounded the horn to retreat.

The black tide slowly receded, leaving behind a shocking scene of devastation on the grassland.

Broken siege ladders, dead warhorses, scattered scimitars and arrows, and countless strips of indigo-patterned cloth trampled into the mud.

The defending forces also paid a heavy price, with more than 200 killed and countless wounded, and the crenellations of the city wall riddled with arrows.

But the red dragon flag atop the city wall of Shuozhou still fluttered in the north wind.

Huo Qubing leaned against the battlements, panting heavily, his entire body soaked in blood.

There was the blood of the Hu people, and also his own blood; his left arm was slashed with a half-foot-long gash by a scimitar.

He hastily wrapped the cloth around his neck twice with the torn strips, and blood was still seeping out.

A young soldier from the third squad handed him a water bag and said with a smile, "Squad Leader Huo, you've earned another merit today."

Huo Qubing took the water bag and drank two mouthfuls, then looked over the city wall towards the Hu people's camp stretching for dozens of miles deep in the grassland.

Suddenly, he said something that left the young soldier completely bewildered: "Recognizing merit only means losing a few more heads; it won't get you out of this city."

"To make a name for ourselves, we have to go out and fight. The Hu people's supply camp is in the depression west of the valley entrance, and the garrison is less than two thousand men."

The young soldier was stunned for a moment, and almost dropped the water bag.

He stared at Huo Qubing with wide eyes, as if he were seeing this squad leader for the first time.

After a fierce battle, the people on the city wall were still collecting corpses and bandaging wounds.

He was already planning how to launch a surprise attack on the enemy's supply depot.

Huo Qubing shoved the water bag back into his hand, turned and walked towards the foot of the city wall, saying, "I'm going to find the captain."

His figure quickly disappeared around the corner of the city wall, his steps fast and steady, as if the wound on his left arm, still bleeding, didn't exist.

Inside the command tent, Chen Jing was discussing the next steps with his staff.

Although the siege was temporarily repelled, everyone knew that this was just a test.

The main force of the Hu people has not yet moved, and the siege equipment has not yet arrived.

Attila the Left, the wise king, still had his wolf-head banner firmly planted behind him.

The real battle is yet to come.

An advisor is explaining the possible attack routes of the Hu people on a sand table.

Suddenly, a report came from outside the tent.

Huo Qubing, the third squad leader of the vanguard battalion, requested an audience.

Chen Jing raised his head, placed the medicine bowl on the table, and nodded to his personal guards.

Huo Qubing lifted the tent flap and strode in, giving Chen Jing a military salute.

Without a single unnecessary pleasantry, they went straight to the point.

His plan was simple, yet also audacious: give him three hundred assassins to sneak out of the city through the west gate at midnight tonight.

Instead of going through the main gate or the main road, they circled around the city wall to the rear of the Hu people, and before dawn, they reached the supply camp and set fire to their provisions.

He speaks very fast, but every word is decisive.

It was as if he was not asking for instructions but stating a battle plan that had been repeatedly rehearsed countless times.

"These days, the barbarians are probing us, and I am probing them as well. Their supply camp is set up in the depression west of the valley entrance."

"Even I, a humble general, would never have imagined that a group of besieged defenders would dare to send men to flank and burn our supplies. This is our opportunity."

The command tent remained quiet for a while.

The advisors exchanged glances, their eyes darting back and forth across the sand table, seemingly trying to find loopholes in the plan, but no one spoke.

Chen Jing sat behind his desk, his fingers slowly tapping on the surface.

The old man stared at Huo Qubing with his cloudy old eyes for a long time before slowly speaking, asking only a few of the most crucial questions: route, wind direction, and escape plan.

Huo Qubing's answer was concise and precise.

We made our way along the narrow path on the north side of the cliff. The Hu people's cavalry patrolled that path during the day and would withdraw at night.

The north wind blows at night at the valley entrance, and setting fire to the camp will cause the fire to spread towards the main force of the Hu people.

When the supply depot catches fire, the Hu people will be thrown into chaos. They will take advantage of the chaos to return by the same route and reach the city before dawn.

Chen Jing then asked him what would happen if he couldn't come back, and Huo Qubing raised his head and said that he wouldn't need to come back.

The vanguard battalion never expected to come back alive.

Chen Jing didn't speak, but simply pulled back the curtain of the command tent and cast his gaze toward the campfires of the Hu people's camp outside the northern city wall in the distance.

The firelight reflected in his cloudy eyes. After a moment, he turned around and gave his orders in an unquestionable tone, word by word.

He allocated three hundred elite soldiers to Huo Qubing.

He wasn't a death row inmate from the Vanguard Battalion, but a veteran he personally selected from the Imperial Guard.

Each person was provided with a horse, a pot of kerosene, and two short knives.

Their only goal was to burn the barbarians' supplies and then return alive.

Huo Qubing knelt on one knee to receive the order, a rare glint of burning passion and sharpness unique to a young man flashing in his eyes.

He didn't say anything more, turned around and strode out of the command tent, his footsteps splashing water as he stepped on the muddy ground.

At the third watch of the night, the west gate of Shuozhou quietly opened a crack.

Huo Qubing led three hundred elite cavalrymen out in single file, their hooves wrapped in thick cloth and their mouths bristled with bits.

The procession of three hundred people was as quiet as a funeral procession in the night.

He rode at the very front, the wound on his left arm had been re-bandaged, a newly sharpened ring-pommel sword hung at his waist, and two jugs of kerosene hung beside his saddle.

He glanced back at the three hundred silent and resolute faces behind him, then gently spurred his horse and disappeared into the darkness outside the city.

The north wind howled across the grassland, swallowing the muffled thud of horses' hooves and the suppressed breathing of three hundred men into the long night.