Hot flashes

Some time passed.

The north wind is getting stronger, but the war drums at the border have never stopped.

Although the poison in Xiao Jue's body had been removed and the arrow wound had mostly healed, that dangerous ambush and betrayal, like a poisoned icicle, pierced into Xiao Jue's already cold and hardened heart.

The purge and reorganization were carried out quietly in the shadows, and the atmosphere in the camp was even more somber than in the dead of winter.

The snake venom on Zhou Heng's neck had long since been cleared away, leaving only two faint light brown spots.

He was still organizing documents in the outer study, but one could sense that some summaries that would not normally have passed through his hands, and that involved more critical military and border affairs, were beginning to appear on his desk.

When assigning tasks, Chen Zhen would occasionally offer a few extra tips or tricks. Xiao Jue also summoned him for questioning more often than before.

This change was subtle yet certain. Zhou Heng couldn't pinpoint whether it was the "rescue" efforts in the mine that night or the snake venom that had an effect.

As the twelfth lunar month approached, a fierce battle broke out in Wuwei, a border city where the Northern Liang and the Qiang and Hu forces in the west met.

The Qiang and Hu tribes, along with several fickle small tribes, amassed a large army and launched a fierce attack on Wuwei. Wuwei held a strategic position; if it fell, the western gateway to Northern Liang would be wide open, with unimaginable consequences.

Xiao Jue personally led his troops to reinforce the city. Zhou Heng thought he wouldn't be involved this time, but before he set off, Chen Zhen came to inform him to accompany the army, still to "record the battle situation and assist with paperwork." Zhou Heng groaned inwardly, but had no choice but to bite the bullet and follow along.

The battle was extremely fierce. The walls of Wuwei were not particularly high, but the Qiang and Hu cavalry were brave and their siege equipment was quite well prepared.

Xiao Jue was decisive and ruthless in his military tactics, adept at using surprise attacks, and repeatedly repelled enemy offensives. He even personally led elite cavalry out of the city to launch counterattacks, achieving considerable victories. However, the Qiang and Hu troops were numerous and their will to attack the city was tenacious, leading to a stalemate in the battle.

The biggest problem lies in the formations for offense and defense.

The Northern Liang army excelled in field charges and defensive counterattacks, but when facing the Qiang and Hu tribes' tactics that combined cavalry raids, infantry swarms, and a crude yet effective siege engine formation, their existing formations proved inadequate and slow to adapt.

Often, to plug a breach, they had to suffer casualties several times greater than the enemy. On and around the city walls, corpses piled up like mountains, and blood stained the frozen winter earth with horrifying patches of black and red.

After repelling yet another wave of enemy attacks, the setting sun, like blood, illuminated the tattered flags atop the city walls and the weary, blood-stained faces of the soldiers. The air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder.

Inside the temporary central command tent, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed to drip water. The charcoal brazier burned brightly, but it couldn't dispel the chill in everyone's hearts.

Xiao Jue sat in the main seat, his black armor still on, stained with blackened blood. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were terrifyingly gloomy, and his jawline was taut.

The old injury on his shoulder blade seemed to have started to ache again after days of fierce fighting and freezing cold, making his sitting posture slightly stiff.

Several trusted generals and advisors sat at the lower end of the table, with Chen Zhen standing beside Xiao Jue, his hand on his sword. Mr. Du was also among them, his brow furrowed.

"Today, another 371 casualties have been added, including nine officers of the rank of company commander or above," a military advisor in charge of discipline and statistics reported in a dry voice. "The Qiang and Hu siege engines, combined with infantry and cavalry, are specifically targeting the weak points in our formation. Our troops are always half a beat too slow to respond when we change formations. If this continues, even if Wuwei can be defended, our elite troops will be almost completely wiped out."

The tent was deathly silent. The generals' faces were filled with resentment and unwillingness.

The Northern Liang army was fierce and unafraid of head-on combat, but the feeling of having their flesh and blood ground away by the enemy's crude yet effective "clumsy methods" was truly frustrating.

"We've never slacked off on formation drills in peacetime!" A general with a full beard couldn't help but pound his knee. "How come we're so ineffective when it comes to real combat?"

"It's not that the soldiers are not brave or that their training is not thorough," another slightly older general said in a deep voice. "It's just that the enemy's tactics are different from what we usually practice, and their attacks are continuous, giving our troops no chance to breathe or adjust. Although our formation is complete, our mobility and adaptability are indeed lacking."

Mr. Du stroked his beard and slowly said, "The Art of War says, 'Form ranks before battle.' This is the norm of military strategy, but the key to its application lies in one's own mind."

The Qiang and Hu formation, though seemingly crude, actually embodies the principle of "using orthodox tactics to engage and unorthodox tactics to win." Its coordination of infantry, cavalry, and chariots subtly incorporates elements of containment, exhaustion, and surprise attacks. Our army's formation is rigorous, but it lacks… agility and specificity.

He phrased it euphemistically, but his meaning was clear: the existing battle formations of the Northern Liang army were neither targeted nor flexible enough to counter the Qiang and Hu's fighting style.

Xiao Jue listened in silence, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the cold iron wrist guard, making a soft "tap, tap" sound.

The sound was exceptionally clear, yet also exceptionally suppressed, in the silent tent.

He knew where the problem lay, but improving the formation was not something that could be accomplished overnight. In particular, creating a new formation that could effectively counter the enemy at hand, based on the characteristics of the Northern Liang army, was no easy task.

"Does anyone have any good ideas?" Xiao Jue finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse from exhaustion and the cold. "Let's not stick to conventional methods, but seek practicality."

The generals and their staff whispered among themselves, proposing several adjustments, such as reinforcing certain forces, changing the rhythm of flags and commands, or trying new combinations of troops.

But after much discussion, it always felt like minor fixes that couldn't fundamentally reverse the passive attrition on the battlefield.

As the "record clerk," Zhou Heng huddled in an inconspicuous corner of the tent, with paper and pen spread out in front of him, briefly noting down everyone's discussions.

He listened with trepidation, looking at the casualty figures and recalling the horrific scenes he had witnessed on the city walls these past few days; a chill ran down his spine.

As he listened to the discussion about battle formations, his mind involuntarily began to wander. Battle formations… ancient war formations… how could a modern person like him understand these?

But perhaps it was the miscellaneous books, movies, or even game guides that had been read that were haunting him in his subconscious, or perhaps it was the pressure of witnessing the changes in the battle formation over the past few days that triggered some strange associations.

He vaguely remembered glancing at a book somewhere before, about a legendary formation that combined defense, mobility, attack, and coordination. It was said to be extremely difficult to master, but if successful, its power was immense. The name was… what was it again? Something related to numbers?

The discussion inside the tent gradually reached a stalemate. Xiao Jue's brows furrowed more and more, and the rhythm of tapping his wrist guards slowed down, revealing his impatience and dissatisfaction.

Just as the suffocating silence was about to spread, a hesitant, faint voice, barely audible, rang out from the corner:

"Um...this humble servant...perhaps...knows a formation?"

All eyes in the tent instantly turned to the young clerk in the corner who wished he could shrink into the ground.

Xiao Jue's gaze also turned to them, sharp as a knife, carrying scrutiny and a hint of barely perceptible surprise.

Zhou Heng felt a chill run down his spine under their gazes, wishing he could swallow back his words. He forced himself to speak, and stammered out the rest under everyone's watchful eyes:

"This humble servant...this humble servant also...sometimes in the past, I don't know which miscellaneous book I saw it in randomly...it said, it said it was called something like 'Six...Six Flower Formation'?"

"Still the 'Eight Gates Formation'? No, no..." He tapped his head, trying to recall that fleeting impression. "It seems... it was called the 'Mandarin Duck Formation'?"