To make up for the strategic deficit.
By the rushing waters of the Zhang River.
Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp...
Zhang Xin uncorked a heavy leather water skin, threw his head back, and let the cool liquid cascade down his parched throat, exhaling a long breath of pure refreshment. Surrounding him along the grassy bank were two thousand five hundred elite riders of the Xuanjia Army, accompanied by his four peerless vanguard commanders: Zuo Bao, Dian Wei, Guan Yu, and Zhao Yun.
"What is taking Gongsun Zan so long?" Zhang Xin muttered, shielding his eyes as he squinted up at the blazing summer sun, then cast a glance over his personal guard.
The Xuanjia riders were scattered loosely across the terrain, sitting askew on the soft earth in a seemingly disorganized, completely careless fashion. Yet, a trained military eye would notice that every man's hand remained inches from his weapon, and their warhorses stood perfectly tethered right beside them. Should any emergency manifest, the entire unit could vault into their saddles and form a lethal combat formation in the blink of an eye.
"Report!"
The steady rhythm of galloping hooves broke the silence as a scout from the Xuanjia Army skidded his mount to a halt before the commanders. "Lord! The White Horse Volunteers have thrown open their camp gates and are driving hard toward our coordinates!"
"Oh?" Zhang Xin's eyes flashed, his fatigue instantly evaporating. "They have finally swallowed the bait."
"Lord," Guan Yu stepped forward, his heavy hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his Crescent Blade. "Shall we order the men to mount and prepare a defensive line?"
"There is no rush," Zhang Xin replied calmly. He raised his hand, gesturing for his personal guard to remain seated and maintain their lazy postures. He fluidly mounted his own stallion, adjusting his grip on the reins as he gazed across the flat horizon toward the massive silhouette of Ye City.
The plains of Hebei were vast, flat, and entirely unobstructed. Before long, a dense, swirling cloud of dust rose into the sky, and a massive cavalry column numbering roughly three thousand riders materialized in Zhang Xin's line of sight. Judging by the rapid expansion of the dust cloud, they were still approximately six or seven li away.
"Lord, should we mount now?" Guan Yu pressed again, his voice tight.
"Wait just a little longer." Zhang Xin silently calculated the enemy's marching speed and closing distance in his head.
Guan Yu's jaw clenched, a rare flicker of tension crossing his face. Lord, I implore you, do not overplay your hand here.
It was only when the thunderous roar of the White Horse Volunteers closed to within three li of their position that Zhang Xin finally barked a loud, resonance command.
"Mount up! Execute the blueprint!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Zhang Xin wheeled his stallion around and kicked it into a frantic, simulated retreat. Dian Wei followed a half-step behind, hoisting the massive, golden dragon banner of the Marquis of Xuanwei high into the wind. Seeing their supreme commander seemingly flee in terror, the two thousand five hundred Xuanjia riders scrambled onto their mounts and scattered southward in simulated chaos.
To sell the illusion of total panic, the retreating soldiers intentionally cast aside excellent iron swords, regional standard flags, and heavy supply packs, littering the riverbank with abandoned gear.
Gongsun Zan, riding at the absolute vanguard of his three thousand elite horsemen, watched the sudden, messy dispersal of Zhang Xin's legendary forces from afar. When his mount reached the abandoned campsite and his eyes swept over the pristine weapons and standard flags scattered haphazardly in the dirt, a wave of pure, ecstatic joy washed over his face.
"Zhang Xin's monumental arrogance has finally blinded him! Look at them flee in absolute terror! This is a heaven-sent opportunity handed to me by the heavens to etch my name into history!"
"Pass the command!" Gongsun Zan roared at the top of his lungs, his voice carrying over the thunder of hooves. "No one stops to plunder the field! Ignore the weapons! Maintain the chase!"
"Zhang Xin's raiders are completely exhausted from three days of forced marches and a midnight blitz! Their stamina is spent and their morale has collapsed! Today, our White Horse Volunteers shall show the entire realm the true meaning of martial might!"
The riders of the White Horse Volunteers glanced longingly at the masterfully forged iron swords on the ground, their hands itching to upgrade their standard-issue gear. But as Gongsun Zan's absolute military mandate echoed down the ranks, a fiery wave of adrenaline surged through their veins.
The supposedly invincible, legendary Marquis of Xuanwei was literally running for his life right before their eyes. Because of his own reckless hubris, he had been forced to abandon his supplies and strip his armor before a single blade had even clashed. If they allowed this once-in-a-lifetime window to slip through their fingers, would fortune ever smile upon them again?
What were a few salvaged swords compared to the eternal glory of breaking the undefeated legend of the Marquis of Xuanwei?
"Kill!"
The three thousand White Horse Volunteers erupted into a unified, earth-shattering war cry, their morale skyrocketing to its absolute zenith as they dug their spurs into their mounts, surging after the fleeing dust cloud.
Zhang Xin glanced over his shoulder, verified that the white wall of cavalry had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, and locked eyes with Dian Wei. The two seasoned warriors burst into a synchronous, booming laugh.
Separated by a mere li, the two elite cavalry units engaged in a breathless, high-speed pursuit, covering over ten li in what felt like a heartbeat. But the Xuanjia Army had indeed conducted an exhausting, long-distance raid over the past few days, and their warhorses were genuinely beginning to flag under the intense heat. Slowly but surely, the gap between the two forces began to shrink.
Three hundred paces... two hundred paces...
"Closer! We are closing the distance!" Gongsun Zan stared intently at the retreating backs of the enemy horses, his heart hammering against his ribs in a frenzy of absolute intoxication.
He had harbored a deep, burning contempt for Zhang Xin ever since the man had risen from the ranks of the Yellow Turban rebels. Years ago, during the second year of Central Stability, when the Imperial Court had ordered Zhang Xin to hand over the operational command of the elite Wuhuan Cavalry to him, Gongsun Zan had openly, viciously humiliated Zhang Xin to his face.
In his worldview, Zhang Xin was nothing more than a peasant rebel, a common bandit who had simply used a horde of lawless, chaotic rioters to carve out a territory in the remote, lawless borderlands where the Han Dynasty's long arm could not reach, effectively extorting a desperate amnesty from a weak court. What right did such a peasant have to stand among highborn lords?
Later, when Gongsun Zan had embezzled the military provisions meant for the auxiliary Wuhuan tribesmen, it was Zhang Xin who had ruthlessly impeached him, stripping him of his rank and demoting him to a commoner. That act had forged a permanent, venomous hatred in Gongsun Zan's heart.
"A common rebel and a traitor, how dare he..."
In Gongsun Zan's mind, Zhang Xin was no different from vulgar bandit chieftains like Chu Yan or Yang Feng. But as the years rolled on and Zhang Xin decisively crushed the massive Xianbei invasions, earning a legendary reputation as the undisputed shield of the northern borders, Gongsun Zan's pure hatred slowly mutated into a suffocating, bitter envy.
Those barbarian tribes... those vast northern steppes... those were supposed to be his stepping stones to military glory! His! How dare a peasant Turban steal the achievements that belonged to him by right?
Yet, back then, he was powerless to stop it. He was a mere disgraced county magistrate, while Zhang Xin had already been invested as the prestigious Marquis of Wuxiang of the Han Empire. He had no choice but to swallow his bile, bide his time, and pray for a shift in the political winds.
Finally, the scales had tipped.
The rebels Zhang Ju and Zhang Chun, taking tactical advantage of Zhang Xin's temporary absence from the region, had covertly contacted the Wuhuan chieftain Qiuliju to instigate a massive regional rebellion. Without a moment's hesitation, Gongsun Zan had bypassed standard bureaucratic channels, marched directly to the Prefect of Liaoxi to demand emergency command of troops and horses, and launched a devastating, preemptive surprise raid on Qiuliju's primary encampment.
Initially, the campaign had been a textbook masterpiece; Qiuliju was caught entirely off guard, his forces suffering a crushing, bloody defeat before fleeing into the wilderness. Driven by a desperate thirst for glory, Gongsun Zan had pursued the retreating forces deep into enemy territory.
But his reckless ambition had walked him straight into a nightmare. Midway through the chase, Qiuliju's retreating columns unexpectedly converged with a massive warband of Xianbei raiders looking to exploit the chaos. The combined barbarian forces completely overwhelmed Gongsun Zan's vanguard, driving his army back and besieging them tightly within the crumbling walls of Guanzi City.
Had it not been for a stroke of absolute luck—a severe winter famine that left both Qiuliju and the Xianbei entirely devoid of provisions—Gongsun Zan would have starved to death inside that forgotten fortress.
Though his old mentor, the venerable Lu Zhi, had ultimately used his immense political capital after the war to shield him from court martial, securing him a post as a Cavalry Commander, Gongsun Zan remained utterly consumed by a desperate, maniacal need to establish a flawless martial legacy. How could a man of his pride be satisfied with a mediocre mid-tier command?
To feed his ambition, he began launching rogue, unauthorized skirmishes against the peaceful Wuhuan civilian population. His reckless actions eventually drew a severe, icy warning from Yan Rou, and the Imperial Inspector Liu Yu had repeatedly sent official envoys to publicly reprimand him for breaking the peace.
If it had just been Liu Yu, Gongsun Zan wouldn't have given a single damn. Liu Yu was a soft-hearted Confucian scholar who would do nothing more than send sternly worded letters of disapproval; it didn't cost Gongsun Zan a single piece of flesh. He would have simply ignored the decrees and continued his border raids.
But Yan Rou was a different breed of beast entirely. That man didn't send letters—he marched armies.
In the fifth year of Central Stability, Gongsun Zan had executed a particularly brutal raid, plundering a peaceful Wuhuan village for livestock and captives. Qiuliju had immediately dispatched a bleeding envoy straight to Yan Rou's headquarters to beg for justice.
Upon receiving the report, Yan Rou didn't even bother to consult the court. He immediately mobilized his heavy veteran legions and marched straight to Gongsun Zan's border fort, placing his hand on his sword in a silent, terrifying ultimatum.
Gongsun Zan's bravado had evaporated in an instant. The troops under Yan Rou's command weren't soft interior guards; they were hardened, iron-disciplined veterans personally molded and drilled by Zhang Xin himself through years of brutal steppe warfare. Worse yet, the legendary Guan Yu was currently stationed nearby in Dai Commandery, ready to mobilize. At that time, the White Horse Volunteers had been formed for less than a year, lacking cohesion, tactical experience, and raw combat power.
Had Yan Rou truly given the order to level his camp and drag him back to the capital in chains for execution, Gongsun Zan would have been utterly wiped off the map. Trapped in a corner, he had been forced to choke down his pride, issue a humiliating public apology, and pay an exorbitant financial compensation to the barbarian tribes.
Though the silver amount hadn't ruined him, the psychological scar was deep and permanent. He felt he had suffered an unforgivable, existential degradation.
Yan Rou was Zhang Xin's hand-picked general. Guan Yu was Zhang Xin's absolute brother-in-arms. Every single time Gongsun Zan laid awake at night, cursing the heavens for why his brilliant career was constantly frustrated, why his boundless ambitions were systematically choked out... it always traced back to a single root cause.
It was all Zhang Xin's fault!
If that peasant bastard hadn't stolen his rightful northern achievements and systemically suppressed his military growth at every turn, his name would have been revered across the four seas years ago!
But today, the universe had corrected itself. Zhang Xin had exposed a colossal, fatal flaw in his tactical armor, and Gongsun Zan was going to seize it with both hands. He would wash away years of accumulated bile and humiliation in a single torrent of Xuanjia blood!
Up ahead, the fleeing Xuanjia Army suddenly converged toward a narrow, reinforced pontoon bridge spanning the rushing waters of the Zhang River, crossing over to the opposite bank in a tight, orderly stream. The bridge had clearly been constructed by Zhang Xin's advance engineers during their initial march.
Seeing the enemy cross, Gongsun Zan didn't hesitate for a single second. He roared at his men, driving his white stallion straight onto the wooden planks, leading his three thousand riders across the Zhang River and onto the southern bank.
The moment his horse's hooves cleared the far side of the river, Zhang Xin whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto a personal guard riding parallel to him. "Fire the whistling signal! Signal Qu Yi to spring the trap!"
"Understood!"
The elite Xuanjia rider reached into his quiver, pulling out a heavy arrow tipped with a perforated bronze whistle. Clamping his thighs tightly around his mount's ribcage to stabilize his posture at full gallop, he drew his heavy composite bow to full extension, aimed straight into the apex of the sky, and released the string.
WUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—!
A piercing, high-pitched, metallic shriek cut through the roaring wind and the thundering of hooves.
Hearing that unnatural, rhythmic whistle echo across the empty plains, Gongsun Zan's heart suddenly missed a beat. A cold spike of instinct slammed into his brain, shouting that something was fundamentally, drastically wrong.
An ambush? Could there truly be an ambush hidden out here in the open fields?
"Slow down! Restrain the pace! Hold your formations!"
Gongsun Zan stared at the backs of the Xuanjia riders, who were now less than a hundred paces ahead of his frontline. Reluctantly, he choked back his bloodlust and issued the order to pull back the reins, his eyes darting warily across the surrounding terrain, scanning every minor dip in the earth for hidden threats. While he loathed Zhang Xin on a personal level, he was not a fool; he could not deny that the man possessed a terrifyingly brilliant tactical mind.
As the White Horse Volunteers slowed their mad sprint, the distance between the two cavalry forces began to rapidly widen once more.
Right on cue, the tall summer grass along the side of the main thoroughfare parted, and a tight, highly disciplined infantry phalanx numbering roughly one thousand men emerged from a hidden depression in the earth, marching into the open sunlight.
Zhang Xin's fleeing cavalry executed a smooth, pre-calculated detour, sweeping past the flank of this newly arrived infantry block and seamlessly filtering into the secure space behind their lines before galloping off into the distance.
The moment the Xuanjia riders cleared the sector, the thousand-man infantry unit moved with industrial precision. They slammed their heavy shields into the dirt, locked their shoulders, and formed an airtight, dense defensive wall right across the absolute center of the main road, completely severing Gongsun Zan's path of pursuit.
"This... this is your grand ambush?"
Gongsun Zan stared at the blocking force. When he realized the entire unit consisted of a mere thousand foot soldiers, the tension in his shoulders completely vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated amusement.
A thousand infantrymen deployed in the middle of a flat plain? This wasn't an ambush; this was a pathetic, desperate rear-guard sacrifice meant to buy Zhang Xin a few extra minutes of flight.
A single thousand foot soldiers? Who on earth did Zhang Xin think he was looking down on?
"Drive straight through them! Crush their line!"
Gongsun Zan noted that the infantry phalanx had only just dropped into their stances and their flanking shields weren't fully set. He raised his heavy spear, pointing it directly at the center of the formation as he authorized a full-scale cavalry charge. The infantry was blocking the only clear road; if they didn't trample this obstacle into paste immediately, continuing the hunt for Zhang Xin would be impossible.
Three thousand elite, mobile shock cavalry charging down a lone thousand isolated foot soldiers on a flat plain—the tactical advantage was overwhelmingly, mathematically his!
"Kill—!"
The White Horse Volunteers unleashed a deafening roar, their white mounts kicking up a colossal wall of dust as they accelerated down the road, targeting the very heart of the stationary infantry line.
Two hundred paces... one hundred and fifty paces... one hundred paces...
Deep within the center of the iron infantry formation, a seasoned commanding general roughly forty years of age stood as motionless as a mountain. His face bore an expression of extreme, unshakeable arrogance, and a cold, venomous sneer curled the corners of his lips as he watched the massive wall of white horses barrel toward his position.
He raised his heavy command halberd, his voice dripping with pure malice.
"White horses? Hmph! Today, I will ensure every single one of these pretty beasts rides in, but not a single one leaves this field alive!"