Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Led by Zhang Liao, Xu Huang, and Zhang Xiu, the Han cavalry, like three sharp blades, swiftly penetrated every corner of the grasslands. They moved across the plains with lightning speed, their hooves thundering, raising clouds of dust in their wake. When they spotted the migrating tribes, a determined glint flashed in their eyes.

Zhang Liao charged ahead, shouting, "Brothers, don't let these remaining bandits escape! Kill them!" The Han cavalry, like tigers descending the mountain, surged towards the tribes with overwhelming force. The migrating herders, seeing this, stared in terror, letting out desperate cries. They tried to drive their cattle and sheep away, but chaos ensued.

The Han cavalry charged into the crowd, swords flashing and blood splattering. Cattle and sheep, terrified, scattered in all directions, their moos and bleats mingling with the screams of the people, echoing across the blood-soaked grassland. Some herders tried to fight back with makeshift weapons, but against the well-trained Han army, they were like mantises trying to stop a chariot, instantly routed.

Xu Huang's troops also engaged in fierce fighting on another front. He wielded his great axe, each strike accompanied by a scream. "These bandits dare to oppose my Great Han! Today is their end!" Xu Huang roared, and the Han soldiers around him were greatly encouraged, fighting bravely against the enemy.

Zhang Xiu was equally ruthless. His spear moved like a dragon emerging from the sea among the enemy ranks, accurately piercing each enemy. "Don't let them have a chance to escape! Make sure to wipe out the remnants of the Murong Xianbei!" Zhang Xiu shouted. The Han cavalry coordinated closely, surrounding the tribes that tried to flee and launching a brutal mopping-up operation.

After his crushing defeat, Murong Xuepo, like a stray dog, led his few remaining troops back to his territory in a sorry state. The dust kicked up by his horses' hooves seemed to sigh at his misery. When he returned to his familiar royal tent, looking at everything around him, his heart was filled with despair and resentment. At this moment, he knew that with his current strength, he was no match for the ferocious Han army. Helpless, he could only order a retreat, hoping to preserve a sliver of his bloodline and one day rise again.

However, his territory had already been attacked by Pang De and Jia Xu. Jia Xu was a man of great wisdom and predicted that Murong Xuepo would retreat to his lair. So, after discussing with Pang De, he quickly led his elite troops and, like a divine army descending from the sky, headed straight for Murong Xuepo's lair.

As the Han army surged in like a tidal wave, Murong Xuepo's camp instantly descended into chaos. Pang De charged ahead, wielding his broadsword with ferocious power; in the flashes of his blade, several enemy soldiers fell with screams. He was like a war god descended to earth, his roar shaking the heavens: "Murong Xuepo, today is your death day!" His voice echoed across the grasslands, chilling the enemy to the bone.

Although Murong Xuepo's remaining troops were demoralized, they fought like cornered beasts, taking up arms in a final attempt to resist. However, against the well-trained and highly motivated Han army, their resistance proved futile. Jia Xu, in the rear, methodically directed the battle. His keen eyes constantly monitored the changing battlefield situation, continuously redeploying troops and making the Han army's offensive even more lethal.

On the battlefield, shouts of battle and screams of agony mingled together. Han army arrows rained down on the enemy camp, instantly setting the tents ablaze, flames shooting into the sky and illuminating half the heavens. Murong Xuepo, mounted on his horse, watched his camp engulfed in flames, his heart filled with both anxiety and rage. He brandished his scimitar, attempting to organize an effective defense, but all his efforts seemed futile.

Pang De led the Han army's iron cavalry, charging into the enemy ranks like a whirlwind. Wherever the iron cavalry passed, enemies were knocked away, their blood splattering everywhere.

Under the relentless onslaught of Pang De and Jia Xu, Murong Xuepo's defenses completely collapsed. His tents crumbled in flames, and shouts of battle mingled with cries of despair, creating a tragic dirge. Murong Xuepo bore several wounds, his battle robes stained with blood, his eyes filled with terror and resentment. His trusted men fell one by one beside him; he knew the situation was hopeless, and if he didn't flee, he would surely perish.

So, with all his might, he rallied the few hundred personal guards and generals he had left amidst the chaos, along with a small number of his relatives. These guards were all elite soldiers he had carefully selected and trained. Now, they formed a circle, tightly protecting Murong Xuepo and his family in the center. Despite the critical situation, their eyes were resolute, their faces filled with a death-defying spirit, determined to carve a bloody path for Murong Xuepo with their own lives.

"Charge!" Murong Xuepo roared hoarsely, his voice filled with boundless grief and determination. His guards, like a sharp wedge, charged towards the weakest point in the Han army's encirclement. They brandished their long swords, recklessly hacking and slashing at the Han soldiers who stood in their way. Blood splattered across their faces, but it did nothing to diminish their resolve to break through.

Seeing Murong Xuepo attempting to escape, Pang De immediately shouted, "We mustn't let him get away!" With that, he spurred his horse, sword in hand, and galloped towards Murong Xuepo. Hearing their commander's order, the Han soldiers also gave chase. In an instant, the battlefield was ablaze with the glint of swords and the deafening shouts of battle.

Although Murong Xuepo's personal guards were incredibly brave, the Han army was numerous and highly motivated, their encirclement layered upon layer like an impenetrable fortress. However, these guards, with a death wish, managed to tear a gap in the Han army's encirclement. Taking advantage of this opening, Murong Xuepo, along with his relatives and family, escaped in a sorry state under the cover of his guards.

They ran frantically, kicking up clouds of dust behind them. Murong Xuepo dared not stop for a moment, her mind filled with only one thought: head north, escape this terrible place.

Murong Xuepo's wife, pale and flustered, caught up with him in a few quick steps and asked in a trembling voice, "Your Majesty, where are we going? Where can we escape to?" At this moment, she was filled with fear and confusion. Looking at the people fleeing in disarray around her, she felt that the future was bleak.

Murong Xuepo gritted her teeth, a resolute glint in her eyes, and said without hesitation, "Head north. Escape the North Sea!" Her tone was firm and unwavering.

"But Your Majesty, further north lies a vast, desolate snowfield. Where can we possibly survive?" His wife's eyes were filled with worry, her voice trembling with tears. In her mind, that boundless snowfield was a desolate wasteland, utterly unsuitable for human habitation.

Murong Xuepo suddenly became fierce, shouting at his wife, "What do you know? As long as they don't catch up, there's always a way to survive! No matter how difficult the conditions, we can always survive. But if they catch up, it's all over! We will not only lose our lives, but the entire tribe will never have a chance to recover!" His eyes were bloodshot, like a trapped beast driven to the brink of despair, and his fierceness moved even the guards around him.

His wife trembled at his appearance and dared not utter another word. Murong Xuepo took a deep breath, calmed himself, turned to look at his personal guards and relatives who had followed him through thick and thin, and shouted loudly, "Gentlemen, although we are in dire straits this time, as long as we are united, we will definitely find a way out! Head north, and once we cross the North Sea, we will have a chance to make a comeback!"

The guards shouted in unison, "We are willing to follow our king!" Their voices echoed across the grassland, their weariness and dishevelment masking an indomitable spirit. Murong Xuepo looked at them, his heart filled with mixed emotions. But at this moment, he could only lead his men on a continued northward escape, searching for a sliver of hope on this perilous grassland.

Just as Murong Xuepo and his group were fleeing north in a panic, Hu Chier and his brother led a cavalry unit, swiftly traversing the grasslands, and finally found Jia Xu and Pang De's army. Hu Chier dismounted, hurriedly approached the two men, knelt on one knee, and said urgently, "Mr. Jia, General Pang, my brother and I have come on the King's orders to deliver military orders. The King wants you two to go and join him as soon as possible."

Upon hearing this, Pang De frowned and looked at Hu Chier, saying, "But Murong Xuepo just escaped. Shouldn't we pursue him? Letting him go like this might cause future trouble."

Hu Chier hurriedly said, "General Pang, the King's order is here: we must regroup as soon as possible. It is already late autumn, and winter is coming soon. We must return to the Central Plains no matter what."

Upon hearing this, Jia Xu immediately understood that Ma Chao was worried about the war situation in the Central Plains. After a moment of contemplation, he said to Pang De, "In that case, we don't need to worry too much. Now that all the fighting forces on the grasslands have been destroyed, even if Murong Xuepo escaped, he only has a few hundred men with him. How much trouble can they cause? As for those small tribes, after this battle, they can hardly pose any threat to the Central Plains anymore. Let's obey the King's orders and hurry to join them."

After a pause, Jia Xu turned and gave the order: "Pass down the order to slaughter all the cattle and sheep in Murong Xuepo's territory, and have the soldiers carry as many as possible. This time we fought our way into the grasslands and destroyed all the tribes we saw, so we don't need to stop on the way back. We can travel light and quickly, and try to reunite with the King as soon as possible and return to the Central Plains together."

Although Pang De was still somewhat unwilling, he knew that military orders were absolute and that Jia Xu's words made sense, so he nodded and said, "Alright, let's do as Mr. Jia says. Pass down the order and prepare to depart immediately."

The army sprang into action, soldiers slaughtering cattle and sheep and packing their belongings. Soon, everything was ready, and Pang De and Jia Xu led their troops, galloping towards Ma Chao's location. Behind them, the setting sun cast its golden rays upon the war-torn grasslands, as if drawing a line under this long and brutal campaign.

Murong Xuepo and his group fled like frightened birds, their lives hanging by a thread. The night was like a huge black curtain, weighing heavily on their hearts. Only the dull thud of horses' hooves on the grassland, along with their rapid breathing, sounded particularly eerie in the silent night.

They fled from dusk until late into the night, only slightly relaxing their tense nerves and slowing their pace as dawn approached. In fact, after Hu Chi'er arrived to convey Ma Chao's military orders, Pang De and his men had indeed ceased their pursuit. But little did Murong Xuepo and the others know this; their overwhelming fear drove them to flee relentlessly, as if countless demons were chasing them.

By this time, everyone was exhausted, both men and horses, and the fatigue washed over them like a tidal wave, making it unbearable. The horses were also panting heavily, their steps faltering, as if they would collapse at any moment. Murong Xuepo looked around and saw only the vast grassland, deathly silent, with no more of the chilling shouts of battle or the figures of the pursuers. Only then did she wave her hand and say weakly, "Stop...stop and let's rest."