Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Yan Yan's face flushed purple, and the knuckles of his clasped fists turned white: "We were blind and didn't know that Marquis Wei was here in person. If we had known it was you, we would never have dared to attack rashly!" He glanced at Ma Chao's action of putting away his gun, and his Adam's apple rolled fiercely, "We must retreat this time!" After saying this, without waiting for a response, he hurriedly turned around, whipped the soldiers and ordered them to retreat.

Amidst the smoke and dust, the remnants of the army retreated like frightened birds. Wu Yi, clutching his bloodstained spear, pursued them, his face etched with confusion. "General Yan! We were on the verge of taking the city, why..." His voice trailed off. Yan Yan's bloodshot eyes stared at the white horse in the distance, as if his soul had been drained. He rasped, "Don't ask! Pack your belongings immediately, send Zhang Yi and Zhang Yi to cover our retreat, and return... to Yizhou!" Without another glance at him, he stumbled into the general's tent, leaving Wu Yi bewildered as he gazed at the devastated ground.

Wu Yi looked at Zhang Yi and Zhang Yi, who were covered in blood, and his throat rolled. "You two! Why did the old general suddenly..." Before he finished speaking, Zhang Yi had wiped the blood off his face and lowered his voice: "General Wu, you don't know, when you were attacking the city, a cavalry rushed out from the northwest. Zhang Yi and I led our men to stop them, but we were beaten without any chance to fight back!" He subconsciously clenched his large sword with many cracks. "Until the old general arrived, he recognized the white horse warrior at a glance - it was actually the Marquis of Wei Ma Chao!"

"Ma Chao?!" Wu Yi's voice suddenly rose. "Didn't he die in Chang'an a long time ago?!" Zhang Yi smiled bitterly and nodded. "But the old general accompanied the young master in the attack on Chang'an and witnessed Ma Chao's methods with his own eyes. He would never admit his mistake."

Wu Yi stamped his foot, turned, and strode into the main tent. He saw Yan Yan stuffing the tiger talisman into his bag, his white hair hanging messily in front of his eyes. "General Yan!" Wu Yi rubbed his hands anxiously. "Returning empty-handed like this, the lord will blame you..." He suddenly paused, his eyes glancing at the old scar on the back of Yan Yan's hand—the mark left by Ma Chao's spear tip eight years ago.

"Attacking again tomorrow?" Yan Yan suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot. "Do you know how Young Master Liu Fan and Second Master Liu Dan died?" He grabbed the bronze wine jar on the table and smashed it. "Even if Ma Chao only has a third of his strength left, with the strategy he possesses, he can still wipe us out without a single mortal left!"

Wu Yi's eyes were wide open with anger, and he kicked the marching stool at his feet hard, causing gravel to fly all over the ground: "Old General! Our army has torn through the defense line of Micang Mountain. If we retreat now, how can we report to the lord?!" The sword at his waist made a clanging sound with the violent movement, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

Yan Yan's skinny hands tightly gripped the flagpole, his knuckles turning pale. His old voice suddenly rose: "Do you think that I, a veteran of hundreds of battles, would be afraid of death?!" He turned abruptly, his cloudy eyes bloodshot, his white hair standing upright in the night wind. "That year outside Chang'an City, Ma Chao charged into the battle alone. I still remember it clearly!"

The torches outside the tent flickered, illuminating Yan Yan's face with wrinkles as if carved by a knife. He grabbed the bronze wine jar on the table and smashed it against the wall, sending shattered porcelain flying. "Who did the Western Liang cavalry rely on to sweep across Yongliang? Without the news of Ma Chao's death, would the lord have easily sent troops to Hanzhong? Zhang Lu previously cooperated with the Western Liang. Do you have any intention of sending troops to Hanzhong?" He poked the Western Liang territory on the map with his dry, branch-like finger. "Now that this man has returned alive, what can you do to stop him?!"

Wu Yi watched Yan Yan's chest heaving violently. The night wind, carrying the stench of blood, blew into the tent, chilling his hands slightly. War horses neighed in the distance, and he finally understood the fear in Yan Yan's eyes: it wasn't cowardice, but the dread etched into the bones of someone who had seen their defenses ripped apart before.

In the twilight, banners fluttered across Micang Mountain. Ma Chao's white horse rode against the shattered shadows of the setting sun. Behind him, Zhang Wei's reinforcements surged over the hilltop like a black torrent. In the distance, the Yizhou army's tents frantically gathered their banners, while here, the Hanzhong soldiers erupted in thunderous cheers. Spears and halberds clashed in a rhythmic rhythm, surrounding the two men as they headed straight for the Tianshi Temple.

Zhang Lu was already waiting outside the vermilion-lacquered gate, the cloud pattern on his robe rising and falling with his rapid breathing. Seeing the White Horse General approach, he rushed forward, beaming, "This general is unparalleled in his bravery, but my Hanzhong..." Before he could finish his words, Zhang Wei had already squeezed in beside his brother, his face uglier than slate. "Brother! This is the Marquis of the Han Dynasty—Ma Chao, the Western Liang Jin!"

These words resonated like thunder, and Zhang Lu's outstretched hand froze in mid-air. The inviting smile that had yet to fade from his face froze in an instant. Panic and ecstasy mingled in his eyes. He took a half step back, knocking over the bronze incense burner by the door. "Wei, Wei Hou Ma Chao?" He stared at the figure in blood-stained silver armor, his voice trembling.

Ma Chao gently tugged on the reins, and the white horse reared to its feet, its long neigh piercing the dusk. He removed his silver helmet, revealing a pale yet undiminished face. The black iron wrist guards clasped together as he saluted, "It is I, Ma. I have long heard of Mr. Zhang's benevolence and righteousness, and today I have come to help defend Hanzhong." These words, though humiliating, were actually arrogance, startling Zhang Lu so much that he hastily straightened his hat and returned the greeting. His previous embarrassment was swept away by ecstasy—after all, who could have imagined that the world-renowned Ma Chao would actually show up to help?

Zhang Lu's throat rolled over, and he looked at the silver armor as if in a dream. "Isn't Marquis Wei in Chang'an..." Before he finished speaking, his face suddenly changed, and he bowed his hands to apologize. "Forgive me for being so presumptuous, but I don't know why Marquis Wei showed up in Hanzhong?"

Ma Chao tapped the saddle lightly and rode his snow-white horse slowly forward, his mane billowing in the wind. "Does Master Zhang still remember the dying man at Hua Tuo's clinic? If it weren't for the miraculous medicine Master Zhang gave me, I would have died long ago."

"It's you!" Zhang Lu looked up suddenly, his gaze fixed on the pale yet sharp face. The memory of the emaciated figure on the sickbed overlapped violently with the radiant silver-armored god of war before him. "When I saw you so weak that day, who could have imagined it was..." He suddenly fell silent.

"I've just recovered from a serious illness, and I only have a third of my strength left." Ma Chao casually swung his spear, and the gravel picked up by the spear tip fell to the ground. Zhang Lu hurriedly bowed deeply, the corner of his robe brushing the setting sun. "On behalf of the soldiers and people of Hanzhong, I thank Marquis Wei for saving my life!"

Ma Chao raised an eyebrow, observing the man's almost humble demeanor, a cloud of suspicion rising within him. Normally, since he was now an enemy of the imperial court, Zhang Lu would have considered him a hot potato, perhaps even kidnapping him and sending him to Chang'an for a reward. Instead, Zhang Lu's eyes were filled with ecstasy and awe. Little did he know that when Li Ru led the Western Liang army across Hanzhong, Zhang Lu had faced the terror of those who had ravaged the country. He had even witnessed firsthand the news that Ma Chao was alive, a far greater deterrent to Liu Zhang of Yizhou than even a hundred thousand soldiers.

Back when Ma Chao was in power, Zhang Lu's mere presence, merely facilitating Ma Chao's passage to transport rations, had already intimidated Liu Zhang of Yizhou. Liu Zhang's advisors repeatedly urged the capture of Hanzhong, only to be met with the rebuff, "The Western Liang cavalry are eyeing them with eager eyes." It wasn't until the news of Ma Chao's sudden death a few months ago that Liu Zhang, impulsively summoning 30,000 elite troops, stormed Micang Mountain. Without the fearsome Ma Chao, Hanzhong seemed like a piece of cake. But today, Ma Chao suddenly appeared on a white horse, his spear piercing the Yizhou army's path. Zhang Lu, gazing at the once-raised banner of the Tianshi Dao atop the city walls, belatedly grasped his sleeves—his savior had proven to be Hanzhong's most potent talisman.

At this moment, the mountain breeze blew Zhang Lu's clothes. The leader of the Tianshi Dao secretly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, secretly rejoicing: "Luckily, fortunately, if my daughter hadn't threatened to die to force me to use the medicine, how could Hanzhong have such a great opportunity?" Thanks to this life-saving favor to Ma Chao, at least until the outcome of the battle between Chang'an and Xiliang was decided, he was as stable as a rock. This girl Fu Bao was truly a lucky star for the Tianshi Dao.

The night was as dark as ink. Suddenly, a personal guard rushed into the tent. "Report! The Yizhou army broke camp at night and is retreating south!" Zhang Lu stood up suddenly, the jade beads on his bronze crown jingling. He turned to look at Ma Chao, who was reclining on a couch. "What do you think our army should do?"

Ma Chao's pale face flickered in the candlelight. He rubbed the blood grooves on his silver spear with his fingertips and chuckled softly, "If we pursue them now, we might cause more trouble." His hoarse voice carried the fatigue of a long illness. "To be honest, I've only trained these cavalry for two days. This time, we repelled the enemy, but only by relying on our reputation." He looked out into the night outside the tent, remembering Yan Yan's trembling white hair when he saw him. "Yan Yan is a shrewd man. He knew the importance of my presence when he saw me. If we forcefully pursue them, the Hanzhong troops will likely not gain any advantage."

Zhang Lu paused, his hand twirling his beard, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He had assumed Ma Chao, with his formidable reputation, would be a decisive and ruthless warrior, but he hadn't expected him to be so cautious. "Your Excellency is absolutely right!" He bowed repeatedly, his sleeve sweeping across the tiger talisman on the table. "Securely guard the passes, using the power of stillness to counteract the effects of movement – ​​this is the perfect strategy!"

Ma Chao supported himself with his spear and slowly stood up. The sound of his black armor colliding was particularly clear in the silence. "Master Zhang, you are too kind." He looked at the torchlight gradually fading away in the distance, and suddenly felt dizzy. He held on to the tent pillar to steady himself.

"If you don't mind," Zhang Lu hurried forward to support him. A glimpse of Ma Chao's pale knuckles hidden in his sleeves caught his eye, and he understood. "Just focus on recuperating in Hanzhong!" He smiled, his face wrinkled. "Come back to the Tianshi Mansion with me tomorrow, and I will treat you as a distinguished citizen!" The night wind outside the tent blew up the fine sand, casting their figures on the cowhide tent. In a trance, he seemed to see the alliance between Hanzhong and Xiliang quietly renewed in the night wind.

The next morning, the smoke from the battle on Micang Mountain had been completely dissipated by the morning mist. Standing on the city wall at the pass, Zhang Lu gazed at the deserted site of the enemy camp, his heart finally at peace. In the distance, the cheers of Hanzhong residents echoed, along with the sporadic crackle of festive firecrackers. It was New Year's Eve, and the resolution of this crisis had become the ultimate New Year's gift.

"My lord, please look!" Zhang Lu turned to Ma Chao beside him with a smile on his face, and pointed the sleeve of his robe in the direction of the Tianshi Mansion attentively. "The mansion has prepared a welcoming banquet, and there is also the best warming ointment, which is the most nourishing..." Before he finished speaking, the white horse walking on the snow suddenly raised its head and neighed, and its hooves crushed the frost on the ground.

Ma Chao gently stroked the horse's mane, a rare smile breaking across his pale face. "Master Zhang, how dare I refuse such a generous offer?" He raised his gaze to the northern horizon, which pointed towards Chang'an. This proactive rescue was not only a way to repay Zhang Lu for the medicine he had given him, but also to pave the way for his future return to Xiliang and his march back to Chang'an. Now that Zhang Lu treated him as a distinguished guest, he no longer had to worry about being offered to the imperial court as a pariah.

"Prepare your horses!" Zhang Lu commanded, and a hundred armored soldiers immediately formed up. The procession meandered toward Hanzhong City, the clatter of horses' hooves startling a flock of crows. Ma Chao sat in the center, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the morning sun. He reached for the spear at his waist, calculating: After gathering strength, he would eventually point this spear at the towering palace in Chang'an.