Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Outside the city, the Xiliang camp was shrouded in darkness and snow, a deathly silence utterly etched. Far from the festive atmosphere, it felt even more solemn. The north wind howled, carrying gravel and sand mercilessly against the tents, a whimpering sound, as if lamenting the chaotic world. Soldiers in thin armor, wielding spears, paced back and forth in the chill wind. Their faces flickered in the light of torches, their eyes filled with exhaustion and hatred. The occasional neighing of war horses added a touch of solemnity.

Outside the central army tent, two rows of halberd-wielding guards stood like statues, their armor coated in a thin layer of snow, resembling armor of ice. A black banner hung high in front of the tent rustled in the fierce wind, its crimson "Horse" symbol fluttering in the wind, its crimson "Horse" tumbling as it tried to break free.

Lifting the heavy cowhide curtain, a strong waft of sandalwood incense mingled with the lingering scent of blood filled the air. Inside the central military tent, torches flickered, their light and shadows dancing on everyone's faces. The memorial tablet for Ma Chao, the Marquis of Wei, stood prominently, its eternal lantern flickering. The flickering candlelight cast a shadow on the ceiling, inscribed with the words "Memorial Tablet of Ma Chao, the Marquis of Wei," as if Ma Chao's heroic spirit were hovering above. On the altar, several plates of snacks and a jug of turbid wine lay long gone cold, yet untouched.

Ma Teng sat at the corner of the table where Ma Chao's spirit tablet was enshrined, his figure hunched and his expression forlorn. This battle-hardened veteran's hair was now disheveled, wrinkles etched deep into his face like knife-cuts. His cloudy eyes were filled with grief and resentment. His bony fingers gently stroked the edge of the tablet, as if seeking to recapture the warmth his son once felt on the cold wood.

"Everyone." Ma Teng's voice was low and hoarse, as if squeezed out from the deepest part of his chest, with endless fatigue and sadness, "I won't say any more wishes now, I wish you all a happy New Year's Eve." He raised his head and swept his eyes over everyone in the tent. Every glance was like a heavy hammer, hitting everyone's heart, "I just hope to capture Chang'an as soon as possible and ask the emperor face to face, what outrageous things did my Ma family do that forced him to kill Chao'er? Retrieving Chao'er's body can also comfort his spirit in heaven." At the end, his voice was almost choked, and his old body trembled slightly.

In the hall, Ma Dai, Dong Bai, Zhang Liao, and the others all had tears in their eyes. Ma Dai clenched his sword at his waist, the scabbard clashing with his armor with a resounding sound. "Uncle! That tyrant emperor is unjust and murders loyal officials. We will make him pay with blood! I am willing to lead my soldiers and raid the camp tonight!" His face flushed with anger, his eyes burning with rage.

Dong Bai stumbled to the memorial tablet, tears pouring out like a flood, soaking her clothes. With trembling hands, she stroked the memorial tablet, sobbing uncontrollably. "My husband, you have lived a life of loyalty and bravery, yet you were framed by a treacherous person. I, Dong Bai, swear here that I will not be a human being until I kill Liu Bian!" As she stood up, her eyes instantly turned cold and resolute, the soft sword at her waist already half an inch unsheathed, a cold gleam flashing.

Zhang Liao remained silent, staring blankly at Ma Chao's memorial tablet. Memories flooded back to him. The scenes of fighting alongside Ma Chao seemed like yesterday. He reached out and gently wiped his eyes, but the grief could not be erased. "The vengeance against Marquis Wei is irreconcilable." He clenched his fists, his voice low but firm. "Although the walls of Chang'an are strong, the army's morale is low. If we seize the opportunity, we will surely succeed in one battle."

Outside the tent, the wind and snow grew increasingly fierce, as if to vent out all the injustice and grief in the world. And within the tent, the hatred and anger in the hearts of the people grew just like the wind and snow, intensifying. A bloody storm was about to erupt at dawn after New Year's Eve.

Li Ru was hunched over, his figure wrapped in a dark cloak appearing even thinner, as if it could be blown away by the cold wind at any moment. His bony fingers jabbed heavily on the long table covered with wolfskin, causing the camp layout to rustle. "Tonight, the spies reported that Chang'an City is ablaze with lights, and the emperor is holding a grand banquet!" His cloudy eyes shone dimly in the shadows. "Xu Huang and Zhang Ren have each led 5,000 cavalrymen and are circling the flanks of Liu Bei's camp."

Before he finished speaking, a sudden strong wind blew in from outside the tent, carrying snowflakes and blowing the candlelight on the table into the air. Zhang Liao and Ma Dai took half a step forward at the same time, and the sound of armor colliding was as crisp as cracking ice. Li Ru pulled the corners of his mouth into a sinister smile, and ran his dry finger across the mark of Liu Bei's camp on the map: "Generals Guan and Zhang are the most loyal. Seeing the emergency on the flank, they will definitely send troops to rescue." He raised his head suddenly, and a wolf-like fierce light flashed in his eyes, "Wenyuan, Bozhan! You two will each lead 8,000 elite soldiers. When the enemy army is in chaos, launch a surprise attack from the front!"

"I obey your orders!" the two men shouted in unison, their voices shaking the tent ceiling. Ma Dai's hand on the hilt of his sword bulged with veins, and he thought of his brother Ma Chao's tragic death, and his heart was filled with rage: "Tonight, I will let Liu Bei know that anyone who stands in the way of revenge in Xiliang will die!" Zhang Liao tightened his grip on the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist - a gift from Ma Chao, which now glowed coldly in his palm. He raised his eyes to the flickering candlelight and said in a deep voice: "I am willing to be the vanguard, to break through the camp and kill the general!"

Li Ru nodded with satisfaction, and pointed his withered finger in the direction of Chang'an City. "Once Liu Bei's camp is broken, our army will march directly to the gates of Chang'an City tomorrow." He sneered, "The emperor is enjoying peace and prosperity in the city, unaware of the impending disaster. When the time comes, let him watch from the top of the city as our Xiliang cavalry crushes the palace. Only then will he know the consequences of offending the Ma family!"

Outside the tent, the night watchman's drums rumbled, signaling the third watch. A faint sound of bells and drums drifted in from a distant wind, the sounds of music from the emperor's banquet in Chang'an. Li Ru waved back the generals, leaving only Ma Dai. "Bozhan, you personally command three hundred death warriors. If the enemy breaks through..." He leaned close to Ma Dai's ear and lowered his voice, "Leave no one behind."

Ma Dai took his orders and left. Suddenly, the candlelight inside the tent crackled, sending sparks flying onto the layout map, leaving a scorch mark on the markings for Liu Bei's camp. Li Ru gazed at the scorch mark, a sinister smile playing on his lips—tonight would surely be the bloodiest New Year's Eve outside Chang'an.

A chill wind whipped snow into the large cowhide tent, and the candlelight flickered on the bronze lampstand. Zhang Fei leaned his back against the tiger-skin chair, his left hand clutching a half-eaten deer leg. Oil dripped down his beard onto his black iron armor. He tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of water. His Adam's apple rolled as he slammed the ceramic bowl down on the table. "This is crap New Year's Eve!" His raspy voice made the remaining meat in the bowl jump. "The emperor is in the palace drinking with singing girls, but he's sent my brother out to play with him!"

Guan Yu stood beside the commander's desk, sword drawn across his shoulders, his eyes narrowed slightly, the cold gleam of his Green Dragon Crescent Blade making his face look as pale as a red date. He stroked his long beard and scolded, "Yide, stop your nonsense! If it weren't for your drunken streak the other day, allowing Zhang Liao to raid our camp at night, why would our army have retreated here?" Before he could finish his words, Zhang Fei leaped to his feet, his armor rattling against the tent curtains. "That Zhang Wenyuan is using nothing but despicable tactics! If we were to fight on the battlefield, I, Old Zhang, would surely unseat him!"

Guan Yu's expression suddenly darkened. The blade of his sword scraped against the blue bricks, making a sharp sound. He recalled the happy drinking with Zhang Liao months ago, and his Adam's apple moved with difficulty. "Back then, my brother and Marquis Wei, and I, Gongming and Wenyuan...we were the ones who let down the Ma family of Xiliang."

"Report!" Hurried footsteps could be heard outside the tent. A scout, covered in snow, rushed through the tent curtain. "General! Xu Huang and Zhang Ren from Xiliang are each leading their cavalry to attack the left and right wings!"

Zhang Fei slammed the deer leg to the ground with a thud, sending a few droplets of oil flying. He grabbed his cloak and swung it carelessly over his shoulder, his Zhangba Snake Spear already in hand. "Just in time! Grandpa's just getting pissed!" He turned and grinned at Guan Yu, revealing two rows of wine-stained teeth. "Brother, go hold off Zhang Ren! I'll take care of that old scoundrel Xu Huang! You'll avoid being soft-hearted when you see an old friend!"

Guan Yu's thick brows were furrowed, and the handle of the Green Dragon Crescent Blade in his hand was clenched so tightly that it turned pale. The candlelight cast his shadow on the cowhide tent, and it was distorted by the violent shaking of the candlelight. "Yide! The Western Liang army is coming with such a fierce force this time. It's clearly a strategy to lure the tiger away from the mountain! If you and I come out in full force, it will play into the enemy's hands!" He strode forward, his long beard almost brushing Zhang Fei's armor. "That's how Cao's army lured the enemy at Bowangpo!"

Zhang Fei's eyes widened, and he slammed his Zhangba Snake Spear into the ground, making the wine bowls on the table buzz. "Brother, don't encourage others' ambitions!" He ripped open the copper buckle on his collar, and the veins on his neck bulged. "Xu Huang is just a rough man with an axe, and Zhang Ren can only hide in the arrow tower and shoot arrows! The two of us will lead two thousand elite soldiers to charge over, and in a moment we can twist off their heads and use them as chamber pots!"

"Shut up!" Guan Yu suddenly drew his sword from its sheath, the cold light reflecting off it causing Zhang Fei's pupils to shrink. The blade hung in mid-air but did not fall, finally returning to its sheath with a clang. "Brothers, you and I, guarding the central army is the greatest loyalty to you, big brother! If we split up rashly, the enemy's main force will seize the opportunity to launch a surprise attack..." His voice suddenly trembled. "What will you do if you return to camp and find it has been breached?"

A flush ran down Zhang Fei's neck, spreading behind his ears. His rough hands rubbed the spear shaft, making a rustling sound. He suddenly grabbed the wine jug on the table and guzzled it, his head tilted back as he drank. Wine mixed with meat scraps splashed from the corners of his mouth. "Good! If the enemy dares to attack our center!" He wiped his mouth fiercely, and the spilled wine instantly froze on the snow. "I, Old Zhang, will use this Zhangba Snake Spear to string them together like a candied haws!"

Before he finished speaking, the dull sound of war drums could be heard in the distance. Guan Yu watched Zhang Fei rush out of the battle tent like a whirlwind, sighed deeply, and slammed his scabbard against his waist. "Prepare your horses!" Outside the tent, the wind and snow intensified, and the sound of horses' hooves and weapons clashing was gradually drowned out by the howling north wind.

Liu Bei left Chang'an City, his horse's hooves crunching the snow. A biting wind blew against his collar, and he felt a cold sweat on his back. Just now, at the banquet, he had been forcing himself to argue with the emperor, but the war outside the city hung in his mind. Barely half an hour had passed since he left the palace when the faint sounds of fighting could be heard in the distance, like thunder rumbling across the sky. He gave the horse a hard kick, and the bay steed neighed as it charged into the night.

Before he could even see the lights of the camp, the sound of arrows piercing the air pierced his eardrums. Liu Bei reined in his horse and stopped abruptly. Flames shot up from both flanks of the camp, and the sound of fighting shook the night sky. He rushed through the camp gate, grabbing the reins and grabbing a captain. "Where are General Guan and General Zhang?!"

The captain replied, "The enemy is attacking both wings! The two generals... are leading their troops to meet the enemy!"

Before he could finish his words, a thunderous clatter of hooves echoed from the front, like muffled thunder exploding from the earth. Countless cavalrymen, torches in hand, surged forward like a crimson torrent. The crimson flames illuminated the night sky, making the smoke of war resemble a surging sea of ​​blood. Liu Bei gazed at the blazing onslaught, his grip on the reins suddenly tightening, veins bulging on the back of his pale hand.

"Pass the order!" He yanked off his cloak, its black hem rustling. "Arm your troops in formation! Archers, advance! Roll logs and rocks into position!" He turned and shouted to his personal guards, "Quick! Be sure to notify Yunchang and Yide, have them return to support immediately. Don't linger in the battle!"

Warhorses neighed, horns wailed. Liu Bei drew his sword, its cold gleam gleaming in the torchlight. He gazed at the approaching cavalry formation, a sense of foreboding welling up within him—this was no diversionary force deployed by Xu Huang and Zhang Ren, but a long-planned, lethal attack by the Western Liang army. A chill wind whipped sparks into his face, searing his eyes. The distant cries of battle grew clearer, as if death were drawing nigh.