Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

A north wind, carrying the smell of iron, lashed the battlements, blowing the golden crown that bound Lü Bu's hair askew. His knuckles gripped the painted halberd, nearly crushing the cloth, and veins snaked beneath his armor. Below the city, battering rams wrapped in rawhide trembled violently under the cries of over a hundred Xiliang warriors. Amid the roar of battering rams tearing through the air, the black iron shielding of the city gate groaned under the weight. Bricks rustled to dust, and a few pieces of rubble rolled into the cracks in his armor, stinging old, bleeding wounds. The wall shook violently under the impact, sending sparks flying from the oil lamps on the parapet, twisting the defenders' shadows into hideous ghosts.

"Release the log!" Lü Bu's roar shattered the cold night, startling the crows roosting on the city walls. Scalding tung oil poured down the grooves, gleaming an eerie amber hue in the moonlight. The Xiliang soldiers on the ladders were instantly engulfed in flames, their shrill screams mingled with the crackling of burning oil, reaching the sky. Some fell, ablaze, shattering scarlet holes in the moat's ice. Others clung to the ladders, their charred fingers still struggling to climb. The scraping of iron hooks against the bricks rang like thousands of fingernails, scratching at everyone's eardrums. Burnt bodies curled up between the ladders' crossbars, used as cushions by subsequent climbers. The muffled thud of tearing flesh mingled with curses.

Ma Dai's spear suddenly pierced the air, its icy gleam darting straight for Lü Bu's throat. As his Fang Tian Hua Ji hastily blocked the blow, the clang of metal clashing sent rubble flying from the battlements. Lü Bu stumbled back half a step, the golden crown holding his hair snapping as he let his long hair fly. He caught a glimpse of Wei Xu's Mo Dao, barely blocking Ma Dai's fatal blow. Below the city, the Xiliang soldiers formed a human ladder, stepping over the corpses of their comrades, their shields riddled with arrows like porcupines. Some, pierced through the throat by crossbow bolts, remained poised to hold the ladder. Warm blood trickled down the edges of their shields, forming streams and congealing into dark red icicles on the frozen ground.

"Marquis Wen! Lord Xuande's reinforcements have arrived!" The roars of the guards tore through the roar of the war drums. Lü Bu turned to see the dark battle flags looming like dark clouds. Guan Yu's Azure Dragon Crescent Blade split the snow curtain, and where the blade passed, the crisp sound of broken ladders intertwined with the screams of the Xiliang soldiers. Zhang Fei's snake spear swept across, and three siege soldiers screamed and fell off the city wall. The thin ice in the moat shattered, and their blood quickly froze into hideous ice crystals. Zhao Yun's bright silver spear turned into a stream of light, and as the tassel flew, the rain of arrows shot towards the top of the city wall suddenly rolled back, piercing the Xiliang army's shield formation with a dense muffled sound. The shield soldiers were smashed to pieces by the huge impact, some necks twisted into strange angles, and some shields were shot through and nailed to the bodies of their companions behind them.

From the observation tower, Li Ru's crane cloak rustled in the cold wind, like a lone crane flapping its wings for flight. His pupils constricted as he gazed at the horrific scene below: Zhang Liao's heavily armored troops were toppled by rolling logs and rocks, their blood seeping from their shield arrays forming purple-black scabs on the frozen ground. Gan Ning was doused in scalding oil in front of the moat, his shrill howls, mixed with the smell of scorched flesh, rising to the sky. He frantically tore at his burning armor, revealing the scorched flesh beneath. Xu Huang's battle axe split the city gate by three inches, but was instantly sealed shut by the scalding iron. The splashing iron scalded the eyes of more than a dozen soldiers. The blinded, clutching their bloodied faces, rolled on the ground, tripping over their charging comrades and being trampled into a pulp.

"Military Advisor, do you want to continue?" Xu Shu clutched the blood-stained military token, his voice trembling like a candle in the wind. Li Ru stared at the newly added deer-antler chevaux de frise on the top of Chang'an City Wall, and the flashing crossbows in the arrow tower were rotating in an orderly manner. The cold wind blew his white hair at the temples, and the tragic scene of 8,000 elite corpses covering both sides of the moat lingered in his mind. Broken ladders were stuck in the ice, with incomplete limbs hanging on them; frozen hands still maintained the posture of holding weapons, and some nails dug deep into the flesh of their companions.

"Sound the horn to call back the troops." As the bronze banner fell, Li Ru turned and caught a glimpse of Liu Bei and Lü Bu standing side by side on the walls of Chang'an. Their dark armor and brocade robes shone blindingly in the torchlight, like two swords slicing through the twilight. In the distant Xiliang camp, the wails of wounded soldiers and the wailing of horns shrouded the blood-red earth in darkness. Crows were already pecking at the eyeballs of the uncollected corpses, leaving long trails of blood on the snow, turning the battlefield into a Shura hell.

Night fell like thick ink, splattering across the sky. The remnants of the Xiliang army quietly turned back, stepping over frozen corpses. Torches flickered in the north wind, casting a flickering red and blue cast on the soldiers' bloodstained faces. The soft clink of weapons and the sound of heavy breathing intertwined, echoing across the deadly wilderness. Xu Huang's wounds, frozen by the cold wind, clung to the broken armor, straining his muscles with every step. Gan Ning, wrapped in a bandage soaked with snow, the burn on his shoulder glowed an eerie white, and a numbing pain spread from the wound to his limbs.

The hem of Li Ru's crane cloak was stained with mud and broken ice. He gazed at the gradually rising dawn in the east, listening to the sporadic beats of the night watchman's drum in the distance. This night assault lasted from midnight to the morning hour, with flames blazing from the walls of Chang'an. Liu Bei's powerful crossbows formed a dense network in the darkness. The Xiliang death squad reached the city walls three times, only to be driven back by the scalding gold and poisoned caltrops. Countless young bodies sank beneath the frozen surface of the moat.

As the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds, the remnants of the army finally caught sight of the main camp gate. Ma Teng, still clad in his armor, stood in the snow, his white hair ruffled like frost in the morning breeze. He watched the blood-soaked soldiers returning with wounded legs. His gaze swept over the veterans with missing arms and eyes, his Adam's apple rolling violently.

Ma Teng's pupils suddenly constricted. He saw Ma Dai, supported by two personal guards, stumbling forward. Blood still oozed from a deep wound on his shoulder, visible to the bone. The sword at his waist had been snapped in two. Behind him, the black battle flag of the Xiliang Iron Cavalry was half-broken, and the icy ridges on the flagpole were still stained with fresh blood.

"Uncle..." Ma Dai knelt on one knee, the blood foam in his throat dyeing his snow-white stubble red. "Chang'an City is heavily guarded, and our army has lost eight thousand men..." Before he finished speaking, he heard the suppressed sobs of soldiers behind him. Someone knelt on the ground holding the helmet of a fallen comrade, and blood flowers suddenly bloomed on the frozen ground.

Ma Teng dug his nails into his palms. He stared at the mess on the ground, then suddenly laughed, startling the crows in the dead trees outside the camp. "Good, good, good! Thank you for your hard work!" His voice echoed in the twilight, shaking the spirit-calling banners. "Tonight, New Year's Eve, although our army has not yet conquered the city, we have forced Liu Bei to retreat to Chang'an and dare not leave!"

The old general's hands trembled slightly as his robe sleeve brushed across Ma Dai's bloodstained shoulder. "If Chao'er is still alive, he'll surely see—we'll exact revenge one by one!" He suddenly drew the sword from his waist, its cold gleam reflecting the flickering flames in his eyes. "Pass the order down, slaughter all the three animals in the camp. Today is New Year's Day, reward the three armies! Let the army rest for a few days, and then we'll siege Chang'an again!"

The cold wind blew up the paper money in front of the tent, swirling it into a blood-red vortex in the air. Li Ru looked at Ma Teng's slightly hunched back and couldn't help but feel a pang of pain in his heart. In the past, when Ma Chao was there, he had the unparalleled spirit that swept through thousands of troops. Now, in the empty commander's tent, the military manual on the desk was still open, the ink long since blurred by tears.

The steaming aroma of meat mingled with the pungent smell of blood. The boiling mutton broth gurgled, and chunks of boneless beef and mutton floated in the iron pot. Ma Teng personally wielded the bloody ox-ear knife and gutted the freshly slaughtered ox. The scalding organs fell to the ground, sending white mist billowing, startling the soldiers around the campfire and cheering in unison. "Today is New Year's Day!" He stepped on the blood-stained ground and tossed the meaty beef bones to the crowd. "Only when you're full can you have the energy to use Liu Bei's head as a drinking bowl!"

The crackling fire lit up the soldiers' darkened faces, casting an oily sheen. A veteran with a broken arm tore through the fragrant, charred mutton with his teeth, mumbled curses and laughter escaping his toothless mouth. Bandaged young soldiers scrambled to pass the jar of wine around, the acrid liquor dribbling down their lips, burning their wounds with a pleasurable sting. Ma Dai, held by several personal guards, was forced to drink, the hem of his blood-stained battle robe dangling into the fire, and tiny flames instantly erupted.

"Listen up, everyone!" Ma Teng suddenly leaped onto the wooden platform, making the wine jars beneath his feet buzz. He ripped open his shirt, revealing the hideous arrow scar on his chest. "Even the wolf-tooth arrows of the Xiongnu couldn't kill me, Ma Teng!" The old general's roar tore through the cold night. "The blood of the men of Xiliang can only be shed for glory! For revenge!" Cheers erupted like thunder. Someone smashed his wine bowl to the ground, sending shards flying. Suppressed grief and anger turned into roars that rose one after another.

After inspecting the thirty-six camps, Ma Teng's leather boots were soaked with blood and grease. As he entered the central army tent, supported by Li Ru and Xu Shu, a resounding war chant filled the air. Sheepskin drums and bronze cymbals clashed, and soldiers struck shields with the tips of their swords. The desolate melody, mingled with the howls of "Revenge for Marquis Wei," frightened the wolves in the distance away. In the flickering candlelight, Ma Teng gazed at the unopened imperial edict on the table, his bony fingers slowly stroking the sword at his waist. This young lady was destined to rewrite the dignity of Xiliang with blood.

Amid the clamor of slaughtering cattle and sheep in the camp, an eerie silence permeated the central military tent. The imperial edict, sealed with gilt ink, had sat on the desk for seven days, its vermilion ink a crust, its edges scorched by candle wax. Every time Ma Teng passed by the desk, his peripheral vision would graze the bright yellow silk scroll—the gilded words "pardon" on it stung his eyes painfully.

"My lord, this edict..." Li Ru's words hung in mid-air, ultimately not daring to touch the frost-covered seal. Ma Teng was slicing sheep bones with a dagger when the blade suddenly slammed down on the table, splattering sawdust and blood onto the edict: "Can the emperor's rewards and punishments bring Chao'er back to life?" His voice seemed squeezed from deep within his chest, carrying a rusty sweetness.

From outside the tent came the crisp clatter of soldiers clinking bowls and the raspy laughter and curses, mingling with the crackling of the campfire. Ma Teng stared at the golden-tipped tiger-head spear on the corner of the table—the weapon Ma Chao had used to dominate the world. It now leaned diagonally over the center of the edict, grinding a deep crack in the dragon pattern. It was obvious that the emperor had written a magnificent edict, accompanied by Ma Chao's weapons, to demonstrate that the court would not fight Xiliang to the bitter end. If word of this edict spread, it would inevitably sway some in their resolve for revenge.

"Burned!" Ma Teng suddenly spoke, his dagger prodding the charcoal in the brazier. The bright yellow silk curled in the fire, and the words "Pardon Xiliang" twisted into a hideous grimace in the flames. Li Ru stared at the scattered paper ashes, suddenly remembering Ma Chao's heroic figure wielding his spear to break through the enemy lines, and a bitter taste welled up in his throat. From outside the tent came the sound of the night watchman's clapperboard, mingling with the soldiers' newly learned ballad: "Marquis Wei's white horse steps upon Chang'an, and he will not return until he has slain the tyrant." The desolate melody struck the frosted cowhide tent and fell heavily among the fragments of imperial edict scattered on the ground.