Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

The crash of weapons from over fifty riders exploded across the wilderness, and frosted grass rustled under the weight of their armor. As Ma Chao dismounted, his dark cloak swept the remaining snow from the branches. He reached out and grasped the wrist of the scout captain, Zhang Qiang, his fingertips touching the thick calluses on his palm—the marks left by years of drawing the bow.

"Thank you for your hard work, everyone." Ma Chao's voice, wrapped in the morning mist, lingered above the kneeling cavalrymen. Aurora Horse rubbed its head affectionately against his back, the lingering bloodstains on the saddle becoming even more glaring against the backdrop of the hoarfrost. He gazed at the endless white tents in the distance, the white mourning clothes surging like raging waves, and suddenly his throat tightened: "Letting my brothers observe mourning until now..."

Zhang Qiang raised his head suddenly, his eyes red from under the mourning cloth: "Young Master! Since the day you 'died for your country', the three armies have sworn an oath of blood that they will not stop mourning until Chang'an is captured!"

A chill wind blew in the distant sound of war drums, and the longsword at Ma Chao's waist suddenly rang softly. He clenched a strong hand, his armor clattering as he pulled the man to his feet. "Send a message to all camps—Ma Mengqi has returned!" He leaped onto his Aurora Horse, his black armor gleaming coldly in the morning sun. "Prepare wine! Tonight I will drink with the three armies, and tomorrow I will flatten this Chang'an!"

Zhang Qiang's eyes burned red, the mourning cords on his armor trembling as he bowed to Ma Chao. He mounted his horse before Ma Chao could say a word. Aurora neighed, wanting to pursue, but Ma Chao gently tugged on the reins, halting it. Behind him, over a thousand Hanzhong cavalrymen stumbled, their nostrils flaring and puffing white air, clearly struggling to keep up the pace.

"Wait!" Ma Chao shouted, but saw Zhang Qiang charging forward like an arrow, charging towards the scout post. "Young Master is back!" His cry ripped through the morning mist, startling a flock of cranes from the reeds. The oncoming scouts reined in their horses, their spears clattering against their chests. Zhang Qiang charged forward like a madman, oblivious to the bloody marks his mourning band slapped against his face.

"Look! It's the Young Master! It's really the Young Master!" He grabbed the scout's arm, his nails digging into his flesh, and suddenly ripped open his shirt to reveal a wolf-head tattoo. The opposing cavalrymen's pupils suddenly contracted, and their gazes towards Ma Chao instantly burned. Zhang Qiang ignored them and knocked over two riders as he spurred his horse around the crowd. But after galloping ten feet, he suddenly reined in his horse, turned around, and pounded his chest three times in Ma Chao's direction—that was the unique salute of loyalty of the Xiliang Iron Cavalry.

In the morning light, the scouts' cries spread like ripples: "Young Master, return to camp! Young Master, return to camp!" First, a few sentries erupted in excitement, and then the entire wasteland echoed with the clash of armor. Ma Chao looked at the white tents surging in the distance like a tide, and suddenly felt his eyes sore.

On the frosty wasteland, with every step Ma Chao took, exhausted soldiers stumbled toward him from the side of the road. Some clutched the hem of his black armor, blood and mud mixed with tears dripping between the armor plates; others sobbed and pulled off mourning cloth, revealing a rash on their necks from long periods of wearing sackcloth. Behind the thousand-plus Hanzhong cavalrymen, a spontaneous following surged through the dry grass like a rising tide, gradually forming a surging human tide.

A frosty wind whipped the remaining snow past the camp gate. Zhang Qiang's warhorse's mane was caked with ice, yet he whipped it hard, forcing it to gallop. Behind him, more than twenty scouts were like arrows from a bow, their mourning belts fluttering in the wind, like a group of trapped beasts breaking free from their shackles. "The young master is back! The young master is still alive!" Hoarse cries tore through the cold fog, and the Xiliang soldiers they encountered along the way stopped and followed the frantic cavalry with astonished eyes.

A centurion blocked the way with his spear: "Stop talking nonsense! Young..." Before he could finish his words, Zhang Qiang had already broken his spear, and the mourning cloth wrapped in splinters of wood flew everywhere.

When the camp was in sight, at the entrance to the camp, Ma Dai's mourning robe draped over his silver armor was blown by the wind. He reined in his horse and drew his sword, pressing it three inches against Zhang Qiang's throat: "What's wrong with you?" The flash of the sword reflected his red eyes. "We lost three thousand men in the siege yesterday, and the blood on the ladders hasn't frozen yet! My lord is conferring with the generals. If you disrupt the morale of the army, what will be your punishment?"

Zhang Qiang suddenly rolled off the saddle, stumbling and clinging to Ma Dai's horse's front legs. He raised his head and roared like a trapped animal, blood oozing from the corners of his cracked lips: "General! Young Master! It's really the Young Master!" The horse reared up in shock from the frantic shaking. Ma Dai barely managed to hold on to the reins, and the sound of armor clashing mixed with screams exploded.

"What did you say?" Ma Dai grabbed the man's collar and lifted him off the ground. The mourning cloth on his palms left deep red blood marks. Zhang Qiang, ignoring the pain in his neck, gestured excitedly in the direction he came from: "It's the young master! With more than a thousand cavalrymen, riding Aurora horses! Standing right in front of me!"

The gasps of the onlookers washed over the tent like a tide. More than twenty scouts simultaneously tore off their mourning bands and raised them high above their heads: "I saw it with my own eyes! It's absolutely true!"

"Where is he?" Ma Dai's voice suddenly trembled. Zhang Qiang fell to the ground after being released, but immediately got up and pointed to the northwest: "Almost there! We'll be there in less than half a day!" Before he finished speaking, Ma Dai had already ripped the mourning rope around his neck, and the white cloth fluttered in the wind like a butterfly. As he jumped onto his warhorse, his black armor clanged, and he raised his arms and shouted, shattering the sky: "Order the entire army! Prepare wine! Light the beacon fire! General Shenwei Tian... has returned to the camp!"

Hooves ripped the snow-covered camp as Ma Dai streaked across the parade grounds like an arrow from a bow. The wind ripped his white mourning robes into tatters, revealing his blood-stained black armor beneath. The sword at his waist clanged with the force of his gallop. Soldiers along the way glanced sideways to see the usually composed lieutenant's eyes now bloodshot, his braids unfurling like a raging lion's mane. He had even abandoned the reins, his legs clamped tightly around his horse's belly as he galloped away.

"Bo Zhan!" Xu Huang and Zhang Liao emerged from the tent simultaneously. The former's bandaged arm was still bleeding, while the latter's face paled with every step from the newly injured arrow wound on his waist. Before either could speak, Ma Dai had already dismounted, his armor hitting the bluestone, sparks flying. "Brother is back! The young master is still alive!"

Before he could finish his words, he had already knocked aside two guards holding halberds. The blades of the swords brushed past his ears, but Ma Dai was completely unaware, and his shoulder hit the cowhide tent hard.

"Stop him!" the guard leader shouted, and dozens of spears instantly formed a spear array.

Xu Huang and Zhang Liao exchanged a glance. Zhang Liao tore off the bandage wrapped around his wound, while Xu Huang snatched up the axe leaning against the door. They rushed into the tent, chasing Ma Dai. A chill wind toppled military manuals from the ground, and the candlelight flickered in the sudden draft. Outside the tent, the recurring cries of "Young Master Returns" reverberated like thunder beneath the frosty sky.

The candlelight flickered inside the cowhide tent, and suddenly the sound of armor clashing and hurried footsteps were heard outside the tent. Everyone in the meeting stopped discussing and all looked towards the tent door.

"Stop him!" the guard leader shouted, and the cowhide tent curtain was flung open. Ma Dai stumbled in, his black armor still stained with unmelted snow, his braids scattered messily over his shoulders. Behind him, the guards filed in, weapons in hand. They didn't dare to actually stop this popular general, but they were also afraid that he would offend the commander in the tent. Their faces were tense, as if they were facing a great enemy.

Ma Teng stood up suddenly, the bronze table clanging against the wall, and the military token tumbled off it. "Bo Zhan! You've always been calm and composed, but what's wrong with you today? You actually dared to barge into the central army tent?" His voice was like a resounding bell, shaking the animal hide decorations on the tent ceiling slightly.

Ma Dai, however, seemed oblivious to the words and fell heavily to his knees with a thud, his knees thumping against the frozen ground. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot as he said, "Uncle! It's my brother! Ma Chao is back!" He was barely finished speaking when his entire body began to sway with excitement, staggering as he grasped the bronze halberd beside him, a suppressed sob emanating from his throat, "It's Big Brother... A living Big Brother!"

Suddenly, a gasp echoed from within the tent. Li Ru's feather fan fluttered in mid-air, Jia Xu's fingers, stroking the jade pendant at his waist, suddenly tightened, and Xu Shu's bamboo slips fell to the ground with a "clatter." Lu Su hurried forward, grabbed Ma Dai's shoulder, and asked urgently, "Are you serious?! Are you looking carefully?"

At this moment, Xu Huang and Zhang Liao broke open the tent door and rushed in. Zhang Liao covered his waist with a bloody bandage, while Xu Huang's bandage was still dripping with dark red blood, but the two of them completely ignored their injuries.

Xu Huang's blood-stained bandage brushed against Ma Dai's black armor. Zhang Liao's grip on his shoulder trembled uncontrollably: "Bo Zhan! Where did the news come from?!" Ma Dai struggled to break free from the two men, his fingers twitching as he pointed outside the tent: "Zhang Qiang, the scout from the Loyalty Camp! He saw it with his own eyes! At this moment, he should be..."

Before he could finish his words, a sudden chorus of exclamations erupted from outside the tent. Li Ru's feather fan unfurled with a swish, and Jia Xu had already flung the curtain aside and emerged, oblivious to the scattered bamboo slips in Xu Shu's hands. As everyone rushed out of the tent, they saw a figure galloping towards them through the frost and mist. Zhang Qiang's mourning robes were ripped to shreds by the wind, and the blood from the wolf-head tattoo on his chest formed dark red shards of ice on his armor.

"Young... Young Master!" Xu Huang stumbled forward, but was grabbed by Zhang Liao. Zhang Qiang rolled off the saddle, his knees slamming heavily on the frozen ground, raising a cloud of snow. When he looked up, tears mixed with mud streamed down his face: "My dear generals! It's absolutely true! I saw it with my own eyes. General Tian, ​​riding his Aurora horse, led by over a thousand cavalrymen, will arrive in less than half a day!"

Ma Teng trembled as he held onto the flagpole, gazing to the northwest with bloodshot eyes. "Quick! Prepare three thousand elite cavalry! Open the camp gate!" He suddenly ripped open his mourning clothes, revealing the chain mail underneath. "Go light up all the signal fires in Xiliang! Tell Chang'an—General Shenwei Tian is back!"

When Dong Bai heard the news, the girl had already climbed onto the horse in the rising dust.

"Stop the mistress!" the guard leader's shout was left behind. Dong Bai's silver armor gleamed coldly in the morning light. The soft sword at his waist had not yet been unsheathed, but it had already made a sharp sound of breaking through the air. Zhang Liao, covering his wound, was the first to chase after him. Xu Huang grabbed a mountain axe and jumped onto his warhorse. Ma Dai roared, "Follow me to welcome the young master!"

Hua Xiong's broadsword ripped the hemp ropes securing the gate, sending the heavy cowhide curtain crashing to the ground. Dong Huang, gripping his double-edged sword tightly, watched his niece's retreating figure, gritted his teeth and shouted, "Follow me! If anything happens to the young lady, I'll bring my head to you!" Over a dozen riders vanished in a flash, leaving behind only the rustling of hurried hooves in the swirling snow and mist.

Ma Teng stumbled, clinging to the pillar, his aged knuckles digging deep into the wood. Li Ru quickly grasped his trembling arm. When Ma Teng finally regained his composure, tears streamed from his cloudy eyes, dripping onto his blood-stained mourning clothes, turning them into dark crimson blossoms. "Chao'er... my Chao'er..."

"Congratulations, my lord!" Xu Shu's voice was filled with excitement. "With the return of the young master, the conquest of Chang'an and the avenging of the family feud are just around the corner!"

Lu Su said: "The most urgent task is to quickly organize the army and welcome the young general with the greatest strength!"

Thick smoke suddenly rose from the distant beacon tower, and pillars of flames pierced the sky. Ma Teng looked at the long red dragon stretching across the sky. He trembled and grabbed Li Ru's wrist, tears welling in his cloudy eyes: "Pass my order - all three armies take off their mourning clothes!" He suddenly ripped the white mourning cloth from around his neck, and slammed the back of his hand, veins bulging, on the bronze table, making the military talisman and wine cups clink. "Bring me my black iron battle armor! Today, I will show the thieves on the top of Chang'an the true colors of the Xiliang Iron Cavalry!"

The messenger's cry reverberated through the camp like thunder: "Take off your mourning robes! Prepare your battle armor! Welcome the young master!" Amidst the echoing cries, a hundred thousand Xiliang cavalrymen moved simultaneously. White mourning garments fluttered like falling snow, revealing the blood-red chain mail beneath. Spears wrapped in mourning cloth were violently ripped free, their tips gleaming coldly in the sunlight.