Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Before the morning mist cleared, the Western Liang cavalry surged across the Longxi Gobi Desert like a black tide. Squadrons of 500 men each fanned out, their hooves kicking up dust that wove a dense, impenetrable net through the air. Each squadron carried a specially crafted cowhide pouch. Upon spotting suspicious activity, they would place a black flag etched with a wolf's head, like steel nails hammered into the desert.

"Report!" the messenger galloped across the dunes, "Team 37 has discovered fresh horseshoe prints in Hongliu Valley!" Ma Chao waved his banner, and the five southeastern divisions immediately changed their formation and closed in. When the cavalry arrived, they found only gnawed sheep bones and an extinguished campfire—the cunning Di people had abandoned their camp once again, leaving behind only a few deliberately exposed corpses to mislead their pursuers.

When the 52nd Cavalry, following the trail of camel dung, reached the White Grass Beach, the scorching sun was melting the Gobi Desert into a furnace. Five hundred cavalrymen in black armor reflected the blood-red setting sun, the sound of their horses' hooves crunching the gravel startling vultures circling low. Three hundred paces ahead, a ragged band of Di people were galloping, herding captive women and children, their sheepskin water bags swinging provocatively from their waists.

"Chase!" Captain Wang Meng slammed his mace against the saddles, and five hundred warhorses reared simultaneously. Roars of vengeance ripped through the heat. The mounted Xiliang warriors cocked their poisoned crossbows, and a hail of arrows instantly pierced the last few remaining Di soldiers. Before the splattering blood could even hit the ground, the cavalrymen, brandishing their sabers, charged into the enemy ranks. The muffled thud of blades slicing flesh, mixed with screams, echoed across the sand dunes.

"Give me back my daughter's life!" An old soldier, his left eye covered with a bloody scarf, suddenly broke away from the formation and aimed his spear at the Di leader who had abducted the girl. The moment the spear tip pierced his throat, he dropped his gun and hugged his enemy, rolling down the sand dune together, digging his fingers deep into his eye sockets, "You said you wanted to sell her to Alakazam? Today, I'll dig out your dog eyes first!"

In the melee, over a dozen Di people suddenly threw out oil-soaked leather bags. As flames erupted, three warhorses neighed and fell, hurling their riders into the flames. But more Xiliang cavalrymen flanked them, their scimitars slicing deadly arcs in the firelight. As a Di soldier attempted to slit the throat of a Han child, a flying axe suddenly shattered his skull—it was the child's father, bloodied but still clutching the axe, his eyes burning with vengeance.

Half an hour later, only burning baggage carts and strewn corpses remained on Baicao Beach. The surviving women and children trembled as they crawled out of the sand pits, only to see the Xiliang cavalrymen holding Di heads on their spears, marching in unison and shouting, "Give us back Longxi! Blood debt must be paid with blood!"

At dawn, dozens of plumes of dust rose from the Longxi Gobi Desert. Like sharp steel teeth, the 500-man Xiliang cavalry advanced along the marked grid lines. Wherever their hooves trod, even rat holes were pierced and inspected with spears. The Di cavalry, once fleeting, now seemed like insects caught in a spider's web, trapped in a desperate situation amidst the clatter of black flags and the sound of horse hooves.

"Enemy sighted!" As soon as the 27th Squadron's warning smoke signals were raised, the two adjacent squadrons formed a pincer attack. A Di centurion had just finished plundering a village, and before they could move their spoils, they were pelted by crossbow bolts from the Western Liang Army. The poisoned arrows pierced their leather armor, and the wounded men screamed and twitched in the sand. As the survivors fled in panic, they were met by cavalry charging from the side. The muffled thud of sabers shattering skulls, mixed with the cries of children, startled the seagulls from the air.

At noon, deafening cries of blood and killing echoed from the shores of Crescent Moon Lake. The remnants of the Di tribe attempted to seize the water source, but were surrounded by six cavalry units. Soldiers, armed with grappling hooks, dragged those attempting to swim back to shore. Spears swarmed down like a forest, and the emerald spring water instantly turned to a pool of blood. "Did you ever imagine this day when you massacred the villagers in Qingshi Gorge?" Captain Li Gang's spear held the enemy general's head, blood dripping from the tassel onto the scorched earth.

As night fell, a series of beacon fires blazed across the Gobi Desert. The Xiliang army set up camp along a ten-li boundary, trenches and chevaux de frise forming a steel barrier, while searchlights illuminated the night sky. Every attempt by a small Di group to break through was met with a hail of arrows and ambushes. One group, taking advantage of the cover of night, infiltrated the Han camp, only to trigger a barrage of copper bells and be instantly cut down and strangled by the torch-lit cavalry. Their scimitars drew silver arcs of death in the moonlight.

Battle reports piled up like snowflakes in Gutu's tent. In just three days, seventeen hundred-man squadrons had been completely wiped out. The survivors brought back chilling news: the Western Liang army no longer pursued, but instead cleared the land like a plow, burying barricades and poisoning water sources wherever they passed, even cutting off migration routes. The high priest gazed at the shrinking living space on the parchment map and tremblingly pointed to the starry sky: "The Big Dipper is upside down. This is a complete dead end..."

Before he could finish his words, there was a sudden, muffled thud of something heavy falling to the ground outside the tent. Gu Tu kicked aside the corpse of a guard, his drunken roar shaking the leather tent ceiling to dust: "You're full of unlucky nonsense! If you dare to mislead us again, I'll make you a human sacrifice!" He unsheathed the scimitar at his waist, its cold light casting a faint green hue on the high priest's bronze mask.

The black-robed old man let out a shrill laugh, veins bulging on his tattooed neck. "Chop it off! Offer the prophet's head to the Blood Moon!" He suddenly ripped open his shirt, revealing the wolf head totem freshly painted in blood on his chest. "Look at the banner of the Xiliang Army! The mighty general Ma Chao—the evil star who single-handedly razed the Thirty-Six Villages!" His laughter stopped abruptly, and his bony fingers poked at the shrinking array of black flags on the map.

Gu Tu's pupils suddenly constricted. He had watched with his own eyes as the Western Liang army advanced like a noose tightening. The villages he had once looted at random had now become deadly traps. Scouts reported last night that the Han army had even begun using living people as bait—those civilians who deliberately "escaped" were always followed by hidden elite cavalry.

"Great leader!" The trusted general pushed open the curtain, his leather armor still stained with blood. "The southwest defense line has been torn open, the Han army's hook wire array..." His voice was cut off by Gu Tu's roar. He stared at the battle reports nailed to the ground, suddenly grabbed the wine bag and drank it, the wine mixed with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth: "Pass the order, gather all the tribes! The cattle and sheep we stole this time are enough to feed us for several years. Let's... let's go back to our territory!"

The high priest stroked the cracks on his mask and chuckled sinisterly. "It's too late... When the first hundred-man team was annihilated at Baicao Beach, the blood moon curse took effect." He suddenly overturned the table, and the burning candlelight ignited the curtains. In the towering flames, Gu Tu seemed to see a black battle flag raised in the distance, like a murderous ghost, slowly approaching through the yellow sand.

In the Longxi County meeting hall, blood-stained battle reports piled up like autumn leaves on the desk. Ma Chao's fingertips traced the latest victory report, caressing the words "over 300 enemies annihilated" from the Battle of Baicaotan. A cold smile curled the corners of his lips. The candlelight flickered in the meeting hall, casting a cold light on the armor of the generals. Even as the cries of victory reports lingered, a bloody chill filled the air.

"For two consecutive days, there has been no trace of the enemy." Ma Chao suddenly spoke, his voice like cold iron tempered with water, pounding heavily on the tiger-skin desk, "These jackals have stopped looting, perhaps thinking of running away with their tails between their legs?" Before he finished speaking, the generals in the hall were immediately enraged, and the sound of clashing scabbards mixed with angry curses.

Jia Xu slowly stepped forward, waving a black feather fan, the gold embroidery gleaming faintly in the candlelight. "Your Majesty has a good eye." He tapped the shrinking encirclement line on the map with his feather fan. "Our army's sweeping cleanup has left them like frightened birds. Now they have no choice but to gather their remaining forces and flee back to their lair." He glanced at the tense faces of the crowd, his smile hidden in his eyes. "And this is exactly what we want."

"That's exactly what I mean!" Ma Chao suddenly stood up, and the sound of armor clashing startled the candlelight. He drew his sword and slashed it at the map, the blade accurately cutting through the mark of the Di people's camp. "Let them escape! The faster they flee, the denser they gather!" The blade picked up the battle report on the table, the bloody handwriting looked like tears in the firelight. "Just like they burned and killed in Longxi, today I will turn their nest... into a living hell!"

The meeting room suddenly fell silent, with only Ma Chao's cold voice echoing from the beams: "Pass the order, tighten your sacks and deliberately leave gaps." He looked northwest, where the Di people's territory lay. "Wait until all these beasts return to their territory..." His words ended abruptly, yet everyone present felt the murderous intent that was upon them—a decisive massacre that would wipe out their entire race.

The sandstorms in Longxi gradually subsided, and the remnants of the Di people fled in panic across the wasteland, but there was no sign of the Xiliang cavalry behind them. Gu Tu's hands, gripping the reins, broke into a cold sweat. He gazed at the troops laden with cattle, sheep, captives, and looted treasure, feeling a surge of unease. The pursuit that had always followed him had suddenly vanished, and this unnatural calm sent a chill through him.

"Great Chief, we have reached the border!" A personal guard came galloping over, his voice filled with the ecstasy of having survived a catastrophe. Gu Tu looked up and saw the familiar outline of the mountains in the distance. That was their territory, a symbol of safety. He breathed a sigh of relief, his tense nerves finally relaxing: "Pass the order, speed up! Once we enter the tribe, we'll see what those Han people can do to us!"

The team quickened its pace, the clatter of horses' hooves, the creak of wheels, and the bleating of cattle and sheep blending together, stirring up a cloud of yellow sand. The moment the last Di soldier stepped into the territory, it was as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and the exhausted warriors began to cheer, celebrating this hard-earned "victory."

Gu Tu kicked open the tent door, and the fishy wind blew the sheepskin map to the ground. He grabbed the wineskin and drank it, the wine dripping down his tangled beard and spreading dark stains on the confiscated Han brocade robe. "Did you see it? What did I say?" He suddenly grabbed the high priest's black robe, his cloudy eyes almost popping out of their sockets under the bronze mask. "I know the Han people's nonsense about 'protecting the country and the people' better than they do themselves!"

The high priest stumbled back, his withered fingers tightly gripping the cursed bone chain at his waist. Outside the tent, Di warriors were pushing the abducted girl into the yurt. Their laughter, mixed with cries, pierced the night, but it couldn't drown out Gu Tu's arrogant laughter: "They think our land is poor and barren? Perfect! Wait until spring and use these treasures to buy enough war horses, then we'll go back and rob him..."

&34;够了！&34;苍老的嘶吼突然撕裂空气。大祭司猛地扯开染血的衣襟，胸口用羊血绘制的狼头图腾正在龟裂——那是三天前他为部落求来的护佑符咒。&34;你以为真是汉人放过我们？&34;他布满刺青的脖颈青筋暴起，&34;西凉军连追都不追，分明是故意...&34;

"Shut up!" The lone bald man's scimitar grazed the old man's ear and was nailed into the wooden pillar. Sawdust flew into his frightened pupils. "If you say such depressing words again, believe it or not, I will..."