Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

At midnight, a north wind whipped up snowflakes like steel grit. As Zhang Yan's 20,000 Black Mountain troops surged out of the dense forest on the right like a black tide, the heavy gates of Chang'an City flew open. Li Ru left only a few thousand soldiers behind, while 30,000 Black Mountain troops rushed out in force, their armor gleaming coldly in the snow. They formed a pincer attack with Zhang Yan's ambush troops. The 50,000-strong army trudged through the snow, pressing towards the Yuan army camp. The whirlwind and sleet slammed like the drums of death.

Inside the tent, Yan Liang jolted awake from his drunken stupor. Even before the alcohol had dissipated, he heard the cries of battle tearing through the night. He staggered to his feet and grabbed a guard who had rushed into the tent. "Where's the fighting?!" The guard's face paled, his voice trembling. "General! It sounds like... soldiers from Chang'an!"

Xin Ping was also awakened. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he asked, "What happened?" Yan Liang's bare feet treaded on the cold tile floor, frantically groping for the Pofeng knife on the table. The clanking of armor rang out. "It must be that old Li Ru who raided the camp in the night!" Xin Ping chuckled disapprovingly, adjusting his askew crown. "It's just a last-ditch effort. Once the general takes action, they'll be invincible!"

The snowy night was as black as ink. Yan Liang rushed out of the tent, wind-splashing sword in hand. The biting cold wind instantly blew through his thin clothes, but it couldn't extinguish the anger in his eyes. His yellow horse neighed as it plowed through the snow. He pulled the reins and glanced around. Seeing the soldiers in the camp fleeing in panic, he shouted, shaking the air: "What are you panicking about! Form a battle line to meet the enemy!"

As the torches flickered, he squinted at the approaching black figures. Seeing their tattered armor and disorganized weapons, he couldn't help but sneer: "Just a mob!" The blade sliced ​​through the night sky, leaving a trail of blood: "Cavalry, follow me! Crush these rats!" The horses' hooves crushed the frozen ground, and Yuan Shao's army pounced on the Black Mountain Army like a black torrent.

However, darkness proved a deadly trap. Taking advantage of the snow and fog, the Black Mountain Army threw torches into the densely packed camp. Suddenly, the grain and fodder piles erupted in flames, and thick smoke, shrouded in sparks, obscured vision. Zhang Yan, brandishing his broken blade, targeted the weakest points of Yuan's army, his hoarse roar mingled with the sound of burning: "Burn! Burn to death!"

Yan Liang's yellow steed struggled to maneuver through the sea of ​​fire, and every strike of his wind-splashing blade stirred up a bloody mist. However, Yuan's army was too hasty to respond, and their formation was torn to pieces.

Thick smoke, laced with sparks, shot skyward. Yan Liang's yellow steed trampled through the burning tents, his wind-splashing sword slashing blood-red in the flames. He swung his sword, severing the spear of a Black Mountain soldier, but the blade burned intensely from the flying sparks. "Fire! Put out the fire first!" He roared, kicking back the charging enemy soldiers. Only to see more dark figures leap from the sea of ​​flames, their swords and spears like a forest, piercing the Yuan army's food and supplies.

Zhang Yan watched, his eyes red as his men were cut down en masse. Blood dripped from the broken blades, mixing with the snow. "Retreat! Form a formation!" He suddenly changed his tactics, withdrawing his troops to the east of the camp. When Yan Liang rode his horse to pursue him, he saw Zhang Yan and four lieutenants surrounding him in a fan-shaped formation, their gleaming weapons blocking every direction.

"Yan Liang! Give me your life!" Zhang Yan lunged forward first, the broken blade colliding with the wind-splashing blade, the shock numbing his palms. The other four generals coordinated tacitly, attacking from different directions, sometimes feinting, sometimes suddenly. Yan Liang parried left and right, his blade dancing like a silver wheel, but it was hard to hide the sweat rolling down his forehead. His yellow horse, stabbed in the hind leg, neighed and wailed incessantly, and every leap sent a cloud of blood mist rising.

The fire grew fiercer, illuminating Yan Liang's tense face. He struggled to deflect two spears, but Zhang Yan's broken blade sliced ​​his shoulder, soaking his chainmail with blood. Shouts and cries of killing filled the air, and the Yuan army's buckets of firefighting water kept spilling, only to spread the fire even faster. Yan Liang gritted his teeth, brandishing his sword to force the others back, a sense of foreboding welling up within him—tonight, a fierce battle awaited.

Yan Liang's wind-splashing blade barely deflected Zhang Yan's broken blade, nearly dislocating his wrist. Suddenly, a muffled thunder rumbled across the snowy plains from the northeast, sending snow slumping down. He turned his head, his pupils instantly shrinking to pinpoints—under the inky night, black-armored cavalry surged like a raging tide, their hooves pulverizing the frozen earth with a roar that stung his eardrums. The leading general wielded a crescent-shaped broadsword, its blade slicing through the snow, leaving a scarlet afterimage in the night.

"It's Wei Yan!" Zhang Yan seized the opportunity to strike Yan Liang diagonally across the waist, but he dodged by rolling sideways, his wind-splashing blade swinging back. The clatter of hooves was now close at hand. Ten thousand Xiliang cavalrymen formed a cone-shaped formation, like poison-laced spears piercing the center of Yuan's army. Wei Yan's broadsword swung in a circle, cleaving the barricades, men and wood alike, in two. Beads of scalding blood splattered on the snow, creating a white mist.

The front row of cavalry, armed with Mo Dao (Mo Dao), swept across, sending up waves of blood ten feet high. The rear row fired a chorus of powerful crossbows, a hail of arrows obscuring the moonlight, and the Yuan army's tents instantly turned into hedgehogs. Yan Liang watched his own soldiers being crushed to a pulp by the iron hooves, his supplies ablaze with flames. The drunkenness was completely extinguished by the chill. He roared, brandishing his sword to meet the charging cavalry, but Zhang Yan and the Black Mountain generals closed in on him once again, preventing him from fleeing.

A roar like muffled thunder exploded in the night sky. Wei Yan's broadsword split the snow curtain. Even before the blade touched the throats of the Yuan army, the sharp wind was already scratching their faces. His black horse, stomping over the burning tents, soared into the air, its iron hooves crushing the Yuan army centurion who tried to stop him, armor and all, into a pulp. Ten thousand Xiliang cavalrymen followed closely behind, their black cloaks rustling in the wind and snow like the outstretched wings of the god of death.

Flames surged through the Yuan army camp, their tongues of flames greedily licking the tents and staining the snow an eerie crimson. Soldiers frantically rushed back and forth, carrying buckets of water. The sounds of firefighting, shouts of killing, and the clash of weapons blended into a chaotic chaos. Through the thick smoke, the Black Mountain Army moved like ghosts, their scimitars tearing through the Yuan army's defenses, each blow a cloud of blood.

The Western Liang cavalry descended like divine troops, their armor gleaming with the bloody glow of fire, a chilling chill chilling the air. Wei Yan led the charge, his broadsword flashing with a cold gleam. Wherever he passed, Yuan's shields were ripped apart like paper, and the soldiers were cut down by the sharp blades before they could even scream.

The cavalry surged with unstoppable force, instantly plunging into Yuan's heartland. Modaos swept across, blood and flesh splattered; powerful crossbows unleashed a barrage of arrows. Caught off guard by this sudden attack, the Yuan army's formation collapsed in an instant. Soldiers wailed and fled under the iron hooves, men and horses toppled, their blood quickly soaking the white snow. The fires within the camp grew fiercer, illuminating the devastating scene. Under the onslaught of the Xiliang cavalry, Yuan's resistance faltered like a candle in the wind, crumbling.

Amidst a blood-soaked mist, Yan Liang's wind-splashing blade slashed the last enemy blade, only to see the Xiliang cavalry surge through the burning tents in the distance like a black tide. Wei Yan's broadsword split the snow curtain, its cold glare sending Yuan soldiers crashing to the ground like mown wheat stalks. Yan Liang wiped the blood from his face, the blood seeping through the cracks in his armor now frozen in the snow. From the moment the torrent of cavalry burst through the night, defeat was imminent, like a shattered glacier, irreversible.

"General, be careful!" the guards cried out, their cries cut off by the blade. Yan Liang dodged to the side, but Zhang Yan's broken blade still slashed his back, leaving a half-foot-long wound. The scalding blood instantly soaked through his mail. With a backhanded blow, he forced back the surrounding Black Mountain generals and stumbled onto his yellow horse: "Return to the center! Protect the young master and break through!" The guards formed a circle like an iron wall, forcing a bloody path through the flashing swords and shadows.

In front of the central army tent, two thousand halberd-wielding warriors, personally trained by Zhang He, formed an iron wall. Their overlapping bronze shields formed an impenetrable line of defense, temporarily withstanding the cavalry's charge. When Yan Liang forced open the gate, he saw Yuan Tan clutching his bloodstained sword, his knuckles livid from the strain. Xin Ping's folding fan had long since vanished, the hem of his brocade robe scorched black by the flames, yet he remained composed: "General, what shall we do?"

"We've fallen into Li Ru's trap!" Yan Liang tore off his bloodstained cloak to wrap around his wound and slammed his Wind Blade into the ground, sending the accumulated snow tumbling down. "The entire army must fight and retreat! Retreat to Tongguan!" He gazed at the surging sea of ​​blood and fire outside the camp and suddenly grabbed Yuan Tan's wrist: "Master, leave quickly! As long as the mountains remain..." Before he could finish his words, the shouts and cries of the Xiliang cavalry approached like thunder, tearing a desperate chasm in the cold night.

The night was ripped to shreds by the flames of battle. Yan Liang's yellow steed trampled over a field of broken halberds, its saddle soaked in blood. He brandished his broken wind-splashing blade. Behind him, two thousand halberd warriors formed a cone-shaped formation, like a blood-stained steel spike, struggling to break through the pincer attack of the Black Mountain Army and the Western Liang Iron Cavalry. "Protect the young master!" Yan Liang's roar shattered the ice ridges in the air, and the blade split the throats of two pursuers. Warm blood splattered on his face, then instantly solidified into ice crystals.

Yuan Tan clutched the reins tightly, his brocade robe stained with mud and snow. He gazed with dread at the dark iron cavalrymen following him like shadows. With every blow from Wei Yan's broadsword, a Yuan soldier was severed, horse and foot alike. Their screams mingled with the clatter of horses' hooves, a death knell. Xin Ping, slumped over his horse, panting heavily, his hair crooked, no longer possessing the composure of a strategist: "Hurry! Tongguan... there's still a glimmer of hope!"

Zhang Yan's Black Mountain troops pursued relentlessly, their broken blades gleaming a faint blue in the moonlight. He gazed upon Yan Liang's bloody back, his eyes ablaze with vengeance: "Don't let them escape!" Twenty thousand soldiers, like hungry wolves, targeted Yuan's mounts. From time to time, a warhorse cried out, then fell to its knees, throwing its rider into the pursuing army, where he was instantly devoured by the ragtag swords.

Inside the burning camp, thirty thousand Black Mountain soldiers were herding the wailing captives. The flames illuminated the mountains of food and supplies. Lieutenant General Zhang Yan kicked aside Yuan's flag and, with a sinister grin, shouted to the messenger, "Inventory the supplies and report victory to the city!" In the distance, the tattered flag fluttered in the wind, the word "Yuan" ripped to shreds by the flames, a microcosm of this defeat.

After a night of fleeing, under the gray sky, the towering walls of Tongguan appeared before everyone like a life-saving talisman. Yuan Tan's mount suddenly gave way, nearly throwing him off. Xin Ping slumped over the saddle, coughing violently, the blood on his brocade robes long since dried into dark red scabs.

Yan Liang pulled the reins hard, and his yellow horse reared to a halt, its neighing carrying traces of endless fatigue. "Stop!" his hoarse voice seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his throat. "Rest for a while!" The five hundred guards immediately formed a defensive circle. The halberdiers leaned on their blood-stained halberds, breathing heavily, their breath condensing into frost in the cold wind.

The results of the inventory were heartbreaking—aside from Yan Liang's five hundred personal guards and two thousand halberd warriors, who barely formed a complete formation, the remaining remnants of the defeated army numbered fewer than five thousand. They slumped in the snow, weapons carelessly discarded beside them, morale at its lowest point. The cold wind whipped snowflakes across their pale faces, and the distant, faint sound of horses' hooves in pursuit only added to their despair.