Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

As Ghost Hair Knife's warhorse, its mane caked with ice, stumbled into Kebineng's central tent, the mud and water it kicked up stained the battle map on the sheepskin rug. He fell to his knees, his scimitar clanking to the ground. His face, stained with blood and dust, was barely visible. "Great...Great Chanyu! General Yuwen Dashi...their entire army has been annihilated!"

The tent fell into a momentary silence. Kebi Neng's wine bowl slammed against the bronze table, spilling wine and broken pottery onto the wolf-headed golden seal. Ulanda slammed his scimitar, his amber eyes threatening to spit fire. "Nonsense! Fifty thousand cavalrymen, plus Yuwen Dashi and Qifu Yun... How dare you lie about military intelligence!"

"Absolutely true!" Ghost Hair Knife ripped open the bloodstained collar of his shirt, revealing a deep wound on his chest that was visible to the bone. "Among the Western Liang Iron Cavalry, there's a silver-armored general with a spear as swift as a flying dragon. General Yuwen... General Yuwen was pierced through the throat by his spear! Lord Qifu Yun was also... cut in two by the Mo Dao!" His voice choked with sobs, and he slammed his forehead heavily to the ground. "I fought desperately to break through, and only then... only then did I bring back this news!"

Ke Bineng stumbled, clinging to a pillar, his knuckles white from the exertion. He snatched up the parchment scroll from the table and hurled it to the ground. "Fifty thousand strong! Even if it's two against one, they won't be completely wiped out! How many troops does Ma Chao have? He's just a brat!" Before he could finish his words, hurried footsteps could be heard outside the tent. A scout stumbled in, "Report—Ma Chao has led a large army through Qingshi Gorge and is heading for Wuwei!"

Wulanda's scimitar clanged halfway out of its sheath, and the other generals in the tent paled. Ke Bineng stared at the Ghost Hair Saber, his Adam's apple rolling. "You mean... that Silver-Armored General, is that Ma Chao himself?"

"No!" Ghost Hair Knife trembled all over. "Wherever Ma Chao's white horse trod, our army was crushed like grass... But I saw with my own eyes that General Yuwen was indeed killed by another general!"

Inside the cowhide tent, the tallow lamp flickered, its swaying light and shadows distorting the figures of the people on the tent walls. Ke Bineng slowly slumped down to the main seat, seemingly aging ten years in an instant. The wrinkles on his face deepened, and his once resolute eyes were now filled with shock and disbelief. The air seemed to be gripped by an invisible giant hand, oppressing it to the point of suffocation. The silence within the tent was so great that one could hear the heavy breathing of the people.

After a long moment, Kebineng finally spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper rubbing against his chest. "It seems this mighty general is truly worthy of his reputation." His gaze was empty outside the tent, his thoughts drifting far away. "In the past, I only knew of Ma Chao's prowess from Midang and Huochequan. I thought they were exaggerating, just looking for excuses for their defeat." He sighed heavily, "I never thought he would be so remarkable."

He clenched his fists tightly, then slowly loosened them: "Yuwen Dashi was the right general of our army, and you all know his martial arts. He was a fierce general who could take the heads of enemy generals in the midst of thousands of troops, but he is dead. The generals under Ma Chao are able to kill our generals, this... what should I do?" At the end, his voice almost trembled, full of disbelief and worry.

At this time, the Right Wise King Murong Xuepo hurriedly stepped forward, bowed and said: "Your Majesty, the Xiliang army will be here soon. The situation is critical now, shouldn't we retreat? Preserve our strength and make plans later." His eyes were full of worry, and he was indeed worried about the safety of the Xianbei army.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Hu Yanye, the Left Wise King, was furious. He suddenly drew his scimitar, and a cold light flashed across the tent. "You also heard the soldiers report that he only has 30,000 to 40,000 troops. We still have 150,000 elite Xianbei soldiers here. With five times the number, how can we be afraid of him?" His eyes were wide with anger, and he glared at Murong Xuepo fiercely. "You are cowardly before the battle. You of the Murong tribe have always been like this, as cunning as foxes, running away before a battle and rushing in when there is an advantage. How can such a cowardly person be called a Xianbei warrior!"

Murong Xuepo's face flushed crimson, and she was about to retort when Kebi Neng raised his hand to silence her. The Great Chanyu remained silent. He did not speak to stop the Left Wise King's insults. The Right Wise King's repeated calls for withdrawal had spread like a plague through the army, greatly shaking its morale. If this fear of battle was not suppressed at this moment, the Xianbei army would have collapsed without a fight before Ma Chao's army arrived. A dead silence fell within the tent, broken only by the cold wind whipping against the curtains, making a whining sound, as if lamenting the impending battle.

Ke Bineng's knuckles rubbed the wolf-head gold seal until it turned pale. Outside the tent, a north wind blew fine snow through the cracks, lifting and then pressing down the corners of the battle map on the desk. He suddenly loosened the fur tie around his neck, a cold laugh rolling from his throat: "Fifteen thousand against thirty thousand. Even if Ma Chao is Xing Tian, ​​the three-headed and six-armed Xing Tian, ​​he should be made to understand the power of the grassland cavalry."

Murong Xuepo was about to remonstrate again when the Great Chanyu suddenly stood up, knocking the bronze wine cup on the table over. The wine flowed along the word "Wuwei" on the map, forming a bloody streak. "Pass the order!" Ke Bineng's voice was shrouded in ice. "Postpone the siege! Tomorrow at noon, the entire army will be in battle array—" He drew the golden sword from his waist, pressing the blade to his Adam's apple. "I want to show Ma Chao that the Xianbei people's scimitars are sharper than they boast in Han history books!"

Hu Yanbaye's black yak-hide armor knocked over the weapon rack behind him. The cold gleam of his unsheathed scimitar illuminated his ferocious smile: "It should have been done long ago! After I kill Ma Chao, I'm going to melt his silver armor and make a horse bit for the Great Chanyu!" The generals in the tent responded loudly, but Murong Xuepo was the only one who stared at the ink on the map, blurred by wine, the cold sweat on his palm soaking through the jade-inlaid hilt.

The cold December wind cut through the frost on Ma Chao's silver armor like a knife. Aurora, his white horse, trotted across the frozen ground, his hooves kicking up tiny shards of ice, but it couldn't drown out the deep, distant horn calls. Ma Chao reined in the reins, squinting at the horizon—dozens of miles away, the Xianbei's cowhide tents spread out like an ant swarm, their wolf-head battle flags fluttering in the wind and snow, threatening to rip the leaden clouds to shreds.

"My lord, the main Xianbei force is camped here." Zhang Xiu rode closer, the blood on his spear, still lingering, now frozen to a dark purple. He pointed in the direction of the enemy camp, "Judging from the size of the camp, there are probably a hundred thousand men."

Ma Chao reached out to catch the falling snowflakes, the ice crystals instantly transforming into water droplets in his palm. The women and children of Wuwei City, all donning armor, ascended the city walls, a testament to the critical situation. Meanwhile, the Xianbei were in a formal battle formation, clearly intent on halting the Xiliang reinforcements there.

"Pass the order," Ma Chao's voice was shrouded in chill. "The entire army must form a cone formation. Camp tonight and do not remove your armor." He gripped the tiger-headed golden spear tightly, the tip of which lifted a few snowflakes. "Kebineng, since you want to fight, then fight to your heart's content!"

A chill wind swept across the snowy plains, carrying the Xiliang army's commanding orders toward the Xianbei camp. From afar, the dull thrum of 羯琴 (Jie drum) drums echoed, as if echoing the impending life-or-death duel. And further away, the beacon fires of Wuwei City still flickered, like a lone blood-red lantern hanging in the twelfth lunar month sky.

A chill wind whipped through the Xianbei camp, whirling fine snow. Helan Gui's sable cloak rustled against the tent. He knelt on one knee, the wolf-head pattern on his bronze wristband stained with ice. "Great Chanyu! Ma Chao's Xiliang troops are encamped ten miles away. Judging by their banners, they number no more than thirty thousand!" He lashed out with his scimitar, its blade reflecting the flickering torches outside the tent. "I am willing to lead five thousand cavalry in a night attack. We will surely catch them unawares!"

Ke Bineng twirled his wolf-head gold ring, his aged face hidden in the shadow of the tallow lamp. After a long pause, he poured warm kumis onto the charcoal basin, and the rising white smoke, shrouded in a charcoal aroma, filled the tent. "Helan Gui, do you think I'm a frightened coward?" His voice suddenly rose, shaking the snow from the tent ceiling. "Fifteen thousand against thirty thousand, why resort to such despicable tactics?"

The Great Chanyu stood up, leaning on a carved copper staff. The ruby ​​inlaid on the staff head shone blood-red in the dark. "The Han people are masters of luring the enemy. If you lead your light cavalry to attack rashly and fall into their ambush—" His eyes swept across the generals in the tent. "Do you want me to gamble the lives of the Xianbei men on Ma Chao's negligence?"

Helan Gui's knuckles turned white from clenching his scimitar. Ke Bineng slowly drew out his golden sword, its blade illuminating the campfires of the Western Liang army outside the tent. "Pass the order down! All soldiers, strictly guard the camp. Anyone who disobeys will be executed! Tomorrow at sunrise, we will be on the snowy plains, showing Ma Chao the true might of the grassland cavalry!"

As night deepened, inside the Xiliang army camp, Ma Chao gently stroked the mane of his white horse, Aurora, and sneered at the twinkling lights of the Xianbei camp in the distance. Zhang Xiu stood with his arms folded, his spear sparking on the ground. "My lord, the Xianbei are silent tonight."

"Kebi has learned his lesson." Ma Chao tossed the wine pouch to his deputy general, the wine drawing a silver line in the cold night. "But it doesn't matter—" He gripped the golden tiger-head spear at his waist, the wolf-tail hair on the tassel rustling in the wind. "In tomorrow's decisive battle, I will show him that the sharp claws of the Xiliang Iron Cavalry are not revealed by conspiracy."

On the snowy plain, the atmosphere of confrontation between the two armies condensed in the cold wind, waiting only for the horn of dawn to tear apart this brief peace.

The cold wind of December whipped up gravel, whipping the battle flags. The black wolf flags of the Western Liang cavalry and the gray wolf flags of the Xianbei fluttered on opposite sides of the skyline. Ma Chao, clad in black and silver armor, rode his white horse, Aurora, with its head held high and neighing, breaking the frozen ground covered with a thin layer of ice. Behind him, Zhang Xiu, Hu Che'er, Wang Fang, Niu Jin, and other generals lined up in a row, their spears like a forest, their swords reflecting the leaden clouds, and the cold was biting.

"Is the one across from me the Xianbei Great Chanyu Kebineng? I am Ma Chao of Xiliang!" The young general's voice, wrapped in frost and snow, pierced the hundred-foot-long space between the two armies. He removed his silver helmet, his black hair blowing in the wind. His face was as cold and resolute as a knife, yet his eyes and brows held an innate nobility.

Amidst the Xianbei army, Kebineng's blue horse advanced slowly across the broken ice. The grassland overlord wore a gold-inlaid animal hide cloak, and the nine-ringed golden sword at his waist jingled softly as his mount lurched forward. Flanked by the virtuous kings Murong Xuepo and Hu Yanbaye, he flanked them. Behind him, the scimitars of the chieftains glowed a cold blue beneath the dark clouds.

"Han'er, are you the so-called mighty general?" Ke Bineng's rough laughter made the saddle bells ring. He narrowed his bloodshot eyes and looked at the young man opposite him in silver armor as white as snow, "In my opinion, he is even more handsome than the beauties of my Xianbei people! It's a pity that this face is more suitable for dancing the Huxuan dance than wielding a spear or a sword!" Before he finished speaking, the Xianbei army burst into laughter, the sound was like a tide, startling the crows on the distant snowfield.

Ma Chao's lips curled into a cold smile. His white horse, Aurora, suddenly neighed, its front hooves soaring three feet into the air, its iron hooves drawing a sharp arc in the air. "Old dog, if all you know is how to talk," the young general suddenly pointed his spear at Kebineng's throat, the tip gleaming like lightning. "Why don't you just go home and play house with your baby!" This taunting remark set off a thunderous cheer from the Xiliang army, colliding with the Xianbei's shouts and exploding a fierce, explosive aroma across the snowy plains.