Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

In the cold wind, Ke Bineng gazed at the ripped tortoise-shell formation, his knuckles crackling against the wolf-headed golden staff. A hundred and fifty thousand troops descended like a dark cloud on the city. He swung his arms violently, and the blast of a horn instantly ripped through the air: "All forces charge! Show the Han dogs the power of the grassland cavalry!"

The Xianbei cavalry surged forward like a tide, their scimitars gleaming a faint blue in the twilight. The clatter of their hooves shook the snowy plains. With a single swipe of Ma Chao's silver spear, thirty thousand Xiliang cavalrymen formed a goose-shaped formation and charged forward like a torrent of steel. "Kill!" the young general's roar pierced the battlefield. His golden, tiger-headed spear sent the first enemy soldier careening away. Blood splattered on his dark silver armor, instantly solidifying into beads of ice.

Zhang Xiu led his cavalry in a sudden, flanking attack, their silver spears piercing the air, sending Xianbei soldiers sprawling and falling wherever they struck. Hu Yanye charged, wielding his mountain-splitting axe, but was stopped by Ma Chao's horizontal spear. The two fierce generals clashed, sparks flying, and the resounding clash of weapons jolted nearby warhorses to their feet.

The north wind, tinged with the scent of blood, surged, and the black wolf flags of the Western Liang cavalry fluttered amidst the black tide of Xianbei troops. Ma Chao's silver spear pierced three Xianbei warriors in quick succession, the blood-soaked lance tassels splattering across the snow like dark crimson ice flowers. Behind him, 30,000 cavalrymen, like a torrent of silver armor, charged head-on into the charging Xianbei army of 150,000. The roar of iron hooves breaking through the ice and the clash of weapons pierced the eardrums.

"Divide the forces!" Zhang Xiu's white horse pranced among the corpses, his silver spear slashing deadly arcs, slashing down the Xianbei cavalrymen who attempted to close in. Five thousand cavalrymen sliced ​​into the enemy's flank like dragons, shattering shield walls wherever they passed, and screams echoed. But the Xianbei's round shield phalanx surged in like a tide, filling every gap. More scimitars slashed from all directions, and the roars of the Xiliang soldiers were gradually drowned out by the sea of ​​men.

Zhang Xiu's black armor was soaked with blood. Watching his comrades falling around him, a dull pain welled up in his heart. "My Lord! This can't go on!" His cries were shredded by the howling north wind, but Ma Chao suddenly emerged from the chaotic army with divine might. His tiger-headed golden spear pierced Tufasha's shoulder armor like lightning, lifting the fierce Xianbei general high and smashing it hard against Hu Yanye's axe. Sparks flew as Ma Chao shrugged off the pincer attack of the two wise kings, raising his arms and shouting, "Follow me, Western Liang cavalry!"

The Silver-Armored God of War led the charge, his three thousand elite warriors forming a cone behind him. Like sharp arrows piercing the clouds, they charged straight at Kebi Neng's central banner. The Xianbei army's formation was thrown into chaos, their shield walls shattered. Wherever Ma Chao's spear pointed, blood and severed limbs splattered everywhere. Kebi Neng's hands trembled slightly as he watched the silver figure approach. Finally, he shouted, "Release! Shoot him through!"

As a hail of arrows whistled down from the sky, Ma Chao suddenly noticed a sudden change in the rhythm of the bronze bells and drums in Kebineng's central army. The elite Xianbei troops converged on the great banner like a tide, their iron wall of shields and spears gleaming coldly in the twilight. Ma Chao's eyes glared fiercely, and his silver spear suddenly shifted from stabbing to sweeping, sending three approaching Xianbei warriors flying simultaneously. He shouted, "Follow my turn!"

As if on some tacit understanding, the 30,000 Xiliang cavalrymen in black armor simultaneously turned their horses. What had once been a raging, surging formation suddenly transformed into a flowing dragon, galloping close to the Xianbei formation. Ma Chao led the charge, his spearpoint piercing the enemy, striking down any who attempted to stop him. The crisp sound of his hooves breaking the ice mingled with his shouts as he tore a gap through the encircling black tide.

The Xianbei army was thrown into chaos. Hu Yanye, brandishing his axe, pursued them, but was intercepted by Zhang Xian's troops. "Want to escape? Not so easy!" Zuo Xian Wang's roar was drowned out by the clatter of the Western Liang cavalry's hooves. Ma Chao's black wolf flag fluttered in the snow. Thirty thousand cavalrymen, like silver arrows, pierced their weak flanks and vanished into the twilight of the snowy plains in an instant. Ke Bineng stood still, gazing at the empty battlefield, a sinister glint in his eyes.

Night fell over the battlefield, the flickering light of the Xianbei camp's fading flames. Right Wise King Murong Xuepo approached, stepping over the frozen corpses. His dark cloak stained with blood and frost, the sheepskin scroll in his hand rustling in the chill wind. "Great Chanyu, we've lost nearly 20,000 warriors today, while the Western Liang army..." He paused, his Adam's apple rolling, "only 3,000, yet the casualties are a whopping six to one."

Ke Bineng's grip on the wolf-head golden staff suddenly tightened, the wolf fangs on the staff's tip gleaming dark red in the firelight. From outside the tent came the wails of wounded soldiers, mingling with the north wind as the tattered battle flags blew across them, a lamentable sound. "Is Ma Chao really so formidable?" he asked in a low, barely perceptible hoarseness.

Murong Xuepo knelt on one knee, his eyes blazing. "Great Chanyu, the Western Liang cavalry is unstoppable, and Ma Chao is a master of military strategy. Even if our army outnumbers the enemy tenfold, it will be difficult to gain an advantage. If we continue like this, the casualties will only increase, which will be detrimental to our Xianbei cause!"

The tent fell into a dead silence, the only sound being the crackling of the charcoal fire in the copper stove. Ke Bineng gazed at the startling figures on the parchment scroll, and before his eyes came the image of Ma Chao's swift and agile spear striking Tufasha. After a long pause, he sighed deeply, slamming his golden staff to the ground. "Send the order down! Camp will be broken up tomorrow. This battle...is over." Outside the tent, a sudden snowstorm blew away the dying flames and the lingering warmth of the fierce battle.

The veins of the Left Wise King Hu Yanye bulged, and he was about to argue while clutching the blood-stained axe, but was interrupted by Murong Xuepo's loud shout: "The king has ordered! We will break camp and return to the grassland tomorrow!" The sound was like thunder in the tent, shaking the hanging animal skin map.

The thousands of households were stunned for a moment, then looked at each other in bewilderment. Tuoba Ya's successor stroked his new wolf-head token, a flicker of relief in his eyes. Several old leaders, their hair stained with gray, exchanged glances, their cracked lips tugging into smiles. The days of attacking Wuwei City had already frightened them with the piles of Xianbei corpses beneath the city walls, and now, after suffering a severe blow from Ma Chao, who would be willing to risk their lives again?

"Hurry!" Someone shouted first, and the tent erupted in cheers. Wine bags were thrown high, and kumis spilled onto the cowhide rug, mingling with the stench of blood. Someone struck a crude leather drum, and a few drunken warriors danced to the rhythm, their bronze bells clashing against bone ornaments with a piercing clatter.

Ke Bineng stared at this insane scene, pounding his wolf-headed golden staff into the ground. The tip of the staff pierced the cowhide, oozing a dark red like blood. His throat churned, and he swallowed the words he hadn't spoken. In the distance, the Xiliang army's patrol horn echoed in the cold wind, like a mockery of the Xianbei.

----

A northerly wind whipped fine snow against the cowhide tents. Inside the central army tent, the tallow candles flickered in the cold wind, distorting the shadows of the soldiers on the felt walls. Ma Chao stood before the sand table, his arms folded across his chest. He still wore his dark silver armor, his shoulder armor still mottled with blood, reflecting a cold light. As the blood-soaked scout knelt on his knees, clutching a bloodstained bamboo slip, to report the casualties, the tent suddenly fell silent, the only sound being the crackling and popping of the charcoal fire, a piercing sound in the stillness.

"We lost five thousand men in the Yuwen Campaign, and another three thousand this time..." The scout had barely finished his words when Ma Chao's golden tiger-head spear, clattering half a foot from its sheath, slammed its tip against the sandalwood table. The dull thud sent gravel tumbling off the sandalwood table, and spiderweb-like cracks instantly appeared on the sandalwood surface. Several lieutenant commanders instinctively stepped back, only to see their commander's Adam's apple rolling violently, his eyes brimming with suppressed anger and regret.

Jia Xu slowly stepped forward, leaning on a bamboo cane, his pale knuckles stroking the sheepskin map spread out on the table. On the map, the areas between the markings for Wuwei City and the Xianbei camp were densely dotted with scarlet circles, like festering wounds. "My lord, please look," he said in a hoarse voice, poking the tip of his bamboo cane at the garrison of the 150,000-strong Xianbei army. "The enemy has set up an iron barrel formation to defend it. If we force our way through, we will be ramming our flesh and blood against a fortress of steel." The tip of his cane then slid across the Wuwei City icon. "The city is strong, but if the Xianbei attack with all their might..."

Suddenly, the shrill cries of wounded soldiers rang out from outside the tent, mingled with the bitter aroma of the herbal remedies prepared by the military doctor. Ma Chao instinctively glanced toward the camp gate, as if he could see through the thick layers of tents. He saw the wounded, wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, struggling in agony in the freezing wind. On the sand table, the small flag representing his own troops stood alone. Beside the figure of just over thirty thousand, the mark of six or seven thousand wounded was like a blunt knife, repeatedly cutting into his heart. Meanwhile, the news of victory from Zhangye fell on deaf ears. The whereabouts of the reinforcements from Xu Huang, Zhang Liao, and Pang De were unknown, vanishing like a kite with a broken string at the end of the vast snowy plain.

"Sir, you are absolutely right." After a long moment, Ma Chao took a deep breath, his knuckles clenching his cloak until they turned white as frost. He turned abruptly, his black cloak sweeping across the sand table, raising a cloud of dust. "Pass the order down, the entire army, shrink the defense line, reinforce the camp, and strictly guard all passes!" His eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, fixed on the mark of the Xianbei camp on the hanging map of Liangzhou, and he spoke word by word: "Once Zhangye is pacified, the three armies will unite and make the Xianbei pay for their blood debt with blood!"

Outside the tent, the night wind howled, stirring up a blanket of snow and blowing the battle flags at the gate, as if answering the dormant vow of revenge. Jia Xu looked at his commander's straight back and sighed inwardly. What could he do if he didn't have the advantage in terms of military strength?

For two days, there was no fighting, and no news from Zhangye County. The north wind, carrying gravel, scratched the cowhide tents like fine needles. Ma Chao stood before the sand table, repeatedly stroking the secret reports submitted by the scouts. The cinnabar handwriting on the parchment glowed dark red in the flickering candlelight, like congealed blood. The words "Nothing unusual in the Xianbei camp" appeared identically on more than thirty reports over two consecutive days.

"Report—The latest scouts have returned to camp!" the guard's voice shattered the deathly silence within the tent. Ma Chao spun abruptly. The clash of dark silver armor mixed with the crackling of charcoal fire startled the officer taking notes, causing his fingers to tremble. He took the newly delivered bamboo slips. The familiar ink marks were still neat, even the angle of the handwriting was exactly the same as a few days ago.

"From the hour of Chen to the hour of Xu, every hour must yield a report," he hurled the bamboo slips fiercely onto the map, shaking the small flags representing the Xianbei camps violently. "Hundreds of thousands of troops have set up camp, smoke from cooking fires rises and falls with the precision of a clepsydra, and patrols change shifts with impeccable timing..." Before he finished speaking, Jia Xu, leaning on a bamboo cane, stepped forward. His aged knuckles stroked the pile of secret reports on the table, and the tip of the cane suddenly jabbed heavily on the map: "My lord, the grassland people are masters of setting false alarms. This impenetrable 'calmness' is actually more dangerous than the glare of swords and sabers."

Outside the tent, the night watchman's clappers rang out, signaling the arrival of three quarters past midnight. Ma Chao stared at the markings on the sand table, showing his 34-man army. They looked so small and vulnerable in the shadow of the Xianbei camp. He suddenly tore off his cloak and flung it across the table. As he unsheathed his golden spear, a dragon's roar echoed, its chilling brilliance causing everyone inside the tent to hold their breath. "Prepare the horses! Select five thousand cavalrymen, and follow me on a night raid on the enemy camp! Let's see what they're up to!"