Sumeru Bloodsand: Lü Bu Rides Through a Thousand Gullies, Outwitting One Hundred Twenty Thousand Troops
Lü Bu led seventy thousand iron cavalry deep into the Thousand Gully Sands of Sumeru. Everyone thought this was a suicidal battle with vastly mismatched forces.
Yet he ordered all water sources in the oases across the sands to be poisoned overnight, and stacked dry grass on both sides of the canyon.
When the one hundred twenty thousand remnant Sumeru troops were racked with thirst and their morale shattered, he ignited the grass. Blown by the wind, the flames turned into a fire dragon stretching a hundred li.
Amid the blazing sky, Lü Bu stood alone on a sand dune, his Sky Piercer Halberd pointed straight at the fleeing Rahman and Ghalib:
"Surrender, or — your nine clans will be exterminated!"
The next day, the entire remnant Sumeru army knelt and surrendered. Rahman and Ghalib were beheaded for public display, their nine clans wiped out…
Thousand Gullies of Sumeru, an endless sea of sand.
Hot wind was the sole ruler here, swirling dry, stinking gravel endlessly across deep gullies and past the skeletal remains of withered poplar forests. The scorching sun hung high, turning heaven and earth into a giant furnace, rising with mirages that distorted vision. Here, water was a luxury more precious than gold, and life a faint spark the wind and sand could snuff out at will.
But at this moment, this dead land was being shaken by another force.
Hooves.
A black torrent silently poured into the sand sea. Seventy thousand Bingzhou Wolf Riders, both men and horses clad in dark armor, revealing only pairs of cold, sharp eyes. Heavy hooves trampled the soft sand, rumbling like muffled thunder, yet strangely swallowed and dispersed by the boundless dunes and ravines. Unlike the resounding clamor of Central Plains battlefields, it only added a gloomy, pent-up sense of oppression. Like a giant serpent adapted to the desert, they wound along dry riverbeds deep into this forbidden land.
Beneath the central army's grand standard, Lü Bu reined in his horse.
Red Hare snorted restlessly, its white breath instantly scattered by the hot wind. He wore not full armor, only a dark gold beast-patterned scale armor, draped in a scarlet cloak — striking as a burning brand in the monotonous yellow sand. His gaze swept over jagged rock walls on both sides, past the swiftly vanishing black dots of Sumeru scouts on distant dunes, and the corner of his mouth curled into a faint, icy smile.
"General, scouts report: the one hundred twenty thousand remnant troops of Rahman and Ghalib have their main force holed up in the ruins of Thousand Gully City, fifty li ahead, relying on terrain to camp for tens of li. Their scouts are active, probing our strength." Zhang Liao's voice came beside him, steady with a trace of imperceptible worry. Seventy thousand against one hundred twenty thousand, deep in foreign territory, scarce water — by all accounts, this was a reckless gamble, even a suicide mission.
Lü Bu did not turn back, his voice calm yet ringing like metal: "What is false seems real, what is real seems false. They think I only rely on brute courage, killing with my halberd." He tilted his head slightly, glancing at Zhang Liao and the breathless generals behind him. "Order: the army slows advance, thirty li per day. Send more patrol riders, spread banners widely, feign searching for water and dispersing forces."
He paused, the tip of his Sky Piercer Halberd tapping the scorching sand beneath his feet: "Gao Shun."
"Your subordinate awaits orders!" Clad in dark armor, Gao Shun stepped forward, his face hard as stone.
"Lead the elite of the Fallen Camp, with all military physicians skilled in pharmacology and all the Poison Plumes, split into ten teams. Travel by night, hide by day." Lü Bu's voice was low, each word like ice pellets falling. "Target: all confirmed and potential oases and underground river outlets around the Sumeru army. Pour this substance into every water source, leaving none untouched."
He raised his hand, a jet-black feather-shaped token falling into Gao Shun's grasp. Poison Plume — forged from the feathers of the legendary venomous zhen bird, dissolving instantly in water, colorless and tasteless. Those who drank it did not die at once, but suffered rotting viscera, declining energy, and gradual weakness.
All generals shuddered inwardly. Cutting off water — this was a total extermination ploy! In desert warfare, water was lifeblood. If this plan succeeded, the one hundred twenty thousand Sumeru troops would become turtles in a jar in an instant.
Gao Shun hesitated not, taking the token and saying solemnly: "Yes!" He turned to muster troops, his dark armor quickly melting into the cavalry torrent and vanishing.
Lü Bu's gaze returned to the distant, heat-distorted outline of a dilapidated city.
"Wenyuan."
"Your subordinate awaits orders!"
"Lead twenty thousand cavalry to secretly stack dry poplar wood and camel thorn on both cliffs of Echoing Sand Valley, thirty li east of Thousand Gully City — as much as possible. Cover lightly with sand to avoid enemy detection. Prepare oil, and act on my signal."
Zhang Liao took a deep breath, suppressing his turmoil: "Your subordinate understands!"
Orders were issued one after another, cold and efficient. Seventy thousand iron cavalry, a precise killing machine, began weaving a deadly web across the vast sand sea by Lü Bu's will. At its center were the one hundred twenty thousand remnant Sumeru troops, who thought they could resist with terrain and numerical advantage.
Time passed in anxious waiting.
In the first few days, Rahman, commander of the Sumeru army in Thousand Gully City, remained calm. Around forty, dark-skinned with sunken eyes, wrapped in a white turban and ornate chainmail, he even sneered at scout reports that the Bingzhou army moved sluggishly, seemingly troubled by water shortages.
"Han cavalry, cut off from Central Plains supplies in this death sand sea, are nothing but headless flies," he told his deputy Ghalib, a burly, bearded brute. "Lü Bu is brave, but just a brute. When their men and horses are exhausted, we strike."
Ghalib brandished his heavy scimitar, rumbling: "The commander is wise! We'll send Lü Bu to his doom!"
Yet ten days passed, and the Bingzhou army still dawdled unhurriedly — while an eerie atmosphere settled over Thousand Gully City.
First, patrol squads on the perimeter began vomiting, diarrhea, and collapsing from weakness. Then more and more soldiers fell ill. Military physicians initially blamed summer heat, prescribing cooling herbs to no avail. The sick worsened, skin festering, wails echoing through the camp.
"The water! The water is poisoned!" Rahman finally realized, furious and terrified, overturning his table. He rushed to the water vat, scooping a ladle — clear, odorless, but he dared not taste it.
Panic spread like a plague through the Sumeru camp. All stored water was strictly inspected, but military reservoirs and nearby small oases alike were tainted by the invisible curse. Soldiers dared not drink camp water, risking death at the hands of Bingzhou patrols to seek water farther out — only to return empty-handed, or with deadly poisoned water.
Thirst, the cruelest fire, seared every Sumeru soldier's throat and will. Morale crumbled visibly. Rahman tried to crack down, executing several men spreading panic, yet could not stop the despair engulfing the army. One hundred twenty thousand troops, deprived of water, became trapped beasts struggling in the sand sea.
Just as the Sumeru army descended into literal torment, Lü Bu struck.
Leading the remaining fifty thousand main cavalry, he burst forth like a dormant cheetah. No longer concealing his tracks, no longer conserving strength, the black torrent churned up sand, charging with unstoppable momentum toward Echoing Sand Valley east of Thousand Gully City — the last relatively safe channel for uncontaminated water, and their final psychological barrier.
Rahman and Ghalib had no choice but to fight. They drove thirsty, sickly, unsteady soldiers to hastily form ranks, trying to block the Bingzhou army outside the valley with numbers.
The battle erupted at the valley entrance.
Sumeru soldiers roared hoarsely, brandishing scimitars to charge — yet their assault lacked former ferocity, steps faltering, eyes glazed. Opposite them, Bingzhou cavalry stood silent as mountains, erupting into earth-shaking war cries only when the enemy closed within a hundred paces.
Lü Bu took the lead, Red Hare like a burning flame crashing into the enemy lines. His Sky Piercer Halberd became a bolt of cold lightning cutting through air, leaving men and horses toppled, severed limbs and sand flying skyward. He needed no intricate moves — only simple, direct chops, slashes, sweeps, and thrusts, each strike carrying mountain-splitting force, carving bloody paths through dense enemy ranks.
Fifty thousand rested, bloodthirsty cavalry against tens of thousands of starved, thirsty, demoralized infantry — the outcome was never in doubt. The battle was a one-sided slaughter from the start. Sumeru lines melted like snow in sunlight, collapsing rapidly.
"Hold! Hold the line!" Ghalib's eyes bloodshot, brandishing his scimitar to personally oversee the battle, beheading several retreating soldiers, yet could not stop the total rout.
Protected by his guards, Rahman watched pale-faced. Defeat was certain. The only escape was through Echoing Sand Valley into the desert depths.
"Retreat! Fall back into the valley! Exit the other side!" Rahman shrieked.
Fleeing Sumeru soldiers flooded the narrow valley entrance like a broken dam.
At that moment, Lü Bu, standing calmly on a sand dune observing the battle, raised his Sky Piercer Halberd and slashed forward.
The signal.
On the high valley cliffs, Zhang Liao and his men, waiting long, spotted the glinting halberd in the sun.
"Ignite!"
The order was short and cruel.
Lit torches were thrown down. Oil-soaked dry poplar and camel thorn burst into flames instantly. Fanned by wind — the desert's hot wind now a deadly accelerant — the fire roared upward, spreading rapidly to form two rampaging fire dragons tearing along the canyon walls.
Thick smoke billowed to the sky, dying it dark red. Blistering heat distorted air, sparks crackling like the grim reaper's laugh. Sumeru fugitives pouring into the valley were swallowed by the merciless fire, screaming in despair. Flames ahead, iron blades behind — Echoing Sand Valley became the gate of hell.
Lü Bu reined in Red Hare on the tallest sand dune at the battlefield's edge.
His scarlet cloak flapped violently in the hot wind, dark gold armor reflecting the raging fire below, casting his tall figure as a descending demon god. He coldly overlooked the carnage, watching enemies writhing in fire and wailing under hooves, his face expressionless — only in his deep eyes burned a flame hotter, crueler than the valley's inferno.
His gaze pierced smoke and chaos, locking precisely onto two figures fleeing the fire under desperate guard: Rahman and Ghalib.
He slowly raised his halberd, its cold tip pointing at the two men from afar. Lü Bu's voice was not loud, yet carried uncanny penetration, drowning out all battlefield noise and screams, reaching every surviving Sumeru soldier clearly, and hammering into Rahman and Ghalib's hearts:
"Surrender, or —"
He paused, each word chiseled from ten-thousand-year ice:
"Your nine clans will be exterminated!"
"Exterminate your nine clans!"
"Exterminate!"
The final echo reverberated through the valley, weaving with fire's roar and dying wails into the most chilling melody of this doomsday scene.
Surviving Sumeru soldiers completely collapsed. Water cut off, retreat burned, commanders fleeing, facing a god-like Lü Bu and his invincible cavalry, hearing the terrifying decree of clan extermination — all will to resist vanished utterly.
Somewhere, the first man dropped his scimitar, knelt on scorching sand, pressing his forehead to the ground. Like the first domino falling, a chain reaction erupted. Living Sumeru soldiers discarded weapons in waves, prostrating themselves, a black sea of kneeling figures. Cries and pleas replaced war cries, echoing across the valley.
With their guards dwindling, Rahman and Ghalib floundered at the fire's edge, soon surrounded by Wolf Riders. Ghalib roared, fighting like a cornered beast, until Zhang Liao pierced his thigh with a spear, throwing him from his horse — several spears then pressed his throat. Rahman turned ashen, watching kneeling subordinates and Lü Bu towering on the dune like a deity of life and death. He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, letting soldiers seize his scimitar and bind him.
The battle was over.
The next day, the scorching sun still blazed over sands stained by a night of blood and death.
Before Thousand Gully City's broken walls, a temporary platform was erected. Lü Bu sat atop it, armor bright, cloak scarlet. Below stood tens of thousands of silent, bloodlust-unabated Bingzhou cavalry. Farther out, a black mass of disarmed Sumeru prisoners — nearly a hundred thousand strong — knelt in silence, only fear hanging in the air.
Rahman and Ghalib were bound tightly and dragged before the platform. They looked twenty years older overnight, ragged and defeated.
Lü Bu barely glanced at them, only lifting his chin slightly.
Blade flashed.
Two heads rolled onto the sand, eyes wide open in disbelief. Headless corpses were roughly dragged away by Bingzhou soldiers.
"Order." Lü Bu's voice sounded again, calm yet sending chills down every spine. "Seize all relatives of Rahman and Ghalib, near and far. Execute them here publicly, exterminate their three clans."
He paused, sweeping his gaze over trembling prisoners, adding softly but clearly to every corner:
"Nine clans."
The order was carried out swiftly. Cries, pleas, and curses briefly broke the silence, then fell silent under swinging blades. Thick blood stench overpowered yesterday's fire smoke, lingering over Thousand Gully Sands.
Lü Bu stood, walking to the platform edge and looking down. His shadow stretched long in the sun, merging with the fluttering "Lü" standard behind him.
The sand sea was silent, recording this day of cruelty and submission.
From start to finish, he did not sweat a single drop.