"Aren't our men each assigned a spare horse?"
Xu Huang's gaze lingered on the unused warhorses, his voice calm—but what he suggested next carried a cold, practical cruelty.
"Let them run ahead."
A pause.
"Let them smash the Dong formation open."
Jishu didn't hesitate.
"Do it."
There was no room for sentiment on a battlefield already decided by blood.
Against a proper army, such a tactic would be meaningless.
But this—this was only a thousand men.
A crack was all they needed.
The Wuhuan had prospered under Zhang Xin's favor—trade, land, stability. A handful of horses meant nothing.
Lives—animal or human—were all currency now.
"Prepare one hundred horses."
The order spread.
The cavalry re-formed.
At the front, a hundred riders dismounted briefly, tearing cloth from their own garments. They blindfolded the spare horses—gentle hands for a moment… before violence.
The Dong commander across the field felt it.
Something was wrong.
He didn't know what.
But the unease crawled under his skin like insects.
"Charge!"
Jishu's voice tore through the air.
The ground trembled.
"Shields up! Spears forward!"
The Dong soldiers braced.
They had done this before.
They would do it again.
They thought.
The Wuhuan cavalry surged forward—then, ten paces from the line—
Knives flashed.
Blades drove deep into flesh.
The horses screamed.
Pain became madness.
The blindfolded beasts, robbed of sight and reason, surged forward in a frenzy of terror and agony.
They didn't see the spears.
They didn't see death.
They only ran.
Straight into it.
—
The first impact shattered the illusion of order.
Spears pierced flesh—
But momentum did not stop.
The bodies of the horses drove forward, snapping shafts, slamming into shields, crushing men beneath weight and force.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sound wasn't battle.
It was collapse.
Men flew backward.
Bones cracked.
Formations broke.
"Hold the line! HOLD—!"
The commander's voice dissolved into chaos.
It was already too late.
The difference between man and warhorse… was absolute.
Under that violent surge, the Dong line twisted, buckled—then tore open.
A gap.
That was all it took.
"Forward!"
The Wuhuan cavalry split cleanly to the sides, like water parting around a stone—
And then flooded inward.
Blades fell.
A thousand disordered infantry—already shaken, already broken—stood no chance against two thousand five hundred cavalry.
They weren't soldiers anymore.
They were prey.
Screams filled the air.
Some fled.
Some were cut down.
Some were trampled.
Some threw themselves into the Yellow River—
Choosing drowning over steel.
It didn't matter.
The result was the same.
—
"Do not pursue!"
Jishu reined in sharply.
Victory meant nothing if they lingered.
"Cross the bridge—now!"
The cavalry surged forward again, vanishing across the pontoon bridge toward Niu Fu's forces.
Moments later—
Yu Jin's Xuzhou troops arrived.
Four thousand men.
Orderly.
Silent.
Marching straight toward Dong Zhuo's main camp like a blade sliding into a sheath of flesh.
Thirty li to the east—
Han Hao's army had already collapsed.
"Do not pursue."
Zhang Xin's voice was calm.
Detached.
Wang Kuang's men were little more than frightened civilians forced into armor.
There was no glory in slaughtering them.
Only waste.
The Yellow Turban veterans returned, dragging captives behind them.
Left Leopard stepped forward, shoving a bound man to his knees.
"Marshal. This is their commander."
Han Hao raised his head—and spat words like poison.
"Zhang Xin! Traitor! You betrayed the alliance—"
Slap!
Slap!
Left Leopard struck him twice, hard.
Still, Han Hao kept cursing.
Fury burned in Left Leopard's eyes. His sword came halfway out—
"Enough."
Zhang Xin stopped him.
He looked down at Han Hao.
Cold. Measuring.
"Black turned to white," Zhang Xin said with a faint sneer. "Yuan Shao cuts off my grain, conspires with Dong Zhuo—and I am the traitor?"
Han Hao laughed harshly.
"If you weren't a traitor, why would he cut your supplies?"
Zhang Xin waved a hand.
"I don't care to argue with the blind."
A pause.
Then—
"I won't kill you."
The words stunned everyone.
"Go back," Zhang Xin said. "Watch carefully."
His eyes hardened.
"Watch how I destroy Dong Zhuo today."
Han Hao froze.
"You… defeat Dong Zhuo?"
He couldn't even process it.
"Release him."
Zhang Xin had already turned away.
Left Leopard hesitated—then obeyed, cutting the bindings.
Han Hao staggered free, still dazed, still unable to understand.
He walked away slowly.
Turning back.
Again.
And again.
As if trying to see through a fog that refused to lift.
—
The rest of the captives were released as well.
And told a story.
Yuan Shao had betrayed them.
Marquis Xuanwei had shown mercy.
They were free to go.
The effect was immediate.
Cheers erupted.
Gratitude replaced fear.
Truth no longer mattered.
Only what people chose to believe.
—
Left Leopard returned.
"Marshal, what now?"
"No outsiders here," Zhang Xin said lightly. "No need for titles."
He dismounted, sat on a stone, and smiled faintly.
"Let the men rest."
His gaze drifted toward the distance.
"There's still… a real battle coming."
At the same time—
Hua Xiong arrived at Wang Kuang's central camp.
Too late.
"Damn it!"
The banner stood alone.
Mocking him.
He slashed it down in rage.
"Wang Kuang ran."
"Hua Xiong."
Hu Zhen's voice came from behind.
Hua Xiong stiffened, saluting from horseback.
"Great Protector."
"How did you let him escape?"
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
Hua Xiong clenched his jaw.
"He abandoned his army. I only had two thousand men—"
"Enough."
Hu Zhen cut him off.
"I don't care."
"I only know he escaped."
The words hit harder than any blade.
"The Chancellor has been too lenient with you all," Hu Zhen continued, eyes sweeping across the officers. "After this battle, I will execute a silver-seal general to restore discipline."
Silence.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
But resentment burned quietly beneath lowered heads.
Hu Zhen didn't notice.
Or didn't care.
"Move."
His voice carried a cruel satisfaction.
"We take Zhang Xin's camp next."
They arrived.
And saw—
Nothing.
No guards.
No movement.
Silence.
"Just as the Chancellor said," Hu Zhen laughed, excitement rising, "it's empty!"
"Break in!"
The soldiers surged forward, tearing down defenses, smashing through the gates.
They flooded inside.
And found—
Nothing.
No soldiers.
No resistance.
Only emptiness.
Hu Zhen frowned.
"Search!"
The camp was overturned.
Tents ripped open.
Ground trampled.
Still—
Nothing.
"An empty camp…?"
Then—
A soldier paused.
Something sticky clung to his boots.
He crouched.
Touched it.
Brought it to his nose.
His eyes widened in horror.
"…Oil?"
Fire arrows fell.
—
In an instant—
The world ignited.
Flames roared upward, fed by hidden oil.
Fire spread faster than thought.
Tents became torches.
The camp became a furnace.
Dong soldiers screamed as the fire closed in from all sides.
There was no formation.
No escape.
Only heat.
And death.
"Kill!"
From within the flames—
Xu He led three thousand Qingzhou soldiers, bursting out like demons from hell itself.
Laughing.
Merciless.
"You've walked into my Lord's trap!"
"Why not surrender?"
But no one answered.
Only screams did.