The wilderness outside Wen County was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Yellow Turban Old Guard rested in silence, their horses breathing low, their armor darkened by dust and blood.
Then—
"Marshal!"
A rider came tearing through the stillness.
"Our camp—it's on fire!"
Zhang Xin rose at once.
His gaze snapped westward.
Smoke.
Thick. Black. Rising like a signal to the heavens.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—
his eyes lit with something fierce.
"It's done."
His voice cut through the air.
"My plan has succeeded."
He mounted in one motion, drawing his sword.
"Brothers—"
The words hit like a spark.
"Time to work."
The Old Guard moved instantly.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
They mounted, steel and flesh becoming one with the charge yet to come.
"Marshal."
Left Leopard rode up, frowning slightly.
"That man from before—the one who cursed you—he refuses to leave. Says he must see you again."
Zhang Xin paused.
Han Hao.
The man who had called him traitor… and lived.
"Take the vanguard," Zhang Xin said at last. "I'll deal with him."
Left Leopard nodded and rode off with a thousand riders, disappearing into the horizon like a drawn blade.
Zhang Xin found Han Hao where he had been left.
Still standing.
Still waiting.
"What do you want?" Zhang Xin asked bluntly.
Han Hao looked up at him, eyes searching.
"…You didn't defect to Dong Zhuo?"
Zhang Xin didn't answer directly.
"You'll know tomorrow."
He gestured toward the smoke in the distance.
"My plan is already in motion. Dong Zhuo will fall today."
He turned his horse.
"I don't have time to argue."
"Wait!"
Han Hao stepped forward, voice tight.
"I am also part of the allied army. It is my duty to fight Dong Zhuo."
He hesitated only a moment.
Then bowed deeply.
"Give me a spear. Give me a horse."
"I will fight."
Zhang Xin looked at him.
Really looked.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Only resolve.
"…Your name?"
"Han Hao. Courtesy name Yuansi. Of Huai County."
Zhang Xin's eyes flickered.
The name was familiar.
A memory surfaced—another man, another force, gradually stripped away and absorbed.
So even you ended up here…
For a brief moment, something like guilt passed through him.
Then it was gone.
"Fine."
He gestured to a nearby soldier.
"He rides with you now."
Han Hao bowed again.
"Thank you, Marquis."
Zhang Xin turned to Dian Wei.
"When we charge, you go ahead."
Dian Wei frowned.
"And you?"
Zhang Xin smiled faintly.
"I'm not made of paper."
His tone was calm—but there was steel beneath it.
"If I couldn't protect myself by now, all these years would have been wasted."
He placed a hand on Dian Wei's shoulder.
"We need force to break them. One man alone won't be enough."
Dian Wei held his gaze for a moment.
Then nodded.
"…Understood."
The trap tightened.
Inside the burning camp—
Chaos.
Fire devoured everything.
Men screamed.
Horses broke free, trampling soldiers beneath their hooves.
Smoke choked the air, turning the world into a suffocating haze.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Hu Zhen didn't hesitate.
He turned first.
Crashing through his own men to escape the inferno.
Behind him, the army followed—
or tried to.
Many never made it out.
Outside the camp, Hu Zhen regrouped, forcing order from panic.
His mind raced.
Zhang Xin's main force has moved. The camp defenders cannot be many.
Two thousand.
At most.
Against his ten thousand.
The advantage was obvious.
He just needed to wait.
Let the fire burn out.
Then crush what remained.
Xu He didn't wait.
He struck.
Clearing the camp, then forming ranks outside—calm, controlled, ready.
Hu Zhen sneered.
Bold… for a bandit.
He prepared to advance—
Then paused.
Something felt wrong.
Too many.
There were too many of them.
Before he could understand—
a cry rang out.
"Great Protector! Our camp—it's burning!"
Hu Zhen froze.
Then turned south.
Smoke.
Rising.
From his own camp.
Xu He saw it too.
And laughed.
Loud.
Wild.
"Dong Zhuo has fallen into our lord's trap!"
His voice carried across the battlefield.
"By now, he is already dead! Why not surrender?!"
The words spread.
Like poison.
The Dong army wavered.
Doubt.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Hu Zhen's composure cracked.
"Back! Return immediately!"
If Dong Zhuo fell—
everything would collapse.
Nothing mattered more.
The army began to withdraw.
But Xu He struck again.
Relentless.
Three thousand rested soldiers against five thousand exhausted infantry.
The result was inevitable.
The slaughter reversed.
The hunters became prey.
"Does he intend to abandon us?!"
The cries reached Hu Zhen's ears.
He turned—
and rage surged through him.
Three thousand men.
Chasing ten thousand.
Killing them.
Like animals.
"You think I won't turn back?!" he roared.
"Reinforce! Turn back and crush them!"
He had made his decision.
Dong Zhuo still had Niu Fu.
Reinforcements would come.
But if he lost five thousand infantry here—
there would be no forgiveness.
No escape from responsibility.
Better to win here first.
Then return.
What he didn't know—
was that Niu Fu was already dying.
The Wuhuan cavalry struck like a storm.
Jishu led them past Dong Zhuo's camp without stopping.
Straight toward Mengjin.
Toward Niu Fu.
Toward chaos.
On the watchtower, Dong Zhuo smiled—
at first.
Seeing Zhang Xin's camp burn, he thought victory was at hand.
Then—
hoofbeats.
Loud.
Fast.
Wrong.
He turned.
His face changed.
"Wuhuan cavalry…?"
Realization hit.
Cold.
Sharp.
"I've been tricked."
"Enemy attack! Form ranks!"
His voice cracked through the camp.
"Send word to Niu Fu—bring reinforcements!"
The messenger ran—
but never made it far.
The cavalry had already passed.
Like wind.
Like death.
"Not here…"
Dong Zhuo's mind raced.
"Zhang Xin is targeting Niu Fu!"
Panic surged.
"Gather the army! Move out! Save him!"
He understood.
Too well.
Ten thousand men.
Unprepared.
Facing fast-moving cavalry.
They wouldn't be annihilated—
but they would bleed.
Badly.
The camp scrambled to form.
Then—
another shock.
Yu Jin's infantry struck.
From nowhere.
Four thousand strong.
Disciplined.
Silent.
Deadly.
Dong Zhuo's composure shattered.
"How…?!"
His voice trembled.
"Six thousand troops… where did he hide them?!"
Everything was unraveling.
Too many enemies.
Too many directions.
Too many mistakes.
He turned wildly.
"Wenhe! Wenhe!"
No answer.
He spun around—
Jia Xu was gone.
Vanished.
Without a word.
Leaving behind—
a battlefield already lost.