"Damn it!"
Dong Zhuo's curse was low, but thick with fury.
Everything was slipping.
"Hold the camp!" he barked.
There was no other choice left.
The soldiers who had just regrouped on the drill ground—barely catching their breath—heard the alarm once more. Panic surged through them again like a tide.
They ran.
Not in order.
Not with discipline.
They ran because they were afraid.
Outside the camp—
Yu Jin didn't wait.
There was no time left for perfection.
"Set the fires."
His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
The archers stepped forward, planting torches into the ground. Flames licked upward, catching the prepared fire arrows.
"Loose!"
The sky filled with burning streaks.
"Attack the camp!"
The vanguard surged forward, carrying crude bamboo ladders.
Light.
Rough.
Enough.
This wasn't a siege.
It was an execution.
"Shoot!"
Another volley of fire arrows rained down.
They struck the walls.
They struck men.
They struck everything.
Flames began to crawl along the wooden structures, feeding on oil, spreading with quiet hunger.
The Dong soldiers scrambled into position—but too few.
Too slow.
Too late.
A handful tried to return fire.
Arrows fell weakly from the walls.
Some siege crossbows creaked to life—
But it was nothing.
A dying struggle.
The ladders went up.
The Xuzhou soldiers climbed.
And at the front—
The ones who had nothing left to lose.
Zang Ba moved first.
Blade clenched between his teeth.
Shield in one hand.
The ladder in the other.
He climbed like a man chasing his own life.
Behind him—
Sun Guan.
Wu Dun.
Yin Li.
All the same.
All desperate.
Once, they had been generals.
Now—
They were soldiers.
Stripped of rank.
Stripped of pride.
Left only with one thing:
A chance.
Zhang Xin had not forgotten them.
He had simply… waited.
And now, they understood.
If they wanted their names back—
They would have to claw them out of blood.
Bang!
Pain exploded through Zang Ba's arm.
A stone slammed into his shield, driving the impact straight into his bones.
The ladder shook violently.
For a moment—
He nearly fell.
Below, soldiers grabbed the ladder, anchoring it with everything they had.
Zang Ba gasped, his left arm numb, barely responsive.
He looked up.
Another stone was being dragged into position.
Bigger.
He wouldn't survive a second hit.
"Then don't give them time."
His teeth clenched.
His body surged upward.
A roar tore from his throat—
And he climbed.
Faster.
Harder.
Desperate.
He reached the top—
And threw himself onto the wall.
For a heartbeat—
He stood alone.
No allies.
No support.
Only enemies.
A savage grin spread across his face.
First.
"I'm the First to Ascend—!"
The thought hadn't even finished—
Spears came.
Two Dong soldiers lunged, catching him off balance.
He raised his shield—
Too late.
The force drove him backward.
Off the wall.
He fell.
Hard.
But hands caught him.
Barely.
The impact still slammed the breath from his lungs.
Pain screamed through his body.
But—
He laughed.
Wildly.
Madly.
"I made it! I was first!"
"I was first!"
The soldiers around him took it up instantly.
"Zang Ba is first to ascend!"
"Zang Ba is first!"
The cry spread.
Like fire.
Morale surged.
The Xuzhou soldiers roared, climbing faster, harder.
If one man could do it—
So could they.
On the wall—
The Dong soldiers faltered.
Just for a moment.
Just enough.
Sun Guan.
Wu Dun.
Yin Li.
They climbed.
They killed.
They carved space out of chaos.
More soldiers poured up behind them.
Then—
Yue Jin.
Fast.
Too fast.
He moved like something that couldn't be caught—slipping between blades, appearing where death was needed most.
Men fell wherever he passed.
Zhu Ling followed close behind, steady, relentless.
Together—
They turned footholds into control.
Control into collapse.
The wall was lost.
Inside the camp—
Dong Zhuo saw it.
And understood.
It was over.
"Retreat!"
There was no hesitation left.
No pride.
No defiance.
Only survival.
He fled with a handful of guards—
But not before giving one final order:
"Burn the granary!"
If he couldn't win—
He would leave nothing behind.
Flames rose soon after.
Devouring what remained.
Even in defeat—
He would deny Zhang Xin.
The gates fell open.
Yu Jin entered.
Methodical.
Unhurried.
Like a man claiming something that had always been his.
Dong Zhuo's camp—
Was taken.
Elsewhere—
Niu Fu saw the fire.
And his heart dropped.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
Before he could react—
The Wuhuan cavalry struck.
Like wolves.
Fast.
Brutal.
His vanguard shattered instantly.
There was no formation.
No resistance.
Only collapse.
"Form ranks! FORM RANKS!"
Niu Fu shouted desperately.
The center held.
Barely.
But Jishu didn't press.
He didn't need to.
His task was never to win here.
Only to delay.
To cut.
To bleed.
He circled.
Picked off stragglers.
Turned retreat into chaos.
Then—
He saw it.
The flames.
Dong Zhuo's camp—
Gone.
A signal.
Victory.
"Withdraw!"
No hesitation.
No greed.
The cavalry pulled back as swiftly as they had come.
Leaving behind fear.
And confusion.
Niu Fu regrouped what remained.
Then—
The messenger arrived.
"The Chancellor orders you to retreat to the mountain!"
"…What?"
Only a few hundred men left?
For a moment—
Niu Fu couldn't breathe.
Then instinct took over.
"Retreat!"
There was nothing left to fight for.
Only survival.
Back at the ruined camp—
Jishu met Yu Jin.
"How is it?"
Yu Jin didn't waste words.
"Go support the Lord."
"I'll hold here."
Jishu nodded.
No more needed to be said.
Fresh horses were brought.
The cavalry mounted again—
And rode.
Toward the final battlefield.
Because this war—
Wasn't over yet.