Chapter 38: Assassinating the Commander

“Open the gate!”
Xinye, beneath a darkening sky.
A few battered lanterns hung on the north gate tower, the banners of Jing Province fluttering in the wind. Deng Ji, leading more than eight hundred battered survivors, arrived at the gates of Xinye, their retreat desperate and disheveled. Staring up at the towering walls, relief swept over them—they had finally returned to the city that haunted their thoughts after days of harrowing marches.
“Who goes there at the gate?”
A voice shouted from atop the city wall.
“The General Who Pacifies the North returns! Open the gate at once!”
Deng Ji sent a man to call up from below.
“Which general?”
came the voice from above.
“The General Who Pacifies the North! He’s back! You’d better open up quickly, or we’ll have to take action against you!”
The man below grew impatient, yelling up.
“Don’t you try to fool me down there. The General marched out with over ten thousand men—how is it only a handful of you return? Just earlier, someone pretended to be the General and slipped in, setting the city aflame and murdering people—we barely managed to put them down. Now you claim you’re him too—do you take me for a fool?”
The man above cursed furiously.
“We truly are the General’s men! He’s right here!”
The man below pointed to Deng Ji, mounted on his great horse.
“Where is this General, then? I don’t see him.”
Deng Ji rode forward and shouted, “I am here! Who commands within the city? Bring them forth—I’ll speak with them myself!”
“And how do we know you’re truly him?”
came the voice.
“Whoever commands in the city will recognize me at once.”
Deng Ji called.
“Wait there!”
Moments later, several figures appeared atop the walls.
“Chief Clerk Yi Ji is here! State your name and come forward!”
“Ji Bo, it’s me! Open the gate!”
Deng Ji called up, recognizing the silhouette.
“General, forgive me—I cannot open the gate.”
Yi Ji’s sigh drifted down from the battlements.
“Why not?”
Deng Ji cried in shock.
“I too am a man of Nanyang.”
Yi Ji sighed again.
Hearing this, Deng Ji’s heart filled with fury. “Ji Bo, I’ve said it before—Nanyang’s people are Jing’s people. You are a wise man. How could you fall for Cao’s tricks?”
“General, today you sent the broken ranks from Nanyang to the front, stripped for battle—did you ever truly consider them people of Jing? From this day forth, Nanyang and Jing will be divided by suspicion and resentment. The fault is yours.”
“Nonsense!”
Deng Ji erupted in anger, drawing his sword and preparing to order an assault on the gate.
Whoosh—
A cold arrow shot down from the wall, catching Deng Ji off guard and striking him from his horse.
“The General’s been unhorsed!”
A band of routed soldiers rushed forward, grabbed the wounded Deng Ji, and quickly retreated from the gate.
“Commander Pei!”
Yi Ji turned to a figure behind him, bowing his head, “Does this response satisfy Commander Pei?”
“Haha! I am well pleased.”
Pei Yuanshao stepped from the shadows into the lantern light, his face rugged, his smile broad. “Xinye will need your help inside, sir.”
Yi Ji nodded helplessly, “But there are still three thousand soldiers garrisoned within. You have but a hundred. I can win over perhaps five or six hundred more, but to truly control Xinye with so few... it will not be easy.”
Pei Yuanshao said nothing, simply gazing out at the darkness beyond the walls. After a while, he smiled,
“Reinforcements are here.”
Yi Ji looked out and saw four or five hundred men on horseback galloping swiftly from the distance.
“Only that many?”
Yi Ji’s disappointment was evident.
“That many?”
Pei Yuanshao burst out laughing.
“With them, it’s more than enough.”

“Open the gate!!”
The ancient hinges groaned—the path had never been swept for guests, but tonight, the city opened its gates for you.
——
“Report, General! The battle at the riverbanks is over—General Deng Ji has been utterly defeated and is fleeing.”
On a hill above the upper reaches of the stream, a swift rider arrived before Zhonglang General Han Song, reporting the clash between Cao Xin and Deng Ji.
“So swiftly defeated?”
Han Song was astonished.
Deng Ji, though a scholar, was a masterful commander and had played a crucial role in Liu Jingzhou’s recapture of the nine prefectures—hence his posting at Xinye, his reputation in the army second only to Wen Pin.
How could such a seasoned scholar-general lose to a young commander of the Cao army, and so quickly, so utterly?
“What losses did the Cao army sustain?”
Han Song frowned.
“Our scouts report over two thousand wounded among their ranks. They’re escorting more than three thousand prisoners, presently retreating toward Jinyang County.”
The scout replied.
“Two thousand wounded and three thousand prisoners? Are you certain?”
Han Song pondered.
“I wouldn’t dare deceive you! Their column is less than three li from our position—you can see it from this very hill.”
The scout pointed to a distant summit.
“Scout again!”
“At once, General!”
Han Song sent out three more riders, and their reports were largely the same: the Cao army had just over a thousand infantry and two hundred cavalry, guarding more than two thousand wounded and over three thousand prisoners, retreating toward Jinyang.
“To me!”
Han Song summoned his officers, ordering his two lieutenants to each lead two thousand men in pursuit, to annihilate the Cao army, reclaim the prisoners, and turn defeat into victory.
“Yes, General!”
The lieutenants were just about to depart when—
Thunderous hoofbeats echoed in the distance, shaking the valley.
Han Song and his officers looked back in alarm to see, a mere li away atop the hills, more than a hundred armored riders, surging forward like a pack of wolves.
At their head rode a general astride a black stallion, a dreadful demon mask upon his face, brandishing an enormous iron lance—charging straight for the heart of their formation.
“Archers! Loose!”
Han Song roared.
Arrows whistled down from the darkened sky, striking the armor of the Langya Cavalry with a cacophony of sparks. Only three horses fell behind.
With the first volley spent, the riders were already within three hundred paces—no time for a second shot.
“Cavalry! Cut them down!”
Han Song yelled, retreating several steps.
Two lieutenants led over four hundred light cavalry out from the flanks to intercept, but the Langya riders crashed forward with stunning speed.
At the front, Cao Xin swept his iron lance left and right, unhorsing both lieutenants and dozens of their men, carving a bloody path for the hundred riders who thundered in behind him.
In a blink, they were barely a hundred paces from the front lines—the two armies’ commanders face to face. Han Song saw the demon mask, and Cao Xin saw the terror and panic in Han Song’s eyes.
“Spearmen! Stop them!”
Han Song shouted, wheeling his horse to flee.
Four companies of spearmen hurried to block the way, but before they could form ranks, Cao Xin plunged into their midst. His iron lance, over nine feet long, spun like a windmill—wherever it swung, bones shattered and bodies crumpled, shrieks filling the air.
The seven-deep phalanx collapsed under only three blows, and Cao Xin rode straight through, pursuing the fleeing Han Song.
“Quick, quick! Stop him!”
Han Song screamed.
Bladesmen rushed in to surround Cao Xin, but he swept his iron lance in wide arcs, heads flying, bodies falling, until he roared—
“Out of my way!”
The four companies of bladesmen shrank back in terror.
“Kill him!”
Han Song kept fleeing in panic.
Suddenly, the massive iron lance descended from above—a thunderous blow.
Han Song was dead.
“Han Song is slain! Surrender and you will not be killed!”
Cao Xin stood atop his horse, his lance hoisting Han Song’s lifeless body, his shout echoing.
“Victory to the General!”
“Victory to the General!”
The Langya riders, seeing him slay the enemy commander amidst thousands, roared in exultation.

The remaining four thousand Jing soldiers, seeing their leader and lieutenants cut down, broke and fled in every direction like startled beasts.
Soon, only Cao Xin, a hundred Langya riders, and hundreds of corpses remained on the hill.
Cao Xin dismounted, thrust his lance into the earth, and pulled off his boots—sweat and blood poured out like Bordeaux wine.
[BATTLE COMPLETE]
[Defeated 6,000 with 100, slew the enemy’s commander, casualties under 10%. Rating: Outstanding. Free Attribute Points: 2]
[Cao Xin]
[Constitution: 100] (Top-tier general) (Superb recovery)
[Strength: 90] (First-class general)
[Agility: 84] (Second-class general)
[Intelligence: 69] (Third-rate strategist)
[Resistance: 65] (Poison, cold, heat, corrosion, aging…)
[Free Attribute Points Remaining: 4]
“At last, two more points.”
Cao Xin laughed heartily.
The Langya riders joined in his laughter. They had won—a hundred against over six thousand, slaying the enemy’s top general and scattering their army. This was the kind of tale they could boast about for a lifetime.
“Yuanjian, gather the wounded. We’ll return to the city and celebrate soon!”
“Yes, General!”
Liao Hua summoned the squad leaders to clear the field.
Cao Xin stroked the stubble on his chin—four points to spend, but on what?
“Report, General!”
A scout raced over.
“Zhang Xiu of Rangcheng is coming fast with eight hundred Xiliang cavalry—only two li away.”
“Damn it! It never ends!”
Cao Xin cursed.
After three battles, both men and horses were spent. One more fight would only cost more riders.
Besides, that bastard Zhang Xiu only had eight hundred men—less than a thousand, not even enough for a decent reward. What was the point?
It was a losing proposition all around.
“General, we can still fight!”
Every last rider stood, a hundred-odd stalwart men—none cowards.
“Hold on!”
Cao Xin gestured, turning to the scout,
“How far has the wounded column gotten?”
“About six li from here, thirty li from Jinyang.”
The scout unrolled a map.
Cao Xin nodded. “Does Zhang Xiu have infantry, or only the eight hundred cavalry?”
“None seen yet, General. As soon as I learned, I came to report. More details are being gathered.”
“Go—scout at once!”
When the scout had left, Cao Xin drew his lance and mounted up. The others followed, no questions asked.
He smiled, then ordered Liao Hua to take forty wounded riders and escort the seven gravely injured back to Jinyang.
He led a hundred and twenty men to a gently sloping meadow, listening as the thunder of hooves grew ever closer.
“All points to Strength!”
[Cao Xin]
[Constitution: 100] (Top-tier general) (Superb recovery)
[Strength: 94] (First-class general)
[Agility: 84] (Second-class general)
[Intelligence: 69] (Third-rate strategist)
[Resistance: 65] (Poison, cold, heat, corrosion, aging…)
[Free Attribute Points Remaining: 0]
A rush of warmth surged through him, power flooding every muscle. As hundreds of riders thundered toward him, Cao Xin raised his iron lance and roared,
“Zhang Xiu!”
“Come and meet your death!!”