After roughly the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, Zhang Niujiao and Hu Cai arrived.
"This humble general awaits your orders," they said in unison, cupping their fists.
Zhang Xin turned to Zhang Niujiao. "Have all the craftsmen been gathered?"
"Yes, more than five hundred," Zhang Niujiao replied with a nod.
Zhang Xin then asked Hu Cai, "Are the materials for crossing the river ready?"
"They are… but time was short," Hu Cai said with a frown. "I couldn't gather much wood."
"How many rafts can be built?" Zhang Xin pressed.
Hu Cai scratched his head awkwardly. "This humble general is no craftsman—how would I know?"
"Then find one and ask," Zhang Xin said. He pointed toward the carriages behind them. "Zhang Niujiao, send a squad to dismantle those carts and crates. Take everything usable."
"Yes!"
Before long, Zhang Niujiao returned with an elderly man.
"This humble general, this is Old Yan," he said. "The finest craftsman in the city."
The old man glanced at Zhang Xin's youthful face, surprise flickering in his eyes. He bowed respectfully. "This old man, Yan Jin, greets the general."
"No need for formalities, Old Yan," Zhang Xin said, quickly dismounting to help him up. "Hu Cai, report the amount of wood you've gathered."
After hearing the number, Zhang Xin asked, "Old Yan, if we use this wood to build rafts that can carry ten people each, how many can we make?"
"Different wood serves different purposes," Yan Jin replied thoughtfully. "I'll need to inspect it first."
Hu Cai led them to the stockpile. After examining the materials, Yan Jin said, "If each raft is to carry ten men, we can make just over fifty."
"Only fifty?" Zhang Xin frowned, then gestured toward the dismantled carts. "What if we include those?"
Yan Jin calculated briefly. "Roughly seventy."
Zhang Xin nodded. "I'll assign all the craftsmen in the city to assist you. Don't worry about durability—just ensure each raft can make at least ten crossings. Can they be completed before dawn, at the hour of Mao?"
Yan Jin nodded firmly. "Yes."
"Good." Zhang Xin smiled. "If you can finish seventy rafts by then, you'll be richly rewarded."
"Thank you, General," Yan Jin said, bowing again.
After dismissing him, Zhang Xin turned back to Zhang Niujiao and Hu Cai.
"Once the rafts are completed, hand them over to Li Yue for escort. The two of you will combine your forces—Zhang Niujiao as the commander, Hu Cai as deputy."
He continued, "First send thirty rafts to the West Gate and await my orders. Without my command, anyone who opens the city gates will be executed."
"Yes, General!" they replied.
Zhang Niujiao hesitated. "General, earlier you assigned craftsmen, wood gathering, escorting families, and collecting incendiaries… but what about our grain supplies?"
Hu Cai blinked. "Yes… what about the grain?"
"You don't need to worry about that," Zhang Xin waved it off. "I have my own solution. Just carry out your tasks."
The two exchanged glances, saluted, and departed.
Leaving the North Gate, Zhang Xin made his way to the West Gate.
The roads were packed with Yellow Turban soldiers—some shouting, some snoring as they caught what rest they could, others groaning in pain. The noise blended into a chaotic din.
It seemed Zhang Bao had mobilized every able-bodied man in the city.
Zhang Xin gazed at them, his expression complicated.
He knew that after today, many of these living men would become corpses, their blood staining the river red.
And it would be by his own design that they marched toward slaughter.
Even knowing they would likely die within days regardless, his heart still tightened at the thought.
This was the chaos of the age.
The late Han and Three Kingdoms era would one day be remembered as a time of heroes—but beneath those legends lay countless unmarked graves.
Before the Yellow Turban Rebellion, the population stood at roughly fifty-five million. By the time the Western Jin unified the land, it had fallen to barely sixteen million.
A century of war had left fewer than three in ten alive, paving the way for further chaos in the Central Plains.
"Since I've come to this era," Zhang Xin murmured, "I must preserve what life I can for Huaxia."
He took a deep breath, a sense of purpose rising within him.
Saving these five thousand men today… was only the beginning.
"Ziqing!"
A voice called out, breaking his thoughts.
Zhang Xin turned. It was Zhang Bao.
"Second Uncle," he said, bowing as he dismounted.
"Are your preparations complete?" Zhang Bao asked.
Zhang Xin nodded. "What about yours?"
"We can depart at any moment," Zhang Bao replied. "Any final instructions?"
Zhang Xin thought briefly. "Have one torch lit for every ten men."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"If you encounter an ambush, feign an attempt to cross the river northward."
"I'll remember. Anything more?"
Zhang Xin looked at him, memories of the past two years flooding his mind. His eyes reddened.
Zhang Bao smiled faintly. "You're a general now. Don't behave like a child."
After a pause, he added, "The future of the Yellow Turbans—and Ninger—I entrust to you. Lead them well."
"I will not fail you, Second Uncle!" Zhang Xin said, bowing deeply.
Zhang Bao gave him one last look before turning away.
The city gates opened, and the Yellow Turban army poured out like a tide.
Zhang Xin remained kneeling until the last of them had departed. Only then did he rise, wiping his tears.
Rubbing his aching knees, he summoned several guards and sent them out as scouts to track the Han army's movements.
Then he ordered the gates shut and gathered his remaining fifteen hundred men at the West Gate.
The mass departure did not go unnoticed.
Soon, the Han forces received the report.
"The bandits have left the city?" Huangfu Song asked, still in his undergarments, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"How many?" he demanded.
"Approximately fifteen thousand," the scout replied.
"You're certain?" Huangfu Song straightened immediately.
"That is their entire main force."
The scout nodded. "They lit one torch for every ten men. It was easy to count."
"And whose banner did they carry?"
"The General of Earth."
Huangfu Song burst into laughter, all doubt gone. "Zhang Bao's end has come! Summon the generals—immediately!"
Before long, the officers gathered in the main tent.
"The scout reports Zhang Bao has led fifteen thousand troops out of the West Gate," Huangfu Song declared, now fully armored. "An ambush has already been set. Tonight, they abandon the city—Heaven itself delivers them to us!"
The generals grinned broadly. Victory—and reward—was within reach.
After this battle, they would return home in glory.
Huangfu Song raised a command token. "Dong Min, Niu Fu, Hu Zhen, Li Jue, Guo Si, Xu Rong!"
"Present!"
"You will lead the cavalry and strike the enemy's flanks at once!"
"Yes, sir!"
He issued another order. "Send word to General Zong Yuan at the East Gate—advance immediately, seize Lower Quyang, and cut off their retreat!"
"Yes!"
"And command Zou Jing at the North Gate to attack and prevent them from crossing the river!"
"Yes!"
Huangfu Song rose, his voice ringing with authority.
"All remaining forces—advance with me. We attack!"