The night was as dark as ink.
Zhang Xin stood atop the city wall, staring into the distance at a long, winding line of fire—the torches of the Yellow Turban army stretching like a blazing dragon across the plain.
The formation remained orderly.
That meant they had not yet encountered the Han ambush.
Five li… ten li… fifteen li…
Zhang Xin slowly let out a breath.
Just as he had predicted—the Han army had set their ambush fifteen li away. That distance greatly increased the chances of success.
Thinking it over, it made sense. Lower Quyang was surrounded by rivers on three sides, with only a single road to the west. There was no need to place the ambush too close.
The terrain was flat and open. If the ambush had been too near, the Yellow Turbans might have spotted it and retreated back into the city, ruining everything.
By the Yin hour (3–5 AM), Zhang Niujiao sent men delivering thirty pre-built rafts.
Zhang Xin glanced at the sky, then instructed the courier, "Tell Zhang Niujiao—once he sees fire from the East Gate, he is to immediately lead his troops across the river."
"At the same time, inform Hu Cai to station five hundred men outside the North Gate. If the Han attack, they are to make as much noise as possible—create a diversion and throw them into confusion."
"If the Han don't leave, hold them off. If they do leave, don't pursue—cross the river immediately."
"Understood!"
The soldier departed at once.
Zhang Xin returned to the wall. In the distance, the fiery dragon suddenly twisted—its front collapsing inward.
His expression sharpened.
Zhang Bao had met the ambush.
"It's starting…" Zhang Xin murmured. "Second Uncle… hold on a little longer."
—
Han Army – North Camp
Zou Jing had received Huangfu Song's orders and summoned Liu Bei.
Before long, Liu Bei entered the tent and bowed. "Colonel, you summoned me?"
Zou Jing spoke plainly, relaying the command. "We move to attack. The camp must not be left undefended. You will lead a thousand men to guard it."
Liu Bei hesitated. "Since I began serving under you, I have yet to achieve any merit. Now that the rebels are nearing defeat, I wish to join the battle and contribute what little I can."
Zou Jing smiled faintly.
Liu Bei's troops were little more than militia—useful for support, not decisive combat. That was why he had rarely deployed them.
"Xuan De, there is no need to rush. Guarding the camp is also a merit."
In truth, Zou Jing simply didn't want Liu Bei taking a share of the final victory.
Lower Quyang was already empty—the main Yellow Turban force had left. There was no danger here.
If not for Huangfu Song's caution, he would have taken every last soldier with him.
"Since that is so…" Liu Bei pressed carefully, "I have two capable warriors under me—Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. Night battles are dangerous. Perhaps they could accompany you?"
Zou Jing inwardly rolled his eyes.
He understood perfectly—Liu Bei wanted his men to earn merit.
Still, he quite liked Liu Bei's demeanor.
"It's fine. Send them along."
Liu Bei's face lit up. "Thank you, Colonel!"
—
Back at camp, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei stepped forward as Liu Bei returned.
"My lord, is there a battle?" Guan Yu asked.
Liu Bei nodded. "The rebels have abandoned the city. The Colonel is attacking. I've been assigned to guard the camp."
"Guard the camp?" Zhang Fei frowned in disappointment.
They had joined for glory, not to sit idle.
Liu Bei smiled. "I recommended you both. You may follow the Colonel into battle."
Zhang Fei's face lit up instantly. "Ha! Finally! My spear's been itching for this!"
He laughed loudly, full of excitement.
Guan Yu, however, frowned slightly. "If we both go, who will ensure my lord's safety? I can handle the enemy alone. Let Yi De stay."
Zhang Fei bristled. "What nonsense! I've waited this long for a chance to fight! The camp has a thousand men—what danger could there be? Or do you not want me to earn merit?"
"Yi De speaks reasonably," Liu Bei nodded. "The city is empty. There is no cause for concern."
Guan Yu considered, then nodded.
—
After Zou Jing departed, Liu Bei returned to his tent, then—after some thought—strapped on his sword and went out to patrol.
Even if the danger was low, appearances still mattered.
He had long harbored great ambitions. Now that opportunity had come, he couldn't afford to be careless.
Only at dawn (Mao hour, 5–7 AM) did exhaustion overtake him.
He had just returned to his tent when a soldier rushed in.
"Report! Lower Quyang is on fire!"
Liu Bei froze, then hurried to the watchtower.
Sure enough—flames soared into the sky in the direction of the city.
"Could there still be rebels inside?" he exclaimed. "Send scouts at once!"
Before long, several retainers returned—bloodied and breathless.
"My lord!"
"The Yellow Turbans… have already crossed the river!"