The distance of thirty li could be covered by cavalry in less than half an hour. There was no longer any opportunity to press the attack.
Zhang Xin decisively ordered a withdrawal. The troops gathered the wounded, collected the remains of the fallen, and retreated westward.
Seeing the Yellow Turbans pull back, Tadun felt his legs give way. He collapsed to the ground.
He knew… he had survived.
But looking at the mere dozens of Wuhuan still around him, grief overwhelmed him, and he burst into tears.
When they had set out, three thousand cavalry had been full of vigor. In just over a month, they were nearly annihilated.
And worse—the Yellow Turbans had withdrawn.
Which meant only one thing:
His uncle was coming.
Tadun felt lost. How could he possibly explain this to Qiuliju?
As his eyes wandered, he spotted Wu Yan resting beneath a tree. Rage surged instantly.
"It's all your fault, you old bastard!"
He strode forward, grabbed Wu Yan by the collar, and began raining punches down on him.
"If you hadn't stirred up my uncle to send troops, how could I have suffered such a defeat?!"
Blow after blow fell as he cursed.
Wu Yan was furious inside.
You killed my son, my envoy—and even sent me a woman's skirt to humiliate me! And now you say I provoked this?!
But he dared not speak.
He simply squatted down, hands over his head, and endured the beating.
Eventually, exhausted, Tadun tossed him aside and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
—
Half an hour later, thunderous hoofbeats echoed in the distance.
Thousands of Wuhuan cavalry approached, led by a white-haired old man.
"Uncle! I'm here!"
Tadun scrambled down the slope with his men.
"Who goes there?!" Qiuliju barked.
Over a hundred riders moved to block their path.
"It's me—Tadun!"
Qiuliju stared in shock.
This ragged, blood-covered figure… was his once-proud nephew?
His face had sunk, his body gaunt—he looked like a ghost.
Qiuliju's gaze shifted to the survivors.
"…Out of three thousand men… only these remain?"
"…Yes," Tadun said hoarsely.
Qiuliju's breathing quickened.
"What about the seven hundred who remained earlier?!" he roared, lashing Tadun with his whip.
The strike tore open his face, blood spraying.
Tadun did not dare dodge.
He stood still, eyes shut, enduring the punishment.
Only after Qiuliju exhausted himself did he stop.
"How did this happen?" he demanded.
Tadun recounted everything—from the Yuyang expedition to the final encirclement.
Qiuliju frowned deeply.
"You're saying… during the Yuyang battle, they had only five hundred cavalry—but by the Lantern Festival, they had two thousand?"
"Yes."
"Impossible!"
Qiuliju shook his head. "The Han are not skilled riders. Even learning to mount properly takes time—how could they form such a force in half a month?"
Tadun hurriedly explained.
"They had strange horse tack—on both sides of the horse, like hanging scales… it made mounting easy."
He described the stirrups and saddle in detail.
Qiuliju fell silent.
Then slowly looked at his own legs—unsupported, gripping the horse by strength alone.
If such devices existed…
Riding would be easier.
Combat more stable.
Fatigue reduced.
His eyes lit up.
"That Zhang Xin… is a genius."
For generations, the Wuhuan had lived on horseback—yet none had devised such a thing.
"If we can recruit him…" Qiuliju muttered, excitement rising, "the Wuhuan will grow far stronger!"
He made a decision immediately.
"This is our chance. He has barely a thousand men—we cannot let him escape!"
The army resumed its advance.
Tadun was puzzled. "Uncle, why pursue?"
Qiuliju smiled faintly. "He's waiting for us at the Ru River."
"Waiting?!" Tadun was stunned. "With our army approaching, he dares not flee?"
Qiuliju sighed inwardly at his nephew's inexperience.
"That man provoked Wu Yan deliberately—to force this war. Everything was planned."
Tadun froze.
Memories flooded back—the insults, the delays, the sudden cavalry expansion, the relentless pursuit.
It all clicked.
"…So this was all his design?"
Qiuliju nodded. "If he doesn't stop us here, our five thousand troops will march straight to Yuyang. All his efforts would be wasted."
Soon enough, they reached the river.
Sure enough—on the opposite bank, the Yellow Turbans stood ready in formation.
Tadun was stunned.
"Uncle… your foresight is unmatched!"
Qiuliju only smiled.
He sent an envoy across the frozen river.
—
"Where is your commander?" the envoy shouted.
Guan Yu stepped forward—but Zhang Xin spoke instead.
"I am here."
The envoy blinked in disbelief.
This… youth… had destroyed Tadun's army?
"My master admires you," the envoy said quickly. "But you are outnumbered and isolated. Why not join us in Liucheng? My master will recommend you as a commander."
Zhang Xin smiled faintly.
"I can agree. But I have a grudge with Wu Yan. Kill him—and I will surrender immediately."
The envoy returned and relayed the message.
Wu Yan panicked. "My lord! This must be a trick—do not trust him!"
Qiuliju laughed. "Of course it is."
Then he sent the envoy back.
"As long as you cross the river," the envoy declared, "Wu Yan's head will be yours!"
Zhang Xin glanced at Guan Yu.
In the next instant—
The envoy's head fell.
Qiuliju watched from afar, unbothered.
If deception worked, good. If not, a single envoy meant nothing.
"It's late," he said calmly. "Withdraw and make camp."
—
That night, he summoned Tadun.
"I'll give you two thousand men. Cross the river secretly—and tomorrow, surround them."
Tadun was overjoyed. "Thank you, Uncle!"
"Remember," Qiuliju said coldly, "capture Zhang Xin alive."
—
On the other side, Zhang Xin also ordered a withdrawal.
Guan Yu frowned. "Are we abandoning the defense?"
"This position cannot be held," Zhang Xin said calmly. "If they cross elsewhere, we'll be surrounded."
"But if we retreat, they will march on Yuyang unchecked," Guan Yu said. "Wouldn't all your efforts be wasted?"
Zhang Xin smiled.
"Twenty li west, there's a strategic junction—connected to multiple routes, with terrain to defend."
"We'll make our stand there—and wait for reinforcements."
"But building defenses overnight—"
Zhang Xin glanced at the snow-covered land and smiled mysteriously.
"Brother Yun, don't worry. I have a plan."
—
At dawn, Tadun crossed the river and led his cavalry straight toward the Yellow Turban camp.
"Zhang Xin! This time, you won't escape!"
But as they approached…
Something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
No movement.
Tadun rushed into the camp—
Empty.
"…He ran?"
He stood there, stunned.
Had his uncle miscalculated?
When Qiuliju arrived and saw the deserted camp, he, too, was surprised.
"What now?" Tadun asked.
Qiuliju thought for a moment, then said calmly:
"He schemed all this to make us fear Yuyang, didn't he?"
"Now he has abandoned his position for safety."
A cold smile appeared on his face.
"Then we shall grant his wish."
He raised his hand.
"Advance—on Yuyang."