A deafening roar shakes the wetlands as a tide of pure muscle surges forward. Tribal fighters stay low, arms pumping fast, their eyes blazing with the fire of battle.
They crash into the lines like a landslide given human form.
Up front, the Wu veterans hold their ground. One moment they stand relaxed; the next, boots dig deep into mud, shoulders drop low, and iron-tipped spears thrust out in flawless, deadly harmony. No orders required just years of training etched deep into their bones. The points gleam as sharp as fangs, creating a thick wall of gleaming steel.
THWACK! THUD! CLANG!
Spears drive forward, but instead of piercing flesh and vine, they rebound like pebbles striking stone. One veteran grunts, shoving with every ounce of strength, his spear tip skittering uselessly across the tightly woven armor. Another's weapon bends at the shaft, the iron point unable to find any purchase in the dense weave.
"What in the—?!"
From just behind the faltering line, Dong Xi's jaw clenches tight. He leans forward, shielding his eyes with one hand, and sees it clearly now.
This armor is nothing like the haphazard work from before. Where the first defenders wore loose bundles of vines, these warriors are wrapped in craftsmanship that would impress any master weaver. Strands twisted so tightly they shine like polished timber, molded to fit every muscle and moving with the wearer as if it were a second skin. A stray arrow clatters off one man's chest and bounces into the reeds.
Then he spots him. Shamoke, charging toward the center of the formation like a boulder tumbling down a mountainside. The giant's legs cover ground in huge strides, his bare feet leaving deep gouges in the mud. In one massive hand, he swings an iron mace that makes even hardened soldiers swallow hard. Its head is as large as a cooking pot, studded with blunt knobs that gleam dark and heavy.
A Sun Wu infantryman steps forward, planting his feet wide apart. "Come on, freak!" He braces his spear, aiming for the giant's chest.
Shamoke does not slow down. He sweeps the mace in a casual arc WHAM! and the iron ball smashes into the spear shaft. Splinters of wood explode outward. The impact sends the soldier stumbling back, his arms numb from the shock.
Before he can recover, Shamoke closes in. One hand wraps around the man's armor as if it were paper, lifts him clean off his feet, and hurls him sideways into a cluster of his own comrades. They collapse in a jumbled heap of steel and shouts.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
Shamoke bellows, his voice a physical force that bends reeds in the wind. He swings left, sending another soldier flying back, armor crumpling under the mace's weight. He swings right, and a shield shatters like glass. The human wrecking ball cuts through the Wu lines as easily as a knife through warm dough.
Dong Xi grips the hilt of his short spear so tightly his knuckles turn bone-white. His eyes track every movement, every swing. The giant fights as if playing a game, yet there is no wasted motion, no hesitation. The mace moves with terrifying speed for something so heavy.
"That is enough!" Dong Xi roars, drawing his weapon.
He slams the butt of his spear against the ground. "WITH ME CHARGE!"
His elite troops surge forward, but Shamoke is already on the move again, heading for a group of spearmen trying to reform their line. He raises the mace high above his head, muscles rippling across his back and shoulders, and brings it crashing down.
CRUNCH!
Armor buckles inward. Ribs snap like dry twigs. The soldier under the blow is lifted off his feet, spinning through the air before slamming into the mud ten feet away. His chest is caved in, his spear lying bent and useless beside him.
Shamoke looks up, spots Dong Xi charging toward him, and grins a wide, predatory flash of teeth. He plants his feet firm, twirls the mace once in his hand, and calls out loud enough for all to hear.
"FINALLY! SOMEONE WORTH HITTING!"
Dong Xi watched in slow motion as Shamoke swatted his men aside like insects. One swing connected with a fully armored soldier's chest plate, and the sound was sickening metal crumpling like empty tin cans, followed by ribs snapping like kindling.
The poor man actually flew backward through the air as if struck by a cannonball, his spear clattering into the mud. When he hit the ground, his chest was so deeply caved in you could have balanced a cup on it.
He was twitching and gasping like a stranded fish. Done for, no question.
Alright, new plan: stop this human battering ram before he flattens my entire formation, Dong Xi thought, his head already throbbing as if Shamoke had taken a warm-up swing at it.
Things were unraveling faster than a cart with a broken wheel. If this lunatic kept tearing through the middle of his lines, the whole defense would collapse in minutes. And if his phalanx broke apart in this muddy swamp, surrounded by far more enemies than allies, survival suddenly became a gamble. A very bad gamble.
Eyes fixed on where Shamoke was cutting through his troops, Dong Xi drew his weapon, let out a battle cry loud enough to rouse the dead, and charged straight into the chaos. His personal bodyguards scrambled to keep up with their commander, who had apparently lost his senses.
Shamoke was thoroughly enjoying himself.
He was plowing through Wu soldiers like they were made of paper, swinging left and right, sending armored men tumbling into the muck.
Then WHAM.
His mace struck something that did not give way. It bounced off as if he had hit a solid brick wall.
Shamoke blinked, genuine surprise on his face, and looked down. Standing there was a new opponent wearing ornate officer's armor that somehow still shone bright despite the murky sky. And here was the thing: the man was tall. Only half a head shorter than Shamoke himself.
A grin spread across the giant's face like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
"FINALLY!" he boomed, his voice loud enough to make everyone nearby wince. "They send out a dog who does not look like he'll shatter if I hit too hard! Alright then let's play!"
No time for talk. Shamoke hefted his mace high overhead and brought it crashing down as if trying to drive a nail through the earth itself.
From his slightly lower stance, Dong Xi sized up the attack with the calm eye of a man who had been fighting longer than most of these tribal warriors had been alive. In his expert judgment, the move was about as refined as a toddler swinging a tree branch no fancy footwork, no tricks, no plan for what came next. Just raw power and pure bloodlust.
Confident in his own legendary strength back home, men would concede arm-wrestling matches before even touching hands with him Dong Xi planted his feet firmly, raised his weapon with both hands, and prepared to knock aside the clumsy blow before striking back hard.
When their weapons collided, the shockwave made Dong Xi's teeth rattle.
In an instant, he wanted to crawl into a hole and never emerge. The force slamming into his guard was so immense he could feel pain shooting up his arms all the way to his shoulders.
Back in Sun Wu, Dong Xi was renowned for his strength. Now? Standing before this laughing giant, he felt like a child trying to wrestle a grown man.
This is not like fighting the Shanyue, he realized with a sickening twist in his stomach. These Jingnan tribes are something else entirely. Damn it all I just kicked an iron plate with my bare foot.
Then true panic set in. The high-ranking commanders back home, especially that know-it-all Lu Meng, had been completely wrong. Jingzhou was not caught off guard. It was not undefended. This whole region was a trap, and he had sailed his entire fleet straight into its jaws like a fish swimming toward a hook.
Gritting his teeth against the numbness spreading through his arms, Dong Xi focused intently on Shamoke's wild swings left, right, left again, with no pattern or reason to them. Using every bit of speed and experience he had gained over decades of battle, he ducked, spun, and stepped aside, letting those devastating blows whoosh past close enough to stir his hair.
All this evading was clearly frustrating the giant. Shamoke let out angry roars that sounded like enraged bears, his swings growing even larger and more reckless.
"Is that ALL you Wu cowards can do?!" Shamoke shouted, spitting mud onto the ground as if it were chewing tobacco. "Are you a warrior or a rabbit? Stand still and fight me like a man, you weasel!"
Dong Xi rolled his eyes internally, keeping his face cool and focused. He was a general, not a brawler in the streets. He had no interest in arm-wrestling a troll who had been building muscle since birth.
Then he saw his opportunity. He pushed off the muddy ground and leaped backward, avoiding another absurdly wide horizontal sweep. Mid-air, he shifted his grip on his short spear from defensive to offensive, pointing it straight ahead. His eyes locked onto a critical flaw in the giant's armor.
He had noticed it immediately. While the vine armor was tough as steel, it was clearly not tailored to fit Shamoke's massive frame. Gaps were visible everywhere, but the largest was at the base of his neck, where the armor collar failed to meet his helmet.
Small target? Certainly. But for someone like Dong Xi? Child's play. Drive that iron tip in there, and it would be business as usual just like all those Shanyue campaigns he had won so effortlessly.
Once iron met soft flesh, blood would spray everywhere. It did not matter how much muscle the man had or how loud he yelled. Biology always prevailed. He would bleed out, fall dead, and end up just another corpse in the mud.
In that split second, Dong Xi was already envisioning his victory celebration. These extra-powerful tribal warriors were too valuable to kill. He would keep them alive, chain them securely, ship them back to his estates in Wu, and put them to work in his fields. Feed them just enough to keep them going, work them until their muscles wore down. Then when they looked like ordinary, scrawny soldiers, he would sell them cheap like buying stray dogs at the market.
Dreams of wealth from slave labor fueling his arm, Dong Xi lunged forward like a dart, spear aimed directly at that exposed gap in the neck.
But the spear stopped dead in mid-air as if hitting an invisible barrier.
Dong Xi blinked. Stared at his own weapon.
The razor-sharp tip was held fast in Shamoke's palm. The giant had simply reached out and caught a spear moving at full speed like playing a game of catch.
Slowly, Dong Xi's eyes traveled up the spear shaft, past Shamoke's unbreakable grip, until he met the giant's gaze.
The wild, berserker look was gone. Instead, Shamoke was looking at him as if watching a child try to cheat at a board game amused, sharp, and unmistakably mocking.
"You thought I didn't see that?" Shamoke said, his voice calm and clear, nothing like the roaring brute from moments before. He twirled the captured spear in his hand, moving it through intricate patterns that made the blade whistle through the air. "Mr. Ma taught us all about your tricks, Wu general."
Slowly, Dong Xi's eyes traveled up the spear shaft, past the giant's iron grip. When he met Shamoke's gaze, every last bit of fight drained from him. There was no anger there, no bloodlust just intelligence, calculation, and a hint of pity.
The crazy berserker look was gone.
Instead, Shamoke was looking at him like he had just watched a kid try to cheat at checkers. Amused, smart, and definitely mocking him.
"Mr. Ma was right about you guys," Shamoke chuckled, and suddenly his voice was not all growly and savage. It was clear, and way too smug. "Said all you Sun Wu generals are full of yourselves, think you are better than everyone, and are super easy to fool. You actually thought I was just some dumb brute swinging a stick, did not you?"
Before Dong Xi could process the fact that he had just been outsmarted by a guy wearing plant armor, he felt the spear being pulled forward hard.
Shamoke yanked it like it was nothing. Dong Xi, who had been holding on for dear life, lost his balance and stumbled face-first into the mud.
With a flick of his wrist, Shamoke took the spear away like he was taking candy from a baby. Then he started twirling it, doing all these fancy moves that looked like something out of a martial arts show, the blade cutting through the air so fast it whistled.
He finished with the spear held perfectly still, nodding like he was reviewing a new tool.
"Decent weapon," he said like he was talking about a kitchen knife. "Balances well."
Kneeling in the mud, looking up at the giant who had just made him look like an amateur, Dong Xi finally got it. This guy was not just stronger. He was way more skilled, way better trained, and way smarter than any Han general Dong Xi had ever fought.
But all his panicky brain could focus on was one question: Who the heck is Mr. Ma? Does Liu Bei even have someone named Ma working for him?
On a battlefield, when you lose your main weapon to someone who is way better than you, there is only one way this ends. No need for deep thinking about it.
Shamoke's way of dealing with a disarmed enemy general was simple, effective, and about as embarrassing as it gets.
Without breaking a sweat, he stepped forward and kicked the back of Dong Xi's knees. The general crumpled into the mud like a sack of potatoes. Then Shamoke reached down, grabbed him by his fancy leather belt, and with a little grunt, lifted him clean off the ground, armor and all.
Holding the squirming general high up for everyone to see, Shamoke took a deep breath and roared so loud it made the fighting stop dead.
"THE ENEMY COMMANDER IS CAPTURED!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the wetlands like thunder. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS! SURRENDER NOW AND YOU WILL NOT DIE!"
All across the battlefield, the surviving Wu soldiers just froze. They stared up at their boss dangling in the air like a kid being carried by his dad, and their faces went completely blank.
"What? We lost? How?!"
The thought spread through the ranks like a bad cold. Us? The tough sailors of Sun Wu? Got beaten up by a bunch of swamp guys who do not even wear shoes?
Up in the air, dangling like some kind of weird trophy, Dong Xi thrashed around like a fish on a line, kicking, squirming, trying to break free. Useless.
The shame was worse than any injury.
When he realized there was no way out, he just gave up. Covered his face with his hands and prayed to every ancestor he could think of that this nightmare would be over soon.
But every single one of his men saw him struggle, then give up. And that was all the proof they needed that they had totally, completely lost.
Watching their "unbeatable" commander being held like a misbehaving child was the final nail in the coffin for their morale. One by one, they dropped their swords and spears into the mud and put their hands up.
Shamoke watched with major satisfaction as his warriors worked the crowd like pros, stripping those surrendering Wu guys of their fancy iron gear faster than kids grabbing candy on festival day. He was already planning how to march the prisoners back to Hanshou, and honestly? This flawless win just made sense.
"Course we won," he muttered to himself, shaking his head at how shocked all the captives looked. "I brought ten thousand armed warriors to jump a few thousand tired sailors. If I lost with those odds, I would have to quit being Wuxi Tribes King and just go farm until I die."
Meanwhile, Dong Xi was flat on his back in the mud, finally let down after his embarrassing time as a human balloon. He stared up at the gray sky like he had just seen a ghost, feeling this deep dread that made him think maybe he should just retire and take up gardening or something.
But Shamoke was never exactly the "pat someone on the back and say it will be okay" type. He walked over and gave Dong Xi a sharp kick right in the gut.
Dong Xi gasped and curled up like a shrimp dropped in boiling water, clutching his stomach like it might fall off.
"Get up," Shamoke ordered, nodding toward the road. "Quit napping. We still have a hike ahead before we reach Hanshou's gates."
The pain was actually a relief. It pushed all that humiliating business to the back of his mind, at least for now. No armor, no weapons, surrounded by men who looked strong enough to bench press a cart. He had no way to fight or run away. So he put on his best act as a tough fighter who did not care, slowly getting to his feet while rubbing his sore belly.
Even completely beaten, he still had a sharp tongue. Showing weakness was not an option.
"Alright, I will give you this much. You people are crafty," Dong Xi sneered, trying to sound fierce even though he was covered in mud. "You knew our navy was strong, so you hid all your men in Hanshou nice and far from any rivers we could sail to. You were scared to face our warships."
Shamoke stopped walking. He turned to look at him, and his expression was not angry. It was pure, genuine pity like you would give a man trying to milk a rock.
"Holy shit, those floating wooden bathtubs are what you call a navy?" Shamoke asked, his voice practically dripping with mockery. "Bah, did you guys ever see General Guan Yu's fleet? Compared to Jingzhou's armored river monsters, you Wu boys are just splashing around in puddles with toys."
Dong Xi opened his mouth to shoot back, then realized he had nothing to say.
Guan Yu's water forces were famous even in the east. Choking on his own words, he quickly changed topics.
"Who is this 'Mr. Ma' you keep talking about?" he demanded, squinting suspiciously. "Is he some spy? A smooth-talker sent by that fake Liu Bei to brainwash you dumb tribals?"
The answer came as Shamoke's heavy boot connected with his shin.
Dong Xi yelped and hopped back like he had stepped on a snake. The giant's friendly face was gone, replaced by a look that could freeze water. He leaned down until their faces were inches apart, growling every word like he was carving them in stone.
"Mr. Ma treats every one of us like real family," Shamoke said coldly. "He has done everything possible to lift us out of poverty and keep us from starving. He is a saint. How dare a beaten dog like you insult him?"
He straightened up, chest puffing with pride.
"And yes, we are proud to be called tribals. But make no mistake we are true sons of the Han."
Dong Xi noticed hundreds of warriors stepping closer, hands on their weapons, faces twisted in agreement with their king. He quickly calculated his chances of surviving a mob attack, then wisely decided to drop that line of questioning. Swallowing his pride, he went for something safer.
"Fine, fine," he mumbled defensively. "Where is this super-respected Mr. Ma then? Will I get to meet him when we reach Hanshou?"
"Mr. Ma is not in Hanshou," Shamoke said, shaking his head.
Then a really strange, unsettling smile spread across his scarred face.
"Actually," he continued, sounding far too casual for comfort, "Mr. Ma packed up and headed to Kuaiji Commandery late last year."
Dong Xi felt like someone had dropped a block of ice down his shirt. His heart nearly stopped.
He knew Kuaiji like the back of his hand. It was Sun Wu's home territory. He went there every year, and everyone knew why hunting. Not animals though. The Wu military was always cracking down on the Shanyue tribes there. Capture them, make them work on noble estates, use them as cannon fodder, or sell them as slaves. Free labor, perfect for the Wu war machine.
And this mysterious Mr. Ma had gone there last year?
The big picture hit him like a punch to the face. He finally understood what Liu Bei was planning long-term. He lost control, pointing a shaky finger at Shamoke.
"You people are nothing but sneaky wolves!" he screamed, face turning purple. "My Lord Sun Quan, out of the goodness of his heart, let that drifter Liu Bei borrow Jingzhou so he would have a place to stay! And how does he repay us? By sending spies into our homeland to tear our empire apart!"
Shamoke did not get angry. He just stared at the yelling general like he was watching a toddler throw a fit.
"Your Lord is a treacherous wolf?" he repeated, sounding genuinely confused. "Let us talk facts. Did we cross the border and attack Jiangxia? Did we sail down the river and start a fight with Yangzhou?"
He stepped forward, towering over Dong Xi.
"Why do not you look around and tell me where we are standing right now? Is this land under our feet part of Jingzhou, or yours?"
Shamoke had never actually met Liu Bei in person, but his loyalty was unshakable. The logic was simple. Mr. Ma was the best, most generous man he had ever known. Mr. Ma worked for Liu Bei. So Liu Bei was the only one fit to lead the empire. It was obvious.
Once again faced with facts he could not argue against, Dong Xi had nothing to say. Realizing he had lost the moral advantage, he pulled out the oldest trick in the military book threats.
"Listen carefully, tribal," he hissed, trying to sound important even though he looked like a mud-covered beggar. "Four or five hundred miles north of this place is my Lord Sun Quan's main camp, with a hundred thousand elite soldiers. And to the east, in Yunmeng Marsh, we have a thousand warships ready to move."
He puffed out his chest like a rooster showing off.
"Right now I am your prisoner, but the second my Lord hears I am stuck in this backwater, he will stop at nothing to get revenge. He will send his whole army down here, and your little mud villages will be ground to dust. You and your people will be wiped out."
He paused to let the threat sink in, then played the "generous savior" card.
"But if you are smart, you will let me go now. Even better surrender to me, swear loyalty to Sun Quan, and I will make sure you are not killed when we come through."
The response was not fear or anger. It was a huge, booming laugh from Shamoke that echoed across the wetlands.
"You Wu dogs really do love running your mouths," he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Do you actually think everyone is as stupid and easy to scare as you are?"
Before Dong Xi could work himself into a proper rage, Shamoke stopped laughing. He rubbed his chin, looking like he was doing some serious thinking.
"Wait a second," he mumbled, sounding thoughtful. "You said your main army is four hundred miles north so you are telling me you took over my Lord's base at Gong'an?"
Seeing the change in Shamoke's face, Dong Xi misread it as fear and felt a tiny spark of hope. Finally, something he could use.
"Exactly!" he sneered, confidence returning. "So if you are thinking about taking your little group of a few thousand tribesmen to sneak attack our fortified camp, do not bother. It would be suicide."
Shamoke smiled again. But this time it was not funny or mocking. It was a wide, toothy grin like a predator spotting its meal. He let out a low chuckle that made the hair on Dong Xi's neck stand up.
"Well, since you will see it all anyway once we get to Hanshou, I guess there is no harm in telling you the surprise," he purred, stepping way too close.
"Me, Shamoke, King of the Wuxi Tribes, did not just gather a few thousand men. I have twenty thousand trained, armed warriors inside Hanshou's walls right now. We have just been waiting for the order to head north and help our Lord."
He leaned in, breath hot on Dong Xi's face, eyes shining like he had just found a treasure chest.
"If the rest of you Wu guys are as soft, useless, and easy to beat as you and your crew were, taking that camp at Gong'an will not be a battle. It will be a relaxing afternoon stroll. Would be a crime to let that easy glory go to waste."
The trip from Linyuan's muddy battlefield to Hanshou's great walls was not actually that far.
But Dong Xi's journey was anything but comfortable, even though he complained nonstop, fought like a cat being bathed, and kept demanding to be treated like the important officer he was supposed to be.
Shamoke decided capturing an enemy general was a big event worth celebrating, so he ignored all "proper" ways of doing things. He just scooped Dong Xi up, tossed him over his shoulder like a freshly killed deer, and carried him the whole way. Dong Xi entered Hanshou basically on display as a human trophy.
Bouncing painfully on the giant's armored shoulder, Dong Xi finally gave up.
All the fight drained out of him. He stopped struggling, stopped yelling, and just let his arms and legs hang like wet noodles.
He forced his eyes open and tried to ignore all the pointing fingers, laughing faces, and embarrassing stares from tribesmen lining the streets.
Instead, he focused hard on what he was seeing the busy city of Hanshou, the size of the military camps, how disciplined and ready all these "tribal" soldiers looked as they prepared for war.
A cold, calculating determination settled in his chest. He needed to survive this. He had to see for himself what kind of magic this Mr. Ma had to make these supposedly wild savages so loyal they would follow him anywhere.