Ma Zhong stood at the edge of the field and felt his blood burn hot. Every part of him hummed with restless energy just waiting to let loose.
Leaving the comfortable, cultured capital of Chengdu alongside Liu Bei had been the best decision of his entire life. The brutal pacification campaigns deep in the sweltering southern jungles of Nanzhong? That was absolute paradise for a man like him.
Down in the untamed southern jungles, nobody forced him to memorize ancient poetry. Nobody made him grind ink sticks until his wrists ached. Nobody hovered over his shoulder for three hours, gently critiquing his brushstrokes while he practiced calligraphy until his fingers cramped. In the name of heaven, he really hated writing. Reading those ancient sage books? Even worse. Down in the rugged frontier, a man only needed a sharp blade, a fast horse, and the stomach for violence. That was a curriculum he could get behind.
Last year, Liu Bei wrapped up a grueling three-month expedition, prepared to march the main army back north to civilization. Ma Zhong panicked. He pulled every political string he could find. He begged. He schemed. He did whatever it took to join the Nanzhong campaign. Surprisingly, he actually pulled it off and anchored himself in the wild south.
But the rugged geography of Nanzhong dictated a very specific type of warfare. The deep valleys, poisonous swamps, and endless ancient forests made all that northern-style doctrine useless. A general could not line up ten thousand men on an open plain and settle a war in a single glorious afternoon.
The fighting consisted of endless, grinding skirmishes. These brutal little ambushes hardened the Yizhou troops. It turned them into elite, cold-blooded killers. Unfortunately, winning a hundred small fights in the jungle did not earn a man legendary military merit.
Subduing Nanzhong was fundamentally an exercise in nonstop guerrilla warfare, political administration, and resource management. Not glorious conquest. That was exactly why General Wu Yi stayed behind. Wu Yi spent his days managing endless logistics and building infrastructure to slowly choke out the resistance.
Ma Zhong did not care about logistics. He did not understand it at all. He craved real glory, the kind of glory a man like him was built for. He wanted his name carved permanently into the history books.
That exact burning desire drove him to follow Zhang Ni out of the safety of Yizhou. Ma Zhong needed a colossal pile of enemy heads to prove a specific point. He wanted to show Liu Bei that his true talents lay in slaughtering enemies on a chaotic battlefield, not writing polite administrative letters at a wooden desk. Besides, his handwriting was a mess, like chicken scratch in a hurricane. Who could even read it?
Zhang Ni drove his men north at a blistering pace. Yiyang barely counted as a stop. The city had no real garrison, just a handful of lazy Jiangdong guards watching grain silos and picking their teeth. Trashed them, then ran again. Quanling to Yongchang. Zhaoling to Yiyang. Now the final push to Hanshou. The men were running on fumes and sheer momentum.
Now, they stood on a ridge overlooking Hanshou. A sprawling siege stretched out before them. Tens of thousands of men clashed in a chaotic, bloody mess of mud and steel.
Zhang Ni felt a twinge of hesitation. Just one year ago, he was a lowly civilian clerk managing village paperwork. Now he was staring down a professional army of battle-hardened Sun Wu veterans. He needed a moment. He analyzed the numbers. Calculated the risks.
Ma Zhong, on the other hand, felt zero hesitation. His head was mostly muscle. Poor Liu Bei, he probably looked at Ma Zhong and thought, "Ah yes, a scholar." Deep down, the man was practically brain dead when it came to anything that wasn't violence. He saw people beating each other to death and his first instinct was to join in. His adrenaline spiked. He wanted in.
He looked at the crumbling defenses of Hanshou. The city was clearly on the verge of total collapse. The barricades were burning. Yet the defenders were still swinging their weapons. Still holding the line. That meant one thing. The two exhausted sides were balanced on a knife's edge.
Ma Zhong did the math in his head.
It was simple math, the only kind he was good at. Fresh strike force plus enemy rear equals shattered formation.
Victory was sitting right there in the ground, waiting to be claimed.
Zhang Ni and Ma Zhong saw this war in two completely different ways.
Years ago, Jiangdong General Pan Zhang had captured Ma Zhong. Later, he gifted the man to Pang Tong because he lost a gamble. Yeah, Ma Zhong got traded like a betting chip. During his time in Jiangdong following Pan Zhang around, Ma Zhong stood and watched Zhou Yu at the height of his power during the Battle of Red Cliffs. He saw Jiangdong's full terrifying strength firsthand, burning Cao Cao's fleet until the man was crying for his mom.
Then Pang Tong sent Ma Zhong to Liu Bei. And from that moment on? Miracle after miracle.
He watched Liu Bei take six fortified cities in barely two months. Six. He watched the people of Yizhou just open their gates and welcome him, not because they were conquered, but because they knew he was good and just. He watched Zhang Fei cut through enemy lines like a human hurricane and send Zhang Lu running in blind panic from Hanzhong. He watched Guan Yu command the rivers, hold the line, and push Cao Cao himself into desperate retreat.
Wherever Liu Bei went, victory followed. It wasn't luck. It wasn't coincidence. To Ma Zhong, crushing enemies beneath that banner was simply how the world worked. He never doubted it. Not for a single moment.
So while Zhang Ni paused to weigh the risks, like a responsible commander who actually used his brain, Ma Zhong did what Ma Zhong always did.
He kicked his horse and went.
Charged straight down the slope like an arrow loosed from a bow. No plan. No backup. Just pure aggression.
"I am Ma Zhong!" he roared, loud enough to cut right through the noise of battle. "Who dares fight me to the death!"
That thunderous shout hit the Jiangdong lines from behind like a brick to the back of the head. Panic rippled through their ranks. They had no idea fresh troops were already on top of them.
Zhang Ni realized he had hesitated too long. Ah, hell. He cast caution aside, drew his blade, and charged right after his eager, reckless, possibly insane comrade.
"Liu Huangshu's reinforcements have arrived!" Zhang Ni bellowed at the top of his lungs.
His three thousand troops moved as one. They knew exactly what to do. They charged into the fight and took up the cry in perfect, terrifying unison.
"Liu Huangshu's reinforcements are here!"
The roar rolled across the field like a great wave. It crashed over the defenders of Hanshou and shook them to their very bones.
Right in the thick of the fight, Shamoke was barely hanging on. Nothing left but grit and sheer momentum. Then he heard that roar rolling up from the south, and a wild, bloody grin split his face wide open.
He swung his heavy iron mace and slammed Han Dang's blade aside. Twisted his body just in time to dodge an axe meant to split him open. Jumped back quick enough to avoid a strike aimed straight at his legs.
He finally bought himself one single breath. Did not waste it shouting insults. He filled his lungs and roared loud enough to shake the field.
"Liu Huangshu's reinforcements are here! Boys, cut these dogs down!"
Morale was a weapon all its own. The Jiangdong lines wavered. The battered, bleeding Wuling defenders found strength they did not know they had. Their crumbling wall locked tight again in an instant.
Pan Zhang saw the shift. And he saw his chance.
"General Han!" Pan Zhang shouted over the clash of steel. "I will go and hold back those reinforcements!"
Han Dang gave a short, sharp nod. Did not even look away from Shamoke.
Pan Zhang turned and left the front line at once. Felt a rush of pure relief. Fighting beside Han Dang was miserable. Pan Zhang and his men simply did not move as one. Every time he tried to step in, he threw off Han Dang's perfect rhythm. Like trying to dance with someone who had never heard music before.
Worse, a few of Shamoke's warriors had recognized him from earlier fights. They had spent the past hour shouting insults that cut deep, the kind that got under your skin and stayed there. Pan Zhang burned with anger and shame. He ached to charge over there and hack them apart, but Han Dang's line stood too thick and tight to push through.
Hearing about fresh troops arriving felt like a gift from heaven. The perfect excuse to walk away from a fight that was only making him look worse.
And there was more to it. Even if they broke through the walls today, Han Dang would take all the glory. The old general clearly did not like him and would never share the credit.
But if Pan Zhang went alone and crushed this new force himself? That was a victory he could claim entirely as his own. He could write his report to Sun Quan, make the enemy sound ten times bigger, claim he had beaten back ten thousand elite troops all by himself. His name would soar.
Han Dang did not care one bit about Pan Zhang's plans or hopes. He only gripped his sword tighter and lunged right back at Shamoke. He meant to give the Chief not one single moment to breathe.
---
Pan Zhang marched his troops fast toward the southern line. Grabbed a scout by the collar and demanded answers.
"Only three thousand men?" Pan Zhang squinted. "And their commander calls himself Ma Zhong?"
He scratched his head. The name rang a bell from somewhere long ago. Sounded far too familiar.
The distance was short. Pan Zhang pushed to the front and peered through the swirling fight. There. A fierce young officer cutting through Jiangdong troops like a dragon let loose.
Pan Zhang threw his head back and laughed out loud.
"I was wondering which Ma Zhong this could be! I cannot believe it is actually this little rat!"
The Yizhou veterans moved like a deadly arrowhead. Ma Zhong was the sharp tip, carving everything apart.
Zhang Ni was no glory chaser. He saw Ma Zhong's rage and speed and hung back half a step. Protected his blind spots. Kept the formation tight and deadly. Ma Zhong felt that support at his back and it only made him fight harder. Wild, reckless, glorious fury.
Ma Zhong raised his blade for a killing strike. A heavy sword crashed hard against his own and knocked the blow wide.
"Ma Zhong! Have you forgotten where you came from?"
That voice. Sharp, mocking, arrogant. Ma Zhong did not even need to look up.
He knew exactly who it belonged to.
"Pan Zhang."
They locked eyes. The soldiers around them backed away fast. A wide empty circle opened up between the two men.
Zhang Ni stood watching from behind Ma Zhong, sword resting easy on his shoulder. He decided to wait and see how this played out.
Pan Zhang scowled and puffed out his chest. "It has been years. And you still have no manners at all! Address me as General Pan!"
Ma Zhong spat into the dirt and shook his head slow. "You have never treated me with basic respect. Why should I ever give you any?"
Pan Zhang's face turned dark red.
He pointed his sword straight at Ma Zhong's chest. "If I had not taken you in back then, you would still be scrubbing floors like the peasant you were! You breathe because I let you! And now you dare speak to me with such insolence?"
While he shouted, Pan Zhang sized up the men standing behind Ma Zhong. Elite troops. Cold eyes. Perfect stance. Greed surged up inside him. If he could somehow take these veterans for himself, his fame would soar. Sun Quan would have no choice but to praise him above everyone else.
Pan Zhang swallowed his anger and pasted on a smooth, fake smile.
"Listen well, Ma Zhong. Let me tell you how things truly stand. All of southern Jingzhou is already ours. Up north, Lord Cao Cao marches with an army that stretches to the horizon. Guan Yu is finished. He cannot escape. Drop your weapon. Return to my side. I will give you wealth and rank beyond anything you could dream of."
It was the worst offer he could have made. Those words hit Ma Zhong like boiling oil.
Ma Zhong gripped his sword with both hands and charged. He struck with blinding speed and terrible strength. Pan Zhang stumbled back, shocked by the raw fury. He barely managed to deflect blow after blow.
Ma Zhong did not let up. He did not stop shouting.
"When I served under you, you stripped me of everything! Took every coin I owned! Treated me worse than a beast! And now you dare speak of gratitude to me?"
Steel crashed against steel. Sparks flew.
"Sun Quan and Liu Huangshu swore an oath of alliance! My lord never once broke that trust! Yet your master stabbed us in the back! Attacked us by stealth! And marched an army against us!"
Ma Zhong kicked him hard. Pan Zhang stumbled back another clumsy step.
"The old sages spoke true! All men must die, but a land without trust cannot stand! Your Lord Sun has lost all honor before the whole realm! And you flatterers grin and nod like fools! If Commander Zhou Yu saw what you have become, he would die of shame all over again!"
Ma Zhong stepped in close. Their blades locked. Faces inches apart.
"And you ask me to surrender? You are a pack of hungry jackals begging me to fall into your trap! You are nothing but rats! What are you worth!"
Pan Zhang's vision swam in a red haze. The words cut deeper than any blade. He had no clever answer to the truth Ma Zhong spoke. All he had left was rage and threats.
"I will chop you to pieces!" Pan Zhang screamed. "Let us see how sharp your tongue is when your head rolls in the dirt!"
Ma Zhong laughed fiercely. "You miserable rat! I am going to mount your head on the gates of Jiangling! The whole world will witness the ugly face of a traitor!"
"Ahhhhh, fuck you!" Pan Zhang screamed like a madman.
His entire expedition had been a miserable chain of failures. He lost battles. He got humiliated by mountain tribes. Now, a former subordinate was openly mocking him in front of his own troops. The sheer weight of these frustrations snapped his sanity. He discarded all thoughts of capturing the enemy alive. He wanted Ma Zhong dead. He gripped his weapon and lunged forward with suicidal intent.
Pan Zhang struck with all his might straight at Ma Zhong's throat.
And in that exact split second, Zhang Ni moved.
Zhang Ni grew up in grinding poverty. He maintained incredibly frugal habits even after his promotion. His armor was simple. His tunic was heavily patched. He ate the exact same cheap rations as his foot soldiers. He slept on the exact same dirt. His men loved him deeply for it.
During this specific reinforcement mission, he purposely wore the battered armor of a low-ranking officer to avoid drawing archer fire. He was naturally reserved and incredibly observant. Unless he was actively shouting orders, an outside observer would never guess he was the commander of this strike force.
Pan Zhang never even realized. Every ounce of his focus was locked onto Ma Zhong, the loud, aggressive officer who had once been his subordinate. The poorly dressed soldier half a step behind? Just another bodyguard. Another nameless attendant. He did not matter.
That was the exact moment Pan Zhang lost.
Zhang Ni had no interest in a fair duel. He was a survivor of grinding poverty, a man who had climbed out of the mud with nothing but grit and cold efficiency. He did not care about martial glory. He cared about results.
Pan Zhang swung wide with all his strength. His left side lay open and unguarded. A fatal mistake.
Zhang Ni stepped into the gap. His blade moved in a wordless, perfectly calculated arc.
Not a duel. An execution.
Pan Zhang felt warmth splash across the back of his hand. The wind turned it cold fast. Then warmth spread across his chest and neck. He felt strangely calm for a moment.
He tried to turn. Tried to speak. Only a wet gurgle came out. His legs gave way. He fell backward into the dirt.
Everything slowed down. He looked up at the pale sky. And there stood that quiet soldier. Throat slit clean through. Face calm. No anger. No triumph. Just the look of a man finishing a simple chore.
Pan Zhang shifted his eyes. He saw Ma Zhong's face. A flash of pity passed there, then vanished, replaced by hard resolve.
He looked to his own men. The ones he drank with. The ones he shared loot with. They stood frozen in horror. Then they stepped back. Left him alone in the dirt.
Darkness closed in. Before he could even begin to regret all his choices, his mind faded away to nothing.
Zhang Ni did not linger over the body. He stepped past it, grabbed Pan Zhang by the hair, and severed the head with one clean stroke.
He held the dripping trophy high for all to see.
"The enemy general is dead!" Zhang Ni roared. "Jiangdong is defeated!"
His three thousand Yizhou troops took up the scream. The sound hit Jiangdong's troops like a hammer. Confusion spread. Fear took root. Most of the infantry lost heart right then and there. They dropped their weapons.
Ma Zhong stood there, staring. His blade hadn't even tasted blood. His enemy lay dead at someone else's feet.
"Hey," Ma Zhong said, voice flat. "You kill-stealing bastard, Boqi."
Zhang Ni turned, still holding the severed head, and gave him a small nod. "Sorry. We needed a quick win."
"That was not fair," Ma Zhong grumbled, crossing his arms like a kid cheated out of a prize. "I had him. I was wearing him down."
Zhang Ni shrugged. "No worries. I'll put the merit in your name."
Ma Zhong squinted at him. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Then let out a long sigh.
"Ugh. Fine. I forgive you."
---
The catastrophic news traveled fast. It reached the inner city barricades where the grinding clash still raged.
Han Dang received the report. His stoic demeanor finally cracked. He stared at the messenger in utter disbelief.
"The enemy reinforcements only have three thousand men!" Han Dang hissed. "We have the numbers! We can crush them with basic infantry tactics!"
Han Dang clenched his jaw. "Did that idiot Pan Zhang lose his mind? Did he see a beautiful girl naked in the enemy ranks? We hold a colossal numerical advantage, and he decides to abandon his command structure to fight a personal duel in the mud?"
The sudden death of a senior commander was a psychological disaster. It shattered troop morale faster than any tactical blunder. Han Dang desperately wanted to march over to the southern flank, retrieve Pan Zhang's headless corpse, and whip it thirty times for sheer incompetence.
There was no time for anger. Shamoke noticed the shift in momentum. The tribal chief was thrilled. He surged forward, reversing the pressure. He refused to give Han Dang a single second to breathe or issue new orders.
"Come back here!" Shamoke laughed wildly. "You are a tough old bastard! Let us go another hundred rounds!"
Han Dang ignored the taunts. He gave sharp orders to his guards. They formed up tight, a wall of steel holding Shamoke back.
Han Dang took one final, bitter look at the inner city barricades. The Wuling defense was battered, bleeding, and entirely broken. Yet it stubbornly refused to collapse.
The old general made the hard choice. He signaled his heralds.
The deep, rhythmic pounding of the retreat drums echoed across the battlefield. The Jiangdong soldiers felt a twinge of reluctance to abandon a siege they were so close to winning. However, military discipline held. They slowly and methodically pulled back from the Hanshou city limits.
---
To the north of the city, Dong Xi heard the drums. He immediately took command of Pan Zhang's leaderless troops. Dong Xi forced a mask of deep, agonizing sorrow onto his face. Inside, he was secretly glad. He organized the panicked men. He ordered them to reinforce the defensive perimeter of the main camp and form defensive squares in the open clearings.
Dong Xi analyzed the tactical board. They lost a general. A big loss. But Han Dang, the true supreme commander, was still alive and in full control.
The enemy received reinforcements, yes, but it was a small force of a few thousand men. Mathematically, Jiangdong still held a crushing advantage.
Dong Xi scratched his head. One thing puzzled him. Where had these fresh troops come from? How the hell had Liu Bei marched an elite army all the way from the deep south without anyone noticing?
---
Inside the city ruins, the Wuling forces stood in stunned disbelief. They watched the great Jiangdong army slowly march away. It felt incredibly surreal. Barely an hour ago, every single man had made peace with a violent death. Now, they were still breathing. They had actually won a minor tactical victory. It felt like waking up from a bizarre fever dream.
Shamoke issued rapid orders. He told his officers to secure the perimeter and collect the dead. He dropped his heavy iron mace into the dirt. He did not bother cleaning the blood off his face. He eagerly marched out of the shattered city gates to greet his saviors.
Zhang Ni stepped forward to meet him. Shamoke was a towering mountain of a man. Zhang Ni had to tilt his head back just to look him in the eye.
Zhang Ni saluted properly. "I am Zhang Ni, Commander under Liu Huangshu. I act on the direct orders of the Nanzhong Governor. We have come to offer aid."
Shamoke let out a great sigh. Returned the salute. "I am Shamoke. Acting Magistrate of Hanshou."
The formal introductions concluded. Zhang Ni did not waste time with polite small talk. He immediately stated his highest priority.
"Does this ruined city have a place to sleep? Maybe some rations? My troops are really hungry and drop-dead tired."
Shamoke let out a booming laugh. "General, all of you are madmen. But I like it."
He shook his head, still grinning. These men had just force-marched across half of Jingzhou, shattered a siege, and their first request was a nap and a meal. He liked them already.
---
A short while later, the Yizhou strike force occupied the main military training ground inside Hanshou. The scene was highly comical. The terrifying killers who just broke a siege were now sprawled out in the dirt, snoring loud enough to rattle the remaining city walls.
Shamoke walked carefully among the sleeping men. His heart swelled with profound gratitude. He looked down at Zhang Ni.
"General Zhang," Shamoke started, then paused. "Actually, please allow me to use your courtesy name. It feels more fitting among allies."
Shamoke placed a heavy hand on his chest. "Brother Boqi. You have endured unimaginable hardship. The route from Nanzhong to Hanshou is a logistical nightmare. Even in times of perfect peace, greedy merchants refuse to travel those mountain roads. They think twice. Yet you marched an army across that hellish terrain just to save us. This is a debt of true grace. I will never forget it."
During their brief conversation outside the gates, Shamoke learned exactly where this army came from. The logistical feat left him speechless. These men had sprinted across treacherous mountains and deep rivers without a single proper night of rest. It made perfect sense that their very first request after a bloody battle was a simple nap.
Zhang Ni sat on a wooden crate. Deep exhaustion lined his face. However, his spirit burned bright. Marching out of Yizhou to hunt for glory was a thrill. Rescuing a fierce tribal chief who swore loyalty to Liu Bei was a deeply novel and satisfying experience.
"If you had not held this city with such iron resolve, Magistrate Sha, we would have arrived only to stare at a conquered fortress," Zhang Ni replied humbly. "The credit belongs to your bravery."
Zhang Ni leaned forward, shifting into a cold tactical mindset. "Based on your observations, what is our next move?"
Zhang Ni had spoken briefly with Master Lu during their journey. However, Master Lu lacked current intelligence on the situation at Jiangling. The scholar's final piece of advice was simply to reach Hanshou and adapt to the chaos. Since Magistrate Shamoke had been fighting on the front lines for weeks, he was the best source of strategic insight.
Shamoke let out a booming laugh. He waved his heavy hands dismissively. "Call me brother! None of this formal Magistrate nonsense!"
He rubbed his bearded chin. His eyes narrowed in serious thought.
"Before my forces were chased down from Zuotang in the north, my scouts reported strange movements," Shamoke explained. "A large Jiangdong naval fleet left the waters near Jiangling. They sailed aggressively downstream."
Shamoke pointed a thick finger toward the east. "You just marched your men directly north up the riverways. You faced zero naval blockades. This means the enemy fleet did not sail into Yunmeng Marsh to block the southern routes. They sailed further east."
Shamoke smiled dangerously. "They are heading back toward their own territory. This means one of two things. Either Jiangdong is facing a major internal political crisis, or they are shifting their primary military target. Either way, the pressure on the northern front has shifted significantly."
Shamoke had no formal military education. But he had lived in these mountains and rivers for nearly thirty years. He understood the terrain better than any scholar ever could. His conclusion was simple. If they relieved the pressure on Jiangling, the entire Jingzhou region would be permanently secured.
"I lacked the troop numbers to break out before," Shamoke declared loudly. "But now I have you, Brother Boqi. Together, we have the combat strength. We can march north. We can shatter the siege of Jiangling!"