War drums thundered.
With a blade clenched between his teeth and clad in layers of heavy armor, Zhang Niujiao charged forward—first to scale the wall.
Qiuliju had no idea Zhang Xin had already arrived. The city lacked proper defenses, and the Wuhuan warriors, accustomed to close combat, carried mostly knives—there were no spears to hold the walls.
They could only watch as the Yellow Turbans climbed up.
Still several steps from the top, Zhang Niujiao suddenly roared and leapt.
Alone atop the wall, he was immediately surrounded.
Blades struck his armor again and again—but he endured them all, cutting down several enemies in return and forcing open a small foothold.
One by one, the Yellow Turban soldiers followed him up.
They secured their position, then pushed forward under his lead, widening their advantage step by step.
The Wuhuan, already shaken, saw more and more enemies scaling the walls. Their morale collapsed.
They broke.
In less than an hour, the gates were thrown open.
Cavalry surged into the city.
Anyone with a shaved head and weapon in hand was cut down without question.
Qiuliju wrapped cloth around his head to hide his distinctive features, abandoned his own horse, and fled on a common mount amidst the chaos.
After taking Liucheng, Zhang Xin left five hundred men with Tian Kai to hold both the city and Qiuliju's former camp.
Then, without waiting for news to spread, he struck again.
Moving swiftly, he swept through the surrounding tribes.
Everywhere he went, the same pattern followed—
The men were killed.
The people were taken.
A garrison was left behind to hold the ground until reinforcements arrived.
In just a few days, more than ten tribes fell.
Over ten thousand Wuhuan were killed.
More than twenty thousand captives were taken.
Livestock—horses, cattle, sheep—numbered beyond counting.
Zhang Xin was in high spirits.
No wonder generals loved war.
There was no faster way to amass wealth.
Gold, women, livestock—
All of it made the hardships—the cold, the hunger, the sleepless nights—feel worthwhile.
When the army returned to Liucheng, Tian Kai rode out ten li to welcome them.
"The commander's campaign has pacified Liaoxi in a single stroke. Your fame will soon spread throughout Youzhou."
Zhang Xin laughed.
"Without Brother Shifan's guidance, how could I have achieved this?"
He paused, then added meaningfully:
"Now that most of the Wuhuan have been eliminated, the rest are no longer a concern. Perhaps it is time for you to report back to your clan."
Tian Kai immediately understood.
"I will write at once."
Liucheng itself was small.
Most of its inhabitants were Han Chinese—nearly thirty thousand of them—forced to build the city under Wuhuan rule.
There was no space to station a large force.
After a brief inspection, Zhang Xin left Tian Kai to maintain order and moved his army to Qiuliju's former camp.
Inside the royal tent, luxury greeted them.
Gold and jade glittered everywhere. A couch of white tiger skin lay at the center, surrounded by finely crafted vessels.
Zhang Xin glanced around, faintly surprised.
Qiuliju had certainly known how to enjoy life.
Then his gaze shifted—to two women standing beside the couch.
The one on the left was bold and wild, her eyes sharp and unyielding.
The one on the right was gentle, delicate—clearly Han, her expression filled with fear.
Zhang Xin's eyes lingered for a moment.
A rare beauty.
"Are you Qiuliju's women?" he asked.
"We are his queens," the older one replied, stepping forward boldly. "You are the Yellow Turban commander?"
Before she could get closer, Zhang Niujiao instinctively stepped in front of Zhang Xin—only to find her pressing against him without hesitation.
Zhang Xin frowned slightly at the strong scent and stepped back.
"That's right. What of it?"
The woman looked him over, satisfaction flickering in her eyes.
"You will marry me, won't you?"
Zhang Xin blinked.
He had just defeated her husband—and now she was proposing?
She continued calmly:
"Among the Wuhuan, the victor takes everything. That includes me."
Zuo Bao scoffed, "Your king has barely fallen, and you're already seeking another man?"
She shrugged.
"I only care about being a queen. Who the king is… doesn't matter."
Zhang Xin was speechless.
He was about to have her removed when he noticed something—
Zhang Niujiao's face was flushed, his hand still awkwardly frozen in place.
Zhang Xin raised an eyebrow.
"You like this type?"
Zhang Niujiao nodded without hesitation.
Zhang Xin glanced at the woman again, then smiled.
"Then take her."
Zhang Niujiao lit up with joy, lifted her up, and strode out.
"I want to be queen!" she protested as she was carried away.
Her voice gradually faded.
Zhang Xin shook his head.
That woman was far too wild.
Then he turned—
—and caught Guan Yu staring quietly at the other woman.
She lowered her head, flustered.
Guan Yu quickly looked away, but his eyes still drifted back now and then.
Zhang Xin hesitated.
He liked her too.
But this was a rare chance to win Guan Yu's loyalty.
After a brief internal struggle, he exhaled slowly.
The bigger picture mattered more.
__
He stepped forward and asked gently:
"Are you Han Chinese?"