"Quick! Retreat south!"
Wu Yan's face drained of color as fear took hold. He immediately ordered a full withdrawal.
But a cavalry force moving at high speed could not turn easily—especially not on snow-slick ground. Horses slipped, riders tumbled, and formation collapsed into chaos.
Seizing the moment, Zuo Bao led his troops to cut them off, while Zhang Xin pressed the attack from the other side. The Wuhuan forces, caught in a pincer, were thrown into complete disarray.
Leaving behind hundreds of corpses, Wu Yan fled south toward Lu County.
Zhang Xin pursued for five li before ordering a halt.
The Wuhuan cavalry still had superior mobility, and the Yellow Turban riders had been fighting since dawn. Their stamina was nearly exhausted—especially the two hundred newly trained cavalrymen, some of whom could barely stay mounted.
Further pursuit was impossible.
"Unfortunate… he still escaped," Zhang Xin muttered, clearly dissatisfied.
Yang Yi chuckled from the side. "Commander, when Wu Yan came, he brought six thousand men in high spirits. Now only a few hundred stragglers flee in panic. With this victory, the Wuhuan will not dare covet Yuyang again."
Zhang Xin only smiled faintly.
He knew better.
In this era, battlefield lethality was limited. Though it seemed like only a few hundred had escaped, many more had simply scattered. Given time, they would regroup.
That was why defeated warlords in history could often rebuild armies within a year or two.
In truth, deaths in battle were fewer than those caused afterward—by famine, disease, and the failure to properly handle corpses.
Zhang Xin estimated that killing around two thousand Wuhuan troops would already be a strong result. But it was far from enough to cripple them.
"They'll be back next year…" he thought. "And in greater numbers."
With Wu Yan's hatred now deepened—and the looming threat of the Xianbei beyond the frontier—his situation was far from secure.
"It still comes down to cavalry," Zhang Xin reflected. "If my horsemen were stronger, Wu Yan would never have escaped."
Still, they had captured many warhorses this time.
"Next time… I'll wipe him out completely."
—
After ordering the dead buried to prevent disease, Zhang Xin led his army back.
When they reached Fox Slave County, a surprising scene awaited them.
Crowds of civilians had gathered outside the city, carrying food—flatbreads, porridge, drinks, even roasted chickens.
Zhang Xin stopped in place, deeply moved.
No matter the era, the common people remained the same—honest, resilient.
Just days ago, these same people had been looted by the Wuhuan. And yet now, they were willing to offer what little they had left to the army that defended them.
It was like the old accounts—people welcoming a righteous army with food and drink.
Yang Yi and Zuo Bao exchanged glances, equally stunned.
"Stop!" Zhang Xin ordered.
He dismounted and walked forward with a few guards.
An older man stepped out nervously to meet him, dressed in official robes. From his attire—black upper garment, red lower robe, and a bronze seal with a yellow sash—Zhang Xin immediately recognized him as a local official.
Most likely the county magistrate.
Sure enough, the man bowed deeply.
"I am Zhou Yuan, Magistrate of Fox Slave County. General, you have worked hard to defeat the bandits. On behalf of the people, I offer you this wine."
He raised a bowl with both hands.
Zhang Xin stepped forward and gently helped him up instead of accepting it.
"Magistrate, there's no need. I am only fulfilling my duty. I do not deserve such hospitality."
Zhou Yuan's expression grew tense.
"The people insisted on preparing food and drink… to reward the army and comfort the soldiers."
Zhang Xin studied his face—and understood.
This wasn't entirely spontaneous.
Zhou Yuan had organized it.
By offering food outside the city, he was trying to ensure the army wouldn't enter and disturb the already struggling populace.
"If you've eaten our food," the unspoken message went, "you won't plunder us."
Zhang Xin almost laughed at himself.
So his earlier emotion had been misplaced.
Still… he didn't mind playing along.
He hadn't come to ruin Yuyang—he needed stability, governance, and ultimately legitimacy. And that meant working with officials like Zhou Yuan.
Compared to that, a meal meant nothing.
"No need," Zhang Xin said with a warm smile. "Yuyang is only thirty li away. My army will return there to rest."
He turned and raised his voice to the crowd:
"People of Fox Slave! I appreciate your kindness. But food is scarce in winter—keep it for yourselves. Go home, and have a good New Year!"
"General, you are merciful!"
The crowd bowed deeply.
"Go on, all of you," Zhang Xin said with a smile, turning back toward his horse.
Behind him, Zhou Yuan watched quietly, murmuring to himself:
"A righteous army… truly a righteous army… And yet… labeled as rebels… what a pity…"
—
At that moment, the sound of galloping hooves shattered the calm.
"Report!"
A Yellow Turban scout rode in at full speed.
"General! Shanggu's Nanlou has led five thousand cavalry through Yuyang—and has surrounded General Zhang!"