A fine drizzle began falling in the night, accompanied by sudden gusts of wind. The cold rain droplets descended upon the vast wilderness.

Many torches near the Wuto military encampment were extinguished by the wind, prompting curses from the Wuto soldiers. When stationed outdoors, clear weather was always preferable to rain. Their gazes toward the city grew more savage and greedy. The Rundu people could live in houses sheltered from wind and rain. It was said that Jinling had countless beautiful women in silk garments, and Shuojing had even more treasures. Even the clothing and daily necessities of an ordinary concubine in the Shuojing Palace surpassed what the Wuto ministers possessed.

Soon enough, once General Hu Yate ordered the final assault, they would become the masters of this city.

The Wuto soldiers stared at the tightly closed city gates like vicious dogs eyeing meat, their eyes full of greed.

At this moment, a rope descended, with a figure swaying on it in the darkness. Soon after, many ropes appeared simultaneously, each carrying several figures.

The patrolling Wuto soldier said, “Quick, tell the general that those Rundu people are lowering straw men again!”

Hu Yate was drinking in his tent when he received the news. He sneered, “They think we’ll keep giving them arrows every day. Tell the others to shoot just a few arrows. Even if more break, we won’t waste them on those Great Wei cowards!”

His subordinate left with the order.

The ropes swayed slightly. He Yan was among the first to descend the city wall. She moved extremely quickly, and in an instant, her feet touched the ground. Before she could steady herself, she heard several “whoosh” sounds of arrows being released above. Her heart tightened – the Wuto people were shooting.

This was actually within her expectations. Previously, she had ordered two releases of straw men, but couldn’t prevent the vigilant Wuto people from occasionally testing with arrows. These arrows might miss or hit some soldiers, but… there was no sound.

Except for the rain and wind, nothing could be heard. As she had said, even if it hurt, they had to endure it. Only by pretending to be ‘straw men’ would the Wuto people believe that what was tied to the ropes descending from the city walls were indeed “straw men.”

Light movements came from her sides as others descended with her. Five hundred elite soldiers would all soon land on this piece of ground. Time was tight.

Fortunately, after shooting a few arrows at the beginning, the Wuto people made no more moves. They probably heard no sound and were convinced that today was like before – Li Kuang’s trick to “borrow arrows” – and wouldn’t fall for it again. After a quarter of an hour, all the troops had assembled.

Among the five hundred people, three were wounded by Wuto arrows, though fortunately none were seriously. He Yan ordered these three to grab the ropes and return to the city, while the remaining troops followed her to infiltrate the Wuto encampment.

The night rain provided the perfect cover, with the rain curtain concealing everything as darkness enveloped the world.

Near the encampment, patrol soldiers walked around with flickering torches. The Wuto army was quite loose in their formation, probably believing victory was certain in this war. They didn’t think Rundu’s small force would dare to walk into their trap with a sneak attack. Even the patrol soldiers weren’t particularly vigilant.

The open plan had no cover except for small shrubs and rocks. The Wuto people had cleverly positioned their camp – this terrain couldn’t hide anyone. However, this also meant their provisions camp was easy to locate.

He Yan signaled to those behind her, and all elite soldiers infiltrated near the surrounding tents as previously instructed.

They needed to find the provisions storage first. He Yan beckoned, and Jiang Jiao and Wang Ba’s group followed her movements. Those from the Liangzhou Guard were familiar with each other and knew how to coordinate. Having them find and burn the provisions was the best approach.

A Wuto soldier sat drinking before his tent. The Wuto people were crude and loved strong liquor, complaining that Rundu’s grape wine was too sweet to be considered proper alcohol, yet they couldn’t let it go. They poured the wine from delicate vessels into their mouths, then carelessly tossed the containers aside without regard. Though sweet, grape wine was still alcohol, and soon brought slight intoxication.

He stumbled to his feet and walked to the shrubs at the edge of the plain to relieve himself. Halfway through, he suddenly felt someone tap his shoulder. Thinking it was another soldier, he turned around irritably, only to see a demon’s face behind him, giving him an eerie smile.

When people are extremely frightened, they can’t even make a sound. This Wuto soldier was the same – his mind went blank for a moment, his body turning ice cold. Before the word ‘ghost’ could leave his mouth, a cold flash appeared before him.

With a soft “thud,” his head fell to the ground.

The masked person crouched down, dragging the body deep into the shrubs. Soon, no trace of the Wuto soldier remained outside, and a dark shadow silently crept into the tents.

Simultaneously, countless “demons” appeared throughout the Wuto encampment, silently taking the lives of many Wuto soldiers. These Wuto soldiers died without knowing who killed them, remembering only the terrifying demon faces that suddenly appeared in the darkness.

Another Wuto soldier fell, dragged into an empty tent, and positioned to appear sleeping with his head hanging. Two masked figures nodded to each other, their eyes flashing with satisfaction.

Five hundred people, except for He Yan, wore five hundred demon masks. The black-clad youth with a stern expression had told them: “The Wuto people believe in ghosts and reincarnation. They kill mercilessly yet maintain Buddhist statues in every household. If we attack at night wearing these fierce demon masks and suddenly appear in the darkness, the Wuto people, haunted by guilt, will surely be frightened. Their morale will easily break in their fear – that’s our opportunity.”

Indeed, it worked as planned. Who would have thought these supposedly brave and fierce Wuto barbarians would fear such supernatural elements?

He Yan’s idea came from the “Fox Lie” mask from the Jiyang Water God Festival. If one ugly “Fox Lie” mask could make Jiyang’s people disgusted and repulsed, then for the Wuto people, the terror of demons would be enough to shake their military morale.

The Wuto tents weren’t close to each other, and there was distance between common soldiers’ tents and those of deputy commanders. As He Yan passed a particularly spacious and luxurious tent, she heard a woman’s painful cries from inside.

The dim lamplight in the tent cast shadows of the figures inside – vaguely showing struggling women and fierce men, accompanied by Wuto soldiers’ unrestrained laughter and women’s weeping, making listeners’ hearts tremble with fear. He Yan unconsciously stopped, looking toward the tent.

Jiang Jiao beside her was startled.

They hadn’t found the provisions yet. If He Yan couldn’t resist intervening now, everything would be ruined. Not only would these captured Rundu women die in vain but also the vanguard who came prepared to die today.

Though he deeply sympathized with these women. In times of chaos, women without self-protection abilities, once captured, could only become enemy soldiers’ playthings.

Shi Tou was also worried, carefully tugging at He Yan’s sleeve. He Yan shifted her gaze away and gestured for them to continue forward.

Jiang Jiao inwardly sighed with relief. Given He Yan’s strong sense of justice, he truly feared she would rush in recklessly and expose herself.

The women’s crying gradually faded but seemed to linger in everyone’s ears. They all knew well that if they couldn’t burn the Wuto provisions tonight, couldn’t catch them off guard, before long, Rundu city would fall, and such crying would be heard everywhere.

War was just this cruel.

After infiltrating further ahead, more Wuto patrol soldiers appeared, walking back and forth with torches nearby. There were fewer soldier tents in this area, but there was one large tent with dozens of wagons parked outside.

He Yan and Wang Ba’s group stopped, hiding in the shrubs behind.

This was where the Wuto people stored their provisions.

Such abundant provisions could relieve so much urgent need if brought back to Rundu. The soldiers wouldn’t have to starve until gaunt, and the city’s civilians wouldn’t have to catch rats and wild grass to eat. But He Yan knew they couldn’t take these provisions away. If they grew greedy, the result would inevitably be that no one could leave, not only failing to take any provisions but also sacrificing hundreds of lives here.

The art of war was also the art of knowing what to give up. To win, one must be willing to sacrifice.

The Wuto soldiers guarding the provisions were very alert, frequently looking around, with torches making the surroundings very bright, making it impossible to sneak nearby and set fires like before.

“What should we do?” Shi Tou gestured to ask.

He Yan had already considered this point. She pointed forward, then at herself, toward the provisions storage area.

This was following their second plan discussed before departure. But this method would be extremely dangerous for He Yan.

Shi Tou still had doubts, but He Yan smiled and asked him to extend his hand. Using her index finger, she traced on his palm – the others watched carefully and saw that instead of writing characters, she was outlining a hill with a flag planted on it.

This was meant to remind them of the flag-capturing scene.

Back at Liangzhou Guard, during the flag competition on Mount Bai Yue, it had been just the five of them. They had only been through a few days of training then, hadn’t even seen what Wuto people looked like, and knew nothing of real battlefields. Yet on that mountain, they had captured all twenty flags.

A raid should look like a raid, though now their targets had changed from their Liangzhou Guard comrades to the hated and fierce Wuto people. They weren’t fighting for twenty inconsequential flags anymore, but for the provisions the Wuto people treasured. Their goal wasn’t the small honor of a military post or the vanity of being first, but the survival of Rundu city’s ten thousand citizens.

Five people working together – if they could do it then, they could do it now.

Smiles spread from behind their masks, and He Yan exchanged a very light high-five with them before vanishing into the night.

…

The wind had grown stronger, with slanting rain bringing a chill as it struck their bodies.

“Did you hear something just now?” a patrolling Wuto soldier asked his companion.

“Just the wind,” his companion replied dismissively, mocking him, “What’s wrong? Stayed outside Rundu city too long and become as cowardly as the Great Wei people?”

The Wuto soldier didn’t answer, only looking puzzledly into the distance. He thought he had heard a faint cry just then. Looking around, he asked, “Aren’t there fewer torch-bearing patrol soldiers than usual?”

The Wuto soldiers were sleeping in their tents while the patrol guards kept watch outside. Though the night rain had extinguished some torches, it shouldn’t have extinguished the people too. He walked over, reaching a tent where the wind made the wild grass rustle outside, bringing with it a strange scent. This smell wasn’t unfamiliar to him – in fact, it was terribly familiar. They had encountered it countless times in the prisoner camp and the farms outside Rundu city.

It was the smell of blood.

The Wuto soldier froze. Holding his torch, he stood before the tent, hesitating before entering. The blood smell was even stronger inside, with everyone lying face down as if sleeping.

If one ignores the large pools of blood on the ground.

“Help! Enemy attack! Great Wei forces are raiding the camp-” Before the patrol soldier could finish his cry, a flash of blade light appeared in the darkness. He felt a chill at his neck, and his body fell.

As the torch fell to the ground, he struggled to turn his eyes. In his field of vision, he saw a demon mask with a green face and fangs, staring at him grimly.

…

War horns echoed across the plains outside Rundu city, awakening countless Wuto soldiers.

“Great Wei forces are raiding the camp!”

The darkness and rain had concealed the smell of blood. When everyone got up to check, they discovered many Wuto soldiers in the tents had been killed in their sleep. Blood flowed outside the tents, merging with the mud of the plains, watering Great Wei’s soil along with the rain.

Hu Yate drew his sword, grinding his teeth in anger: “How dare the Great Wei forces raid at night! Wuto warriors will ensure they never return. Kill all the Great Wei people!”

Killing intent suddenly rose from all directions. As the situation became clear, sounds of battle and killing erupted from the tents.

“Ghosts! There are ghosts!” came the terrified screams of the Wuto people.

“Where are the ghosts? Those are Great Wei people!”

“No… they’re ghosts!”

Black-clad figures emerged from all directions, faces like fierce demons, expressions savage, appearing silently beside the Wuto people and easily claiming their lives. Though the Wuto people were typically fierce and bloodthirsty, seeing fierce demons manifest in the darkness broke their morale, causing immediate chaos.

Hu Yate shouted angrily: “What ghosts? This is all Great Wei trickery! Look carefully, they’re wearing masks! Anyone who doesn’t fight with full strength, who shows cowardice, will be executed under military law!”

Though Hu Yate spoke harshly, the other Wuto soldiers dared not retreat. However, the fear in people’s hearts doesn’t completely disappear with just a few words. The masks made by Rundu craftsmen were designed to be terrifying and sinister. The wearers remained silent, making anyone who saw them feel three parts afraid.

The Wuto soldiers were having a hard time.

Meanwhile, outside He Yan’s position, sounds of chaos could be heard everywhere, but the soldiers guarding the provisions merely looked alert without moving, becoming even more vigilant of their surroundings.

Suddenly, a figure flashed past, moving incredibly fast like a fleeting shadow, attempting to approach the provisions. The Wuto soldiers immediately shouted: “Someone’s coming!”

The sounds of blades clashing rang out. The Wuto soldiers could now see clearly that the intruder was a masked person in black… but only one?

“Daring to burn the provisions alone?” A Wuto soldier laughed. “General Hu Yate was right – these Great Wei people aren’t just cowardly, they’re stupid too!”

“The Wuto people aren’t just savage, they’re also too talkative,” the masked figure in black mocked coldly.

“Archers ready! Turn him into a porcupine!”

Countless arrows rained down from behind. The provisions storage had the most guards, and regardless of what happened outside, these men wouldn’t leave their posts. The provisions were, in a way, key to the Wuto people’s victory without casualties. Attacking a city was certainly harder than defending one. Though they could win through force, there would be casualties. It was better to slowly wear down Rundu, and wait until most people inside starved to death and their forces were too weak to fight. Then taking the city would be as easy as cutting tofu with a knife.

Thus, Hu Yate knew the provisions couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The arrow rain was dense, but the black-clad figure blocked them with their sword. Their swordplay was extraordinarily good – in the night rain, under the torchlight, moving too fast to see clearly. One could only see a black shadow fighting, and in moments, Wuto corpses lay before and behind them.

Huang Xiong and the others hiding in the grass were stunned.

They had known He Yan was skilled in sword, spear, bow, and whip back in Liangzhou Guard, but had never seen her use a sword. When Jiang Jiao once asked, He Yan had only said: “My swordplay isn’t good, it feels awkward to use, so I’d rather not embarrass myself. When using weapons, one should use what they’re best at.”

Tonight He Yan had taken General Li Kuang’s precious sword – they had thought it was just because she needed to impersonate Flying Swan General. But now seeing her exquisite swordplay, she likely matched the real Flying Swan General, having been far too modest before, never revealing her true skill.

No wonder she dared to raid the enemy camp alone to burn the provisions. Even this rain of arrows couldn’t touch her.

“General! Someone’s attacking near the provisions storage!” Hu Yate’s trusted aide shouted.

Hu Yate stabbed his sword through a masked person’s chest, yanking it out with a spray of blood. As the person fell, their mask dropped to the ground. Hu Yate stepped on it, grinding it into the earth before turning toward the provisions storage, sneering: “How presumptuous!”

When he reached the tents near the storage, he saw Wuto soldiers everywhere, surrounding a sword-wielding figure in black at the center. Their sword moved like a rainbow – though alone, they fought with the presence of ten thousand troops. The black rain of arrows passed by their sides but couldn’t even touch their clothes. Where their sword pointed, Wuto soldiers fell one after another.

Hu Yate stopped in his tracks.

Several Wuto soldiers charged together, but the black-clad figure’s sword moved like a snake, easily sweeping past them. With a turn and a spin, several men fell before them, blood spattering their silver masks, only to be washed away by the misty night rain – but the sharp, burning killing intent remained.

Hu Yate’s mind went blank. “Who are you?”

The masked figure looked over, their eyes beautiful and bright yet chilling, though their voice was calm, even gentle.

“Jade Person treads snow and gracefully departs, Flying Swan soars through startled clouds freely,” the black-clad figure tilted their head, saying, “I thought everyone in the world knew my name.”