Chapter Seventy: Approaching Power and Accumulated Might

The day after the battle with the Wuzhou team and the Han army’s vanguard, scouts reported that the main Han forces had arrived and were advancing toward their position.

The sky was overcast that day, heavy with the threat of rain.

Under Wang Luo’s orders, the revolutionary army’s fourteen thousand combat troops assembled outside the camp after breakfast, lined up neatly and fully armed.

First came a solemn burial ceremony for their fallen comrades. Wang Luo then recited a prepared elegy, extolling the pursuit of victory and honoring the sacrifices made. With that, the entire force mobilized, ready to engage the Han main army in decisive battle.

Zhou Yingxiong remained in charge of the camp’s defense. Wang Luo left him a thousand soldiers to protect the elderly, the weak, and the women and children. Although Zhou protested passionately, eager to join the front lines, Wang Luo’s resolve was firm.

“I only feel assured if you stay behind.”

Such words, spoken before many generals, would evoke varied reactions—something that would become clear later.

Before the deployment, Wang Luo updated the mission orders: any soldier who brought back a Han soldier’s head would earn 100 contribution points; killing a squad leader would yield 500 points, and so on. These rewards would stack with the usual benefits given by their spatial powers. However, only Charles accompanied the main force onto the battlefield; Gedini, Rank, and the rest of their team did not participate.

Zhou Suyan did not go either.

This time, the revolutionary army was formidable and brimming with morale—not like when they were forced to abandon their camp, burdened with protecting heavy logistics; not like the rash assault from a few days ago; nor like the earlier scattered, disorganized state of the troops.

Their weapons gleamed—spears and halberds lined up like a dense forest, banners fluttered proudly, armor shone brilliantly. Their experience had grown through continuous combat and victories; they were no longer raw recruits but soldiers acclimated to the chaos of war. Mentally, they now understood the reasons and goals behind their fight.

Officers, whether promoted from the Yellow Turban ranks or selected from surrendered Han soldiers, were exhilarated by the sight of such a disciplined, imposing force.

Only Wang Luo, observing their joy, murmured quietly, “They are still but raw material.”

The two armies made contact around midday. Scouts returned with word of the Han army’s presence ahead. Wang Luo commanded his troops to halt, take advantageous terrain, and prepare to confront the enemy.

The terrain was hilly—vast waves of undulating hills rising gradually higher toward the right flank. Scattered groves, hollows, and rocks dotted the landscape. Wang Luo deployed his main force along this wave, allowing his soldiers to find natural cover and steady their formation against the enemy’s charge.

Wang Luo himself took position at the highest point with his personal guard and the standard-bearers to monitor the situation and make adjustments swiftly. A small contingent of cavalry was stationed on both flanks. Though these men could not fight mounted, their horses allowed rapid movement to reinforce pressured positions.

In the distance, the Han army appeared in successive waves, vast and thunderous, dust billowing in their wake.

They approached not head-on but from the revolutionary army’s left flank. Upon spotting the enemy, they quickened their march slightly but did not break into a run.

Above the Han ranks fluttered banners bearing the names “Lu,” “Han,” “Cao,” and “Sun.” Utilizing their flag-signaling expertise, Wang Luo’s forces adjusted their formation, facing the enemy squarely with the cavalry pulled back. Yet the main body remained unmoving.

The sky darkened further, threatening rain. The battle was on the brink of eruption.

———

“Do you think he will win?”

Zhou Suyan now lived in the rear camp like other womenfolk, but in a private tent arranged by Zhou Yingxiong. She was unsure if this was Wang Luo’s design and had not inquired. Since Wang Luo no longer needed her as a cook, and the anticipated contact from Wuzhou had not materialized, she spent her time teaching nearby women and children to read and write, chatting with them now and then.

She was somewhat surprised by the visit and questions from the handsome, elven-featured Captain Gedini. Yet she did not mind the company and treated it as mere conversation.

“How would I know?” she answered with a smile.

“Do you hope he wins?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she laughed. “If he loses, I’ll be with Wuzhou; if he wins, I stay here.”

Gedini paused. “You still have contact with Wuzhou?”

“No,” Zhou Suyan brushed back her hair. “Though some in the regiment have surrendered before, the captain never minded. As long as they are willing to return, it’s not a problem.”

“Then...” Gedini said slowly, “what if I told you this time it’s different?”

“I know it’s different,” she said wide-eyed, almost foolishly. “Before, everyone just followed the tide, maybe played some borderline tactics. I’ve never met anyone who just changes the story at will.”

“I mean something else. What if Wuzhou won’t accept you anymore?”

“No way,” Zhou Suyan considered. “The captain isn’t petty. Sometimes she’s stubborn and says harsh things... but in major matters, she’s always reliable.”

“That’s because she’s been winning,” Gedini stared into her eyes. “But this time, she said: if you can’t prove your worth, then go die with the enemy.”

Zhou Suyan lowered her head, her voice trembling. “Worth... I can’t do much... Did the captain really say that? How do you know...”

“I’m her collaborator now. You might not believe me, but you can ask her yourself.”

Gedini produced a jewelry box. After a moment’s hesitation, Zhou Suyan took it and walked away.

“Captain? I’m Suyan...”

“I... I didn’t betray anyone. I was captured and had to do as they demanded.”

“Who is he? He’s overbearing, ignores my protests, keeps making me cook and wash clothes...”

“I don’t know his weaknesses... He’s fickle, I can’t tell which words are true or false. Oh, he seems to have heart trouble.”

“No... it doesn’t affect him much. He’s always writing something. No, I can’t see it; he hides it. I glimpsed it once—it was all nonsense, not sentences, just a jumble of words.”

“Besides that? He studies maps. He had someone prepare a whole battlefield map. When not writing, he stares at it like it’s more beautiful than me. No... I don’t like him.”

“Yes, I was forced. I don’t know what restrictions he put on me. Once he loses, I can leave.”

“Thank you. I will cooperate as long as I can.”