Chapter Thirty-Two: Deadlock

On the battlefield, the side that holds the initiative possesses the most crucial advantage.

The next day, around one o'clock in the morning, the Han army began preparing their meals. By about three o'clock, they marched out to battle.

This time, none of the major contractor groups took action. Only a few small teams, unaware of the situation, continued to follow the Han army.

Wherever the clever gather, such things are inevitable. As a character of the scenario, the Han commander ignored the contractors. This time, he led the healthy Han troops along a new path—slightly westward, bypassing the small hill, to prevent the Yellow Turban army from using the terrain for defense again.

Midway through the march, the scouts brought news: the Yellow Turban army had mobilized, but not toward them. Instead, they rushed straight to the crossroads, seemingly aiming to attack the Han camp.

You fight your battle, I fight mine.

From Wang Luo’s perspective, seizing the initiative on the battlefield was indispensable. Otherwise, with his side’s fragile soldiers, if they were ambushed in unfavorable terrain, the inevitable collapse—like the previous ragged Yellow Turban troops—could be expected.

Upon receiving word of the Han army’s route change that morning, he immediately ordered his troops to march. When the scouts’ reports confirmed that intercepting would mean fighting on terrain disadvantageous to his side, he commanded to ignore the Han army, and instead headed directly for the Han camp along the previous path.

If the Han army attacked, they could use the terrain for defense and counterattack; if not, they would strike the Han camp—and perhaps even press forward to the main Han encampment.

Changing homes, so to speak. What’s a child compared to an enemy?

In this situation, the Han army was forced to retreat. Around nine in the morning, the Yellow Turban side, upon spotting the approaching Han troops, halted and formed ranks.

The two armies clashed on a hillside. From the Yellow Turban perspective, their formation stood atop the hill, backs to the sun, wind at their backs.

On the left was a forest; on the right, a small river. Opposite, several thousand Han soldiers, their ranks slightly scattered from the forced march, attacked from below.

This time, the terrain was broader. The Yellow Turban line formed a shallow “concave” shape, similar to the hill. The left protrusion was led by Zhang Xiong, whose troops wielded shields and short swords; the right, the lower ground, more vulnerable, was held by Zhou Yingxiong’s unit, many of whom bore two shields.

The war drums thundered first, then the Han army surged forward like a tide. From above, banners fluttered, weapons flashed, and soon roars, clashing steel, shouts, curses, and wails mingled across the battlefield.

This time, the Han army formed a wedge. One force charged ahead, two others flanked, aiming toward the center of the Yellow Turban formation, led by Zhang Shitou.

Upon contact, the Yellow Turban line felt tremendous pressure. Only with tight formations, considerable depth, and the terrain’s advantage could they barely hold their line.

For this, they paid dearly in blood, cries, and casualties.

Wang Luo stood on high ground, watching the central groups led by Zhang Shitou and Bai Erjin struggle. According to prior training, they were to maintain the line—covering each other, retreating steadily under pressure, rotating with fresh troops from the rear.

Now, however, they appeared fragile, on the verge of collapse—panic, fear, and wavering.

Is this their plan? Rush the hill, break through the center? The depth of the formation wouldn’t allow it.

Or is there some other scheme afoot?

Supporting now would ease the soldiers’ fear. But if they could endure a bit longer themselves, surviving the cycle of fear—underestimation—fear, they would grow, learn to face battle and death calmly.

This cannot be trained. No one can help them, no one can teach them—they must experience it themselves.

“Beat the drums, raise the flag! Flank the Han army, encircle them!”

Schemes cannot withstand open strategies. When the Han army attacks, their formation is less defensive; with superior numbers, one can strike decisively.

This battlefield, like any other, was chaos. Wang Luo’s real intention was not to have the flanks attack directly, but to push forward until they reached the rear of the Han army, then turn and strike from the sides and rear.

In execution, however, this proved difficult. The flanks advanced, encountered the Han army’s shifting formation—changing from an arrowhead to an arc—and the soldiers instinctively charged, scattering their own ranks.

Zhang Xiong’s unit attacked fiercely, but the Han troops easily blocked them. They fought, but showed no sign of breaking through. On the right…

Wang Luo stationed Zhou Yingxiong’s unit on the right, because the lower terrain was more vulnerable. The Han army, however, did not attack there; they struck the center. Thus, when the flanks attacked, this side posed little threat.

Zhou Yingxiong’s double-shield soldiers were not all equipped with two shields. Strictly speaking, only the front row was. These soldiers, like their commander, held a small shield in each hand, refrained from attacking, and simply stood firm, blocking enemy spears and arrows, protecting themselves or covering their comrades without striking back.

Now, upon receiving the order to charge, these soldiers retreated to the rear ranks while ordinary soldiers with round shields and short swords moved forward. Yet, these lacked fighting power and failed to pressure the Han lines.

There was no remedy—Zhou Yingxiong’s unit was meant for defense. They could only be redeployed within those limits.

The two armies stalemated, allowing Wang Luo to observe the entire line, assess the situation, and issue commands.

His side still held the high ground and, in effect, surrounded the enemy. The task was to maintain formation, use the terrain, resolutely resist the Han assault, gradually wear down their stamina, and eventually force them to retreat—then seize the momentum to strike.

If he led seasoned veterans, perhaps feigned retreats could lure the enemy in. But these Yellow Turban soldiers could only advance and hold; any retreat order might trigger a total collapse. The moment wasn’t right—the order could not be given. Now, careful observation and patience were needed.

He saw no sign of enemy contractors acting—a hidden danger.

The battle continued; pressure on the center mounted. Zhang Shitou’s unit could barely hold formation.

Reinforcements were needed—whom to send? Troops from elsewhere on the line? If moved to the center, who knew what chaos might ensue! Were the enemy contractors waiting for such an opportunity?

He could not risk it. If any point crumbled, his army’s fragility would be exposed, and nothing could be salvaged. At this moment, caution and patience were right.

Wang Luo ordered his own reserve, originally meant to pursue the Han army, to reinforce the center.

With support, the central units stabilized. The line deepened; even the formidable Han army could not break through, bogged down and unable to advance.