Chapter Sixty-Five: Miscalculation

“So, this is its effect.”

Wang Luo, clad in full armor, lay prone on the ground like the soldiers around him, stretching out a hand to catch the crimson raindrops.

The scent was sharp, like blood, but not quite. The rain weakened their armor: both he and his nearby soldiers felt their defenses slowly eroding. There was also a subtle assault on the mind—he could hear a few soldiers nearby whimpering in pain, clearly suffering. Yet, the rain’s supposed effect of making heavy machine gun fire devastating hadn’t manifested.

According to previous reports, once you left the area of the blood rain, its effects ceased. So, before setting out, Wang Luo had ordered the soldiers to hit the ground immediately if they encountered the rain.

His intention was to minimize casualties from possible machine gun or artillery fire while maintaining the formation, then brace for the coming attack and look for a chance to strike back.

Not long ago, when scouts reported Han forces ahead, he’d commanded the formation to tighten up, so they wouldn’t be easily broken by an attack. Once clustered together, smaller detachments quickly moved to the flanks—one group could break free of the blood rain’s reach, while the others could intercept gunfire and strike back.

According to survivors from previous encounters, the blood rain’s area wasn’t this vast. Was it because there were fewer of their own men then? Could the area expand even further?

Already, the machine guns had started chattering, screams ringing out sporadically. But the Han army hadn’t advanced—good.

Standing up, Wang Luo felt something heating against his chest. Reaching for it, he found it was the third volume.

Had the enemy used fire as well? And had it worked…? Would there be another blood rain? He’d guessed there was a limit to how many times or how often it could be used, but nothing was certain. They had to seize the moment and advance.

Wang Luo waved his hand and gave the order. “Sound the drums! Blow the horns! Forward!”

The drums and horns sounded in unison.

The blood rain still fell, and a few soldiers remained confused, but the army as a whole regained its composure and pressed onward.

After a while, cries of battle broke out on the hillside—infantry units previously positioned there had reached their posts and were now engaging the ambushers. The cavalry outside the blood rain’s reach couldn’t climb the slopes, but, as planned, they charged between the hillside and the main force, loosing arrows at the enemy.

A few scattered soldiers were hit and fell during the advance, but most, following Wang Luo’s earlier commands, ignored them. As the rear of the army neared the edge of the rain, the downpour finally ceased.

Rounding a bend, they saw a force of several thousand Han soldiers bearing a great banner marked “Sun,” arrayed on the opposite slope.

Wang Luo studied his own troops. The ambush had left them a bit scattered; several infantry units were isolated and the cavalry hadn’t caught up, yet they still held a clear numerical advantage.

He needed to seize the opportunity. “Sound the drums! Advance! Crush the enemy!”

---

“Why didn’t it burn?!”

Lin Feier’s face twisted in fury.

A miscalculation. Something had gone wrong.

At that moment, her expression was hideous and contorted, her voice hoarse and edged with panic.

“What happened? What went wrong?!”

Activating the blood rain over such a large area had cost her 1.8 million points, and sustaining it had spent another four or five hundred thousand—yet the gains were only a few hundred.

Not only had she failed to break the enemy, she’d barely killed anyone at all!

Unforgivable. She raged, demanding answers, gripping the flesh on Wright’s back, then pounding on him.

He endured in silence, teeth clenched, face twisted with pain.

Countless doubts and fears flashed through her mind, tangled with possible reasons. Then, the most terrifying possibility seized her.

In the grip of fear, she forced herself to calm. Despite her ragged breathing, she returned to her usual composure.

“Where are they now?”

“They’ve just rounded the bend… The Han army! They’ve made contact.”

“Take me up there,” she ordered. “Then check on everyone else, find out what happened, and report back.”

“At once.”

---

The terrain was narrow, not ideal for their side. On the right of the revolutionary army was a ditch; on the left, a forest. The Han army’s line filled the open ground, and led by their officers, they advanced slowly down the slope.

Thanks to their training, the revolutionary army now saved their strength before the charge, so their pace slowed as well. The two armies watched each other, closing in until only dozens of meters separated them—then both sides broke into a run, charging into battle.

---

At the forefront of the Han army was a cavalry unit on their left wing, several dozen horsemen led by their commander. They aimed straight at Wang Luo’s right flank, where Tie Zhu commanded a small group of shield and sabre men.

These soldiers had been detached from the main force to avoid the blood rain. After encountering the Han cavalry, they tried to rejoin the main body, but a gap remained.

They managed a rough formation, but couldn’t withstand the enemy’s assault. In an instant, their line was pierced.

The Han soldiers cheered at the breakthrough, and more infantry followed the cavalry, hoping for a rout.

Wang Luo, watching from high ground, frowned and dispatched a flanking unit to support them. But the cavalry, after breaking through, wheeled around and charged at Tie Zhu’s men again.

Tie Zhu’s soldiers formed a line, and, under his command, raised their blades to defend. As the enemy riders thundered in, Tie Zhu swung his blade at one’s flank, but the foe’s sabre met his, and, using momentum, shattered Tie Zhu’s sword before decapitating him in a single stroke.

A cavalryman snatched up Tie Zhu’s head, another hacked down his banner. Then they galloped back to their lines, and their leader held the head high, shouting, “Glory to the Han army!”

The Han soldiers echoed as one: “Glory to the Han army! Glory to the Han army!”

Wang Luo, meanwhile, regained his composure. “Order all squads to rejoin the main force! Command the army to hold formation!”

Banners waved, horns sounded.

This was the drill the revolutionary soldiers knew best. They closed ranks, protecting each other with shields, striking out only when opportunities arose.

The enemy commander did not charge the main force with his handful of cavalry, but circled on the flank, searching for an opening. Eventually he found one, led his horsemen in a slanting assault, killed or wounded over a dozen revolutionary soldiers, losing four or five of his own in the process.

“Charge!” Almost as the enemy cavalry attacked, Zhang Shitou at the center echoed the cry. He smashed a Han shield with his saber, then felled the soldier behind it. His men rallied behind him, blades raised, and the Han center came under intense pressure.

But Han reinforcements quickly closed in, blocking their way. In the end, Zhang Shitou and his men could not break through.

After further deadlock, as dusk approached and both sides were exhausted, the armies pulled back to their own lines.