Weird Three Kingdoms

Chapter 3768 Uprightness is strength, crookedness is old age.

In autumn, Yique and Taigu seem to appear somewhat withered, yellow, and gray due to the arrival of autumn.

Especially at Yique Pass, two mountains stand facing each other, steep and sheer, and the gray-brown rocks seem to still bear traces of Zhang Liao's previous battles here.

Cao Cao stared at it silently for a long time.

Just like Cheng Yu, Man Chong, who originally stayed in Luoyang, also seemed to have exhausted everything, but still ended up with nothing.

Divide forces into ambushes, launch attacks from multiple points, suppress internal forces, and maintain strict defense, and so on.

Every step seemed to be correct.

But why was the final result wrong?

Cao Cao pondered, and he understood some things, but there were still some questions he didn't answer.

Several tenacious jujube trees took root in the cracks of the rocks, their withered yellow branches trembling in the wind. This reminded Cao Cao of the "sour jujubes" of yesteryear, and the "sour jujube tea" brewed by Zhang Miao...

Ma'am.

The bluestone slabs on Yique Pass are mottled and worn from the erosion of wind and rain, and the banners on the pass seem to be just as faded and dirty as the pass itself, with only the occasional strong wind able to stretch them out briefly.

Without the sound of bugles or the roar of war drums, Cao Cao's army silently marched out of Yique Pass, joined another detachment coming from Taigu Pass, and headed towards Luoyang.

Metal rubs against the ground as footsteps pass by.

Yellow dust and flying sand rushed into the sky.

The monotonous march, punctuated by the hoarse cries of startled crows from the Songshan Mountains, seemed to herald the start of a desperate advance.

These crows seemed to have eaten human flesh, so they showed no fear of humans as they soared through the sky. Their cries were sharp and mournful, as if cursing or mourning the impending bloody battle.

Cao's army poured out of the pass, slowly but stubbornly sweeping towards the devastated plain ahead.

The dark blue armor gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the autumn light. As the column moved forward, the armor plates collided with each other, making a soft sound. This sound mingled with the footsteps, the friction of weapons against the ground, and the short commands of the military officers, creating a somber and oppressive marching symphony.

Some movements celebrate new life, while others mourn death.

And this current movement...

No matter how Cao Cao listened, he couldn't detect any joy in his expression.

The wind swept across the Heluo Plain, bringing not only dust from the journey, but also the smell of rust, sweat, and blood from the soldiers.

Cao Cao had been smelling this scent for many years.

He liked this flavor when he was young.

Because it seems that this flavor is filled with a powerful and brutal force that can wipe out everything in the world!
By the middle of the year, he had gotten used to this taste.

Since the beginning of his rebellion, he had never left these soldiers, and his long military life had made him familiar with everything.

Now, he is old...

Although Cao Cao knew perfectly well that the smell of rust mixed with a faint stench of blood was a remnant of a previous small-scale conflict, and that the smell of sweat carried a sour, rancid odor, the fermented smell of the soldiers' inferior rations soaked in sweat, for some reason, Cao Cao suddenly found these smells...

It doesn't smell good.

Cao Jun's soldiers silently moved forward, one column after another.

Their faces were large, dark, and tired, marks left by long-term battles and exposure to wind and sun. Many of them had unhealed scars on their faces, some covered with dark red scabs, and others already turned white, like ugly ravines.

Cao Cao saw no passion in their eyes, only a numbness of being driven and a deep-seated bewilderment.

Occasionally, someone would steal a glance at Cao Cao, their eyes seeming to flash with something, but they would quickly lower their gaze and mechanically follow the group forward.

The spear in his hand may still be sharp, its tip gleaming coldly in the sunlight, but the banner seems less vibrant than before. The once red banner has faded, and many tassels have even become torn along the edges. It looks heavy and even worn in the bleak autumn wind.

Cao Cao looked at them as if he were looking in a mirror.

It reflects Cao Cao.

The army maintained its disciplined formation, with front-line soldiers holding long shields and rear-line soldiers gripping spears. They remained disciplined and obeyed orders, but an indescribable sense of lethargy, like an invisible mist, enveloped each formation.

They marched in a very organized manner, with the left and right flanks providing mutual cover and the front and rear formations closely linked. However, they lacked that overwhelming spirit and seemed more like they were mechanically and instinctively carrying out an order.

Cao Cao's figure remained upright, his armor reflecting a cold, hard light in the thin autumn sun. Although the gilded patterns on the armor had faded somewhat, their former magnificence was still evident.

Everything is just like it was before, yet everything is also different from it.

Upon closer inspection, one can see that Cao Cao's hair beneath his golden crown is not only gray but also somewhat sparse. His once steady hands now appear to have loose skin on the back.

Beneath his deep-set eyes lay an undeniable weariness, and dark bags drooped under his eyes like two shadows, yet also conveying a sense of obsession.

He was no longer as commanding and confident as he was at Guandu, when he was full of vigor and commanded with composure, defeating Yuan Shao with fewer troops thanks to his extraordinary wisdom and courage; nor was he as spirited as when he became prime minister, when he led a large army with the intention of unifying the world, full of ambition and determination.

At this moment, he was more like a wolf alpha forced to the edge of a cliff, silently surveying the battlefield, each maneuver revealing a desperate caution and ruthlessness.

Cao Cao turned his head slightly and whispered something to Xun Yu beside him.

Xun Yu listened respectfully, nodding occasionally in response, his face full of solemnity.

Neither of them showed the ease of victory in their grasp.

Both Cao Cao and Xun Yu knew that Shandong's vitality had been almost completely depleted in the years of war. The people were displaced, the fields were abandoned, and there was a shortage of food. The land and the powerful families behind them could no longer afford to suffer another major defeat.

This campaign out of Yique and Taigu is less of an advance and more of a struggle, a desperate gamble with the last of its resources, an attempt to break through this dead end.

Ahead, the outline of Luoyang gradually became clear on the horizon.

That imperial capital, which once symbolized supreme glory, has now become a useless burden.

The facilities that had been painstakingly built and restored outside Luoyang City have now been burned and looted. They are now like sacrificial animals that have been slaughtered and devoured, with only the charred skeletons placed under the altar, wailing in the autumn wind.

The village market, which had been painstakingly rebuilt, is now nothing but rubble and broken wooden frames.

Those sheds that used to be crowded with people selling goods, which took three or four months to build, have now collapsed in just a few days, leaving only a few lonely pillars standing in the ruins, as if silently accusing something.

The banners of the Flying Cavalry Army fluttered atop Luoyang City.

Beneath the city walls, deep trenches were dug all around, filled with sharp spikes.

The moat was bordered by raised horse walls.

The crossbow carts and catapults on the city wall were arranged in a staggered manner.

Scouts from both sides were the first to make contact with the enemy.

The sharp whistling of a crossbow bolt being released suddenly pierced the sky.

The shriek was sharp and piercing, sending chills down one's spine.

A short shout accompanies the clash of weapons, and soon enough, one or several bright red lotus flowers bloom.

Small-scale clashes erupted across the vast battlefield.
Cao Jun's vanguard roared as they charged toward the cavalry scouts, brandishing their weapons in an attempt to overwhelm them and gain control of the battlefield.

The scouts of the Flying Cavalry tried their best to move around and resist, but they were inevitably surrounded and caught up by Cao Cao's army.

Blood splattered, some landing on the soldiers' armor, some on the ground, staining the earth beneath their feet red, only to be trampled into the deep soil, becoming future nourishment for this land.

The battle between the vanguard scouts was fierce and brutal.

The screams of soldiers, the clash of weapons, and the neighing of warhorses mingled together, forming a tragic war song, but strangely, it lacked the boiling heat that a decisive battle should have.

It was as if both sides in the battle understood that this was not the climax, but merely an interlude in a long tragedy, unfolding step by step.

Although Cao's soldiers fought bravely, their eyes always carried a trace of fatigue and despair; although the soldiers of the Flying Cavalry resisted tenaciously, their movements revealed a calm and unhurried demeanor, as if they had already taken control of the battle.

Those with many soldiers saw no hope, while those with few soldiers felt no despair. Cao Cao sat upright on his warhorse, the wind ruffling his graying temples.

The white hair at her temples fluttered gently in the wind, as if telling a story of the vicissitudes of time.

He knew that his army was stepping into the battlefield pre-planned by the Flying Cavalry, and each step could come at a heavy price. But he had no choice; he had to advance, he had to attack, he had to use this last struggle to try and create a chance that might not even exist.

……

……

It was somewhat similar to Cao Cao's army's advance, yet also had some differences.

The wind Zhao Yun brought from the north was even fiercer and wilder, carrying the chill of the first snow and sand, howling from the boundless grasslands and Gobi Desert.

The wind seemed to carry a savage force, blowing against one's face with a sharp, cutting pain, causing one to instinctively shrink back and wrap oneself tightly in clothing. The wind also carried the scent of the first snow, a fresh and icy aroma mixed with the roughness of gravel, permeating the air.

Against this vast, desolate backdrop, a massive cavalry force was silently moving south.

Unlike the heavy and oppressive atmosphere of Cao Cao's army, there was a deep and rhythmic sound of horses' hooves, like countless giant war drums beating on the distant horizon, shaking the earth.

The sound of the horses' hooves was neat and powerful, each thud seeming to strike one's heart, making one feel the immense strength of this army.

At the front of the column, a large banner bearing the character "Zhao" and the tricolor battle flag of the Flying Cavalry Army fluttered fiercely in the wind.

After more than half a year of rest and preparation, and once the civil administration in Youzhou was relatively stable, Zhao Yun began to lead his troops south.

Zhao Yun, clad in silver armor and a white robe, stood on a gentle slope, calmly watching the mighty southward-flowing torrent.

His silver armor gleamed in the sunlight, without a single stain.

The joints between the armor plates are tight and smooth, showcasing exquisite craftsmanship.

Bright silver armor.

It wasn't actually made of silver, but rather of fine steel that was water-milled and then quenched.

For some reason, Zhao Yun really liked this set of armor, and he also liked riding a white horse and wearing a white robe.

The white robe was as white as snow, and the hem of the robe fluttered gently in the wind, like white clouds in the sky.

Perhaps it was because of certain memories from that time, or perhaps it was because of Zhao Yun's own obsession with cleanliness?

Even with such attire, on the battlefield of the era of cold weapons, it was practically an open attack, almost like hanging a sign above one's head saying, "Come and fight me!"

However, in the eyes of these soldiers of the Northern Cavalry Army, Zhao Yun was indeed a resounding and shining "brand".

During his time in the Northern Regions, the passage of time did not diminish Zhao Yun's sharpness; instead, it deepened into a more profound sense of majesty.

Zhao Yun's calmness, composure, discernment, and fair judgment have left a deep impression on the soldiers of the Flying Cavalry in the Northern Regions. Both Han and non-Han peoples hold him in high esteem. In a sense, Zhao Yun is a more powerful version of Liu Yu. The non-Han people's respect for Liu Yu was limited to his civil administration, but now Zhao Yun excels in both, and his military prowess is even greater…

Zhao Yun bent down and gently patted the neck of his warhorse. The warhorse seemed to sense its master's intention, snorted obediently, and flicked its tail.

This warhorse used to be fierce and difficult to handle, even by three or five ordinary people. But now, under Zhao Yun's saddle, it is as docile as a lamb.

Just like the Hu cavalry that Zhao Yun selected, these were the ones who followed the army south.

Among the Hu people, there were also those who were stubborn and unyielding, or those who had become accustomed to killing and plundering and did not know how to correct or change.

After all, for some Hu people, their entire lives may have been spent in this dog-eat-dog environment. They would obey Zhao Yun, but Zhao Yun was a "stronger" to them. When they encountered a "weaker", they would show their brutality, and this process would seem natural and without any contradiction.

Zhao Yun had Zhang He take these Hu people, who were not used to the change, back to the desert.

That was the familiar environment for these nomadic cavalrymen.

Because the Flying Cavalry swept across the desert, the original Xianbei, Wuhuan and other Hu tribes were weakened. As a result, the tribes further north naturally moved south to fill the empty desert, which in turn brought with them the southward migration of people of color from further north.

This is a food chain.

Just like the Great Meng in history, it wasn't only at the end of its reign that the Jurchen descendants became so powerful, but rather those before it, and perhaps even more powerful ones, had already died silently at Shanhaiguan Pass.

Every army needs to work together and integrate.

You can't create a military presence by just grabbing some random people and forcing it together.

Just like the army that appeared before Zhao Yun, it was a picture of integration.

The elite Han cavalry, their armor gleaming, their ranks impeccably disciplined, exuded an iron will. Their armor, mostly black, was inlaid with rank-specific patterns, giving them an air of solemnity and authority.

The soldiers, armed with rifles and swords at their waists, sat upright with firm gazes, their every movement exuding disciplined training.

Meanwhile, those operating on the flanks were mostly Hu (non-Han) cavalry.

The warriors who originally belonged to the Xiongnu, Wuhuan, and Xianbei have now all joined the ranks of the Northern Army.

They liked to wear fur coats or multicolored battle robes in addition to their standard armor. The fur coats were mostly brown or black, and still retained the colors of the animal fur, making them look rugged and bold.

It was precisely these multicolored fur robes that formed a unique embellishment among the ranks of the Northern Cavalry.

Their horses also had different weapons hanging from their saddles than the Han cavalry, such as lassos.

They trusted the Han Chinese commander who was as reassuring as a snow-capped mountain, knowing that Zhao Yun was not only highly skilled in martial arts but also exceptionally intelligent, and that following him in battle would always lead to victory.

Scouts kept running back from both the front and rear to report the military situation to Zhao Yun.

Riding their warhorses, they were agile and nimble, quickly weaving through the ranks and accurately conveying information such as the terrain ahead and the enemy's movements to Zhao Yun.

After hearing the scout's report, Zhao Yun would quickly make a judgment and then convey the order to each unit through messengers.

The massive cavalry, guided by the terrain and military orders, sometimes surged forward like a torrent, the dust kicked up by their hooves obscuring the sky and threatening to cover the entire earth; at other times, they branched out like streams, meandering around hills and crossing valleys. As the cavalry crossed the valleys, their hooves splashed water, the icy river water hitting the soldiers, yet it did not hinder their pace in the slightest.

A powerful vitality and an unwavering belief in victory enveloped this army.

Like migratory birds following the seasons southward, they have clear goals and directions, and are moving firmly toward their destination.

Starting from Youzhou, the journey down the mountain was almost entirely devoid of any significant battles.

Almost every county they passed through immediately threw away Cao Cao's banners upon seeing the vanguard of the cavalry, then opened the city gates and knelt at the city gates with their maps in hand.

Just like when Cao Cao's army came after Yuan Shao's defeat, they did the same thing...

It must be said that they are highly skilled and proficient in their work.

These natives of Jizhou offered smiles and chrysanthemums, and even provisions and beautiful women that had been prepared beforehand.

Zhao Yun accepted the provisions and sent the beauty away.

Some keyboard warriors are yelling, "If you don't want it, give it to me..."

But Zhao Yun knew that the provisions could be distributed to the entire army, but what about the beauties?
Kill them, and each get a piece?
Should we distribute it to some people first, and then tell others that beauty first will naturally bring beauty later?

If they really accept it, what follows will be much more than just a few beauties.

Zhao Yun was cautious, calm, and left no openings. Wherever he went, his cavalry would swarm out, not only to ensure the safety of the route but also to eliminate any potential bandits in the surrounding area...

Seeing Zhao Yun's attitude, some of the natives of Ji Province gave up hope.

Or perhaps it's just that it's temporarily subdued or hidden...

This meant that the cavalry would move at a stop-and-go pace, and their speed was not very fast.

However, once the army started moving, due to the distance between the warhorses, the momentum was enormous. Dust billowed up in the north of Jizhou, like a yellow dragon rolling down, bringing a great sense of oppression even when it was not running at full speed.

Before dusk, a scout came to report that another cavalry force had been spotted ahead.

Zhao Yun was slightly puzzled, even somewhat surprised, because Cao Cao's cavalry in Ji and You provinces were basically no longer organized...

Who could be coming?