Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

As dawn broke, the damp mist of the forest pierced through the trees, illuminating a scene of unusual activity deep within the dense woods. No one sat idly in the camp; aside from the armored soldiers on the sentry posts, their eyes gleaming with keen concentration, everyone else was engaged in a silent cacophony. The dull thud of axes felling logs, the creaking of ropes pulling vines, and the occasional hushed, urgent command punctuated the air. The air was thick with the bitter scent of freshly cut timber and the earthy stench of damp mud, a tense sense of impending storm weighing heavily on everyone's hearts.

Chen Xing stood in a clearing in the center of the camp, which had become a workshop for last-minute preparations. He was no longer just a commander issuing orders, but more like a master craftsman overseeing the work. Chen Wei, Zhao Tiezhu, Wang Jian, and the others took their positions, turning their plans into tangible reality.

"The most important aspect of this flying bridge is the balance between lightness and stability!" Chen Xing bent down on the ground, gesturing with his fingers to explain the essentials. "The two main beams must be made of high-quality timber exceeding twenty-five feet in length to ensure a stable span across the moat. The bridge deck should be paved with parallel wooden rafters, with the gaps between them not too wide, and the binding must be sturdy. Wang Jian, your rope-tying method is excellent; proceed according to this method!"

"Understood!" Wang Jian responded loudly, his hands moving without pause. Following Chen Xing's instructions and drawing on his own experience, he used water-soaked, resilient vines to tightly bind the similarly sized wooden rafters, trimmed of branches, to the two sturdy main beams. Several able-bodied refugees, heeding his command, grunted and strained, tightening the ropes. A creaking sound filled the air as the bridge structure gradually became more secure and stable. Before long, a simple flying bridge, with its ancient design yet exuding a profound sense of strength, was beginning to take shape.

"My lord, can this thing... really help us cross the trench?" A young refugee who had participated in its construction finally couldn't help but ask in a low voice as he looked at the enormous wooden frame. In his past experience, fighting meant charging forward with a blade; he had never seen anything like this before.

"Whether it succeeds or fails, we'll find out tonight." Chen Xing didn't say much more, turning his gaze elsewhere, "How's the shield chariot being built?"

Zhao Tiezhu was leading a few men, sweating profusely. They were dismantling the few remaining dilapidated carts and donkey carts in the refugee group, taking only the still intact axles and sturdy frames.

"My lord, as you instructed, we've added protective panels!" Zhao Tiezhu wiped his sweat with his sleeve and pointed to the ground. The men brought thick wooden planks and, using nails and mortise and tenon joints, tightly reinforced them to the front and sides of the cart frame, forming a massive wooden shield. To further enhance its protection, Chen Xing ordered them to cover the planks with a thick layer of wet mud and bind them tightly with vines, hoping to deflect arrows and protect against fire.

"It's still not enough." Chen Xing stepped closer to examine it closely. "The front panel needs to be thickened by another layer. In addition, several peepholes and firing ports, each about the size of a fist, should be drilled under the panel. We can't hide behind them like blind men in the dark."

"A peephole? An arrow slit?" Zhao Tiezhu was taken aback at first, then suddenly understood, his face showing admiration. "My lord is wise! In this way, we can hide behind the carts, both to observe the enemy's movements and to fire our crossbows!"

His gaze towards Chen Xing was now one of reverence, as if he were a deity. Such ingenious mechanisms, unlike anything he had ever heard of before, were constantly eroding his previous understanding.

The most eye-catching feature was the carefully selected "ramming log." This log was a hardwood from the mountains, requiring two people to encircle it, over three zhang long, and extremely dense. More than ten of the strongest Wei soldiers, following Chen Xing's instructions, were using ring-pommel swords and short axes to sharpen one end of the trunk. The other end was being woven from old vines and peeled, supple bark to create a handle for multiple people to grip and a rope for suspension.

"Center of gravity! Pay attention to the center of gravity!" Chen Xing reminded him from the side. "The suspension point needs to be calculated accurately so that when it's lifted and impacted, the force can be concentrated in one place. At the moment of impact, you must listen to the command and exert force simultaneously, focusing it on the spearhead!"

The Wei soldiers silently carried out the work. They may not have understood all the intricacies, but they could feel the destructive power contained within it. The sharpened, primitive-looking tip of the battering ram seemed to foreshadow the inevitable collapse of the earth and walls.

Chen Xing moved about, sometimes stopping to demonstrate or correct minor details. He transformed the timeless principles of craftsmanship into the simplest words and actions, teaching them to these ancient warriors and refugees. The solidity of the structure, the skill of exertion, the stability of the center of gravity... these concepts were unfamiliar to them, but through this hands-on demonstration, they were quickly understood and absorbed.

Wang Jian displayed extraordinary talent in this area, demonstrating dexterity and quick thinking. He was able to learn by analogy, even modifying the joints of the bridge to make it more robust when binding it. Chen Xing praised him highly and entrusted him with more coordination matters.

Zhao Tiezhu, like an old ox carrying a plow, led the able-bodied displaced people in undertaking the most physically demanding tasks. Logging, carrying, securing... with each swing of the axe and chisel, with each tightening of the ropes, he seemed to be gathering strength to avenge Zhao Family Village.

Even the women and children were not spared. They were organized to tear the collected tree bark and coarse cloth into strips to weave more ropes; or to boil water and carefully divide the powder that Chen Xing had taken from the "system," called "Golden Wound Medicine," into smaller leather bags and cloth pouches for emergencies.

The entire camp was like an interlocking machine, operating at full speed under the command of Chen Xing, the mastermind, all for the common goal of that midnight thunderous strike.

Sweat soaked through their linen clothes, and their palms blistered, yet no one complained or slacked off. With each completed item—whether it was the last vine tied neatly on the flying bridge, the last thick plank added to the shield cart, or the final polishing that revealed the sharp edge of the battering ram—it all added a layer of confidence to everyone's hearts and deepened their faith in their young lord.

The setting sun, like blood, sank once more in the west, dyeing the sky a desolate and poignant scene, as if foreshadowing the fierce battle to come.

All the equipment was finally in place.

Two heavy and sturdy flying bridges, like two crouching giant beasts, lay quietly on the ground.

Five shield carts, covered in mud and vines, looked bulky but reassuring, and stood to one side.

That menacing, enormous battering ram, perched atop the rolling logs, exuded a menacing and menacing aura.

Chen Xing stood before these weapons, the culmination of everyone's hard work and ingenuity, his gaze sweeping over the tired yet resolute faces.

"The weapons are ready, the arrows are in hand!" His voice rang out in the twilight, clear and resolute. "Tonight, rest in peace, eat your fill, and sleep soundly!"

"The day of Ming will be the day we seize this place to settle down and make a living!"

There were no rousing shouts, only a silent, chilling stillness, like molten lava surging beneath the surface. In everyone's eyes, a burning fighting spirit ignited.

Night fell once more, enveloping the surrounding area. This time, the unusual silence in the camp was the final tranquility before the storm.