Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

After the setting sun sank completely into the silhouette of Black Wind Ridge in the west, only a dim, blood-red afterglow remained on the horizon, as if holding a silent and mournful funeral for this battlefield that had just witnessed a fierce battle. Dusk descended, quickly swallowing up every detail of the land, except for the lingering smoke and dust and the increasingly heavy stench of blood, which stubbornly lingered in the air, mixing with the cool dampness of the early summer night to create a uniquely nauseating odor.

But the Starfire Fortress army did not stop. The fervor of victory and the pragmatism of completely eliminating the threat drove this force, which had just been tested by blood and fire, to continue its northward advance in the hazy twilight.

Chen Xing's orders were carried out without fail. Under Chen Wei's personal command, the infantry formation maintained a relatively orderly formation, slowly rolling across the ravaged battlefield like a moving steel jungle. They no longer engaged in high-intensity charges and close combat, but instead used an overwhelming, oppressive force to drive away and mop up the remaining, disorganized, and aimlessly wandering Black Mountain Army soldiers. Spearmen and axemen formed small "mopping-up teams," sweeping through every hollow, every clump of bushes, and every possible enemy hiding behind a pile of corpses under the cover of shields and crossbows. Small groups of fleeing soldiers who tried to resist or escape were mercilessly killed; those who knelt and surrendered, abandoning their armor and weapons, were ordered to kneel on the spot and quickly bound and guarded by the auxiliary troops following behind.

The center and flanks of the battlefield were as if swept by a hurricane. The ground was littered with the corpses of Black Mountain soldiers, each in a different pose, many still in the posture of fleeing or struggling, appearing particularly gruesome in the twilight. Broken weapons, discarded shields, scattered flags, even ration bags, water pouches, and some looted valuables were haphazardly mixed in the blood and dust. The auxiliary troops and medical teams of Xinghuo Fortress moved among them, busy but orderly. They first identified and carried away their own wounded and fallen soldiers, providing initial treatment and burial. For the Black Mountain soldiers, those with minor injuries and no immediate threat were temporarily bound and held; the seriously wounded and dying, in the cruel reality of conserving medicine and manpower, were often only briefly examined and then ignored, left to groan weakly in the blood until silence. Besides the stench of blood, another atmosphere of despair began to permeate the air.

The main force pursuing them was undoubtedly the remnants of the cavalry archers led by Murong Mingyue, and several rapid assault "arrow teams" composed of elite infantry temporarily drawn by Chen Wei. Their objective was clear: to expand their gains, annihilate as many Black Mountain Army troops as possible, especially their generals and elite remnants, and to deter any other Black Mountain Army strongholds that might exist along the way.

As dusk fell, the road of pursuit was far from smooth. The footprints of the fleeing Black Mountain army were haphazard and chaotic, the path trodden by men and horses becoming muddy and slippery with blood. Abandoned supply wagons lay scattered along the way—some laden with provisions, some loaded with arrows and weapons, others empty and overturned by the roadside, their pullers mostly killed or driven away by the fleeing soldiers. Some wounded Black Mountain soldiers, unable to move, huddled by the roadside, groaning. Upon seeing the pursuing column, some begged for mercy in terror, while others stared blankly, awaiting their final fate.

Murong Mingyue led the charge. Though exhausted, her chestnut horse obeyed its master's commands, galloping with all its might. Behind her were the remaining eighty-odd riders, their robes stained with blood, their horses puffing out thick white breaths, yet the killing intent and excitement in their eyes remained undiminished. They were like a sharp comb, cutting through the densest path of the fleeing soldiers. Each short charge, each precise volley of arrows, claimed the lives of dozens of fleeing soldiers, creating even greater chaos.

"Don't linger! Keep your eyes on the fleeing troops and their banners!" Murong Mingyue would occasionally turn back and shout, reminding her subordinates to maintain formation and the direction of pursuit. Her target was always the relatively orderly fleeing torrent that was faintly visible ahead, surrounded by Han Meng's personal guards and some "Trap Camp" armored soldiers, as well as another cavalry force on the flank that was trying to maintain formation and retreat while fighting—that was Shi Biao's remnants.

In the initial stages of Han Meng's rout after being struck by an arrow, some trusted officers attempted to rally the troops and establish a temporary defensive line to impede the pursuing forces. However, the defeat was swift and decisive, and panic spread like a plague. Any attempt to halt the retreat was futile, and the troops were quickly overwhelmed by their own men. Han Meng himself, suffering from blood loss and excruciating pain, was already somewhat delirious. He was carried by his personal guards on a makeshift stretcher, struggling to make his way north through the chaos. The iron-plated lamellar armor that had once represented his authority was now a burden, mostly removed, revealing a blood-soaked, haphazardly bandaged wound on his left arm. His face was deathly pale in the twilight.

Shi Biao was in slightly better shape; he still had over two hundred relatively intact cavalrymen, their morale low but their organization intact. He tried to rally some of the scattered infantry officers, regroup, and even considered a counterattack to dampen the pursuers' spirits. However, whenever he saw the relentless red cavalry figures and the ever-approaching battle cries behind him, and glimpsed the utter rout of Han Meng's troops, any thought of counterattack was extinguished by the cold reality. He could only keep ordering his men to speed up, while simultaneously sending small groups of cavalry to cover the rear, attempting to slow Murong Mingyue's pursuit.

A brutal life-or-death struggle unfolded across the twilight-shrouded wilderness, a game of pursuit and escape. Occasionally, small groups of fleeing Black Mountain soldiers would be overtaken by the Starfire Fortress's "Spearhead" infantry, resulting in brief, one-sided battles that quickly ended in the complete annihilation of the Black Mountain army. There were also minor clashes between the Black Mountain army's rearguard cavalry and Murong Mingyue's pursuers, filled with the flashing of swords and arrows, the neighing of horses and men, but these usually ended with the Black Mountain army abandoning a few corpses before hastily dispersing.

The pursuit was to cover twenty li (approximately 10 kilometers), a red line set by Chen Xing beforehand. When the Xinghuo Fortress troops reached a narrow mountain pass called "Wild Wolf Valley," the terrain ahead suddenly became treacherous, with steep cliffs on both sides and a narrow passage in the middle that could only accommodate a few riders side by side. Moreover, it was already dark, and visibility was extremely poor.

Murong Mingyue reined in her horse and gestured for the cavalry behind her to halt. She glanced at the dark, gaping valley, resembling the maw of a giant beast, then looked back at her weary but spirited subordinates and the torchbearing infantry "arrowhead" gradually closing in. Reason told her that continuing the pursuit was too risky. This place was an easy target for ambushes, and her men and horses were exhausted, making nighttime warfare disadvantageous. Chen Xing's orders were to pursue for a maximum of twenty li, and this location was exactly a little over twenty li from the center of the battlefield.

"Cease the pursuit!" Murong Mingyue decisively ordered. "Establish a perimeter here! Send out scouts to scout one mile ahead of the valley entrance. If there are no signs of a large enemy ambush, report back immediately! The rest of you, rest and regroup, treat the wounded, gather the spoils, and take stock of the kills! Await rejoining the main force!"

The orders were swiftly carried out. The cavalrymen dismounted, quickly watering and feeding their horses, bandaging their wounds, and eating dry rations. The infantry "wedge squads" also arrived one after another, and under the command of their officers, they quickly occupied advantageous terrain on both sides of the valley entrance, set up makeshift defensive lines, and lit bonfires, serving both as illumination and a deterrent.

The scouts quickly reported back: no large-scale enemy ambush was found inside the valley, only scattered traces of fleeing soldiers continuing northward. Clearly, Han Meng and Shi Biao's remaining troops were like stray dogs, only concerned with escaping for their lives, and had neither the will nor the courage to set up an ambush here.

Murong Mingyue felt somewhat relieved. She climbed a high slope beside the valley entrance and looked north. The night was as black as ink, swallowing the distant mountains and roads. Only a few scattered campfires, possibly lit by defeated soldiers, flickered in the far distance like will-o'-the-wisps. She knew that after this battle, the Black Mountain Army's vanguard force was severely weakened and would be unable to fight again in the short term. The threat to the north of Xinghuo Fortress was temporarily eliminated.

She turned and looked back the way she had come. On the southern horizon, more lights were faintly moving; the main force of Starfire Fortress was clearing the battlefield, regrouping, and converging on this side. Further away, in the direction of Starfire Fortress, all was darkness, but there were sturdy walls, loved ones waiting for their return, and everything they had fought so hard to protect.

A cool night breeze blew, carrying away some of the stench of blood. Murong Mingyue removed her blood-stained helmet, letting the night wind ruffle her sweat-dampened hair. A day of fierce fighting and pursuit had taken a toll on her physical strength and kept her mind constantly on edge; only now, as she relaxed, did she feel a deep weariness. But her eyes remained bright as she gazed at the growing number of fires in the south, a sense of unprecedented peace and pride welling up within her.

They won this battle. A hard-won victory, yet a glorious one.