Three Kingdoms: Conquer Wu from Maicheng with Cavalry and Swords, Don't Fall Behind

"Kill the horse to celebrate victory."

Qi Ye didn't skimp on horses, relentlessly pushing them to their limits. Even the most expensive items are for war, and in war, morale is paramount. Maintaining high morale and ample physical strength are essential for the next battle.

The dead are gone; we must value the living. The best way to honor and extend life is to cherish the present, treat those around us kindly, and live each day to the fullest.

Zhao Lei had three bandages on his arm. He groaned in pain and offered his advice:

"My lord, the people in the city are experiencing grief, and their emotions are not right. It would be very inappropriate to celebrate our victory so hastily."

Qi Ye agreed, and decided to postpone the victory celebration. The most important matters of state were sacrifice and war. He ordered the battlefield to be cleaned up and a large-scale sacrificial ceremony to be held.

For NPCs, one ritual should be sufficient.

In Maicheng, corpses littered the fields and blood flowed like rivers. Soldiers and civilians gathered in the city, silently gazing at the tall figure standing proudly before them.

Qi Ye finally understood why the Overlord refused to cross the Yangtze River. It wasn't that he was unwilling, but that he dared not. Those eager eyes were more terrifying than knives.

If you're dead, you're dead. Living is just a painful struggle.

Commander Ling led three hundred personal guards to cover the retreat, witnessing firsthand the annihilation of his loyal soldiers who had served him day and night in order to protect him. Overwhelmed with grief, he felt as if he had lost his own limbs and fell seriously ill. Xu Chu's three thousand elite warriors were also wiped out, leaving him heartbroken and weeping blood.

If these two were like this, how much more so would the arrogant and proud Overlord be?

The Martial Saint, a general who was proud of his superiors but unwilling to bully his inferiors, personally poured wine before the sacrificial altar, offering a deep tribute to the heroic souls of his fallen soldiers:

"Guan is incompetent, which has brought shame upon the entire army."

After speaking, he poured wine on the ground and did not rise to worship.

The elders of Maicheng wept in the alley, kneeling in unison. They didn't crave anything; they were simply suffering too much, and even the slightest favor would make them sell their lives for a pittance.

Even so, some people are unwilling to show respect, always feeling superior.

The Martial Saint's self-reproachful words gradually dispelled their gloom. Amidst the sorrowful atmosphere, a renewed hope arose.

A rider galloped up, riding the familiar Red Hare. Qi Ye looked closely and saw that the newcomer had bright, piercing eyes and a commanding presence; it was undoubtedly Guan Yinping.

An arrow pierced her arm; the shaft was broken, only the arrowhead remained embedded in her flesh. Her arm and cheek bore minor wounds. Her battle robes were stained with blood, yet she remained composed—a true heroine.

Guan Yinping leaped off the saddle, clasped her hands in front of her chest, displaying true heroine grace:

"My soldiers fought like ten men each, holding their ground and refusing to retreat. The south gate was thus preserved, and I have fortunately fulfilled my mission!"

Qi Ye inquired further and learned that Guan Yinping had led more than a hundred men to guard the south gate. Fortunately, the Imperial Guards did not possess large siege weapons, which prevented them from succeeding.

The defending troops unleashed a barrage of rolling logs and stones, followed by a deluge of cold water, making the attacking forces experience an unbearable ordeal. Enemy soldiers attempted to scale the walls using ordinary ladders, but were repeatedly pushed off by the clashing of spears, their bodies piling up beneath the walls.

"Zhou Cang guards the city gate, Guan Ping guards the east gate, and Guan Yinping guards the south gate; each is capable of handling things independently. If they are properly trained, they will definitely be of great help."

Qi Ye knew deep down that Shu Han was suffering from a severe shortage of talent in its later years, and it was truly difficult to discover a great general. His ambition was to destroy Wu, and the cities he conquered would certainly need someone to guard them.

Zhou Cang, Guan Ping, and Guan Yinping are all excellent and can be entrusted with important responsibilities in the future.

Wang Fu and Zhao Lei both took to the field, boosting morale. Yi Ji, though frail, possessed great composure and did not lose his composure.

After the Martial Saint's sacrifice was completed, he handed over the city's defenses to Guan Ping and led everyone back to tend to their wounds and slaughter horses for meat.

Zhou Cang's lips were bloodless, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat. He couldn't hold on for long before his heart suddenly started racing, his limbs became cold and clammy, and his consciousness gradually faded.

The doctor quickly knelt down, deftly cleaned the wound, sprinkled on some medicine powder, and tightly bandaged it with a white cloth.

"General Zhou has lost so much blood, yet he is still full of energy; it's truly unbelievable. To save his life, he must rest quietly for three days and cannot get out of bed."

Zhou Cang, his blood boiling, shouted nonsense: "Bullshit! The Wu army might continue their attack on the city tomorrow...!"

The doctor ignored him, only expressing his surprise: "Where did the arrow wound from last time go? I remember it was here."

Qi Ye zoomed in to examine the wound, and it was indeed gone. It seemed the meat buns were effective; the Martial Saint could digest them directly, while Zhou Cang was experiencing continuous health regeneration, though the duration was still uncertain.

Battlefield wounds are highly susceptible to infection, with tetanus and gangrene being common. Bleeding is difficult to stop, and even minor injuries can be fatal when medical care and medicine are scarce.

A meat bun can be a lifesaver in an emergency. Zhou Cang's body was riddled with wounds, but the effects of the meat bun were probably still present, and the slow recovery of his health kept him alive.

The Martial Saint reached level eleven and accumulated eleven meat buns. Later, Zhou Cang ate one, the Martial Saint ate one more, leaving nine remaining.

Qi Ye glanced at the shop; the amount of gold coins matched the number of enemies killed. It was still not open, displaying an insufficient level. This meant he couldn't reliably obtain healing items yet, and he still needed to figure out how to progress through the scenario.

Qi Ye had no idea what the "Unrivaled Warrior" difficulty level was like. The meat buns couldn't be consumed carelessly; they had to be used sparingly.

If Lü Bu, covered in black lightning, were to jump down from Hulao Pass, even Guan Yu would be in for a rude awakening.

"Let Zhou Cang stay in bed for now. I'll test the difficulty of the script first," Qi Ye said, stroking his chin as he considered.

Yi Ji strode in, cupped his hands in greeting, and said, "My lord, the people of the city wish to see you."

The Martial Saint rose abruptly and went out without fear. He had already repelled 30,000 Wu troops; what did he have to fear? If the people wanted accountability, they could come at him alone; what was there to be ashamed of?

Inside the county government office, the short women and children stood, making the Martial Saint appear even taller and more imposing.

Looking into the sincere eyes of the women and children, everyone felt a lump in their throats.

The villagers remained silent, but suddenly they all turned around, as if expecting something.

Wang Fu and Zhao Lei felt extremely guilty, thinking that the officials were blaming them for failing to protect Maicheng.

Today, over five hundred soldiers and civilians died in the battle of Maicheng, the worst casualty in its history, yet they stubbornly held on and refused to retreat. Had the enemy not lacked sufficient siege equipment, and the defenders not controlled the biting north wind, those standing inside the city would now be the sons of Jiangdong.

Several girls, around seven or eight years old, were outside the door. They brought a lot of things, including old linen clothes of different sizes and various simple foods.

The Martial Saint was puzzled, not knowing what they meant.

An old woman, leaning on a cane, came out and said in a trembling voice:

"General, the children are not coming back... but we can't waste these things. Let everyone wear them to keep warm. There's also some food; it's a small token of our appreciation."

"General, these things are entrusted to you."

The other villagers put down their things, wiped away their tears, and left.

The scene froze instantly, and Wang Fu, Zhao Lei, and Yi Ji covered their faces and wept.

Guan Yu felt his vision blurring: "In the end, it is I, Guan, who have failed the people of Jingzhou!"