The Aesthetics of Near Misses -3
Soyang's enemies were piling up earthen walls and reinforcing them with wooden barricades. They stacked dirt and poured water over it to harden—a sure sign that dragging this out would just lead to a losing battle.
Zhang He and Wang Shuang were chatting about it.
"General, the enemy's movements aren't normal."
"Wang Shuang. What would you do?"
"Charge right in. We don't have the luxury to wait for their obvious trap!"
Wang Shuang's confidence appealed to Zhang He.
"Then I'll put you at the vanguard with 10,000 cavalry."
"A brilliant choice, sir!"
To Zhang He, Wang Shuang seemed itching for a fight.
Then we should make full use of that aggression, shouldn't we?
"But why would they set up such a formation? Their commander's incompetent, haha!"
"Suspicious. Why not just watch?"
To Zhang He, the enemies' intentions felt deeply off.
They'd left the crucial center wide open while fortifying everywhere else. It screamed "come on in"—they were plotting something and inviting them right into it.
A freakish deployment: the central area, which should be the defensive core, left empty, with tight security only on the flanks.
A lure. That was the natural conclusion.
"No matter what tricks they pull, they can't overturn this gap in forces."
"You're right. But..."
Zhang He felt an inexplicable unease.
Why resort to such a lure? Unless they'd gone mad, the enemy should've retreated long ago.
Yet here they were, digging in for a fight.
Facing 100,000 troops—suicide?
This defiance flew in the face of logic, leaving Zhang He baffled.
"Wang Shuang. Would you face 100,000 in open plains like this?"
"Me? I'd..." Wang Shuang paused, then spat it out. "If they're cowards, yeah! I'd smash 'em!"
Wang Shuang brimmed with confidence. The enemy's force barely topped 30,000, scraped together from local farmers.
"Hoo."
Unlike brash Wang Shuang, Zhang He was cautious.
"They're definitely plotting something. They should block every river ford and hunker down, but one's left loose."
"Maybe they overlooked it?"
"No. Unlikely."
Seeing Wang Shuang's irritation, Zhang He changed tack.
"Heard Liu Bei's proclamation as King of Jingzhou?"
"I ain't got time to memorize that traitor's whelp's nonsense."
"The one who wrote it is holding that river ford."
Wang Shuang's brows shot up.
"Now that's something I can't ignore, General. That gutless punk's head is mine—I'll crush it and make sure it never hangs in Xu Chang!"
"Calm down. Wasn't what I meant. Enemy commander Zhuge Liang knows warfare. For him to deploy like this? It's blatant tail-wagging, begging us to bite."
Wang Shuang was resolute.
"Nothing to fear! At worst, an ambush—but look at this wide-open plain?"
"That's why it's suspicious. Past the river, it's all plains. If they want a fight, they'd contest the crossing fiercely. No weak spots allowed."
Wang Shuang nodded.
"General, you said they formed a straight-line formation?"
"Yes. Sealed the riverbank tight."
Wang Shuang pieced it together.
"If we punch through the loose spot, the front line flips and hits our rear—pinning us from both sides."
It matched Zhang He's thinking.
"Exactly... No other explanation."
"Then, General...?"
Zhang He pondered deeply, but victory seemed assured. They had to attack. 100,000 troops guzzling supplies—delay was loss itself.
Best to spearhead with Wang Shuang, force the trap and expose it.
"General! Report from Xu Chang!"
The messenger knelt and reported.
"Siege carts have arrived from Xu Chang!"
Zhang He clenched his fist.
"Tonight. We strike."
Push straight to Yangyang. Deliver Jingzhou to His Lordship.
Zhuge Liang had deployed the straight-line formation.
A gamble: if enemies entered the center, Zhuge Crossbows would annihilate them.
The foe didn't know they existed—couldn't even imagine.
That's why it'd work. Lure them central, win.
"Enemy vanguard Wang Shuang! Approaching Soyang with main force!"
Vanguard: Wang Shuang. Deputies: Li Yi, Ang Piao, Li Jin.
"Don't engage until they cross. Rain arrows from afar. Disobey, and face punishment."
"Yes, General!"
Shi Dao had rushed to Yangyang; Ma Su was sidelined by Zhuge Liang's excuse, hoping to keep him from the war.
Chen Soyoung knew Soyang's situation too—she'd sent three pouches.
Hope she didn't open them all at once. Zhuge Liang winced at the thought.
"Advisor, your orders!" Gan Ning bowed.
"Tough one. You sure you can pull it off?"
"Do you think me too lowly for even this, General?"
Zhuge Liang smiled at Gan Ning's bravado.
"I'll give you 3,000 direct command! Lead the vanguard. Lure them to the Zhuge Crossbow ambush."
"Leave it to me."
"Then, here's the plan: Take Bald Mountain. They won't pursue cavalry up mountain paths. Retreat fast if infantry approaches—no engaging."
"Got it. Flank via mountains?"
"Yes. Hard going, but lure them in and we win."
Gan Ning bowed.
Dong—! Dong—! Dong—!
"Enemy attack!!! Enemy attack!!!"
Drums rolled; battle erupted at Soyang's riverfront.
"Zhou Ping! Take left wing!"
"Yeah. No choice, huh."
"Meng Jian! Command right wing troops!"
Meng Jian's shoulders trembled.
"Done it a thousand times in drills... but real war's first, Gongming. I'm shaking."
"Who wouldn't? Didn't we drill tactics endlessly?"
Meng Jian's confidence rose.
"...Sitting idle's the real blunder. You're right... Forward troops!!! Assemble! We hold the right riverbank!!!" Meng Jian bellowed commands.
Splash—! Splash—!
Enemies attempted crossing.
Bold central thrust.
Fording's perilous: slows advance, breaks formation, drains stamina from gear. No turning, no cover—easy targets.
Zhuge Liang knew. Foe advanced faster than planned, but now? Fight back.
Enemy troops spread like cavalry escorts, entering the river.
From the hill, Zhuge Liang cautiously lit the beacon.
"Signal!!!"
Axe-men rushed, slashing ropes on massed Zhuge Crossbows.
Single-shot disposable batteries—no mechanisms.
Ma Gun's mass-production proposal via eloquence.
One-use, but raw power topped standard Zhuge Crossbows—even Zhuge Liang's tuned versions.
Unstable, all-in on firepower.
Imprint the Zhuge Crossbow's terror first.
Zhuge Liang deployed Ma Gun's up front, no hesitation.
"Fire!"
Piiiing—! Arrows flew at light speed.
Invisible to eyes, sonic booms cracked.
Helicopter roar slammed ears; river ran red.
Bones shattered, bodies flew. Horses screamed, men wailed.
Wei iron plate exploded. Shrapnel shredded.
Horrorstruck, troops dove into river, dunking heads to dodge, creeping forward.
"Enemy attack! Arrows, General!"
Li Jin spoke—veteran who captured Lü Bu.
Even he couldn't predict trajectories.
Normal arrows arc black against sky.
This? Straight-line. Bolts, not arrows.
Source: enemy earthworks, elevated. There.
"Advance!!! Few foes! Break here, it's their throat! Forward! All forward!!! Retreaters die!!!"
Wang Shuang roared, shrugging it off.
Wei troops trampled corpses, inching to Soyang.
"Follow-up!!! Fire!!!"
Zhuge Liang's cry unleashed more disposables—ropes snapped.
Normal archery? Low lethality, just harass.
These? Different.
"Aaaagh!!!"
"Leeeeg!!! My leeeeg!!!"
Hiihiihing—!! Horses neighed, men screamed.
Bolts pierced bodies, swept to bank.
Zhuge Crossbows pulverized bone, pierced armor. Headshots instant; chest writhed then died.
Terror gripped foes. Abnormal fire from unseen slowed them.
"Forward troops!!! Cross the river! Past it, you live! Follow! No retreat!!! Break before main force or lose!!!"
Wang Shuang, in hell, felt relief: all enemy archers committed here.
Break river? Crush ambushes with cavalry.
"Where you running!!!"
"Kragh!"
Wang Shuang's blade pierced an ally's throat.
Arm-sundered soldier clutched neck, rolled, died.
"Run and that's you! Eyes front! Push straight!!!"
His mad command forced obedience.
Wang Shuang's leadership: redirected bolt-fear to himself, more terrifying.
"Crossed...!!!"
Wei crossed steadily.
"Fire!!!"
Piiiing—!!! Follow-up volley.
Arrows screamed; men echoed in agony.
Metal wind howled anew.
Terror. Only terror on this field.
Yet in darkening dread, Wei held momentum.
"Advance!!! Cavalry!!! Disrupt them! Infantry, scale ridges—annihilate!!!"
"Yes, sir!"
Li Yi drew blade, inspired by Wang Shuang.
"Charge! General orders assault!!!"
Yang Piao, watching silently, wondered.
But where are these arrows from?
Bows fired, but no archers—no footfalls, dust, shouts.
And this power.
Yang Piao's premonition stirred.
If their plot isn't blocking the ford, but elsewhere...
...!!!!!!
"Forward troops!!! Trap! No Shu flanks visible! We're across—no retreat!"
Wang Shuang laughed.
"That scared? I'll crush 'em myself—watch me rack up kills!"
Wang Shuang spurred toward Zhuge Liang's HQ.
I gazed at the stars, lost in thought. The Big Dipper sparkled prettily, surrounded by clustered constellations—like gathered formations.
"Uncle Gongming."
I poured my heart into calling Zhuge Liang. No reply, but my frail whimper eased my mind.
"What're you up to?"
We connect without words. Distance means nothing—hearts linked.
A tiny hand overlaps a lifetime's mastery of strategy. Invisible grips warm strangely.
Zhuge Liang. Liu Bei. Father.
I still don't grasp grand causes or unification.
Stepping into an era of heroes is tough—I waver, revoking decisions over and over.
"I can do this, right?"
I ask the strategist in my heart.
Is it okay? Me commanding armies?
Southeast wind brushed my face. No hero, I wept inwardly, lonely. Craved a cola.
No answers. Foes in fog, unpredictable—pondering just hurts me.
"General? Yangyang soon."
Already there. Morning mist clung thick today.
Sensing foes' malice rippling through haze, I returned to Yangyang soil.