Chapter 3 – Blood on the Wei Plains
The smell hit first.
Gi Ken had imagined blood would smell like metal, maybe a little sharp, but out here on the open plains, it was a stench that clung to the back of his throat—copper mixed with the earthy reek of churned mud and the faint sourness of fear.
BOOM! BOOM! The Qin war drums pounded from the rear, the steady beat drowned in moments by the ROAR! of thousands of voices colliding in rage and desperation.
They'd marched since dawn, the horizon thick with dust kicked up by tens of thousands of marching feet. The Wei army waited ahead, their banners like jagged teeth on the skyline.
Gi Ken tightened the strap on his old breastplate—his father's armor, dented, scratched, but solid. It didn't gleam like the polished cuirasses of some officers; instead, it bore the muted color of iron that had already seen death. His glaive rested on his shoulder, the wooden haft warm from the sun.
Beside him, Shou Gen—tall, wiry, with eyes that scanned everything—gave him a look.
"Orders are clear, Ken. Hold formation, keep shields locked."
Gi Ken smirked. "Yeah. Let's see if Wei agrees to that plan."
They stood in the front ranks of a 100-man formation, spears and shields overlapping in a wall of iron. His other companions were scattered among the ranks, each man a hidden talent but dressed no differently than the rest—just simple recruits in mismatched armor.
The Wei charge came like a thunderclap.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Gi Ken braced as the first impact slammed against their shield wall. Spears jabbed from behind him, punching into gaps between Wei shields.
"Push! PUUUUSH!" The 100-man commander, a grizzled veteran named Ren Zu, barked over the din.
For several minutes, the line held. Gi Ken's glaive swept out from over the shield wall, hooking an enemy spear and yanking it aside. SHNK! His blade punched through a Wei soldier's collar, the man crumpling in a heap.
But war doesn't wait for anyone.
From the left flank, the Wei surged harder, pressing their advantage where a neighboring Qin unit had faltered. Ren Zu turned to shout an order—just in time for a Wei arrow to bury itself in his throat. THWUNK!
The commander dropped instantly, his blood spraying across Gi Ken's cheek. The line wavered. Soldiers looked around, fear widening their eyes.
Gi Ken didn't think.
"Shields forward! Close the gap! MOVE!" His voice cut through the panic.
Shou Gen and Riku Dan, already watching him, picked up the shout, and within seconds the gap sealed.
"Advance three steps—NOW!" Gi Ken roared. The front rank pushed, boots sinking into churned dirt, spears driving forward. HRRRGHH! Qin soldiers gritted their teeth and shoved back, the Wei stumbling as their momentum broke.
Gi Ken spotted the source of the pressure—a Wei sub-officer rallying men just ahead. Without hesitation, he vaulted over the shield wall, glaive sweeping down in a deadly arc. CLANG! The officer's sword caught it, sparks spitting, but Gi Ken's strength—enhanced far beyond a normal man's—forced it down. He reversed the swing, the blade of the glaive hooking around the man's guard and slicing deep into his side. SCHLNK!
The Wei formation faltered.
From somewhere behind, a voice bellowed, "WHO'S IN COMMAND HERE?!"
A Qin officer on horseback rode into the gap, eyes scanning the line. Gi Ken stepped forward, blood still dripping from his weapon.
"Name!" the officer demanded.
"Gi Ken!"
"You're in command now! Hold this line or we all die!"
The officer wheeled his horse and galloped off, leaving Gi Ken staring for half a heartbeat before snapping back into motion.
"You heard him! On me—forward!"
The roar from his companions was immediate. "ON KEN!"
Morale surged through the ranks. Even soldiers who didn't know him felt the shift—the way orders came sharp and decisive, the way his presence drew them together like iron to a magnet.
They pushed.
Minutes blurred into chaos—CLANG!, THWACK!, AAGHH!—but slowly, surely, the Qin regained ground. Gi Ken's glaive whirled, each strike precise and efficient, his movements honed from both his father's drills and a lifetime of martial arts in another world.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gi Ken caught sight of a distant brawl—two boys in ragged armor, one wielding a sword with desperate ferocity. Even from here, he could feel the raw determination. But there was no time to linger.
By the time the Wei pulled back from this section of the line, Gi Ken's 100-man unit—his 100-man unit—still stood. Bloodied, battered, but unbroken.
As dusk settled, a runner came with official word:
"By battlefield merit, Gi Ken is hereby appointed as 100-man commander. Orders will follow."
The cheers from his companions were deafening. But Gi Ken only gave a small nod, tightening the strap on his old armor.
Tomorrow, the killing would start again.