The twelfth year of Jian'an, autumn's chill deepened. In the streets and alleys of Xinye County, Nanyang Commandery , occasional hawking from peddlers could not dispel the heavy gloom hanging in the air. The rice fields outside the city were nearly ready for harvest, their golden waves undulating in the wind—yet they only made the city seem more isolated and helpless. This tiny town was where Liu Bei (styled Xuan De) stationed his troops, marking the third year of his reliance on others' hospitality.
Since the outbreak of the Yellow Turban Rebellion, Liu Bei had wandered north and south: campaigning against Dong Zhuo, battling Lü Bu, and resisting Cao Cao (styled Meng De). Though he had gathered a group of followers through his reputation for benevolence and the valor of fierce generals like Guan Yu, Zhang Fei (styled Yi De), and Zhao Yun (styled Zi Long), he had always lacked a long-term strategic plan, suffering repeated defeats. Now taking refuge with Liu Biao, the Governor of Jingzhou (key territory in the Three Kingdoms period), Liu Biao treated him with superficial courtesy but secretly harbored misgivings. He only stationed Liu Bei in this border town of Xinye, ostensibly to resist Cao Cao, but in reality using him as a buffer zone, letting him fend for himself. The city's military strength numbered no more than a few thousand, mostly remnant soldiers with outdated weapons and frequent shortages of provisions. To the north, Cao Cao had pacified Hebei and was sharpening his troops and feeding his horses, eyeing Jingzhou covetously, ready to march south at any moment. To the south, Liu Biao's faction was riddled with internal divisions, and most viewed Liu Bei with vigilance—there was no possibility of reinforcement. Trapped between two foes, this already demoralized army was overcome with even greater anxiety.
In the study at the backyard, Liu Bei wore a plain linen robe, a few strands of silver hair visible at his temples. He stared at the map spread out on the desk, his brows furrowed tightly, his fingertips caressing the marker for Xinye, his expression filled with anxiety and reluctance. Nearing fifty, he was still adrift, without a stable base to call his own—how could he fulfill his long-cherished wish to "revive the Han Dynasty and return to the former capital"? Beside him stood Guan Yu, his phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of gloom on his red face.
Zhang Fei, unable to contain his impatience, planted his hands on his hips, his leopard-like head and round eyes wide with anger, and roared in a rough voice: "Elder Brother! That old scoundrel Liu Biao clearly looks down on us! Why don't we just fight our way out of Xinye and find another path? It's better than waiting here to die!"
"Third Brother, hold your tongue!" Guan Yu admonished solemnly. "Though Xinye is small, it was a gift from Liu Biao. If we leave without warning, we'll be branded as traitors! Moreover, Cao Cao's army lurks outside the city, and our forces are weak—charging out blindly would be like hitting a rock with an egg."
Liu Bei sighed deeply: "Second Brother is absolutely right. But this can't go on forever. We have the heart to serve the country, yet lack the strategy to maneuver the battlefield, missing opportunities time and again." He gazed at the two of them, his tone tinged with bitterness. "Yide is brave, Yunchang loyal and righteous, Zilong resolute—but without a resourceful advisor to plan our overall strategy, even with the courage to stand against ten thousand enemies, we can never achieve great things."
As they spoke, hurried footsteps echoed outside the door. Sun Qian, the Staff Advisor (military advisor assisting in administrative affairs), strode into the room, his expression grave: "My Lord! Scouts from the north report—Cao Cao has dispatched Xiahou Yuan with 20,000 troops! They have passed Wancheng and are marching on Xinye! Their vanguard will reach the city gates tomorrow morning!"
"What?!" Liu Bei shot to his feet, his face turning pale instantly. Twenty thousand troops against his mere thousands was truly a hopeless fight. Upon hearing this, Zhang Fei's eyes blazed with fury as he drew his sword: "Damn it! Perfect timing! I'll rally the troops right now, march out, and face that Xiahou Yuan—let him taste the power of Zhang Fei!"
"My Brother, no!" Guan Yu quickly pressed down on his sword hilt. "Xiahou Yuan is a famous general under Cao Cao, brave and skilled in battle. His troops outnumber ours several times over—engaging them head-on means certain defeat!"
"Then are we just going to watch as the enemy besieges the city?" Zhang Fei wrenched his hand free from Guan Yu's grip, pacing anxiously. "Elder Brother, we can't wait to die!"
Liu Bei was distraught, pacing back and forth in deep thought. Just then, a clear voice came from outside the door: "My Lord, do not worry. Though Xiahou Yuan is brave, he lacks strategy. His 20,000 troops, though numerous, are exhausted from the long march—I already have a plan to repel them."
Everyone looked up to see Xu Yuanzhi striding steadily into the study, dressed in a green robe with a long sword hanging at his waist. Shortly after his gathering with Zhuge Liang and others at Woyun Cottage, he had heard of Liu Bei's benevolence and come to join him. Since Xu Yuanzhi's arrival, Liu Bei's faction had gained some order. In several small-scale conflicts, he had repeatedly offered clever schemes using Legalist practical strategies, resolving many crises—now he was Liu Bei's most trusted advisor.
"Yuanzhi! Do you have a sound plan?" Liu Bei rushed forward as if clutching a lifeline.
Xu Yuanzhi clasped his hands in salute: "My Lord, Xiahou Yuan is impetuous and eager for quick success. His army has marched far, with an extended supply line, and his soldiers are fatigued from the long journey. Instead of confronting his main force head-on, we should adopt a strategy of 'harassing and exhausting the enemy'." He walked to the map, pointing to several key roads outside Xinye. "We can dispatch small elite units to launch three-pronged harassment: one unit to raid the enemy camp at night, setting fires to create chaos; another to cut off their supply lines and burn their provisions; the third to set up decoy troops, planting countless banners in the mountains and forests to bluff, leaving Xiahou Yuan unsure of our true strength. Repeating this for less than half a month will surely demoralize and exhaust the enemy. Then we can seize the opportunity to defeat them—or force them to retreat."
"What a brilliant plan!" Liu Bei was overjoyed. "We'll follow Yuanzhi's strategy! Yunchang, Yide—each of you will lead 500 elite soldiers, responsible for raiding the enemy camp at night and cutting off their supply lines respectively. Zilong, you lead 300 men to set up decoy troops in the mountains outside the city—make sure to confuse the enemy!"
"We obey!" Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun replied in unison. Their previously anxious expressions eased—with Xu Yuanzhi's plan, they finally felt confident.
Early the next morning, on the official road north of Xinye, dust billowed into the sky, obscuring the sun. Xiahou Yuan's 20,000-strong army advanced slowly like a giant black dragon. Xiahou Yuan rode atop a tall black steed, clad in black iron armor covered with scratches from countless battles, exuding a murderous aura.
Around forty years old, he had a resolute face, with a deep sword scar stretching from his left eyebrow to his jaw, adding to his ferocity. His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, scanning the distant Xinye with an unshakable air of authority. Behind him, his soldiers—all clad in fine armor, wielding swords, spears, and halberds—marched in perfect formation, their momentum majestic. The thud of horse hooves shook the earth slightly, and the banners fluttered in the wind, the character "Wei" clearly visible, radiating an ambition to conquer the world.
"Report—General! Xinye is ahead!" The vanguard officer rushed to report.
Xiahou Yuan reined in his horse, snorting coldly: "Tiny Xinye, a mere speck of dust! Liu Bei is nothing but a stray dog, yet he dares to hold the city and resist? Pass my order—surround the city and launch the attack tomorrow morning!"
"Yes, sir!" The soldiers replied in unison, their voices so loud that the surrounding trees rustled.
However, Xiahou Yuan never imagined that the days ahead would become an unflattering chapter in his military career. Since leading his 20,000 troops out of Wancheng, he had advanced triumphantly at every step. In his eyes, Xinye was just a last refuge for Liu Bei, the stray dog—and capturing it should be effortless. But this arrogance of inevitable victory was ultimately shattered by a sudden raid under the cover of night.
At the third watch of the night, the sky was as black as ink, even the stars hidden behind clouds. Only the evening wind, carrying the coolness of autumn, swept over the weeds outside the Wei army's camp. Guan Yu, dressed in light armor, his phoenix eyes sharpened in the darkness, led 500 elite soldiers, moving like ghosts across the wilderness. These 500 men were the cream of the army—their horse hooves wrapped in linen, their sword blades sheathed, their breathing deliberately slowed. The only sound was the faint rustle of grass. Each man carried oil-paper wrapped tinder at his waist and several fire arrows slung over his back, their tips wrapped in oil-soaked cotton, glinting faintly in the dark.
"Be quiet—the enemy's sentry post is ahead." Guan Yu lowered his voice, waving his broadsword slightly, and the unit halted instantly. Two scouts had already sneaked near the sentry post. Seizing the moment when the patrolling soldiers turned around, they pounced like cheetahs, covering the enemies' mouths and slitting their throats with daggers, silencing them without a sound. By the bonfire under the camp wall, several soldiers nodded off, completely unaware that death was approaching.
Guan Yu's eyes darkened, and he gestured with his hand. Three hundred soldiers scattered quickly, nocking their bows and fitting the fire arrows. The arrow tips were ignited with tinder, and orange flames danced in the night, illuminating their resolute faces. "Release!" At Guan Yu's low roar, three hundred fire arrows streaked across the night sky like shooting stars, letting out sharp whistles as they accurately struck the dense tents in the Wei army's camp.
Most of the tents were made of linen, catching fire instantly. In the blink of an eye, dozens of tents were engulfed in roaring flames. Fanned by the evening wind, the fire spread rapidly. Amidst the crackling of burning fabric, tents collapsed with a crash, sparks flying everywhere. Wei army soldiers were roused from their sleep by the fire and smoke, scrambling out of their tents in panic—some half-dressed, some barefoot, others even set ablaze on their hair before they could grab their weapons. "Fire! Enemy attack!" Terrified shouts echoed, shattering the night's tranquility, and the camp descended into chaos.
Soldiers fled in all directions, trampling each other. Many were burned or injured in the chaos, their screams and cries mingling together. Guan Yu, wielding his broadsword, led the charge at the forefront, directing two hundred elite soldiers to attack amid the chaos. Every flash of his sword brought a spray of blood—Wei army soldiers, caught off guard, were no match for these elites, falling one after another into pools of blood. Guan Yu's blade was soaked in blood, but his phoenix eyes remained calm as he scanned the chaotic camp. He knew the key to a night raid was speed—no lingering in battle.
Seeing the Wei army's reinforcements gradually gathering, the light of torches illuminating half the sky, Guan Yu made a decisive call: "Retreat!" Upon hearing this, the 500 elite soldiers withdrew in an orderly manner like a tide, their movements clean and efficient without the slightest hesitation. When the Wei army generals arrived with their main forces, they only found a devastated camp and fading black figures in the distance—uncertain even which direction to pursue.