Indeed. In theory, it was only a dozen or so men pushing carts. What tricks could they possibly pull?
But many times, making people sick—uh, I mean, a psychological attack—didn't require a large number of people.
A short while later, the dozen or so men pushed their carts to within a hundred meters of Yuan Shao's formation. As they drew closer, the rich aroma of stewed meat gradually drifted into the Yuan Shao army's ranks.
These were actually the carts used by the logistics unit to deliver meals to the Aristocratic Clans. A small brazier beneath each cart burned continuously to keep the food warm, while an iron barrel on top was filled to the brim with stewed pork.
Braised pork!
To stimulate the appetite and make the aroma even richer, Wang Xuan had specifically instructed the cooks to use all sorts of spices he had brought with him. The fragrance was so strong that even a headwind couldn't stop it from drifting a hundred meters away.
When the carts drew within about fifty meters, the Yuan Shao soldiers in the front ranks had already begun to stir. They kept twitching their noses one after another. The intense fragrance made these men, who normally couldn't even eat their fill, swallow repeatedly.
It felt as though a hand had reached up into their throats and kept scratching. The itch was unbearable!
Then the men suddenly stopped the carts, picked up iron basins, scooped out the meat from the barrels, and flung it in every direction.
As basin after basin of braised pork was splashed everywhere, nearly two hundred meters of ground was covered with glistening, greasy chunks of meat.
Once everything was done, the dozen or so men turned and ran.
Just then, a gentle breeze swept toward Yuan Shao's army,