Another Meeting, Tactical Training Revealed

Morning light slanted through the tent flap, falling across the dirt and stones at the edge of the sand table and glazing them with a thin layer of ash. Chen Wuya stepped into the command tent, his boots smeared with grass clippings damp from the night dew, leaving two broken trails across the ground. Without pausing, he went straight to the sand table, drew a neatly folded sheet of parchment from his robes, shook open one corner, and pressed it over the entrance to the Northern Ridge mine passage.

Bai Zhi followed half a step behind him, her shoulders slightly lowered and her footsteps light and steady. She stood to the left and slightly back, her gaze sweeping across the generals' faces. Some lowered their heads and rubbed at their sword hilts; others stared motionlessly at the sand table. The air still carried the lingering scorch-smell from last night.

"I'll continue." Chen Wuya's voice was not loud, yet it struck the silence like a stone dropped into still water. "Last night, I figured something out—we've been fighting according to the military manuals, but the enemy has read those manuals too."

Commander A frowned, about to speak, but Chen Wuya lifted a hand to stop him.

"They know what orderly formations are and what disciplined advances and retreats look like. So the moment we fall into disorder, they'll dare to make a move." Chen Wuya drew three crooked lines across the sand table with a charcoal stick. "But what if that 'disorder' is deliberate?"

He paused, marking the three routes one by one: the left wing would surge forward halfway, then abruptly turn right; the central army would retreat before engaging, then charge again; the right wing would march ostentatiously across the valley.

"These three routes have no pattern and defy