On Ambush Warfare

"So where was your Chieftain Modun?" Commander Xin asked, still somewhat disbelieving.

"Chieftain Modun died three months ago. On the way back, an arrow from the Han Tribe struck his arm, and we couldn't heal him," one of Modun's subordinates said.

Commander Xin dropped heavily into a chair, his feelings tangled beyond words. He could not tell whether he sympathized with Modun, or had seen his own future in him. A man capable of gathering an army of tens of thousands had died just like that.

How many people did the entire Xin Tribe have? Forget an army of sixty thousand—even sixty thousand men might be beyond their means. And then there were the warhorses. How many warhorses had Modun possessed? How many could they bring out?

Commander Xin's heart went cold by half in an instant. He even found himself considering giving up resistance, but he was unwilling to do so.

Deep down, he did not really believe what the man before him had said. How could the Han Tribe possibly possess such exaggerated weapons? But if he refused to believe it, Modun had clearly possessed an Allied Forces numbering tens of thousands. Even if they could not defeat a single Kaiyuan Commandery of the Han Tribe, they should at least have been able to fight it to a draw. Yet they had lost—and lost so quickly and so miserably.

Seeing that their Great Leader had fallen into low spirits, the Elders beside him grew agitated as well. They had struggled so hard to reach their current advantageous position; how could they simply give up after hearing a few words from someone else?

Thus, Elder of Technology began persuading Commander Xin.

"Great Leader, there's no need to worry. No matter how powerful those weapons of the Han Tribe are,