One shichen later.
The sun rose in the east, dyeing the entire grassland gold.
The morning wind carried the scent of sand and dew as it swept over the Xiongnu camp, stretching for dozens of li. Banners snapped loudly, and wolf-head totems bared their fangs and claws in the morning light.
Luandi Motu reined in his horse and stood before the army, with two hundred thousand Xiongnu iron cavalry behind him.
The black mass of formations stretched from beneath his feet all the way to the horizon. White vapor from the warhorses' nostrils condensed into a thin mist in the morning wind, while the cold gleam of weapons joined into one, like a slumbering dragon of steel.
The vanguard cavalry had already begun to advance slowly. Hooves struck the grassland with dull thuds, like drumbeats.
The breaths of two hundred thousand men merged into a wave of heat, making even the air tremble faintly.
"Commander, the army is assembled and ready to depart."
A deputy general galloped over, his voice ringing loud.
Luandi Motu nodded, his gaze passing over the vanguard toward the Qin Army's defensive line in the distance.
The Qin Army's camp had been positioned behind a low-lying stretch between two highlands.
Viewed from the air, the terrain resembled an enormous funnel.
When Xiongnu cavalry charged in from the open grasslands, they would naturally converge toward the low ground.
The farther forward they went, the denser their formation would become.
And every Qin Army fortification had been built around this "funnel."
At the very front lay an open, gentle slope, so slight that the cavalry could barely sense they were going downhill.
Yet this gentle slope had one fatal function.
It would make the charging cavalry accelerate without realizing it.
Because they felt no resistance and believed the