Almost, But Not Quite Satisfying

Xiahou Mao's eyes widened. He reckoned that more than a dozen batches had already rushed past, with at least a thousand men having "escaped."

"Send orders to every camp. Intercept them in separate sectors. We cannot let Zhang Fei get away!" Xiahou Mao shouted.

"Uh, this general will relay the orders at once."

Han Shao hurriedly had the standard-bearer wave the five-colored signal flags. The surrounding camps and units moved at the command, shouting as they lunged at the cavalry galloping past on both flanks.

The battle line of thirty thousand troops had been stretched too long to begin with, leaving the central and rear armies unable to see the signal flags, and the order to attack could not reach them. Han Shao therefore dispatched messengers on horseback toward the rear.

For a time, outside Wangyuan City, voices boiled like a cauldron and warhorses whinnied.

The fierce cries of battle shook the rippling surface of the Wei River.

Zhang Fei's four thousand cavalrymen flexibly split into nearly a hundred small squads. Each squad formed its own group, with troops assigned to main assault, supporting assault, guiding, scouting, rear guard, and other roles. Relying on the mobility of their horses, they harassed and killed the enemy while on the move—avoiding battle when they encountered large groups, and killing anyone who was alone.

The tactics were clean and decisive, without the slightest trace of dragging mud and water.

To deal with Zhang Fei's sparrow warfare, Xiahou Mao ordered each camp to intercept its own opponents, throwing the field into chaos. The soldiers of every unit fought on their own without unified command, as disorderly as a brawl between farmers armed with tools.

"Damn it! At a time like this, the Wangyuan garrison still refuses to leave the city and aid the battle.