Before Zhao Yun arrived, his voice did—a deep, resonant howl like a dragon's roar. Its uniquely pitched sound waves shattered the clamor of killing in the river valley like razor-sharp blades.
The Wei Army soldiers reacted like startled animals, their attack immediately growing unnatural. With Yang Qiu ordering the archers to fire wildly as well, the Wei troops unanimously slowed their offensive, and the surrounded Huang Zhong instantly felt the pressure lessen greatly.
Watching from high ground, Yang Qiu was frantic with anxiety. Huang Zhong had fewer and fewer attendants at his side, yet the soldiers closing in on him were driven back by Zhao Yun's howl. The formations suddenly shifted chaotically, blocking the rear archers' line of sight.
The chance to kill Huang Zhong was right before him; once lost, it would never come again. Though he knew he was dancing on a knife's edge, evil surged from Yang Qiu's heart into his courage. Determined to take the risk, he spurred his horse into the chaotic army, personally cut down several retreating foot soldiers, and shouted sternly, "Any who retreat further will meet the same end! Get up there!"
With the commander personally taking the field to "enforce discipline" in place of the military inspector, the Wei Army soldiers could only grit their teeth and press on. But before they had run more than a few steps, they heard Yang Qiu's maddening voice again: "Where are the archers? Keep firing!"
The Wei soldiers at the very front instantly became moving targets. Yang Qiu's utterly unhinged maneuver threw all the officers and men into a collective bind: retreating meant punishment under military law, while advancing meant not only fighting the Han Army to the death, but also risking their own side's flying arrows.
Caught between advancing and retreating yet still