Heaven Descends

Outside Guangzong City, upon the vast wilderness.

Nearly forty thousand Yellow Turban Army soldiers resembled a yellow tide of ants; spears and pikes stood like a forest, banners fluttered in the wind, and their shouts shook the heavens.

On the other side, the Han Army had long since observed the movements of the Yellow Turban Army. Under the orders of their commander Lu Zhi, they donned armor and gripped their spears in orderly fashion, marching out of their encampment. Watchtowers were erected high, and Lu Zhi ascended one, accompanied by his deputy Zong Yuan.

A fierce gale whipped Lu Zhi's crimson cloak. With a square face and a cold, stern expression, he gazed at the distant Yellow Turban formations without saying a word.

Beside him, Zong Yuan stood on tiptoe to peer into the distance, his brows furrowed. "Lord Lu, the great banner of the rebel leader Zhang Jiao has appeared. We have besieged the city for over a month, yet this is the first time we have seen his flag. Moreover, the Yellow Turbans have committed nearly all their combat troops; it seems they intend to make a desperate final stand..."

Lu Zhi replied calmly, "Zhang Jiao understands the principle that without reinforcements, a long-held position is bound to fall. It is simply too late. Guangzong is tightly encircled by us, and the morale of the rebel army is low. Even with Zhang Jiao present, they are merely beasts trapped in a cage."

As they spoke, nearly ten thousand elites from the Five Schools of the Northern Army and over ten thousand Commandery Soldiers had already formed their grand array amidst the earth-shaking beat of war drums. Various command flags were raised high, and the entire formation stretched for several miles. Blades and spears resembled wheat stalks, shimmering under the brilliant sunlight, yet they exuded a chilling aura.

At this moment, Lu Zhi raised a hand slightly, and the commander's great banner immediately swayed. Seeing this, the flags of each division began to wave, and a massive cheer erupted.

Twenty thousand Han soldiers struck their shields with swords, slammed their pikes against the ground, or pulled on their reins while shouting from horseback:

"Ten thousand victories! Ten thousand victories! Ten thousand victories!"

The sound was surging, its momentum piercing the clouds.

On his carriage, Zhang Liang saw the orderly and imposing Han formation, and his face turned unsightly. He instinctively glanced at his elder brother Zhang Jiao, only to find Zhang Jiao's expression unchanged. However, Zhang Liang keenly noticed that his brother's hand gripping the Nine-Section Staff was exerting force, his knuckles protruding.

"Big Brother..." Zhang Liang whispered, wanting to say something.

Zhang Jiao paid him no heed, instead speaking in a voice that was slightly hoarse yet as loud as he could muster: "Hair like leeks, cut and they grow again; heads like chickens, severed and they still crow. Officials need not be feared; the common people have never been easy to slight!"

Over a hundred burly Yellow Turban Warriors immediately repeated his words in loud voices, and countless Yellow Turban soldiers cast gazes of reverence and fanaticism toward Zhang Jiao.

"The world suffers from great drought, and the people cannot survive. The common folk cannot even obtain a mouthful of grain, forced to trade children to eat and split bones for fuel, while the noble families feast to music, their rice and meat rotting with maggots!

How unjust is this world!

Today, our Great Peace Yellow Heaven rises in righteous indignation, not for the sake of anyone's wealth, titles, or fine wine and food, but so that the people of the world may no longer suffer from hunger and cold, and no longer be treated as livestock by the nobility!

The Blue Heaven is dead; the Yellow Heaven shall stand. The year is Jiazi; the world shall be blessed!"

As his voice fell, tens of thousands of Yellow Turban soldiers roared, venting the pain and anger within their hearts.

"The Blue Heaven is dead; the Yellow Heaven shall stand. The year is Jiazi; the world shall be blessed!!!"

The earth-shaking sound pierced the clouds, causing the cheers from the Han side to falter.

Dong, dong, dong—

Deep, resonant drums sounded. The Yellow Turban Army, under the command of their squad leaders and platoon commanders, advanced slowly. Having received little training, their formations easily fell into disarray, often stopping every twenty paces to reorganize.

"Advance!" Lu Zhi's command flag swept down.

War drums erupted within the Han ranks. The crimson "reef" moved steadily forward. Their steps were heavy and uniform, each stride causing the earth to tremble slightly and dust to rise.

Under the azure sky, two massive forces—one yellow, one red—engaged in a life-and-death struggle upon the open wilderness.

"Halt!"

"Halt!"

As the two armies approached within a hundred paces, they stopped to reorganize. The soldiers in the front ranks of both the Han and Yellow Turban armies could see the faces of those opposite them; their hearts raced, and their breathing grew heavy.

Dozens of breaths later, the two armies moved forward again.

"Fire!!"

Clang, clang, clang— Thousands of arrows flew from the Han front like a swarm of locusts, raining down and felling rows of Yellow Turban soldiers. Yet, this did not strike fear into the Yellow Turbans; they roared as they charged toward the Han Army, thrusting their pitchforks and spears with ferocity.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The Han Army's large shields were raised, blocking the spears of the Yellow Turban soldiers. Immediately after, halberds extended from the gaps in the shields, precisely slicing across the necks of the Yellow Turban soldiers and spraying fountains of blood.

In an instant, hundreds of Yellow Turban soldiers fell, yet more surged forward in a continuous wave. They carried heavy door panels, slamming them fiercely into the Han shields and forcing a gap in the tight formation.

"Kill!!"

A Yellow Turban squad leader glared, his eyes wide, as he used his blade to decapitate a fallen Han soldier. The bloody gore splattered onto his face; he wiped it away with his hand, grinned hideously, and leaped into the gap, maneuvering his feet to claim two more heads.

Yet, the strength of one man is ultimately limited. Facing seven or eight spears thrusting toward him, even his leather armor was easily pierced. His corpse was hoisted high by the forest of spears, then flung with force, crashing into the Yellow Turban soldiers rushing to his aid and knocking several to the ground.

On the battlefield, the Yellow Turban Army was like waves surging upon the sea, while the Han Army stood like an immovable reef. No matter how the Yellow Turbans charged, they could not break the Han formation.

On the contrary, the Han Army not only maintained their formation but stepped steadily forward. For every step they took, the Yellow Turbans retreated one. Viewed from above, the Yellow Turban formation had become concave; if the Han Army were allowed to continue their steady advance, the Yellow Turban grand array would surely collapse.

At the Yellow Turban center, a command flag moved. A thousand Yellow Turban Warriors clad in armor, led by Commander Huang Shao, sprinted toward the front line. They replaced the exhausted soldiers, achieving significant results the moment they engaged the Han Army. Dozens of Han soldiers who had charged too far and become separated from the main force were surrounded and killed, and the front line was quickly pushed back into a straight line.

"Those are the Yellow Turban Warriors, the rebels' elite. Every one of them is armored, robust, and fierce," Zong Yuan observed, squinting.

Lu Zhi acted as if he hadn't heard, issuing no orders. He believed that a mere thousand Yellow Turban Warriors could not change the situation.

The facts proved him right. After Huang Shao's thousand men were committed to the battlefield, they initially held off the Han offensive, but as time passed, they were all cut down by the well-trained Han soldiers. The Han Army was like a cruel, cold machine, tirelessly reaping the lives of their enemies.

Seeing the situation turning dire, Zhang Liang was consumed with anxiety, frequently looking toward Zhang Jiao. Zhang Jiao remained calm, letting out only a very low sigh.

The Han Army was truly elite; not only were they well-trained, but their weapons were complete, far superior to the Yellow Turbans, who had experienced few major battles and lacked armor.

Even though the Yellow Turban Army outnumbered the Han Army two to one, they could not withstand the latter's layered advance.

Of course, Zhang Jiao held more than just Huang Shao's thousand Yellow Turban Warriors; he still had over two thousand armored warriors and nearly a thousand cavalry in reserve. However, Lu Zhi had also not yet committed his most elite Five Schools of the Northern Army or the Sanhe Cavalry.

If both sides went all-out, the Yellow Turbans would likely collapse entirely, and it would be fortunate if even half of them could safely escape back into Guangzong City.

Just as Zhang Jiao fell into a brief moment of hesitation and Lu Zhi's mood began to relax, a muffled peal of thunder suddenly rolled across the sky.