After a brief clash, the two men quickly drew their weapons apart.
Zhao Yun tightened his reins and looked the equally aged general before him up and down.
For an instant, his thoughts flew back to Rang Mountain, to Changban Slope, to Hanzhong, and he could not help marveling at how swiftly time had slipped away.
But this was no time to reminisce. He raised his spear and spurred his horse toward Zhang He, who likewise refused to yield and rode out to meet him.
Zhao Yun first thrust at Zhang He's face. Zhang He dodged sideways, then used the tip of his lance to hold off the other man's spearhead. Before Zhao Yun could draw back his strength, he counterattacked.
Neither man's prowess had diminished with the years. Zhao Yun easily evaded Zhang He's attack, and their horses swept past each other. Zhao Yun deftly delivered a backward spear thrust, but Zhang He had been prepared, and the attack failed to land.
True, their several previous encounters had all ended in Zhang He's defeat, but that did not mean he was truly far inferior to Zhao Yun.
This time, for instance, they fought dozens of exchanges without either gaining a clear advantage.
Both had graying hair and beards, yet neither seemed to know fatigue. Each had fought for his own lord for many years, and each carried the heroic spirit of a man willing to die for his country.
Still, Zhao Yun was Zhao Yun. His individual martial prowess stood a tier above Zhang He's, and he gradually gained the upper hand.
Zhang He found the fight increasingly taxing and forced himself to grit his teeth and hold on.
Several more exchanges left Zhang He struggling to keep up. Though Zhao Yun also showed fatigue, his moves still carried killing intent.
Just then, shouts rose one after another behind Zhao Yun.
"The Wei army has broken into the valley!"
"The Wei army has broken through!"
Zhao Yun's brow tightened. What he had least wanted to see had happened after all.
He was deeply puzzled. Were Zhang He's main force and Zhang He himself not right here?
Under Zhao Yun's deployment, five thousand Shu troops were holding off the Wei army at the mouth of Ji Valley, while he led a thousand cavalry in a charge. Together with the troops lying in ambush above the valley, they should have been able to hold the Wei army back for a long time.
Yet he had been wrong.
True, his individual valor and fighting ability were in a class of their own, and the soldiers charging behind him swept all before them.
But he had overestimated the infantry formations' ability to adapt at the valley entrance. Or perhaps he simply had too little experience independently commanding a large army.
With the commanding general rashly venturing out, Xiahou Xian led the Valiant Cavalry Battalion's three thousand elite horsemen around Zhao Yun's flank. Abandoning any intention of surrounding and attacking Zhao Yun, he made straight for the Shu troops at the valley entrance instead.
The Shu troops fell into utter disarray. With no city walls to defend, they were scattered by the charging cavalry in less than half an incense stick's time.
By the time Zhao Yun realized what had happened, it was too late. He immediately ordered his men back to reinforce them. Seeing this, Zhang He wasted no time either and promptly made his decision.
"Entire army, attack the valley!"
Zhao Yun reined his horse around and rode off. Zhang He shouted, "The man on the white horse is the rebel general Zhao Yun! A thousand gold and a fief of a hundred households to whoever captures him!"
The Wei cavalry's morale soared. Fixing their eyes on the rebel general riding the white horse, they gave chase. Along the way, Wei soldiers who spotted that white horse saw wealth and glory for the rest of their lives and risked their lives to surround and attack its rider.
In the end, Zhao Yun was not so easily captured. With fewer than a hundred riders, he forced a bloody path through and returned to the valley.
The infantry of Zhao Yun's army had not, in fact, suffered enormous casualties. Most had fled into the valley.
After Zhao Yun gathered his scattered troops, he had only a little over a thousand men left. Together with the ten thousand led by Deng Zhi, who had originally been stationed at the main camp in Ji Valley, the Shu forces could still barely be called a large army, but their strength had been severely sapped.
Once Great Wei's army entered Ji Valley, victory and defeat were already plain to see.
This level stretch allowed the Wei State's fifty-thousand-strong army to spread out in a vast, sweeping formation. From here, they might not need any intricate tactics; a straightforward push could settle the matter.
After entering the valley, with the sun nearing the horizon, Zhang He ordered the entire army to make camp and rest. He then went in person to see Xiahou Xian, who had just returned to camp.
"Your valor is no less than your grandfather's, Master Xiahou." Zhang He began lavishing praise on him the moment he entered.
Xiahou Xian expressed his thanks outwardly, but inwardly he thought, Isn't that practically an insult?
After all, his grandfather Xiahou Dun was a renowned general who lost battle after battle and fought on after every defeat.
Well... his promotions certainly came quickly.
Indeed, today had been Xiahou Xian's first time on a battlefield since transmigrating. But from the moment he killed his first enemy officer, he had drawn on the original owner's muscle memory to master the techniques of mortal combat.
Still, Xiahou Xian's plan had been somewhat rash. Had the Shu defensive formations been a little more solid, the cavalry he led might not have won so easily.
But since he had won, he did not wish to dwell on it.
That night, Zhang He and Xiahou Xian sat in the command tent eating a thick gruel of millet, vegetables, and minced meat boiled until soft. An army on campaign consumed enormous quantities of provisions, so Zhang He, as its commander, chose to lead by example and eat the same food as the soldiers.
At first, Xiahou Xian found it very hard to stomach. He had been in this world for nearly half a year, and the meals at the princess's residence in Luoyang had been far better than this stuff.
When he saw the dust-covered soldiers eating more happily than the next, he could not help smiling, then finished the food in his bowl in great mouthfuls.
Meanwhile, at the Shu army's camp in Ji Valley.
A middle-aged man wearing gray scholar's robes and sporting a thin, downturned mustache entered Zhao Yun's command tent.
"Take a seat, Bomiao," Zhao Yun said first.
He was Deng Zhi, Shu Han's General Who Spreads Martial Might, serving as Zhao Yun's deputy on this campaign.
Deng Zhi slowly took his seat, then unfolded a secret letter in his hand and read it to Zhao Yun:
"General, the chancellor has personally gone to hold Jieting. He orders us to remain at Ji Valley for another fifteen days, after which we may withdraw."
"Fifteen days." A trace of desolation flickered in Zhao Yun's eyes. He had been defeated and driven back after only a single day of fighting, and had even allowed the Wei army into the valley.
"What do you think, Bomiao?" Zhao Yun asked.
Stroking his beard, Deng Zhi considered for a moment before saying, "The enemy outnumbers us. Our army must not venture out rashly. So long as we hold our camp firmly, lasting fifteen days should not be difficult."
"Only..." Deng Zhi paused. "Only, I fear our casualties will be heavy."
Indeed, that was what Zhao Yun was thinking as well.
Central Shu's population was already small, and levying these soldiers had been no easy task. Were they truly to consign them all to death here?
"So be it. Let us follow the chancellor's orders," Zhao Yun said helplessly.
Though he wanted to preserve as many of these officers' and soldiers' lives as possible, there was nothing he could do.
The following day, Zhao Yun and Deng Zhi began arranging to strengthen the camp's defenses.
Later, scouts reported that the Wei army showed no sign of advancing. Zhao Yun found this very strange and sent another scouting party to investigate, but they returned with the same result.
Another day passed, and the Wei army still made no move. Instead, its camp began putting up simple defenses of abatis, cavalry barricades, and trenches. The two armies settled into a standoff, each encamped in Ji Valley.
Though it was strange, Deng Zhi and Zhao Yun continued to believe that it would be no bad thing if the Wei army wished to remain deadlocked with them here. After all, his current task was to buy as much time as possible.
Then word from another group of scouts sent a chill down his back.
The Wei army had actually withdrawn?