Chapter 128 The Empty City Stratagem Must Be a Trick!

As Lu Zhiyun arrived at the foot of Songyang City, he suddenly heard a clear and melodious zither tune drifting from the city walls.

He yanked the reins hard, and his warhorse neighed loudly, its front hooves flying high, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"stop!"

With a command from the commander, the tens of thousands of troops came to an abrupt halt, like a surging tide. The sounds of clashing armor and thundering hooves gradually subsided, leaving only the melodious strains of the zither growing ever clearer.

Lieutenant Zhao De rode forward, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked up, and couldn't help but gasp.

On the battlements, an elderly man with white hair sat upright, his ten fingers gently caressing the seven-stringed zither. A gentle breeze blew by, making his long, snow-white beard and wide sleeves of his crane-feather cloak flutter as if they were about to fly, making him appear like an immortal in the setting sun.

“General, there’s definitely a trap here!” Zhao De lowered his voice, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the hilt of his sword. “The city gates are wide open, but there’s no sign of any guards. Only this old man is playing the zither on the city wall…”

Lu Zhiyun did not answer. He raised his war-smoked face and narrowed his hawk-like eyes to examine him closely. The man on the city wall was over eight feet tall, with a gentle, jade-like face. His white hair, beneath his turban, was casually tied back with a wooden hairpin. Most striking were his hands playing the zither—his long, slender fingers flew across the strings without trembling in the slightest.

The music suddenly soared, like clashing swords and galloping horses treading on an icy river; then it lingered softly, like a clear spring gurgling over rocks and reflecting the bright moon. Lu Zhiyun suddenly felt the spear in his hand grow heavier. He noticed wild chrysanthemums peeking out from the cracks in the city wall's blue bricks, swaying gently in the music.

"All troops, prepare for alert!"

Lu Zhiyun shouted in a deep voice, a hint of wavering in his tone. He had fought on the battlefield for two or three decades and had never witnessed such a bizarre scene. Although Songyang City was not a major military stronghold, it shouldn't be so unprepared.

Tens of thousands of troops are pressing in, yet only an old man is playing the zither inside the city? This doesn't make sense.

There must be something fishy going on.

"May I ask your honorable name, sir?" Lu Zhiyun finally spoke, his voice unconsciously softening as if afraid of disturbing the melodious music.

Before the music had faded, the old man lowered his eyes and smiled faintly. A gust of wind swept by, making his wide sleeves flutter. "I am but a farmer," he said, stroking his long beard, his crane-feather cloak billowing slightly in the wind. "It is fate that I have encountered a general with his army at the city gates today."

Lu Zhiyun, standing below the city walls, frowned. "What? They won't say their names, just playing tricks." He tightened his grip on the reins, and his warhorse trotted restlessly. Behind him, the army began to stir, the clatter of armor echoing through the air.

Zhuge Liang casually brushed away a fallen leaf that had drifted onto his desk and continued, "General, you have come a long way and must be tired. Why don't we enter the city for a chat? A small feast has been prepared in the city to welcome the soldiers and help them get rid of their travel dust."

Lu Zhiyun laughed loudly from below the city wall: "Old fool, do you think I, Lu, am a pushover? Did you not know you were trying to trick me?" He suddenly drew his sword from his waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the setting sun. "I have 30,000 troops here, and you dare to mock me with your mere empty city?"

Although he lived in a different time and space and had never heard of Zhuge Liang, Lu Zhiyun's intuition told him that the white-haired old man before him was no ordinary person. He looked around; Songyang City was nestled against the mountains and beside the water, a strategically important location. If he rashly entered the city, he would likely fall right into the enemy's trap.

"Pass down the order," Lu Zhiyun whispered to Zhao De, "send scouts to investigate the surrounding area, especially the direction of the river. Also, send two thousand archers to reinforce the city, in case there are any ambushes inside."

Just as Lu Zhiyun was distracted, dozens of light boats quietly approached in the river west of Songyang City. Zhou Yu stood at the bow of one of the boats, gently waving his feather fan, his eyes piercing. He wore silver armor that gleamed coldly in the twilight, and a composed smile graced his handsome face.

"Kongming is indeed a prophet." He chuckled, pointing his feather fan at the distant formation of the imperial army. "Lu Zhiyun's entire army has gathered in front of the city, leaving their flanks vulnerable."

A lieutenant beside him handed him a rocket, but Zhou Yu waved his hand and said, "No rush, let General Bai Qi make the first move." He looked up at the city wall, where Zhuge Liang's figure appeared particularly tall and imposing in the setting sun.

Although the two wise men were separated by distance, their hearts were in perfect harmony at this moment.

A thousand naval soldiers lay hidden among the reeds of the river. Each soldier had oil-soaked arrows and torches prepared beside him. Zhou Yu gazed at the enemy formation in the distance, then suddenly paused, his feather fan pausing: "Order the naval fire arrows to be launched when the southeast wind rises!"

Meanwhile, Zhuge Liang, atop the city wall, had changed the melody on his zither to a farewell tune, its lingering notes seemingly expressing the sorrow of parting. Lu Zhiyun listened intently, so engrossed that he forgot to urge the army to advance. The music seemed to possess a magical power, reminding him of the willow trees of his hometown and the leisurely days of fishing by the stream in his youth.

"General, have you ever considered why I sit here alone?" Zhuge Liang suddenly asked, his fingers lightly plucking the strings of his zither, producing a clear and melodious sound.

Lu Zhiyun's heart tightened, and just as he was about to reply, he suddenly heard a commotion coming from the right flank of the army formation.

"Report! Enemy ships spotted in the river!"

Lu Zhiyun turned around abruptly and saw dozens of rockets streaking across the twilight on the river, falling like meteors into the army. Fueled by the wind, the fire instantly ignited the grain and supplies. Thick smoke billowed up, warhorses neighed in fright, and soldiers frantically tried to extinguish the flames.

"What is this thing?" Lu Zhiyun exclaimed, his eyes flashing with disbelief.

Zhuge Liang, standing atop the city wall, played his zither and laughed, "Gongjin, you've come at just the right time!" The zither music suddenly quickened, like a thousand troops galloping in.

Before the chaos caused by the rockets had subsided, the earth suddenly began to tremble. The warhorses in Lu Zhiyun's army neighed in alarm, and the soldiers looked around in panic.

"Heavy infantry! These are heavy infantry!" a veteran shouted in terror, his voice filled with despair. Not everyone could be fully equipped, and if they encountered heavy infantry, they would be utterly defenseless.

Ahead, billowing dust billowed as a black-armored army advanced like an iron wall. Leading them was a burly general, wielding a long halberd—none other than the god of death, Bai Qi. His eyes, hidden beneath his helmet, were cold as ice, as if death itself had descended.

"A thousand men form a battle formation, break through in a cone shape!" Bai Qi's voice boomed across the battlefield.

A thousand heavily armored infantrymen instantly formed a tight formation, their spears like a forest, and advanced steadily. The hastily organized defenses of the imperial army were torn apart like paper. The deafening crash of clashing armor filled the air as the imperial soldiers in the front ranks were pierced by spears, their screams echoing throughout the battlefield.

Lu Zhiyun hastily ordered archers to intercept them, but suddenly tall shields were erected in Bai Qi's army, and all the arrows were blocked with a clang. Bai Qi's army was highly disciplined, and their formation was perfectly orderly, like a sophisticated killing machine.

"Change formation, flank from both sides!" Bai Qi waved his command flag, and the armored square formation suddenly split apart, like giant pincers attacking the imperial army from both flanks. This was a classic pincer attack; Bai Qi had used this tactic to encircle and annihilate 400,000 Zhao soldiers in the Battle of Changping.

On the city wall, Zhuge Liang's zither music suddenly quickened, seemingly cheering on Bai Qi's offensive. Lu Zhiyun broke out in a cold sweat; he finally realized he had fallen into a trap. The white-haired old man had lured him to a halt with the empty city, but in reality, he was buying time for the other troops to encircle him.

"Retreat! Break out to the southeast!" Lu Zhiyun shouted, his voice hoarse with tension. But it was too late. Just as the imperial army's attention was drawn to Bai Qi, a light cavalry force appeared behind them like a ghost.

Huo Qubing took the lead, wielding a ring-pommel sword, and shouted, "My lads, follow me to take the enemy general's head!" He was young, but he was born for the battlefield, and his eyes shone with confidence.

A thousand riders galloped, raising clouds of dust.

Huo Qubing employed his most effective flanking maneuver, bypassing the main battlefield and striking directly at the enemy's command center. His cavalry pierced the rear of the imperial army like sharp blades, and wherever they went, imperial soldiers fell to the ground.

"Protect the general!" Lu Zhiyun's personal guards hurriedly formed a battle formation, but were scattered by Huo Qubing's cavalry. However, they still couldn't withstand the well-coordinated teamwork of these elite soldiers from different eras, who seemed like comrades-in-arms who had fought side by side for many years.

Huo Qubing's eyes flashed like lightning, instantly locking onto Lu Zhiyun, who was surrounded by his generals. He spurred his horse, and it charged forward like an arrow.

"Stop him!" Lu Zhiyun shouted, but he involuntarily retreated. He had never seen such a brave young general; the murderous intent in his eyes sent chills down his spine.

Huo Qubing laughed loudly: "How dare you, you rats, shout like that?" Before he finished speaking, he had already killed three enemy generals and was closing in on Lu Zhiyun. His swordsmanship was concise and fierce, each strike aimed directly at the vital points, without any superfluous movements.

Just as Huo Qubing was causing chaos in the enemy's rear, two more fierce generals emerged from the main battlefield.

"Yuchi Jingde is here!"

"Qin Shubao is here!"

Two thunderous shouts rang out. Yuchi Jingde, wielding a steel whip, and Qin Shubao, brandishing a long spear, charged side by side into the enemy ranks, unstoppable. These two renowned generals of the founding of the Tang Dynasty worked in perfect harmony, one attacking and the other defending, complementing each other perfectly.

"Double Dragons Emerging from the Water Formation!" Yuchi Jingde shouted, and with a flick of his steel whip, three soldiers fell to the ground.

The thousand elite troops immediately split into two groups, weaving and flanking through the enemy ranks like two dragons. Wherever Yuchi Jingde's steel whip struck, enemy soldiers fell and horses collapsed; Qin Shubao's spear moved like a dragon, sending countless enemy soldiers flying. The imperial army's formation was completely disrupted, and soldiers scattered and fled.

The situation on the battlefield can change in an instant.

Lu Zhiyun's painstakingly constructed central army formation crumbled under this fierce attack, its once-orderly formation now shattered. Messengers fled in all directions amidst the chaos, command flags fell to the ground, and the sounds of drums and gongs ceased. The soldiers of each battalion lost unified command and scattered across the battlefield like headless flies. Some captains still tried to organize resistance, shouting desperately to their men; but most soldiers abandoned their armor and weapons, scrambling to escape.

On the battlefield, weapons lay scattered everywhere, banners fell in pools of blood, and wounded warhorses neighed in agony.

In the chaos, Yuchi Jingde's steel whip drew deadly arcs. With one lash, three imperial soldiers fell to the ground, spitting blood; with a backhand strike, he cleaved a burly man wielding an axe in two. Qin Shubao's spear, like a venomous snake's tongue, its tip gleaming coldly, pierced precisely through the gaps in the enemy armor with every thrust. He charged into the enemy lines on horseback, then reined in his horse in a frenzy, maneuvering the imperial soldiers around in circles. The two generals coordinated flawlessly, one leading the attack, the other providing support, utterly shattering the last vestiges of resistance in the imperial army.

Lu Zhiyun, protected by his personal guards, retreated repeatedly, his face deathly pale. In his half-life of battles, he had never witnessed such exquisite teamwork, such a fierce offensive. Watching his meticulously trained elite troops fall like clay chickens and earthenware dogs at the enemy's hands, his hands trembled involuntarily.

In the distance, scattered soldiers trampled each other, their screams echoing everywhere; nearby, Yuchi Jingde and Qin Shubao led their iron cavalry as if they were in an empty field, invincible in their path.

Just as the imperial army's formation was thrown into chaos, a row of strange machines suddenly appeared on the walls of Songyang. The dark nozzles were pointed at the confused enemy troops below.

"put!"

With a command, dozens of muskets fired in unison, raining bullets down on the dense enemy ranks. Zhu Di stood on the city wall, calmly directing the firearms troops. Dressed in military attire, his eyes were piercing, and he possessed an unparalleled understanding of the use of firearms.

"Three-stage attack, firing in rotation!"

The musketeers, arranged in three ranks, took turns loading and firing, creating a continuous barrage of fire. The imperial army, never having seen such a weapon, was terrified, and their formation completely collapsed. Lead bullets pierced their armor, and imperial soldiers fell in droves, their cries of agony echoing across the battlefield.

They had never seen such a weapon before, and naturally had no way to dodge it. They tried to defend themselves with their swords, but the lead bullets pierced through their blades and went straight for their throats. Blood gushed out, and they opened their mouths, unable to utter a sound.

Seeing that the situation was hopeless, Lu Zhiyun was about to order a retreat when he suddenly felt a chill on his neck—Huo Qubing's ring-pommel sword was already at his throat. The young general wore a victorious smile, but there was no trace of underestimation in his eyes.

"General, please dismount," Huo Qubing said with a smile, his voice gentle yet authoritative.

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Author's Note: [Let me see][Let me see][Let me see]