“I know what you’re trying to say,” Li Biao interrupted him. “Ma Zongliang may be talented, but he’s not a member of the same family. But with the country in crisis, if we’re still concerned about these things, we’re just asking for trouble.”
He paused, his voice turning cold: "Moreover, His Majesty has bestowed upon him the Imperial Sword, which grants him the power to execute first and report later. If we disobey his orders, we will be defying the imperial decree."
That afternoon, in the central command tent west of Luoyang.
Looking at the two generals before him—Li Biao, fierce and powerful, and Li Bao, filled with grief and indignation—Ma Zongliang felt somewhat relieved.
With these two fresh troops, he now has 150,000 combat-ready soldiers at his disposal. Adding the Imperial Guards of the capital, the total is 200,000, surpassing Zhao Muyun's forces.
"You two generals have worked hard."
Ma Zongliang personally served tea, saying, "I'm sure you two are both aware of the current situation. Zhao Muyun has stationed his troops in Dengzhou and will soon be advancing on the capital. Should we remain trapped in this isolated city or launch a proactive attack? I'd like to hear your insightful opinions."
Li Biao spoke first: "This humble general believes we should take the initiative. Being trapped in an isolated city, our morale is declining day by day, and our supplies will eventually run out. It would be better to take advantage of our new and elite troops and engage Zhao Muyun in a decisive battle in the field."
Li Bao gritted his teeth: "This humble general is willing to be the vanguard! I will definitely cut off Zhao Muyun's head to avenge my father's spirit in heaven!"
Ma Zongliang nodded: "What you two say is exactly what I was thinking. But we need to choose the battlefield carefully."
He walked to the sand table and pointed south of the capital: "Please look, everyone. Zhao Muyun came from Dengzhou and must have passed through Luyang Pass. Thirty li north of the pass, there is a place called Yishui River."
On the sand table, the terrain of the Yi River is clearly visible: it is about ten miles wide from east to west and about fifteen miles long from north to south, with the Yi River meandering through the middle. The terrain on both banks is flat and open, making it an ideal battlefield for a decisive battle.
“This location has several advantages,” Ma Zongliang analyzed. “First, the terrain is open, capable of accommodating an army of over 100,000 in deployment, allowing our forces to leverage their numerical superiority; second, its proximity to the capital facilitates supplies; third, the Yi River serves as a natural barrier, enabling us to deploy our troops along its banks; fourth…”
He paused, then said, "Zhao Muyun will definitely not give up the opportunity for a decisive battle here. As long as he is willing to come, we can wait in ambush and fight with superior numbers!"
Li Biao carefully examined the terrain and nodded: "The location chosen by the commander is indeed excellent. But Zhao Muyun is a master strategist; could he possibly see through this trap?"
"So what if you see through it?" Ma Zongliang sneered. "Faced with absolute power, any scheme is futile. Besides..."
A glint of shrewdness flashed in his eyes: "I have already laid three ambushes along the Yi River. If Zhao Muyun dares to come, I will make sure he doesn't leave alive!"
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