The battlefield fell silent for a moment, save for the groans of the wounded and the cawing of crows.
Wu Shangzhi returned to the camp and reported the battle situation to Zhao Muyun.
"General, the Fengtian Army is putting up a fierce resistance and has laid an ambush. If we want to break through their defenses today, I'm afraid..."
Zhao Muyun waved his hand: "No rush. Today is just a test; tomorrow is the final assault."
He walked to the sand table and pointed to a point on the Fengtian Army's defense line:
"This is the junction of the left and right flanks of the Fengtian Army. Today's battle has made this the weakest point in the defenses."
"Tomorrow, concentrate all the Thunder Cannons of the Divine Machine Battalion to bombard this point. After half an hour of bombardment, the infantry battalion will break through from the front, while the cavalry will flank from both sides."
"But the Fengtian Army will surely be prepared..."
"So tonight, we'll keep them awake."
A cold glint flashed in Zhao Muyun's eyes. "Have Murong Chunhua and the others harass us in shifts tonight, once every hour. Shoot arrows, beat drums, set fires—but don't launch a full-scale attack. Just keep them from having any peace."
"A strategy to wear down the enemy?" Wu Shangzhi's eyes lit up.
“Yes.” Zhao Muyun nodded. “Although Ma Zongliang blocked the attack today, his troops are stretched thin. If he can’t get a good night’s sleep, the soldiers will be exhausted and the generals will be anxious tomorrow… that will be the time for us to break through the enemy lines.”
He paused, then added, “Also, have the engineers work through the night to manufacture siege equipment—ladders, battering rams, arrow towers—the more the better. Tomorrow, I want Ma Zongliang to see what it truly means to be crushed by Mount Tai.”
Wu Shangzhi was greatly encouraged: "This subordinate obeys!"
That afternoon, the Yin Army camp began to bustle with activity.
The craftsmen clattered as they felled trees, and the soldiers shouted as they practiced; it was a scene of bustling activity.
Meanwhile, in the Fengtian Army camp on the north bank, Ma Zongliang received a report and felt heavy-hearted.
Zhao Muyun is going to wage a war of attrition.
A contest of national strength, endurance, and command skills...
He looked toward the south bank, where smoke and dust billowed, clearly indicating large-scale preparations were underway.
"Order all battalions to double their vigilance tonight. Set up more sentry posts and prepare more torches to guard against night attacks," Ma Zongliang said in a deep voice. "Also tell the soldiers that if they can get through tonight, tomorrow... will be the decisive battle."
But he knew in his heart that the Fengtian Army was already at its last gasp.
Insufficient manpower, low morale, outdated equipment...
On Zhao Muyun's side, however, there was still a steady stream of backup plans.
This night was destined to be long.
Ma Zongliang didn't sleep all night.
On the sand table in front of him, white flags representing the Yin Army were arranged in a deep formation on the south bank, while red flags representing the Feng Army were densely piled up on the north bank.
"General, all battalions are ready."
Li Biao entered the tent, his eyes bloodshot. "According to last night's deployment: the vanguard of 30,000 heavy infantry had their meal at dawn and are now arrayed on the riverbank; the central army of 50,000 infantry are divided into left and right flanks; 20,000 cavalry are on standby at the rear; and the remaining 60,000 will guard the main camp and protect the supply lines."
Ma Zongliang straightened up, his armor making a dull creaking sound: "Last night, scouts reported that a new type of soldier had appeared on the front lines of the Yin army?"
"Yes." Li Biao's expression was solemn. "The scouts on the south bank risked their lives to send back news that there are infantrymen with long-handled broadswords at the front of the central army of the Yin Army. The swords are about eight feet long and the blades are wide. Judging from their formation, there are about three thousand of them."
“The Mo Dao Battalion.” Ma Zongliang uttered three words, tapping his fingers on the table. “I have read in military books that when Emperor Yinwu swept across the northern deserts, there was a heavily armored Mo Dao unit that was specifically designed to counter cavalry charges.”
"But this type of soldier is extremely difficult to train and very costly. I thought it had been lost long ago... Zhao Muyun actually rebuilt it."
The generals in the tent looked at each other in bewilderment.
He clasped his hands in a fist and said, “General, even so, there are only three thousand Mo Dao soldiers. Today, our army has changed its tactics, using heavy shield infantry as the vanguard, advancing steadily and step by step. Although the Mo Dao is sharp, it will be difficult to break through our tortoise formation.”
Ma Zongliang remained noncommittal and then asked, "What unusual movements have occurred on the left and right flanks of the Yin army?"
"Smoke and dust are seen behind the high slope on the left flank, suggesting an ambush; birds are startled and flying away from the woods on the right flank, possibly hiding cavalry."
Li Biao replied, "But the strangest thing is that behind the main camp of the Yin Army, there are more than thirty large carts covered with cloth, and we don't know what they are carrying. Last night, the scouts tried to get close, but they were all forced back by the sharpshooters."
“A large cart covered with cloth…” Ma Zongliang frowned. “Zhao Muyun is good at using surprise attacks, we must be wary. Order the vanguard: if anything unusual is seen after crossing the river, immediately form a circular formation and hold your ground. Do not advance rashly.”
"yes!"
At the beginning of the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the sky was just beginning to brighten.
Ma Zongliang climbed the newly built ten-zhang-high watchtower on the north bank.
Through the morning mist, he could see the outline of the Yin Army camp on the opposite bank of the Yi River—the camp walls were high, the arrow towers were numerous, the camp gates were tightly closed, and the banners fluttered slowly in the morning breeze.
In front of the camp, the Yin army had already formed ranks.
At the forefront was a battalion of three thousand Mo Dao soldiers.
Those Mo Dao warriors were all clad in heavy black armor, wore iron helmets, and had hideous, ghostly faces.
When they held their longswords upright with both hands, the tips of the blades were higher than their heads, and the morning light condensed into a cold line on the blades.
Three thousand Mo Dao swords formed a steel forest, and their chilling aura could be felt even across the Yi River.
Following the Mo Dao battalion was a regular infantry square formation. Spearmen were in front, swordsmen and shieldmen were behind, and archers and crossbowmen were positioned on both flanks. The formation was rigorous, and the troop types were well-matched.
There were 5,000 cavalry on each flank, but Ma Zongliang noticed that there was a faint metallic glint on the high slope behind the cavalry on the left flank.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the high slope.
The guard beside him held up his binoculars and looked for a while: "Reporting to the General, it seems to be some... copper and iron pipes, placed on a wooden cart."
"A pipe?" Ma Zongliang's heart skipped a beat. "How big?"
"It is about six or seven feet long and as thick as a bucket, with the opening facing upwards."
Ma Zongliang snatched the telescope and observed it himself.
As the morning mist gradually dissipated, he finally saw clearly—there were indeed more than thirty metal tubular objects, each mounted on a two-wheeled cart, with soldiers busily loading black powder into the tubes and then filling them with round iron pellets.
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