Those involved are blinded by their own circumstances.

Wang Bo and his generals had just arrived, barely pausing to catch their breath before they ascended to the top of the pass. There, gazing toward the camp of the barbarian invaders, they immediately began to discuss strategies for confronting the enemy.

Wang Bo scrutinized the arrangements of Budugen's camp and couldn't help but draw a sharp breath, growing ever more alarmed the longer he observed. What was this wild barbarian planning? Such a massive display—arriving but not attacking, digging trenches, building walls—was he preparing for a war of attrition?

A heavy sigh weighed in Wang Bo’s heart. Was there truly no choice but to defend the walls to the death? But they faced more than a hundred thousand energetic savages! If they launched relentless, rotating assaults, how long could they hold out? The Han Revival Army could not sustain such losses either; though their casualties would surely be fewer than the barbarians', what if Budugen, that wily old fox, decided to exchange five men for one, or even ten for one? The longer the battle dragged on, the greater the losses. What if another hundred thousand Southern Xiongnu joined the fray? And if more barbarians outside the Eastern Pass broke through, they’d face a two-front siege...

All told, less than twenty thousand men in Han Revival City could take to the battlefield—far too few to withstand such attrition. Even if Budugen eventually withdrew due to heavy losses, who knew when he might return with renewed force? Let alone expanding into Yunzhong, the Han Revival Army might barely be able to protect itself. Thus, they needed a decisive victory in this battle—to break the strength of the Xianbei and deter the Southern Xiongnu from acting rashly.

Could they harass the enemy as in the previous battle? Not from the east bank. In the river, perhaps? But Budugen, ever vigilant, now fired flaming arrows. Even when Zhuge Liang borrowed arrows with straw boats, the enemy never used fire arrows! Zhuge had easily collected a hundred thousand arrows; Wang Bo merely wanted to harass the enemy, yet these wild men responded so fiercely.

Without iron, even the sturdiest wooden boats would succumb to fire oil. Soak them first? That wouldn’t last long. The river lay at their feet—how could they use it to their advantage? Wang Bo and his companions pondered for a long time, but no solution emerged.

Yet, as they failed to devise a good plan, a terrifying realization dawned upon Wang Bo, cold sweat breaking out across his brow.

Beside him, Xu Chu hurriedly asked, “My lord! What has brought you to this state?” As he spoke, he reached out to touch Wang Bo’s forehead.

Wang Bo, anxious and on edge, impatiently brushed Xu Chu’s hand aside, rubbed his brow, exhaled a visible breath of white vapor, and pointed into the void, asking, “What is this?”

Xu Chu scratched his head, unable to comprehend, wondering what madness had seized his master at such a crucial moment. Why have him observe this? His breath wasn’t particularly pleasant—though he dared not voice this, lest he be beaten and scolded.

Seeing Xu Chu’s confusion, Wang Bo grabbed his armor, reached inside, and then asked, “How does it feel?”

Xu Chu thought for a moment, then replied, “A bit cold, that’s all.”

“Indeed, exceedingly clever!” Wang Bo said, pointing to the river below the pass and muttering bitterly, “Winter has arrived, the days are growing cold, and Budugen lies in wait below the pass, surely planning to let the river freeze!”

With these words, realization dawned upon everyone, but their brows only furrowed deeper. With this weather, in less than ten days the river would freeze, and then the Xianbei would launch their assault. On the flat river ice, they could scatter earth, lay tents and hides, and tens of thousands of Xianbei cavalry would charge straight through—no need to sacrifice their soldiers attacking the pass! Yet stone walls couldn’t be built on the river.

Wang Bo coughed, interrupting their worried thoughts, and declared with resolve, “Therefore, the Han Revival Army must, within ten days, provoke Budugen to battle and utterly defeat him! No more than half a month, or the consequences will be dire!”

“In such dire straits, how should we respond? Direct assault would bring heavy losses; defending the pass, the barbarians do not attack; harassing raids offer no opportunity. Perhaps we should simply charge forth and fight to our hearts’ content!” Ping Han shouted from the side.

But Niu Feihu, quick-witted, brightened and said, “My lord! Our scouts often carry water bags. I wonder, if we tie water bags to the sides of the rafts, could we lessen the effects of fire?”

“Excellent! Why did I not think of this?” Wang Bo slapped his thigh. “However, making water bags is difficult and requires much hide. We could use bamboo tubes instead!”

“Lord! The new ballistae have great range—could we mount them on the rafts?” Du Yuan suggested nearby.

“Brilliant! Truly brilliant! We have been blinded by our own proximity!” Wang Bo exclaimed, his mind suddenly clear, laughing heartily and ordering an immediate trial.

Within half an hour, three peculiar watercraft appeared before them. Wide at the base and narrow at the top, two fathoms tall, clad on three sides and the roof with wooden planks, with half-filled bamboo tubes attached or hung outside for protection. Two square shooting ports at the front upper section, and a ballista installed at the rear—the latest creation of the Han Revival Army.

After completion, they loaded a dozen archers and sailors, as well as several ballista operators. Trial runs in the river met most of Wang Bo’s requirements, except for mediocre speed when moving upstream. When the generals saw the ballistae launch spears hundreds of paces, they danced with joy, envisioning the Xianbei suffering anew.

Based on prior experience, unless the Xianbei cavalry left camp to shoot at close range, their short bows simply could not reach the Han Revival Army’s waterborne raiders. Of course, greater chaos would require risking a beating. Eager to test their contraptions, the Han Revival Army boldly harassed the Xianbei camp in broad daylight.

Thus, two simple watercraft slipped past the Pass of the Barbarians, heading to within a hundred paces of the Xianbei front lines. In the next instant, two long, thick spears whistled through the air, sailing over the low walls at the riverbank and crashing into Xianbei tents, each spear tearing through a tent and overturning another before stopping, causing confusion among the nearby Xianbei.

Unlike the jubilant Han Revival Army atop the pass, the Xianbei archers, who had just mocked the watercraft, now scrambled to light arrows and shoot at the brazen boats. In their haste, they forgot that their arrows couldn’t reach; most fell into the river well short of their targets. In contrast, the Han Revival Army’s strong bows and fire arrows from the boats set several sections of the flammable low wall ablaze.

After several rounds, only the ballistae on the Han Revival Army’s watercraft remained, relentlessly wreaking havoc. The Xianbei tents closest to the riverbank were overturned one after another, eliciting screams; two unlucky Xianbei were pierced through the chest and abdomen, nailed to nearby tents, their limbs thrashing until they fell silent.

The low walls, painstakingly built by Budugen to thwart raids, now burned brightly under the Xianbei’s noses, swept northward by the mountain winds.

Soon, the Xianbei devised countermeasures. After hastily moving tents away, dozens of cavalry rode out from near Budugen’s central tent, galloping through the camp’s central lane to the site of the Han Revival Army’s rampage. Under a small leader’s command, they drew long bows, dipped arrows in oil, and unleashed dozens of fire arrows at the watercraft.

Their actions—swift and skilled, evading spears with practiced horsemanship—clearly marked them as Budugen’s elite guards. Yet their arrows barely reached the watercraft, forcing them to retreat slightly; the Han Revival Army continued to fire spears with hearty cheers, though their accuracy was not high.

Seeing their best hunters helpless against the riverborne menace, the Xianbei tried a new tactic: for the first time, they rushed out of the heavily defended camp, hoping to drive the boats away at close range. But to reach the boats, they had to cross the trench before the Pass of the Barbarians, entering the range of the Han Revival Army’s archers atop the pass. Predictably, they achieved nothing but pointless casualties—dozens dead or wounded.

Thus, tens of thousands of Xianbei in the front camp spent the first night in fear and unrest. Not only was sleep impossible, even a nap required huddling in the corners of tents, for no one knew when a spear might crash through their resting place or smash a corner. The actual casualties were few, but the terror was immense.

Some cowards even clung to logs, hoping to spend the night beside the campfire outside the tent, but aside from constantly feeding the fire, this did nothing to aid their rest—after all, early winter nights were still bitterly cold.

The next day, Budugen, stubbornly refusing to attack, ordered his exhausted front-line troops to pack up their disordered tents and supplies and move everything behind the rear camp. Thus, the former front camp became the rear, and Budugen’s own central camp became the new front. Even the east bank troops collectively retreated several hundred paces.

Another round of trench digging and wall building ensued, lasting the entire day, until the camp resembled a tortoise shell.

During the day, the Han Revival Army’s watercraft did not venture out, but at night, five or six appeared, relentlessly hurling spears at Budugen’s command tent. A dozen daring, aquatic Han Revival soldiers snuck close on rafts, shooting two volleys of fire arrows into the Xianbei camp, setting many riverfront cowhide tents ablaze. Before the furious Xianbei could react, the attackers slipped away beneath their rafts.

The Xianbei archers sent to drive off the harassers found themselves ambushed in the darkness by a band of human beasts—though only a dozen or so, each fought like a god of slaughter, cutting down enemies as easily as chopping vegetables. Before Budugen could dispatch more cavalry, nearly two hundred Xianbei were massacred, their horses stolen, leaving only a field of bleeding corpses.

Not to be outdone, Budugen sent an entire thousand-man unit, cautiously approaching the riverbank, readying fire arrows. Suddenly, countless arrows rained from behind, mixed with howling spears, their immense force carving bloody paths through the ranks. The terrified Xianbei warriors had no will to advance, merely shooting blindly toward the source of the arrows.

Finally, the unit leader saw that enemy fire had not slackened, and less than half his force remained mounted and unhurt. Sensing disaster, he abandoned the hard-won fire oil, ordered a retreat, and his men scattered as if pardoned, the dying screams of their comrades echoing behind them, their heads nearly buried in their horses’ manes.

The next morning, Budugen, having slept none through the night, sat in his tent with dark circles under his eyes, gasping for breath. He summoned his nephew Xieguini to guard the central camp, gave him a host of instructions, then retreated to the rear for some much-needed rest.

Unable to drive off the hated Han Revival Army raiders, the Xianbei began constructing rafts, imitating their foes. Yet their skills paled in comparison—using raw logs and cowhide ropes, they lashed them together and tossed them in the water, hoping they would suffice. However, after days of defensive construction, most nearby trees had been felled, leaving little wood. Han slaves would have to venture far for more, though labor was not lacking.

Before any wood could be gathered, the shameless Han Revival Army raiders returned yet again.

Xieguini, sleepless from the previous night, cursed loudly: “So far from the pass, and they dare to cause trouble in broad daylight?” He sent two thousand-man units out—one to drive off the watercraft near the riverbank, another to protect the operation.

Wang Bo, watching from atop the pass, laughed heartily: “It seems the Xianbei do not learn. Last night they felt the power of our ballistae, but today they dare to form such dense formations?” He signaled to Chen Dao, who immediately understood.

The gates of the Pass of the Barbarians slowly opened, and six or seven large, horse-drawn war chariots appeared before the Xianbei. Atop each chariot sat the dreaded ballistae, wrapped tightly, with only dark shooting ports aimed at the uncertain Xianbei soldiers.

But in the next moment, as these behemoths unleashed their long spears, the Xianbei's fear turned to terror—the nightmare of the previous night returned...

In short order, hundreds of Xianbei soldiers and horses lay dead or wounded, the survivors ignoring their officers’ shouts, fleeing as though before the gods of the steppe. In their panic, stampedes occurred at the camp entrance, killing dozens more.

Luckily, Xieguini, influenced by his uncle, remained calm. He did not blame his warriors for their cowardice; after all, this was their first encounter with such a deadly weapon—he himself would fare little better. As for the stampede, he could only blame himself for building such strong defenses with too few exits.

He listened to the loud jeers and cheers of the Han Revival Army across the river, watched the watercraft harassing his camp, and after a long pause, drew a deep breath, suppressed his worries, steeled himself, and ordered the camp’s entrances widened severalfold. He then directed a large group of hesitant Xianbei cavalry to approach the Pass of the Barbarians in scattered formation.

Thus, between the trench before the Pass of the Barbarians and the Xianbei camp, a scene unfolded: more than ten thousand Xianbei soldiers formed a sparse cavalry phalanx stretching for miles before the Han Revival Army. Oddly, except for brief chaos when dodging incoming spears, the cavalry remained mostly motionless.

Along the riverbank, Xianbei archers stood amid burning fires, watching the Han Revival Army’s watercraft intently. From their actions alone, one could see the Xianbei were guarding against further harassment from the river.