Chapter 62 Cutting Off All Retreat

Zhao Ang murmured to himself, a cold sneer flickering in his eyes.

"You think that by cutting off my retreat, you can defeat me? What a pity. I, Zhao Ang, have never been someone you can control."

The wind and snow in the northern border grew increasingly fierce, and across the boundless white wilderness, the banners of the Black Tiger Army whipped wildly in the gale.

After several consecutive days of forced marches through the night, the Black Tiger Army, personally led by Zhao Ang, had penetrated deep into the barbarian hinterland. A thin layer of frost coated the armor of every single soldier, yet their gazes remained as sharp as unsheathed blades.

Inside the command tent, candlelight flickered. Zhao Ang stood before a strategic map, his gaze as piercing as an eagle's. With the tip of his long blade, he lightly pointed toward a valley marked "Luoyan Stronghold."

"The main force of the barbarians is still positioned to the rear, but all of their grain and provisions are amassed in this very valley," Zhao Ang said in a voice that was both calm and low. "We cannot stop, nor do we have the luxury of stopping. From this moment on, we must sustain war through war, seizing everything we need right from their jaws."

Yang Mu stood nearby, furrowing his brow slightly. "Your Highness, although Luoyan Stronghold is a vital supply depot, its defenses are undoubtedly formidable. A direct assault would likely cost us dearly."

Zhao Ang raised his eyes, a flash of cold light piercing through his gaze, accompanied by a carefree, arrogant smile. "Uncle Yang, a direct assault is the method of a fool. Our Black Tiger Army never relies on brute strength; we rely on our brains."

He turned his gaze toward Zhang Shan. "Zhang Shan, take five hundred elite troops and circle around to the rear for a surprise attack. Eliminate their sentry posts and ensure they don't even have time to react."

Zhang Shan grinned broadly, revealing a flash of white teeth. "Rest assured, Your Highness! When these barbarians run into me, Zhang Shan, it's just like a blind man meeting a thunderbolt—they won't even have time to dodge!"

Zhao Ang smiled, then shifted his gaze back to Yang Mu. "Uncle Yang, lead the main force in a feigned attack on the stronghold gates to draw their firepower and buy time for Zhang Shan. Remember, do not strive for a swift victory; instead, advance steadily and securely."

Yang Mu nodded in acknowledgment. "Rest assured, Your Highness, your subordinate understands."

Finally, Zhao Ang's gaze tightened slightly as he swept it across the men, his tone suddenly dropping to a low, grave pitch. "We cannot afford to lose this battle, and we simply cannot afford to fail. Every single brother must bring his life back with him. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" Yang Mu and Zhang Shan replied in unison, turning and stepping out of the tent.

The following morning, the wind and snow abated slightly. The world fell into a profound stillness, as if silently bracing itself for an impending storm of blood and slaughter.

The defenders of Luoyan Stronghold remained entirely oblivious to the approaching peril. The barbarian general sat high upon a raised platform within the stronghold, leisurely enjoying a simple breakfast. He was utterly confident, firmly convinced that no matter how formidable Zhao Ang might be, he would never dare to rashly invade a valley known for being easy to defend and difficult to attack.

Yet, at that exact moment, a low, resonant blast of a horn pierced the tranquility—

"Boom—!"

The vanguard of the Black Tiger Army burst forth from one side of the valley, charging straight toward the stronghold gates. The barbarian defenders scrambled in panic to meet the attack, arrows raining down like a storm in an attempt to suppress the charging cavalry. However, the advance of the Black Tiger Army did not actually press against the gates; instead, they deliberately maintained a distance, as if merely testing the waters.

"A feigned attack?" The barbarian general sneered, waving his hand to issue an order. "Reinforce the defenses! Don't be fooled by their tricks."

Yet, just as the order left his lips, earth-shattering battle cries suddenly erupted from the rear of the valley.

"Kill—!"

Zhang Shan led five hundred elite soldiers in a rear flank assault, striking directly at the barbarian grain stores. The defenders were caught in a rushed, chaotic response, completely incapable of mounting a proper defense. In less than half an hour, the entire Luoyan Stronghold was plunged into the chaos of a pincer attack from both inside and out.

"Your Highness, the enemy can no longer hold the stronghold!" Yang Mu spurred his horse to Zhao Ang's side, reporting in a loud voice.

The corners of Zhao Ang's mouth curled into a faint smile. He drew the long blade at his waist and said coldly, "Since they cannot hold it, send them on their way."

Pressing their advantage, the Black Tiger Army pursued relentlessly, and within a single hour, the entire Luoyan Stronghold was thoroughly breached and captured.

Zhao Ang rode into the stronghold, a chilling glint in his eyes.

Blazing fires raged through the granaries, sending billows of thick, black smoke billowing into the sky. The defending troops had long since scattered and fled in all directions, leaving only a small, stubbornly resisting squad of barbarian soldiers cornered and surrounded.

Zhao Ang's gaze fell upon a single figure among them—a female warrior clad in crimson armor, wielding a long spear, with a stern expression and a gaze burning with unyielding defiance.

"Interesting." Zhao Ang chuckled softly, slowly riding his horse forward.

Noticing his gaze, the woman whipped her long spear up, her eyes filled with fierce vigilance. "Who are you?"

Zhao Ang flashed a roguish, devil-may-care smile, his tone tinged with mockery. "You don't even know who I am, yet you dare point a spear at me? It seems you barbarian female generals are truly quite bold."

Gritting her teeth, the woman replied coldly, "I am Wulan, commander of the Iron Flame Army! Zhao Ang, I have long since heard of your name. Today, let me see if you are truly capable of anything other than bullying the few with the many!"

Zhao Ang raised an eyebrow, his smile growing even more unbridled. "Wulan? What a fine name. However, as for whether I only know how to bully the few, I'm afraid you won't have the chance to find out today."

With that, he raised a hand to signal the Black Tiger Army soldiers behind him to step back.

Wulan tightened her grip on her spear and sneered, "You aren't killing me—are you hoping to use me as leverage for some condition? Let me tell you, Zhao Ang, the warriors of the barbarian tribes would rather die than surrender!"

Hearing this, a flash of derision crossed Zhao Ang's eyes. "Rather die than surrender? From where I'm standing, you seem to value your life quite a bit. Wulan, I am not killing you simply because you still have your uses."

With a flick of his hand, he ordered his men to take Wulan away and place her under temporary custody.

Night fell, and the camp was enveloped in solemn silence.

Zhao Ang walked alone into the tent where Wulan was being detained, finding the female warrior seated in the corner, staring at him coldly.

"Zhao Ang, you might as well just kill me." Wulan's tone was icy.

Instead, Zhao Ang shook his head, slowly sitting down before her with an elusive, faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Kill you? That would be far too boring. A person like me never kills someone who is useless."

"Useless?" Wulan's gaze chilled as she clenched her fists. "If you wish to humiliate me, do as you please, but don't even dream of getting any intelligence out of my mouth!"

Zhao Ang looked at her and suddenly chuckled. "You think I need intelligence from you? Wulan, I am letting you go back."

Wulan froze, staring at him in sheer disbelief. "You're letting me go back?"

"That's right." Zhao Ang stood up, his gaze turning sharp and cold. "Go back and tell your people that if they still wish to struggle, I will accompany them to the bitter end."

Wulan's hands trembled slightly. Gritting her teeth, she spat out, "Do you truly believe the barbarian tribes will ever submit to you?"

Zhao Ang turned and strode toward the exit, his voice crisp and detached. "Whether they submit or not is for me to decide."

..........

Wulan rode furiously at a gallop, followed by a handful of surviving personal guards. Her long spear rested across her saddle, her crimson armor stained with dried blood, yet her gaze was as cold and piercing as frost and snow.

"Commander, this Zhao Ang... what on earth is he plotting?" a retainer finally asked, unable to contain the confusion in his voice. "He clearly could have killed us, yet he chose to let us go. Could he truly be showing mercy?"

Wulan violently hauled back on the reins, causing her warhorse to rear up with a sharp whinny as snow splattered across the ground.

She turned and glared fiercely at the retainer, her voice as biting as a winter frost. "Mercy? That man Zhao Ang wears a roguish smile on his face, but his heart is more venomous than anyone's. He let us go not out of mercy, but out of sheer humiliation!"