In the moment that Zhang Fei struck down Gao Sheng, a wave of gasps erupted from the ranks of the Yellow Turban Army, causing their morale to falter. Liu Bei seized the opportunity, swinging his sword and shouting, "Charge! Break through their lines!" Guan Yu and Zhang Fei flanked the enemy, and under their relentless assault, the Yellow Turban Soldiers began to retreat in disarray.
Zhang Bao stood atop a hill, watching as his deputy fell and his soldiers scattered. His face turned ashen, eyes wide with fury, his beard blowing in the wind. Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, a fierce glint appeared in his gaze. He raised his sword high above his head, his disheveled hair lifting with it, and began to chant an eerie incantation. At first, his voice was low and rumbling, like resentment rising from the depths of the earth, but as he quickened his chant, it grew louder and more piercing, resembling a howl that pierced the air.
"Tian Gong, aid me! Slay the rebels!" Zhang Bao roared as he plunged his sword into the ground, sending dust flying around him.
At that moment, a fierce wind swept through the Yellow Turban Army's ranks, swirling up clouds of dust as if an invisible force was tearing the battlefield apart. The sky darkened suddenly; what had been a sunset now vanished behind ominous black clouds. Thunder rumbled continuously, shaking the eardrums of all who heard it. The strong gusts made it impossible for soldiers to keep their eyes open; banners whipped wildly in the wind while horses neighed incessantly.
"This is... Black Magic!" one of the Imperial Soldiers screamed, frantically looking around. His cry seemed to tear open a chasm of fear among the Imperial Army.
Amidst the swirling sand and dust, Zhang Bao stood tall on the hilltop, his hair flying wildly like a spirit ensnared by dark energy. With both hands raised high, his voice deep yet commanding: "Tian Gong, unleash your wrath! Let the rebels fall!" As he completed his incantation, thick black mist rose from the ground around him, rolling forth like a chasm from hell opening its maw to release endless shadows.
The black mist coalesced in the howling wind into a strange army. Figures emerged from the swirling fog—holding weapons with ghostly eyes gleaming ominously—marching in eerie unison. They seemed insubstantial yet exuded an overwhelming pressure that made it hard for soldiers to breathe as they advanced toward the Imperial Army.
"They are Yin Soldiers! Black Magic!" one soldier cried out in terror before dropping his spear and fleeing. More followed suit in panic. Liu Bei reined in his horse, staring at this bizarre spectacle with dread. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, "Do not panic! Maintain formation! Black Magic is merely an illusion; it is not to be feared!"
Yet still, soldiers retreated like a tide, colliding with one another in their haste. In the wind echoed countless howls filled with bone-chilling resentment that sent shivers down their spines. Zhang Bao watched as the Imperial Army's formation began to crumble and smirked coldly: "Do you rebels understand? The will of heaven cannot be defied!"
Guan Yu rode forward with a furrowed brow and asked coldly, "Brother Xuan De, how should we respond?"
Liu Bei felt cold sweat trickling down his forehead but forced himself to remain composed as he gritted out, "Black Magic confounds the mind; it cannot be confronted directly. We must first withdraw and regroup before devising our next plan!" He raised his sword high and shouted loudly: "All troops retreat! Leave this place at once!"
The three men protected the central army as they struggled to withdraw what remained of their forces back to camp. The soldiers' faces were pale; some trembled uncontrollably while others knelt on the ground gasping for breath, murmuring repeatedly: "Black Magic... that is Black Magic..."
Inside the tent, Zhu Jun listened to Liu Bei's description, his expression serious. He stroked his beard and said in a deep voice, "Zhang Bao relies on Black Magic to confuse the troops; this is his trick. However, Black Magic requires physical objects to work. I will have people prepare pig and sheep blood; tomorrow we will pour it out, and the sorcery will break." His gaze sharpened as he looked at Liu Bei. "Mr. Xuan De, once the Black Magic is dispelled, you can lead your troops in a fierce attack without giving Zhang Bao any chance to breathe!"
Liu Bei clasped his fists in response. "I will obey the general's orders and vow to defeat the bandit leader!" Beside him, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei each gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes burning with anger and determination.
In the morning, mist swirled through the valley, and the damp, cold air carried a lingering scent of blood. Guan Yu and Zhang Fei each led a thousand soldiers hidden atop a high ridge, the soldiers holding their breath as they guarded barrels of pig and sheep blood along with foul substances. Guan Yu sat tall on his horse, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade resting at his side, his gaze as cold as frost. He whispered instructions, "Once the Black Magic is dispelled, it will be the moment when the Bandit Army's formation collapses. At that time, the entire army will act upon my signal without error."
On the other side, Zhang Fei could barely contain his excitement; he rested his Eighteen-Feet Serpent Spear across his knees and lowered his voice to shout to his subordinates, "At my command, pour down these foul substances! What Black Magic? Today I, Zhang Fei, will force it to reveal its true form!"
Down in the valley, Zhang Bao's army surged like a tide, banners waving and war drums booming. He stood at the center of the formation, raising his sword high as he shouted, "General Di Gong is here! The Han Army defies heaven's mandate and shall face divine retribution!" With his command, the Yellow Turban Army surged forward like a wave towards Liu Bei's position.
Liu Bei donned armor at the front lines, raising his sword high as he called out loudly, "All troops listen up! Steady your positions; do not panic!" However, faced with such overwhelming enemy forces, unease crept into the soldiers' hearts as they watched the advancing Yellow Turban Army; their formation began to show signs of wavering.
Zhang Bao rode at the forefront with hair flowing and sword drawn, his expression grim. Suddenly raising his sword high, he chanted softly; his voice echoed like rolling thunder through the valley: "Heavenly thunder aid me; annihilate these traitors!" As his incantation fell silent, the sky darkened abruptly; black clouds churned above while fierce winds howled and thunder roared—the ground trembled incessantly.
Within the Imperial Army's ranks, soldiers began to stir restlessly as their weapons trembled slightly in their hands. A wave of black mist rose from the Yellow Turban Army's formation, gradually coalescing into a mass of ghostly figures wielding weapons with fierce expressions that descended from above towards Liu Bei's ranks.
"Black Magic!" a soldier cried out in alarm as they involuntarily began to retreat; chaos erupted once more in their formation.
Liu Bei reined in his horse and shouted loudly: "Steady! One step back means death! Hold your positions and fall back with me!" He turned his horse around first and led the troops slowly towards the hilltop. Seeing this, Zhang Bao sneered: "Indeed cowardly as a mouse; the Han Army is no match for us! Pursue!"
The Yellow Turban Army pressed forward in full force with Zhang Bao leading them through the black mist that enveloped them. However, just as he led his troops over the hilltop, a cannon blast echoed across the sky as Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's ambush troops appeared simultaneously. The soldiers raised their prepared barrels of pig and sheep blood along with foul substances as Guan Yu shouted: "Pour!"
A deluge of blood and filth cascaded down from above like a torrential rain upon the black mist and heads of the Yellow Turban Army. The paper figures and straw horses suspended in mid-air immediately became indistinct under the impact of the blood and quickly fell apart like tattered cloth into silence and ash. The winds and thunder gradually subsided; dust settled down while sunlight broke through once more from behind the clouds—the black mist dissipated revealing a clear view of the valley below.
Zhang Bao was taken aback and turned to look at the soldiers behind him, only to find that those covered by Black Magic were already in a state of panic, their formation in disarray. Many were kneeling with their heads in their hands, crying out, "The gods do not protect us anymore!" and "This is fate!" Some even dropped their weapons and fled in all directions.
"Cleanse the filth that is Black Magic! Attack swiftly!" Guan Yu drew his Green Dragon Crescent Blade and charged down the hillside first. His blade gleamed like frost, sweeping through the enemy ranks, leaving chaos in its wake. Zhang Fei followed closely behind, using his Eighteen-Feet Serpent Spear to knock down several Enemy Soldiers. He laughed heartily and shouted, "Yellow Turbans scum, why don't you surrender quickly!"
Zhang Bao gritted his teeth and roared, "Do not break formation! Hold steady!" But at that moment, Zhu Jun's army was pressing forward from behind, with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei attacking from the front. The Yellow Turban Army had no place left to escape.
Liu Bei charged at the center and quickly spotted Zhang Bao's banner. He galloped forward, raising his Longbow, nocking an arrow with determination in his eyes. "Zhang Bao, today I will take your life!" The arrow shot through the air like lightning, striking Zhang Bao in the left arm and instantly staining his robe sleeve with blood.
Zhang Bao let out a cry of pain, enduring the excruciating agony as he swung his sword and shouted, "Retreat! Fall back to Yang City!" With his personal guards escorting him, he fled towards Yang City in a disheveled state, while the remaining soldiers of the Yellow Turban Army scattered in all directions, leaving the battlefield in utter chaos.
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