Section 86: Dispersion and Deception

"Tell me, we have the numerical advantage, so why can't we split into smaller squads and attack from different directions? Must we all crowd into the same spot?"

Grume remained silent in the face of the soldier’s complaint.

"We cannot order the Han army around," Red Lightning explained from the side. "This isn't a mobilization order that allows us to give detailed instructions to the soldiers. The imperial edict only commands them to attack; the specific tactics used during the assault are entirely up to their commanders."

"I have an idea," Dart said with a grin. "We can use props to control a few soldiers and blend in among them. Then, I’ll use my Mirror Image spell to create illusions of Han soldiers. We can disguise them as a larger force and launch a feint from another angle..."

"Great idea!" the soldier exclaimed. "Once the enemy splits their forces, the chances of us breaking through the front line will increase significantly!"

"Props to control a small number of Han soldiers..." Red Lightning mused. "Flower Bloom, can you hear me? If you can, send us some right away!"

He spoke as if to the air, and there was no response. However, those around him did not show the slightest sign of surprise.

----

Facing the attacking enemy, Zhou Yingxiong swung his long blade down with force.

The enemy raised his shield, blocking the strike. He then countered with a slash of his own, which struck the shield held by the soldier beside Zhou.

"Clang!" The shield was split open, and the enemy followed up with another blow to the soldier's right arm, causing blood to spray out instantly.

The wounded soldier retreated, and another stepped up to replace him.

It was a Contractor. Zhou Yingxiong gasped for breath, refraining from attacking and instead holding his shield up to block the next strike.

The enemy was stronger and faster than he was; in a one-on-one duel, he would certainly be no match. But on the battlefield, those attribute advantages didn't count for much.

The problem lay elsewhere.

This time, the enemy did not concentrate their forces on attacking the collapsed fence but instead launched assaults from multiple angles, forcing him to divide his own troops to meet them.

Once the enemy spread out, the fortifications and arrow towers scattered across the area could inflict greater damage and casualties upon them. But... he was stuck on the front lines and could not coordinate the defense. In this situation, he could only count on Liu An.

He had been on the battlefield enough times; surely he knew how to shift troops to where the enemy was attacking. Perhaps he should arrange for a small reserve unit to support the areas under the most pressure... Forget it, don't overthink it. If he could just rout the enemies in front of him, the room for maneuver would open up naturally!

He held his shield high and gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, waiting to seize any opening in the enemy's defense for his next strike.

----

"Teacher, why are you here?"

Of the two faces guarding the entrance to the supply camp, one was quite familiar to Rank.

He was one of the few male students who was actually willing to learn—a handsome lad who was quite popular among the other female students. Now, with his left hand bandaged and bloodstains on his left pant leg, he held a spear and greeted him with a smile.

"It seems like a battle has broken out up ahead," Rank said vaguely.

"Indeed," the young man smiled. "The Han army has attacked. That’s why the original guards have been reassigned to the front. Those of us with minor injuries have been tasked with guarding various parts of the camp to prevent any treachery."

"It seems like a lot of them came," the other guard, who bore a scar on his face, interjected. "We’ll probably have to head back to the battlefield ourselves before long."

"I’m not afraid to go," the young man said. "It’s just that my wounds haven't healed yet, and I can't put on my armor by myself..."

"Find someone to help you..."

Rank chatted with them for a few moments, feeling an unbearable sense of anxiety deep inside.

"I need to go in and exchange for some supplies," he said vaguely after stalling for a while.

"Of course, no problem." The two men stepped aside and let him through.

The supply camp was quite large. The tents and wagons on the left stored grain and fodder, while the right side held other materials. The clerk responsible for issuing tasks and settling accounts was located at the end of the central path.

The guards here were originally numerous and strict. But now, with many of them deployed, only a dozen or so remained.

Rank had come here several times before to check on tasks and rewards. At the time, he and his companions had quite admired the enemy's practice of accepting defectors and providing them with tasks.

Yes, the risks on the battlefield were high, and the costs were steep. Worse, one usually had to wait until the outcome was decided to reap any real rewards. In such a scenario, it was not rare for a team to go bankrupt halfway through a mission. If they won, it was fine, but if they discovered they were on the losing side, the losses would be too great. Here, however, they could perform tasks that, while difficult, carried little danger, ensuring a stable gain regardless of the outcome.

These tasks weren't provided by the Space, but by fellow Contractors. Had anyone done this before? No, neither Rank nor his companions had ever seen anything like it. Those people, even with significant gains, would keep everything within their own teams and would never share with outsiders, let alone those who had defected.

Ha! They were quite magnanimous people. If Wang Luo hadn't killed them, necessitating a quest for revenge, they might have been worth cooperating with.

He turned to the left. There were four men guarding the grain stores, three of whom had attended Rank's lectures.

"Teacher," two of them stood up and greeted him as they saw him approach. "What brings you here?"

"You're injured; you should be resting properly," Rank said, forcing an explanation.

Kill them? No, once they shouted, the surrounding soldiers would gather here. Even if they were wounded, he would be no match for them in such numbers. He didn't even have his mecha anymore—and more importantly, the fire would be extinguished quickly.

He looked at the wooden bucket full of water nearby. Even in a camp established only two days ago, the soldiers hadn't forgotten such a necessity.

"It can't be helped," one soldier laughed. "If you're here to trade, Master Zhang is still on duty."

What lie could he tell to get them to leave? It's dinner time? There's an abnormality elsewhere? He needs to give them a lecture?

Rank was never good at lying—and in his current state of near-mental collapse, he couldn't come up with anything. One excuse after another surfaced in his mind, only to be rejected immediately.

They were illogical, too absurd; they wouldn't believe him. But he couldn't think of a suitable one... What to do? If he left now, he would be suspected. Was he forced to resort to violence?

"Actually, the millet I ate earlier didn't quite suit my taste. I wanted to see what other grains were available in the camp to see if I could exchange for something else..."

The soldiers laughed upon hearing this request. "If you need to, Teacher, I can weigh a few liters for you," one said, bending down to pick up a measuring tool. "Ask the girls to cook it for you later."

What would he do after he took it? If he didn't leave, he would definitely be suspected! But if he left, what excuse could he find to come back?

"Look!" one soldier suddenly exclaimed, as if he had discovered something, pointing into the distance. "There seems to be someone over there!"