The morning of Day 3 came heavy with tension. The Coalition forces moved with renewed precision, their formations adjusting in ways unfamiliar to the Qin strategists.
It was during these shifts that Ren's instinct flared.
From the rear slopes of the pass, Ren's Gu Ren Tai, bolstered with 2,000 cavalrymen granted by Ousen, moved out. Their target: an advancing 5,000-man elite unit from Chu, which had begun slipping around the pass's flank. Though Ren didn't know her name, this was Karin's vanguard force, moving under the radar of most commanders.
But not Ren.
He didn't need scouts or maps. He could feel it — the unnatural silence beyond the cliffs, the displacement of air, the way birds had stopped chirping in the ravine.
From a narrow ridge overlooking the slope, Ren raised a hand.
"Split into two formations. The cliffside group goes around and takes their rear once we start."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "They outnumber us more than two to one."
Ren gave a faint smile. "They think this terrain protects their rear. But they're wrong. They're marching straight into our jaws."
The Chu elite unit, disciplined and deadly, moved silently through the narrow pass trail, preparing to strike at Kankoku's side. But just as their commander raised her hand to halt and survey the pass — Ren's cavalry descended like thunder.
The initial charge was direct — loud and aggressive — to draw attention. Chu's front lines quickly formed ranks, anticipating a small raiding force. But they were wrong.
From the cliffs above, the second wave of Ren's cavalry crashed into their rear, creating instant chaos.
Cut off at both ends and unable to properly maneuver, Karin's elite soldiers were caught in a pincer strike designed with unnerving precision.
Ren himself entered the battle only once both ends had collapsed. His sword moved like flowing water — not flashy, but deadly efficient. He struck down soldier after soldier, weaving through the wreckage of once-elite troops.
Kai, at his side, could only marvel. "He's not guessing," he muttered. "He knows where they'll be."
Within two hours, Chu's 5,000-man unit was annihilated. Not a single soldier escaped to report what had happened.
Ren stood atop a ruined banner and gazed toward the east, where the right flank of Qin's line — the battlefield of Moubu, Tou, and Duke Hyou — raged on.
A new messenger rode up. "Sir Ren! Word from the main camp — the right flank is heavily outmatched. Duke Hyou's side is on the verge of breaking."
Ren wiped the blood from his blade.
"Good," he said.
The messenger looked confused. "Sir?"
Ren's gaze turned sharp. "It means they'll need fire. Let's bring it to them."
Without hesitation, Ren turned to his surviving 2,000 cavalrymen, fresh from victory.
"We ride east. Tell the main camp I'm joining the right flank."
As the hoofbeats thundered once more, the Gu Ren Tai surged toward the bloodiest front — where instinct would soon collide with raw power, and Ren's name would begin to spread beyond whispers.