The night sky blazed.
Flames surged along the oil trenches in a jagged line, throwing violent shadows across the battlefield. The heat struck Jeng Minh's—Zhou Chen's—face as he strode out of the command tent, flanked by soldiers who looked equal parts terrified and awed.
The fire was working.
Enemy skirmishers who had been creeping through the tall grass were suddenly revealed in stark silhouette—panic-ridden figures scrambling away from the unexpected inferno.
"Archers!" Jeng Minh shouted without thinking.
A hundred bowstrings drew taut. The word fire was halfway up his throat before he remembered this world used a different command.
"Loose!"
Arrows whistled in unison, streaking through the smoke. More screams echoed from beyond the flames.
A nearby officer gaped at him. "My lord… we never practiced this tactic. When did you—"
"We don't have time for questions," Jeng Minh cut in, masking his panic with authority. "Where is General Feng?"
"Here, my lord!"A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the smoke, helmet tucked under his arm. He bowed deeply—almost too deeply.
General Feng Yao. One of Zhou Chen's most loyal commanders… until the warlord's final night, when mistrust and miscommunication fractured the chain of command.
But now the man's eyes were steady, waiting. Following.
This is your second chance.
Jeng Minh forced a calm he didn't feel.
"General Feng, is the southern ridge maneuver in place?"
"It is, my lord. But I must warn you—our cavalry numbers are thin. If the enemy sends reinforcements—"
"They won't." Jeng Minh pointed toward the burning trench. "Their ambush depended on stealth. Now that they've been exposed, they'll commit their main force immediately. Before they realize we've moved the cavalry."
General Feng hesitated, frowning. "You speak with surprising clarity tonight, my lord. Earlier you seemed…" He trailed off, choosing his words carefully. "Unwell."
Jeng Minh tensed. He needed to deflect—fast.
"My earlier weakness was a momentary lapse," he said, straightening. "Now I see the battlefield clearly. Trust me."
Feng Yao held his gaze for a long moment—then nodded.
"As you command."
Another messenger sprinted up, armor clattering. "Lord Zhou! The enemy is advancing through the smoke! Their banners—three companies at least!"
Perfect.
Jeng Minh's heart pounded, but the plan unfolded in his mind like a diagram.
"Signal the southern ridge," he ordered. "Tell the cavalry: strike when the enemy crosses the second trench line."
The messenger saluted and ran.
Feng Yao stared at him with a look bordering on disbelief.
"My lord, this strategy… it is cunning, but if the timing is off—"
"It won't be."It couldn't be.Not if he wanted to survive the night the original Zhou Chen never did.
The ground trembled as the enemy infantry pushed through the burning smoke, shields raised, coughing and disoriented. Their commander shouted unintelligible orders, trying to re-form ranks.
Jeng Minh lifted Zhou Chen's heavy spear—an ornate, blackened weapon that felt strangely natural in his grip. As if Zhou Chen's body remembered what the soul did not.
"General Feng," he said, a hint of exhilaration flaring inside him, "with me."
They took position at the front line.
Men murmured behind him.Their lord—who moments before had been unconscious—was now leading from the front.
The enemy drew nearer.
Closer.
Through the haze, a horn sounded—sharp and familiar.
That was the signal.
A heartbeat later, thunder erupted behind the southern ridge.
Cavalry poured over the hill in a sweeping arc, hooves pounding, spears lowered, armor gleaming in the firelight. They crashed into the exposed flank of the enemy force with devastating momentum.
The enemy lines buckled.
Their commander screamed a retreat order that was swallowed by chaos.
Jeng Minh's pulse surged. They were breaking. The ambush had turned into a rout.
General Feng let out a rare, fierce grin. "My lord… you've reversed the battle!"
For the first time since awakening, Jeng Minh allowed himself a breath of relief.
"Good," he said quietly. "Then let's end this."
He raised his spear—and Zhou Chen's army roared in answer.
But just as victory seemed certain, another horn sounded from the northern woods. Deep. Ominous.
Feng Yao's expression darkened. "That signal… it's not one of ours."
Jeng Minh felt a chill creep down his spine.
Another force? At this timing?This wasn't in the story.
A new contingent of soldiers emerged from the treeline—bearing no banner at all.
They were not part of the ambush.They were not part of this war.
And every instinct in Jeng Minh's borrowed body screamed:
This… is something else entirely.