The velvet cloak of night enshrouded the land.
Long Su's who was riding carriage that was driven by twenty skeletal slaves
flanked by a silent legion of skeletal soldiers, gradually came to a halt before a sprawling encampment.
The scene was illuminated by the flickering glow of campfires, their embers dancing in the darkness like a myriad of tiny stars.
The air was thick with the earthy scent of leather and horseflesh as hundreds of steeds whinnied and stomped their hooves
their forms silhouetted against the canvas backdrop of tents that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The mighty army's relentless march towards the Great Wall had come to an unexpected halt, the sudden cessation of movement rousing Long Su from his slumber.
His voice, a low murmur in the shadows, betrayed a hint of curiosity. "Zhang Han, why have we ceased our advance? Have we reached the Great Wall at last?"
Zhang Han's reply was measured and steady, his tone reflecting the gravity of his words.
"A small contingent of Huns ambushed us under the cover of darkness. We swiftly dispatched them, but allowed a lone survivor to flee, that he might lead us to their camp."
Long Su's brow furrowed in confusion, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Are we not nearing the Great Wall? Should the Huns not be far from our current position?"
Zhang Han's response was edged with the wisdom of experience; his words were a stark reminder of the brutal reality of their predicament.
"The Huns maintain a persistent presence near the Great Wall, lying in wait for the night's embrace before launching their predawn raids on our villages and towns."
" don't let him escape you , if we reached their camp , lead tye soldiers to kill them all "
With cold eyes long su said while looking at the sky that was about to become darker and darker
Meanwhile,
Ashina, the lone survivor of the Hun war party, fled through the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest like a battle drum.
The dying screams of his comrades echoed in his ears, a chilling reminder of the fate he had so narrowly avoided.
Driven by a primal need for survival, he shed every ounce of unnecessary weight, discarding bows, arrows, and axes in his desperate bid for speed.
His legs burned with the exertion, the numbness creeping up from his feet in stark contrast to the fire in his lungs.
As the minutes stretched into an eternity, Ashina covered the distance that would have taken half an hour to traverse at a leisurely pace.
At last, his desperate flight brought him to the threshold of the camp, its glow a beacon in the oppressive darkness.
Ashina's voice, ragged with exertion and tinged with terror, reverberated through the night.
"Save me! The devil is coming!" he cried, his words imbued with a primal desperation that spoke to the core of human survival.
His frantic figure, little more than a specter in the moonlight, beckoned to the camp's night watchmen, imploring them to bring forth their steeds.
His only hope lay in a swift escape, a race against the inky tide of darkness that threatened to engulf him.
The watchmen, their faces ghostly in the pale glow of the moon, struggled to discern Ashina's garbled words.
"What is he shouting?" one asked, squinting into the darkness.
"I cannot make it out," replied another, his voice tinged with frustration. "Nor can I," a third guard admitted, a shrug of resignation punctuating his words.
"Regardless, I do not have the energy to investigate. Let him come."
At last, Ashina's frantic form drew near, his words spilling forth in a torrent of fear and urgency.
"The devil is coming for us! Flee, for your lives!" No sooner had he uttered this dire warning than he seized the nearest horse
its owner's cry of protest lost amidst the cacophony of hoofbeats as Ashina spurred the beast in the direction of the looming long su army.
The watchmen exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion.
"That was my brother's horse!" one exclaimed, his voice ringing with indignation.
"What has gotten into him?" another wondered aloud, his eyes searching the shadows for answers.
Before the watchmen could make sense of the bizarre scene that had just unfolded, the night air was filled with the screams of panicked horses.
As one, the beasts reared and bolted, their hooves churning the earth in their desperation to escape the unseen menace that had disturbed their slumber.
A sense of foreboding settled upon the watchmen as they watched their charges flee into the darkness.
As if awakening from a trance, they turned their gaze toward the distant horizon, their eyes widening in fear as the thunderous cadence of marching feet rose above the din of hoofbeats.
"The Qin army is coming to us!" cried one, his voice taut with urgency.
Without hesitation, the watchmen turned and sprinted toward the camp, their voices joining in a chorus of alarm as they roused their comrades from their slumber.
The somnolent camp was suddenly alive with activity as soldiers scrambled to don their armor and seize their weapons
their hearts pounding with the knowledge that a fearsome enemy was nearly upon them.
In the shadowy realm between darkness and dawn
A sudden wave of unrest rippled through the camp.
The horses, tethered to carriages on either side of the roaring bonfire, their eyes rolling white with fear, emitted shrill whinnies of distress.
Muscles tensed and hooves stamped the earth; they strained against their bonds, desperate to flee the unseen menace that assailed their senses.
"The horses are spooked!" cried the camp chief, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Calm them before they injure themselves!" A band of Huns hastened to obey, their hands gentle on the quivering flanks of the steeds, their whispers soft in the firelit gloom.
Yet even as the horses were soothed, a sense of disquiet settled upon the camp.
"Be vigilant!" cautioned the chief, his eyes scanning the shadows beyond the fire's glow.
"The Qin may seek to catch us unawares."
In response to his words, the Huns, each a warrior from the age of twelve, stood tall, their hands clasping the hilts of their swords and the grips of their bows.
Their faces, adorned with the intricate patterns of their people, were set in grim lines, their eyes gleaming with fierce determination.
Their vigilance was soon rewarded, as a deep, rhythmic thrumming reached their ears—the unmistakable cadence of marching feet.
The Huns exchanged glances, their muscles tensed and ready for battle.
But before they could formulate a plan of action, a single black arrow hissed through the air, its barbed head striking a Hun in the forehead with sickening force.
The warrior crumpled to the ground, the arrow's shaft protruding grotesquely from the back of his skull.
A heartbeat later, the air was alive with the sinister whisper of arrows in flight.
In the span of a breath, a dozen Huns fell, each struck in the head or neck by a missile that punched through flesh and bone with chilling ease.
"Qin archers!" bellowed the camp chief, his eyes blazing with fury.
"To horse! We shall meet them head-on and avenge our fallen brothers!"
His words were met with a fierce roar of assent as the Huns surged forward, leaping astride their mounts with practiced ease.
But as they thundered toward the source of the arrow storm, a peculiar spectacle arrested their charge.
From the darkness, a swirling miasma of ethereal light arose, its shifting hues of white and purple baffling the senses.
The Huns, their horses rearing and snorting in fear, had never borne witness to such a bizarre phenomenon, nor had their oral histories preserved any account of its like.
Yet even as uncertainty gnawed at their hearts, the camp chief knew that there could be no retreat.
" kill all the Qin soldiers "
With a defiant cry, he spurred his steed onward, leading his warriors into the roiling tempest of light.