The leader's gaze swept over the assembled men, his expression hard and resolute. Seeing that no one else had a better suggestion, he took a deep breath and declared,

  "Since there are no other plans, we will proceed with this one. We retreat, but some will stay behind as infiltrators."

  He scanned the faces before him, eyes sharp as he made his selection. "You and you," he pointed, his voice firm as four men stepped forward, including the young strategist who had proposed the idea.

  Turning his gaze to the young man, the leader narrowed his eyes. "Since this is your plan, you will be in charge of those staying behind. Do not disgrace us. Your mission is critical—make sure you are not caught."

  The young man bowed slightly, his voice unwavering. "I will not disappoint you, sir. I swear on my honor and that of my ancestors."

  The leader gave a satisfied nod before addressing the rest. "We will create as much chaos as possible—strike at their rations, attack the gate, and draw their attention. This will buy time for those staying behind."

  He tightened his grip on his weapon, his tone turning sharp. "Move quickly. The success of this mission depends on precision and discipline. Let's begin."

  General Zhang stood atop the fortress wall, his sharp gaze sweeping over the battlefield. The barbarians, though their numbers had thinned significantly, still fought with unrelenting ferocity. Their bloodied weapons gleamed under the torchlight, and their battle cries echoed through the cold night air. The ground outside the fortress was slick with blood and trampled snow, no more than a thin layer that barely covered the earth beneath.

  Yet, while the battle raged, Zhang’s mind was elsewhere.

  How did the fire start? he thought, his brows furrowing. How did they get in? The inner fortress was supposed to be secure, yet flames now licked the rooftops, smoke billowing into the sky. His grip on his sword tightened. Was it sabotage? Infiltrators?

  Before he could process further, a new commotion tore through the fortress. Shouts erupted near the inner gate, frantic voices rising over the clash of steel.

  "Enemies inside! We're under attack!"

  The soldiers atop the wall hesitated, momentarily distracted by the cries from below. But they quickly regained focus, knowing the barbarians outside would exploit any lapse in defense.

  Zhang stepped to the edge of the wall and peered down. In the flickering torchlight, figures clad in pale garments—almost blending with the thin snow—moved with deadly precision. They struck down guards with swift, calculated strikes before vanishing into the fortress’s shadowed alleyways. Though outnumbered, they fought with the agility of assassins, their attacks precise and ruthless.

  The fortress guards fought back, but these enemies weren’t here for prolonged combat. After taking down a few men, the infiltrators shifted course, retreating toward the point of entry.

  "Don't let them escape!" soldiers bellowed, giving chase. Yet, the infiltrators moved like shadows, their footfalls barely leaving impressions in the thin layer of snow covering the stone pathways.

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  Zhang clenched his jaw, his disappointment barely concealed. He had underestimated the enemy’s cunning. But before he could issue new orders, another desperate cry rang out.

  "The rations! They're attacking the supply stores!"

  Zhang’s head snapped toward the storerooms, immediately grasping the enemy’s true intent. The fire, the sabotage—it was all a diversion.

  "Defend the rations at all costs!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. Soldiers scrambled to obey, boots pounding against the stone as they rushed to protect the fortress’s most vital resource.

  The battle was far from over.

  As soon as General Zhang gave the order, a squad of soldiers rushed toward the storeroom, their boots crunching against the snow-dusted stone. The moment they arrived, the sight before them was grim—bodies of fallen guards and infiltrators lay scattered, their blood soaking into the thin layer of snow, staining it deep crimson. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the lingering smoke from nearby fires.

  Without hesitation, the reinforcements surged forward, joining the remaining guards in battle. The infiltrators, now outnumbered, fought with desperate ferocity but quickly realized they were at a disadvantage. One of them gave a sharp signal, and they began to retreat, slipping into the shadows as they dashed toward the wall they had infiltrated from.

  Some soldiers stayed behind to secure the storeroom, while others took off in pursuit, determined to cut the invaders down before they could escape.

  Minutes later, a breathless soldier hurried to General Zhang and saluted.

  "General! The intruders have escaped. Some were killed, but others managed to flee over the wall. More reinforcements have arrived to secure the storeroom."

  Zhang’s expression remained unreadable, though his eyes darkened. He exhaled slowly, nodding.

  "Understood. Provide me with a full report later. You’re dismissed."

  The soldier bowed before turning away, disappearing into the controlled chaos of the battlefield.

  For several more minutes, the brutal battle raged on, swords clashing, arrows whistling through the air. The fortress defenders, though weary, continued to fight with grim determination.

  Then—

  A deep, resonant sound tore through the battlefield.

  Bwoooom—Bwoooom!

  The barbarian war horn sounded twice, cutting through the cacophony of war like a knife. The effect was immediate—barbarians who had been fighting fiercely just moments ago suddenly began retreating, pulling back from the fortress in a coordinated withdrawal.

  The defenders stood tense, watching the enemy pull away, wary of a possible trick. But as the barbarian forces continued their retreat, relief began to seep into their exhausted bodies.

  The battle was over.

  Yet, victory felt hollow. The air was thick with the scent of blood and fire, and the bodies of fallen comrades lay strewn across the fortress walls and courtyards. Though they had defended the stronghold, the cost was high.

  For now, the soldiers allowed themselves a moment to breathe—but General Zhang knew this war was far from finished.

  The battlefield had fallen into an eerie silence, save for the crackling flames still consuming parts of the fortress and the distant howling of the cold wind. General Zhang stood atop the fortress wall, his sharp eyes scanning the dark, snowy plains beyond. No sign of movement. The barbarians had fully retreated, at least for now.

  He exhaled, his breath visible in the freezing air. The battle was over, but the night was far from peaceful. He turned to his officers, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of authority.

  "Gather the wounded and tend to them immediately. Prioritize those who can still fight if necessary. The dead inside the fortress must be carried to the inner courtyard for proper rites at dawn. As for those outside the walls, they will remain where they fell until morning—disturbing them now in the dark is too risky."

  The officers saluted and moved swiftly to relay his orders. Soldiers began moving through the battlefield, lifting their fallen comrades with solemn expressions.

  Zhang then turned toward another group of officers. "Double the night patrols. I want fresh eyes on every wall and gate. Rotate shifts every two hours—no man should stand guard too long in this cold. The enemy may have retreated, but we cannot assume they won’t attempt an ambush."

  One of his captains stepped forward, bowing. "General, the fires within the fortress are still spreading. What are your orders?"

  Zhang glanced at the burning structures, his brows furrowing. The fires needed to be contained, but they couldn’t afford to exhaust their remaining forces. He quickly formulated a plan.

  "Use snow and sand to smother the smaller fires. For the larger ones, form bucket lines from the well. Prioritize saving the storerooms and barracks—if we lose supplies, we lose the ability to fight. Any buildings beyond saving should be left to burn out naturally."

  The captain saluted and hurried off, barking orders to his men.

  Finally, Zhang turned to his most trusted lieutenant. "Post a detail at every key structure—storerooms, armories, and the well. No one enters without authorization, not even our own men. If there are any remaining infiltrators, they will likely attempt sabotage before fleeing completely. Interrogate anyone moving alone at night."

  The lieutenant nodded firmly before setting off to execute the command.

  Zhang let out a slow breath, watching his men carry out his orders with discipline. The snow-covered battlefield was a grim sight, and the fortress itself bore fresh scars from the battle.

  Tonight would be long.

  But with the right vigilance, they would live to see the morning.