The Calm Before the Clash
The skies over Zhaoling had never been clearer. Wind rustled through the grain fields. The clang of hammers echoed from forges. Soldiers marched in formation, their boots pounding in rhythm across the training grounds.
Yet something felt wrong.
From his perch atop the northern watchtower, Lü Bu stared toward the mountains—toward that orange haze on the horizon. It hadn't moved in two days.
"It's not a campfire," he murmured. "It's a message."
Wei Yun stood behind him, arms crossed.
"I sent scouts at dawn. Only one returned."
The survivor had come back bloodied, dragging himself across the dirt with a broken leg. What he said chilled the council:
"It's not just bandits. A warband… no, a small army. Flying red banners. Well-armed. Fast-moving."
The Enemy Approaches
Zhaoling was not yet ready.
Walls had been raised, but only recently. The new soldiers had barely completed their first month of training. The city's outer villages were exposed, their homes scattered and defenseless.
"This is a test," Lü Bu told his council. "Not of strength—but of belief. In our system. In our unity."
Han Jie, his eyes tired from endless logistics, spread a map across the table.
"We need to evacuate the outer villages," he said. "Our food stores can handle the increase for now."
"What about those who can fight?" Wei Yun added. "If we leave them out there, they'll burn."
Lü Bu's fist clenched against the wooden table.
"We don't leave our people behind. Not even one."
The Iron Core Mobilizes
The Iron Core split into three units for the first time:
Shield Wardens led by Wei Yun, tasked with defending Zhaoling's gates and the first outer barricades.
Field Hawks, scouts and mobile fighters trained to navigate forest and ridge, were sent to escort families back into the city.
Lü Bu's Spear Division, the smallest yet deadliest unit, would intercept the enemy before they reached civilian homes.
Each recruit knew what this meant: real battle. Blood. Screams. The dream of Zhaoling now hung on whether they could stand together when the fire came.
🚨 System Notification
[Quest: "Defend the Homeland" – Active]
Objective: Prevent over 3 villages from being razed.
Optional: Eliminate enemy commander.
Bonus: Preserve over 80% of city morale.
Rewards:
🛡 +2 to City Defense Rating
⚔ New Trait: "Unyielding Flame" (Boosts army morale when defending their home)
🧱 Unlocks "Fortification Planning Interface"
The Evacuation Begins
As dusk fell, the Field Hawks returned with civilians—women, children, even old soldiers too broken to fight. Volunteers formed human chains to pass food and water through the gates. The city, still small, felt full for the first time.
"They look to us now," said Wei Yun. "Not the empire. Not the nobles. Us."
Lü Bu nodded. "Then let's be what the empire failed to be."
The Night Ambush
Lü Bu and thirty hand-picked warriors advanced through the valley trails, under cover of night. Their goal was simple: stall the invaders, strike hard, and slow their march long enough for Zhaoling's walls to be reinforced.
The moment came swiftly.
At midnight, torches flickered ahead.
The enemy had arrived.
Their armor gleamed crimson. Their movements were organized. This was no rabble—this was a mercenary company, likely hired by a noble displeased with Lü Bu's growing power.
"Cut their eyes," Lü Bu whispered.
The ambush was sudden and brutal. Javelins struck first. Then came the clash of steel. Lü Bu's halberd moved like lightning, carving down the front line. His troops followed without hesitation.
But the enemy did not break.
"General!" a voice shouted. A massive warrior stepped forward—bald, bearded, and wielding twin axes.
"Name?" Lü Bu demanded.
"You'll forget it when you're dead!"
They clashed.
Steel rang. Sparks danced. The man was strong—stronger than any bandit—but he was slow. Lü Bu read his movements, ducked, then drove his spear through the man's gut.
"Name?" Lü Bu asked again, as the mercenary fell.
"Huo… Gang…"
"Tell your gods the north is taken."
The Flames Recede
By dawn, the valley was littered with bodies. The enemy had been routed—not defeated entirely, but broken.
Lü Bu stood atop a blood-soaked hill, breathing heavily. Behind him, his warriors stood tall. Some injured. None dead.
The dream had survived its first fire.
Zhaoling Rejoices
When the Iron Core returned, civilians filled the gates. Farmers wept. Children cheered. Even the stonemasons dropped their tools to salute.
"This city," Lü Bu declared before them all, "does not bow. It builds. It fights. And it rises."
From that day, stories began to spread—not just of Lü Bu the warrior, but Lü Bu the protector. The builder. The rising storm.
And far away, in the imperial capital, a new set of eyes turned toward Zhaoling. Eyes filled with ambition—and fear.