"A plan is only as good as the men who carry it out." – Hidden strategist GuiFuShi
The night dragged on in a tense silence, the kind that clings to your bones and steals your breath. It was as though the world itself held its own counsel, preparing for the storm that was sure to come. Huai Shan stood outside the makeshift war room, watching the night sky. The wind had shifted, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of the coming snowstorm. His fingers, stiff from the cold, clenched the hilt of his axe, his mind racing through the possibilities.
Everything hinged on the scouts now. If they failed, if they were caught — it would all be for nothing. The Imperials would return in full force, and the rebellion would be crushed beneath their boots. Huai had seen it happen too many times before — small, poorly equipped forces trying to stand against an empire that had the resources to endure a thousand sieges.
But this time was different. This time, the defenders of Moquan were no longer just peasants. They had tasted blood, and once a man had tasted blood, there was no turning back.
He shook his head and returned to the warmth of the fire in the center of the courtyard. The other rebels were gathered around, their faces drawn, eyes dull with exhaustion, but with that same, stubborn fire that had kept them going this far.
"Any news?" Yi Fen approached, his voice a quiet rasp from the cold.
Huai gave a small shake of his head. "Nothing yet. They should have returned by now, but we can't afford to wait too long. If they don't make it back soon, we'll have to reconsider our options."
The tension in the air was palpable. The wind howled louder now, the snow coming in thicker, reducing visibility to mere feet. Each passing minute felt like an eternity.
Meanwhile, in the dark shadows of the valley, Yi Fen, Xu Liang, and the small band of scouts crept through the snow, moving like phantoms. Their footsteps were muffled, swallowed by the blanket of white, but their eyes were sharp, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.
"I don't like this," Xu Liang murmured as he adjusted his cloak. "The storm's coming in fast. We might lose our way if it gets any worse."
Yi Fen didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed ahead. "We'll stick to the paths we know. The snow won't slow us down if we keep our heads."
They had to reach the Imperial supply lines before the storm fully arrived. Time was running out.
The trail they followed led them deeper into the mountains, where the snow-covered pines loomed like silent sentinels. The wind whistled through the branches, sending the snow flying in all directions, but the scouts pressed on, determined. They knew that the success of the rebellion, the fate of Moquan, rested on their shoulders.
It wasn't long before they saw the first signs of the Imperial supply caravan—small, hidden in the folds of the mountainside, but unmistakable. The silhouettes of men moving in the distance, shadows against the backdrop of the storm. They were transporting food, weapons, and other vital supplies for the Imperial forces. This was their lifeline, and if the rebels could cut it off, they would have a chance at survival.
"Prepare to move," Yi Fen whispered, signaling to the others. "We take them by surprise."
They moved as one, the scouts blending into the storm. No words were needed now; only actions. The plan had been set, and all that remained was execution.
Back at Moquan, Huai paced restlessly. The longer the scouts were gone, the more his thoughts turned dark. He couldn't afford to sit idle, not with the future of the rebellion hanging in the balance. He had to keep his mind sharp, focused.
Just as he reached the center of the courtyard, a figure appeared from the shadows — one of the sentries. His face was pale, and his breath came in short, sharp gasps.
"General," the sentry gasped, barely able to speak through the wind. "They've returned."
A surge of relief washed over Huai, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Where are they?"
"They're... coming in now, through the western gate."
Huai didn't waste a second. He turned on his heel and made for the western gate, his footsteps quick and sure. As he reached the gate, he saw the shadowy figures of the scouts emerging from the storm, battered but alive. Yi Fen led the way, his face grim but determined.
"They're here," Yi Fen said, his voice hoarse from the cold. "We found them. But there's a problem."
Huai's heart skipped. "What happened?"
"We weren't able to hit all the supply lines," Yi Fen continued, his eyes narrowed with frustration. "The storm slowed us down. We hit the first convoy, but there were reinforcements. We had to retreat before we could do more damage."
Huai's mind raced. "Reinforcements? How many?"
"Too many," Xu Liang chimed in, his voice low. "We took out a few wagons, but they've got more coming. Han Yu's preparing for a second wave. They'll be here within a few days, and if we don't move quickly, they'll come back in force."
"Then we fight," Huai said, his voice hardening. "We hold the walls and give them no quarter. We strike when they least expect it. We'll make them pay for every inch they take."
Yi Fen nodded, a fire kindling in his eyes. "We'll make them regret thinking they can break us."
The scouts had returned, but their report was not good. The next battle would be harder than the last, and the storm was just beginning.