The command tent was shrouded in heavy darkness, illuminated only by the flickering glow of oil lamps. The night outside was cold and eerily silent, but within those four walls of thick fabric, the air pulsed with tension, thick and suffocating like a storm about to break. Luo Wen sat at the center of the room, his fingers interlaced atop the wooden table, his gaze sweeping over his gathered commanders with the same cold, calculating expression he always wore. His eyes meticulously examined each of their faces, gauging their reactions, ensuring that every man present fully grasped the gravity of what he was about to propose.
Zhao Qing stood with his arms crossed, the only one in the room wearing a confident smile, as if he were already envisioning the battle's outcome. Beside him, Wei Han, the battle-hardened veteran of the infantry, studied the map with a furrowed brow, his expression one of deep contemplation. An Yue, the mastermind of intelligence and sabotage, listened intently, his sharp eyes absorbing every word as though each syllable was a vital piece in a deadly game of chess. Other lesser officers stood at attention, silent, waiting, their anticipation palpable.
Luo Wen's hand glided over the large map sprawled before them, his fingers tracing its inked lines. The coalition's positions were carefully marked—every stronghold, every weak point. It was all there in black and white, a battlefield reduced to symbols and strategy. The layout of their enemy's camp was clear; their central position was heavily fortified, but their flanks—those were a different story. Exposed. Vulnerable. Ripe for exploitation.
Finally, Luo Wen spoke.
"The coalition is teetering on the edge of collapse," he said, his voice even and measured, but carrying an undeniable weight. "Their paranoia has hollowed them out from the inside, weakening them far beyond what we initially anticipated. They no longer trust one another. They are devouring themselves. Officers executed over mere suspicions, patrols disorganized, soldiers too afraid to speak freely among their own ranks."
He paused, allowing the words to settle, his voice dropping to a blade-like whisper.
"This is the moment to strike them down."
A low chuckle escaped Zhao Qing's lips as he leaned forward, planting his hands firmly on the table. He cast a glance around the room, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Finally," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It's about time for a decisive attack."
Wei Han narrowed his eyes. "How do we proceed?"
Luo Wen lifted his gaze, his expression unyielding.
"With precision and speed," he answered. "We will give them no time to recover, no chance to reorganize. We will strike with the full force of a tempest and tear them apart before they can even understand what's happening."
His fingers once again danced across the map, stopping at three crucial locations.
"Gao Shi has gathered his most loyal troops at the heart of the camp, surrounding himself with a wall of human shields. But in doing so, he has stripped his flanks bare. Their patrols are dwindling, and the chain of command within their ranks is breaking apart. They are barely coordinating their movements anymore."
The commanders listened in silence, their focus sharpened to a razor's edge. Luo Wen continued.
"Because of this, we will execute our attack in three phases."
He lifted a single finger.
"Phase One: The Lightning Strike. Zhao Qing, you and your cavalry will spearhead the assault through their right flank. There will be no organized resistance—only scattered, confused men caught completely off guard. You will sever their escape routes, trapping their officers and cutting the head from the snake before it has a chance to slither away. If we eliminate their leaders swiftly, their forces will crumble into chaos."
Zhao Qing smirked, the promise of battle lighting a fire in his eyes. "My men have been waiting for this opportunity. I assure you, no one will escape us."
Luo Wen gave a slight nod and raised a second finger.
"Phase Two: Internal Sabotage." His attention shifted to An Yue. "Our spies and defectors, already embedded within their camp, will ignite fires in their supply depots, intercept and assassinate their messengers, and spread even more confusion among their forces. Their soldiers are already drowning in doubt. We will ensure that doubt festers into outright panic."
An Yue allowed a small, knowing smile to cross his lips. "My men are in position. They are only waiting for the signal."
Luo Wen raised a third finger.
"Phase Three: The Final Onslaught." His gaze now locked onto Wei Han. "Once their camp is drowning in fear and disorder, we will launch our main offensive with the full might of our infantry. We will give them no respite. No room to breathe. No opportunity to rally. We will crush them before they even realize what is happening."
Wei Han exhaled slowly, his expression firm. "It's a solid plan. But we must ensure they don't recover before we deliver the final blow."
Luo Wen leaned forward slightly, his voice steady, but carrying a quiet intensity.
"They won't," he said, his certainty absolute. "Their paranoia has already rotted them from the inside. They do not trust their own comrades. When they see our forces storming their camp, some will flee, others will turn on each other in blind desperation."
Zhao Qing clenched his fist and slammed it against the table.
"If we execute this correctly," he declared, his voice filled with anticipation, "there won't even be a battle—only a slaughter."
A heavy silence fell over the command tent. Every man present understood the gravity of what they were about to unleash. The weight of history itself seemed to settle upon them, as though the fate of the war had already been written in stone. Luo Wen's gaze swept over his commanders once more, ensuring there were no lingering doubts.
"We move in three days," he ordered. "Sharpen your blades. Refine your formations. There will be no second chances."
Wei Han, An Yue, and Zhao Qing all gave firm nods. No more words were needed. The die had been cast.
As Zhao Qing turned toward the exit, a savage grin stretched across his face.
"It will be a pleasure to watch them fall apart."
One by one, the commanders filtered out into the cold night, leaving Luo Wen alone in the dimly lit tent, his fingers tracing the lines of the map once more. The coalition did not know it yet, but their fate had already been sealed.
By the time the night of the attack descended upon them, the war would already be over.