Two days after returning from Gyou—wounded and silent—General Ou Sen gave the order.
The time for hesitation had passed.With no fanfare or delay, the Qin army marched forth, every last soldier departing from Retsubi. The once-bustling city was left hollow and lifeless, its gates swinging in the wind. Their destination was clear: Gyou.
But not everyone would arrive together.
Shortly after setting out, the Yo Tan Wa Army split from the main force. Their mission: intercept the advancing army of Kou Son Ryuu, a dangerous Zhao commander closing in from the northeast. Yo Tan Wa and her mountain tribes vanished into the wild terrain—and when they struck, they struck like lightning. Kou Son Ryuu's advance was halted.
Meanwhile, within the marching columns of the main Qin force, Ren rode at the head of the Gu Ren Tai—a seasoned 4,000-man unit hardened through years of brutal skirmishes. He said little as they advanced, but his sharp eyes watched the landscape carefully.
That night, as campfires flickered under a moonless sky, Kai rode up beside him.
"We're turning," Kai muttered. "South, away from Gyou. Doesn't make sense."
Ren didn't answer immediately. He stared at the horizon, where dust still rose from other parts of the army shifting formation.
"He's not heading for Gyou yet," Ren said finally. "He's hunting something else."
Before long, the army descended upon a small Zhao city. There was no resistance. Ou Sen's forces overwhelmed the settlement before noon, seizing all food, weapons, and livestock. But unlike any battle Ren had seen before, not a single civilian was harmed.
Ou Sen himself stood atop the city's gate to deliver a message:
"You've been spared—not by mercy, but by purpose. Take your families. Head east."
With no supplies, the people had no choice. They fled eastward, grateful they had survived the encounter.
It didn't stop there.
The very next day, another city fell—again, without a fight. The same speech, the same command. Another wave of refugees began drifting toward Gyou. Ou Sen moved again. And again.
To increase speed, he split the Qin army into three separate columns, each tasked with sweeping through different areas. The Gu Ren Tai, under Ren's command, was assigned to the northernmost flank.
As the days passed, Ren watched more and more civilians flow past his men—ragged, dazed, and murmuring the same thing over and over.
"Ou Sen… spared us… Ou Sen… took everything…"
Kai approached him again.
"We're not just plundering," Kai said quietly. "We're uprooting the land."
Ren nodded, eyes narrowing.
"He's weaponizing hunger. Not just for Gyou's soldiers, but the people inside the city."
He looked east, toward the unseen fortress.
"Ri Boku's city is about to drown in its own people."
That night, he addressed the Gu Ren Tai.
"No looting. No chaos. This is war, not banditry. We are the blade that follows Ou Sen's mind."
The men, hardened and disciplined, obeyed. As they marched, they became part of a silent machine: plundering without cruelty, moving without hesitation, and leaving nothing behind but the whisper of fear and a trail of desperate refugees heading toward the heart of Zhao.
Far ahead, in Gyou, Ri Boku began to receive the first reports.
Cities emptied. Stores gone. Tens of thousands of refugees flooding the roads.
He stared at the map before him, and for the first time in years, his hand trembled.
"This is no invasion," he whispered."It's a starvation."
The trap was closing—and he was inside it.