As Jiang Wei and his men scampered away, Wang Jing cautiously stuck his head out of Didao. “Thanks, guys. Much appreciated.” After some glowing reports, courtesy of Chen Tai and Wang Ping, Deng Ai got a nice promotion and a permanent transfer to the western border.
Chen Tai threw him a party. “You finally got rid of Jiang Wei!”
“He’ll be back,” said Deng Ai, stirring his drink.
“Oh, come on. He’ll never dare come back after that humiliation.”
“I can give you five reasons why he’ll be right back,” said Deng Ai. “First of all, did you see the look on his soldiers’ faces? They were grinning and high-fiving. Those guys are delusional. Second, they’re still part of that creepy Zhuge Liang personality cult. Third, they use boats and robots, instead of going everywhere on foot lugging stuff around. Their infantry’s always less tired than ours. Fourth, they can hit us anywhere, so we’re perpetually stretched thin. Fifth, there are a lot of grain stores around here that they could capture, not to mention the Qiangs – although they’re pretty unreliable.” Deng Ai shook his head. “And there’s a sixth reason. Jiang Wei’s a fucking lunatic.”
“That’s all true,” said Chen Tai. “I like you.”
“Chen Tai, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Over the next few weeks, Deng Ai oversaw a long training and preparation montage. Armies and watchtowers spawned all over the map, and the soldiers drilled all day long.
Everyone stared at Jiang Wei.
“Again? Are you serious?” said Fan Jian, saying what the others were thinking. “How many times do you need to get your ass kicked out there?
“This time, I’ll win,” insisted Jiang Wei. “I can give you five reasons why. First of all, we’re the good guys, so we’re better than them. Second, we have boats and robot cows, so our soldiers are less tired. Third, uh – we’re the good guys, so we’re better than them. Fourth, we can steal their grain, which is always fun. Fifth, we can attack anywhere along the border, and they’re stretched thin along it. And don’t forget, we’re the good guys, so we’re better than them. Come on! This is the best chance we’ll have.”
“Uh, no it’s not,” said Xiahou Ba. “Deng Ai’s there now. I warned you about him, remember? And he just kicked our asses. Fighting him won’t be easy.”
“Oh, so you think he’s better than me?” snapped Jiang Wei.
“I didn’t say that!” protested Xiahou Ba. “I’m just saying, you need to respect your enemy and think things through-”
“Shut up!” Jiang Wei kicked over his desk. “I’m going to attack Wei, right now! See you losers at Qishan.” He stormed out, and in moments he and his division were marching east. The other generals exchanged exasperated glances, and then, shaking their heads, they followed after him.
Miles and miles from Qishan, Jiang Wei stopped short. Not one, not two, not five, but nine Wei camps had sprung up in his path.
“Dammit,” he said. “Guess Xiahou Ba was right. Those look pretty good, too. Reminds me of the camps Zhuge Liang used to have.” He sighed. “Looks like they predicted me.”
“You’re pretty predictable,” said a redshirt.
“Who said that?”
Silence.
“All right,” said Jiang Wei. “Get out your spare uniforms and colour-code them. Blue for Mondays, obviously. Pink for Wednesdays. Switch out yellow, red, white, and black for the rest of the week. Walk around distracting them with your fashion show, and meanwhile I’ll attack Nanan.”
Deng Ai narrowed his eyes at the multicoloured crowd of Shu soldiers milling around. “That looks exactly like a distraction.”
“It does,” agreed Chen Tai.
“Jiang Wei’s probably attacking Nanan. But let’s take care of these guys first. Then I’ll block their retreat route and relieve Nanan. If he can’t take Nanan, Jiang Wei will probably go for Shanggui next. That’ll take him past the Block Valley, which is literally the most adorable place for an ambush. Have you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Chen Tai. “And I’ve been here for twenty years! Where is it?”
“When this is over, I’ll show you,” grinned Deng Ai. “It’s the sweetest spot. Towering cliffs, narrow gullies. You’ll love it.”
Deng Ai was positioned in a matter of hours. He sent his son Zhong and a trusted general, Shi Zuan, to hide in Block Valley as he waited on the nearby mountains.
About halfway to his destination, Jiang Wei pulled up and pointed at a mountain. “There it is! That’s our campsite. Hurry up, let’s get there before they do.”
“Sure-” began Xiahou Ba, but as the words came out of his mouth, several bombs exploded. An army materialized out of the dust and debris, and its main flag read ‘Deng Ai.’
“Oh, fuck.”
Deng Ai’s soldiers rushed down the hill, howling war-cries. The Shu front lines broke. Jiang Wei charged forward, trying to turn the tide, but the Wei troops just retreated up the hill, and made rude gestures from the top.
Jiang Wei was beside himself with rage. “Come down and fight me!” he screamed.
“Nah,” said the Wei redshirts, and threw pebbles at him. Over the next few days, he continued to issue challenges, and the redshirts developed an elaborate scoring system based on which body parts their pebbles hit.
With a hoarse throat and dozens of tiny bruises, Jiang Wei finally stomped back to the very bottom of the hill. “Build a barricade and-”
As soon as his back was turned, the Wei soldiers finally charged. Caught off balance, Jiang Wei and his army scrambled still lower down.
“Circle the wagons!” ordered Jiang Wei. “Literally!”
His soldiers jumped into their Humvees and moved them into a large circle, but the Wei soldiers just rolled their eyes and flicked cigarettes onto them. The Humvees went up in a whoosh of flame.
Several miserable hours later, Jiang Wei fought his way over to Xiahou Ba. “This isn’t working!”
“No shit,” said Xiahou Ba, calmly taking off three redshirt heads with one swing.
“I’m thinking of moving on to Shanggui. That’s where the Nanan grain silos actually are.”
“K,” said Xiahou Ba, impaling an enemy officer who, moments before, had been sneaking up behind Jiang Wei.
“So, I’ll be off then.”
“Sure,” said Xiahou Ba, slamming two Wei soldiers’ heads together. “Let me just finish up over here -”
“Nah, you stay here,” said Jiang Wei. “Bye.” He grabbed the best squadron of redshirts and took off down the road, leaving Xiahou Ba to hold off the Wei army alone.
As the sun came up after a night of marching, Jiang Wei looked around. The cliffs were high, dark, and forbidding, and they were surrounded by natural rock walls. “Where the hell are we?”
“It’s called Block Valley,” said a random passerby.
“That name doesn’t sound too good,” said Jiang Wei, and sure enough, at that moment the soldiers at the front started yelling. “Dust cloud up ahead! Dust cloud!”
“Okay, that’s it,” said Jiang Wei. “Turn this army around. We’re going back.” But just then, hundreds of soldiers vaulted over the rock walls on either side. Shi Zuan and Deng Zhong had him caught in a pincer. Worse, the dust cloud rumbled up behind them. It was Deng Ai.
Jiang Wei thought he was a goner, but then he heard a voice from down the road. “There you are!” called Xiahou Ba. “Need a hand?”
An epic battle and a thrilling chase scene later, and the pair were miles down the road. “Let’s go back to Qishan,” panted Jiang Wei.
Xiahou Ba shook his head. “We can’t. Chen Tai killed the guy you left in charge and scattered the army.”
“Oh. Well, shit,” said Jiang Wei. “Guess we’d better head home.” On cue, Deng Ai’s army caught up with them, cutting down stragglers and throwing the rear into confusion. Jiang Wei turned around and ran back to deal with them as the rest of the army made for Hanzhong.
As Jiang Wei hacked and slashed at redshirts, Chen Tai and his army poured over the hills. In seconds, he was completely surrounded. It looked like he was dead, but at the last possible moment the cavalry arrived, led by Zhang Ni. “Run, boss! I’ll cover you!”
Jiang Wei ran. Zhang Ni held the enemy off for the precious moments it took for his commander to get clear, before falling under a shower of arrows.
Protesters surrounded the palace, chanting and waving signs. The signs mostly read ‘No more useless wars!’ or ‘Down with Jiang Wei,’ and the chants contained similar but more detailed and obscene sentiments.
“Good thing they can’t vote,” said Jiang Wei.
“I should still look like I’m doing something, though,” said Liu Shan. “I rewarded the Zhang family, but that doesn’t really help with the crowd.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll pull a Zhuge Liang,” said Jiang Wei. “Give me a nominal demotion that doesn’t affect my power and status in any way.”
“Sure,” shrugged Liu Shan. “How about ‘General of the Rear End’? I think it suits you.’
“I honestly couldn’t care less.”
Chen Tai sent another gushing letter about Deng Ai to the capital, and secured a promotion not only for him but for his son Zhong as well.
Of course, that promotion went through Sima Zhao’s office, like all the paperwork did those days. He’d appointed himself Commander-In-Chief, had a personal army as well, and had even changed the era name to ‘Sugar Syrup’. No one paid the slightest attention to Cao Mao, who sat lonely in his palace – except Sima Zhao. The boy was a perpetual thorn in his side, a reminder that he still, at least on paper, answered to someone.
As if he could read the boss’s mind, his buddy Jia Chong knocked the door of Sima Zhao’s office. He was Jia Kui’s son, and a man of the family Mustelidae. “I’ve been thinking. You basically run the country already. Why not make it official?”
I̙’̰̘͈̱̂̔ͧ͊d͉͉͈̘̼ ̦̬̻̪̯̳̀͊̾ͅl͎̝̫̺̙͑̐̂̋̉͑̽o̻͕͇̺̟͎͖͗̓v̬̤̮̱̲͉͇̌́̅ͩ̍ȅ͈͔̳͑̿̋͊̄ ͙̻͉̻t͙̪͈̯̙̦̪̔͊̋͂́ő͎͎̥͎͇̬̩̈̇̐͋.̊̓ͅ ͉͆̆͒̇́̈͗Ḇ̦̆ͭ͐͆ͮu̝̜̭͍̭̲t̪̳̝ͪͦ̓ͭ͒ ̫͊ͤ̒ͮ̽͂̓â ͈̺̣͎̯ͬͧ̒ͫ̇̀̾l̻̦͍͚̠̂̒̋̎̒ͅo̔̅̎t͎̦̩̞̬̩͎ͥ̇̑ ͮ͌ͦͬ̊̈o͔͍͈͐ͣͯ͛̚f̱͚͙͔ ͍̻̗̜͓̺ͩ̆̾͗p͈̐͌͂̄̈́̌e̮̦̹̱̟̹o̥̭͆͑̔p̤ͭͬ͆l̰̥̔͑͛ͩ̊ẹ ͚̥̠̲͌͊̿̏ͩw̦͖̞̟̮ͩ̍ͣo̰ͨͮu̦̬̮̬͎̫̔l͙̼̃͑ͯd͚̟͔̝͍̩ͅn̳̊͊̏’̬̫̤̀̈́ͩ̀̒t̫̩̣ͬ͗̾ͅ ̠̬̬͓b͍̖̖̐ͯͅê̜̬̠͖̥̬̌ͤͦͮ̐ ͓̬̈̉̓̿h̗̰̞̪̭̜̺͛a͉̬͙̙͚̣̗p̰͚͖̄́̅p̳̫̤̭̟ͨͬy͚͖̝͈̟̤̣͛͂ͨ͊ͯ͗ ̗̘̹̹͍̳̍ͅa̱̪͐b̙̩̙͙̳̩͓͐͊͑̅̂̐̃o͇̿͂͛u̜̣̜̹̙͚̱̍ͯ̈̍ͣ͒ͭt̮͖̫̻̭͆͗͒̑͛ ͭͯ̆ͧî̲̗̳̟͒̎ͤ̍t̮̘̀̄̚.̮̣͎̒͊ͬ͐̀͂͐ ̣̰̙̣̎̑̔̇Hͩoͩ̏ͩͫͥw̪̩̿ ͚̥̘̽̍̊̈́ͥͥͤá́̏b͙͓̟͚͓̞͓̅ͧo̹̮͖̳̭̽̆͆ͅu̱̗ť͕̲̱̥̖͗ͬ̆ ͓̭̭̳͂ͮ̈ÿ̻̰̯͇̰̓̆̀̑̍̎ͅo̲̲̹͙̩̊u̝̹͙̭͓̞ͬ̃͌̉ ̜̞͔̞ͧ̂̊̓͛̐g̬̱̼̠͇ͧ͛ͧ̏͑ͩͅò̗̥͙̙̦̹̅̓͆̉ ̯̱e͕̠̮̼̠͔̾̂ͮ̊a͖̪̻̞̣̥ͧ̿s͂̆̑͌̚t̻̻͛ͧͣͧ̿͐̄ ̯͎̥͎̉ãṋ͍ͅd̖̮̳͇̬̯ͥ ̅̒ͭͣ̅ả̫̺͎͕͖̗͓ͨ̉̔s͖̩̼̑̎ͮk̬̦̞̹̗̭̟ ͎̻ͣaͫr̫ͬ͛ͣoͭ͒ͣuͮͮ͌͋ͨ́̊n͚̦̹̖͚̱͎d̮̰̦?̭̜͕͓ͤ͊
“No problem,” said Jia Chong. “I’ll go extend some feelers to Zhuge Dan. Er, no offense.”
N̗̪̮̮͖̗͆͋ͮ͗̓̚ͅo͍ͮͥͣ͋̅n̳̥̰̂ͦe̹̞ ͓̦͒ͯ̿̉t͇̫̦͌ͧ͌̓̉ͪͣä́͑ͬ̑k̙̘ͧ͐̉̊̉ͭ̂e͔̟͈n̓̐͌̇.͓̜̲͕̱
Jia Chong traveled east and invited himself over to Zhuge Dan’s place. It was a nice place. Zhuge Dan had had trouble finding a job while Zhuge Liang was alive – it was too awkward for the Wei Powers That Be to stomach – but ever since his cousin’s death, his star had risen steadily.
“I’m here to congratulate you on winning the war,” said Jia Chong.
“Huh, okay. Thanks,” said Zhuge Dan. “Come on in and have some drinks.”
When they were both tipsy, Jia Chong figured it was a good time to pop the question. “In case you haven’t noticed, the Emperor kind of sucks and he’s a puppet anyway. Sima Zhao’s the next big thing. People are even saying he should be the next Emperor. What do you think about that?”
“What?” said Zhuge Dan. “That’s treason! Aren’t you Jia Kui’s kid? Your dad was the ultimate Cao loyalist. How can you say that?”
“Chill,” said Jia Chong, raising his hands innocently. “I’m just repeating what people are saying.”
“Ah yes, the most reliable source,” said Zhuge Dan. “‘People are saying.’”
“Many people,” nodded Jia Chong. “All the best people.”
“Doesn’t matter who’s saying it,” shouted Zhuge Dan. “Any decent person needs to stand against it.”
“Totally,” said Jia Chong, and looked ostentatiously at his watch. “Well, it’s time for me to head home.” He hurried back and told Sima Zhao exactly what had happened.
T̰̪̥̹̗̩ͪͭ̏ͦ͋̏h͕̩͎̦ͦ̍̆͌̀ͣẹ̺̟̹̺̊̀̍ͤͯ̃ ̭̖͉̥͆ͩ͋r̲̻̼͈̪͍ͭ͌á͉̝̳̣ͬt͓͛ͭ!̦̖̟̫ͯ̂̑̅͂ͨ
“Yup,” said Jia Chong. “And he’s super popular, too. People might listen to him. You need to do something.”
Sima Zhao moved at once. First, he wrote a secret letter to Yue Chen, and then he wrote a less secret one to Zhuge Dan.
Congratulations! You’re now the Minister of Works. Your new office in the capital is waiting for you.
“Something’s up,” scowled Zhuge Dan. He crumpled it in a ball and threw it into the recycling bin, then turned to the mailman. “What’s going on? I know Jia Chong’s behind this.”
The mailman shrugged. “I’m just the messenger. Read the letter.”
“How about I torture you?” suggested Zhuge Dan.
“I’d rather not,” said the messenger. “Let’s see, what else do I know? Oh, Sima Zhao sent a letter about you to Yue Chen.”
“Yue Jin’s kid? About what?”
“Again, I’m just a mailman. But I’m guessing it was about your promotion.”
“Executioners!” yelled Zhuge Dan. “Kill this mailman!”
“What did I do?” begged the mailman.
“Who cares?” said Zhuge Dan “I’m just getting started.”
After the unlucky mailman’s head was removed, Zhuge Dan grabbed his army and stormed over to Yue Chen’s place in Yangzhou.
“Let me in!” he hollered, kicking the door.
“Um, not when you’re acting like that,” said the gate redshirts, hurriedly raising the drawbridge.
“How dare you!” Zhuge Dan turned to his ten best ninjas. “Break down the gate!”
The ninjas backflipped over the moat and parkoured up the walls, stabbing every redshirt in their path. The gate creaked open, and the rest of Zhuge Dan’s army poured in. As the redshirts busied themselves setting houses on fire and slaughtering civilians, Zhuge Dan made a beeline for the tall tower at the centre of the city. Yue Chen had to be there.
Sure enough, he saw Yue Chen peeping out of the window at the top. “There you are, you bastard!” Zhuge Dan scuttled up the wall, as fast as any spider. “You support Sima Zhao? After all the Caos did for your dad?”
“I what?” began Yue Chen, but before he could say anything, Zhuge Dan had reached the window, and Yue Chen’s head went flying.
Zhuge Dan calmly sat down at his desk, wrote a letter detailing 101 ways Sima Yi sucked, and sent it to the capital. Then he took stock. He had a hundred thousand redshirts of his own, and Yue Chen had had forty thousand who’d taken the change of management philosophically. It probably wasn’t enough. He turned to one of his employees, Wu Gang. “Hey, can you go knock on Sun Jun’s door and ask if we can borrow an army? You’ve got the appropriate name for the job.”
“Haven’t you seen the latest episode of The Real Concubines of Wu?” said Wu Gang. “Sun Jun died. His brother Chen’s Prime Minister now.”
“Sorry, with all the wars I haven’t had time to keep up,” said Zhuge Dan apologetically. “Talk to Chen, then. You can give him Jing as a good-faith hostage.”
“You’d give your son to Sun Chen?” said Wu Gong. “He’s already executed Teng Yin, Lu Ju, and Wang Chun for no good reason!”
Zhuge Dan brushed it off. “Background extras. Not my problem. Go ask him for help.”
Wu Gong picked up Jing and headed over to Sun Chen’s house, where he fortunately found the Wu Prime Minister in a good mood. “You want to attack Sima Zhao? Okay by me. I’ll give you seventy thousand redshirts.”
Not only did he send redshirts, but generals as well, no fewer than three of whom were named Quan. Even Wen Qin came along as an advisor. With Wu support lined up, Zhuge Dan prepared to attack.
Ŵ̤̭̗͙͆͒̌̈́h̞̰̔͋a̦ͭͮ͐̓̔̈́ͣt̻̞͍ͥ ̠̻̬̭̀d̻̎͋̋o̦͖̽͒̃̅̇͋̌e͖͚̣̠̝̪̊ͥ͊ͅs̜͐ ̫̤̣ͩͯ̇̓͌ḧ̜̻̳́͛ͮ̈́̾͆̚e͔̱̯ͣ̍̒̇̈ͣ͐ ͍̻͍̭̬̱̼m͙͖͚̥̘ͦ̎͆ͨ̃̐ͤe̲̾ͭͨa̝̓̅̌̓̌ṋ̆,͇͚ͨ̎̽͌ ̮̜͙̣͉̘̇̌̔̂1̖̣̻̳ͧ̑0͎͂1͔̭͑ ̼͍͓͔̳̳̐w̻a̮͔̰ͭͮ̓ỳ͈͎̭͕̆̈́ͧ͊s͖͔͇͙̰̘͈̊̃̌͂ ͩ̋͐̾̌ḿ̉̀ͪ͒̚y̏ͫͨ͂̑̃ͣ ͇̘̼̠̠͓͕̈́͐͂͐d̻̯̮ͯ̋͐̉a̰̯̰͕̼̺̘̍ͧ̍ͦͪ̃d̍̓̏ s̩̪̥̞̬̪̯̉̍ͯ͐ͩu͔̙̙ͦc̪̗̠̭̝͒̾k͉̠̜̫̬͛ͪ́s̿? ̔̇T͗ͩ̎̃ͬͤi̤̱̘̼̙͆ḿ̟̭͈͊̈́͗e̜̮̲̪ͥ̔̓ ͓̗̈̃̋͑ͤtͧͣͧ̑̑o̩̭̰̞̬ͯ̿ͬ ͔̋̓͒k̳̜̲͕̮ͥ͋̾̒̄ͅi̹͕̗̞͐ͫ͐ͪĉ̺̲ͪ̅ͅk͛̇ͤ ̠̺͓̰͕̰̝̀̒͋ḥ̖͍̩͋i͋ͮ̅ͭ̍s̞̤̲̝͌̽̉̀̍̚ ̰͉̹̩̱ͩ̏̔̑͐̚a̭̼̽̈́̃̅͛s͇̘͗̏͂s̘̩̖̜̩̬̫ͤͤͫ͆.ͧͭ͒̏̋̓́
“You absolutely should kick his ass,” said Jia Chong. “But remember what I said about leaving the capital? You don’t want people badmouthing you and seizing power behind your back.”
Ṡ̗̺ͤ̚ȯ̝̲̼̣ͧ̏ͣ̉ͤ ̣͈̘͉̻̼̞ͭͨ͒̉̆w̜̘͌̃ͯ̍h̯̮͋ͯ̌a̟̗̫̗̮̞̹̓́t͎̯̱ͧͧ͋̑͂ͯ̉ ͎͕͚͔͈͖̺s͈̻͙̱͎̈́̓̋ͣͅh͊͂ͨͤo̥̺̭͔͇ͮ̏̀̀̽̒̋u̱ͅḻ͈͉͓̜̜̯͐̈́̊̽ͧ̚d͇̼̪͔̠̎͐̌ ̫̫͔͎̫̙̍Iͬ̓̄ͅ ̳̱̪̜͍̟̣̎̄ͮ̈́d͎̹̜͊͛̓ͫ͊õ͒͌̅ͪ?̱͎̥̦̹̜̯̀ͭ̈ͤ
“Take the Emperor and the Empress Dowager with you, of course,” said Jia Chong. “The court is where they are, after all.”
Sima Zhao went straight to the palace.
H͙̪̻͎͔́ͯ͐o͗ͩ͊̚w̼͉̯̯̙͙̐̋’͙̳̲̺̻ͯ͆̂̍̋̍͆d̟̫̗̂ͫ̒͋ͦͭ y͖͖̠͎̗̋̾̆̂͆͒ͯo̗̩̳̎ͫu̲ ̩̮͉̠̣̟ͣl͉̙̬̪̻͈i̩̗ǩ͕̺̗̰͆e̦ͥ͂ͫ̓̔͋ ̲̟͓̫̤̦ͬ̌͊ṭ̬͂̅ͦo̬̣̲̰̊́ ̝j̦͉̙o̦̥̲̝͖̻̾ͮ̄̓̓ͅi̤̦̤̱͍̝̎̾ṋ̝̪̗̘ͭ͐̉ͣ̑ ͓ͦ̎t̰̖͎͙̐h̪͓̱̫̱̪ͫ̍ͅḙ̩͚̥̜̈̈́̐̆̔ ͋ͬ̍͆́ͣ̿a͈̘̹̮̞̰͊͂̊ͮ̈́̉r̝͈ͫ͆ͤ̾̄m͍͖͔͇̰̫ͯ̎y̦̿ͤ̔̐̃ͫ?͈̥͓̯̈
“Not at all, honestly,” said the Empress. “Do we have a choice?”
Ṇ̠̣͇ͬ̏ǒ͙̦ͧ͆̅̇ͨ.̝̥̬ͯ̒ͣͅ
“But I don’t want to be on the front lines,” protested Cao Mao.
C̘̖̘̯̪͕̀aͬͬ̈́ͧ͌ọ͍̝̗̠͔͎̀̍͋ ͈̥̒̄C͙̯̥̣͉͔a͔̖̭͓͇̮͍͗͐̅ͮ̉ȏ̺͖̞͋͒̀ͪ̚̚ ̞͍̭̫͓̪̀ẁ̍͐̚a͙͖̱͖̤̲̾ͧ̂͗ͅs͔̖̾̋̆̈́́̄n͓̲͉͛̌ͭͫ̀’͚̈t͖̭̝͙̱̐ͭ̽ͮ ̙̤͉̗̠ͮ͆̒̋a̜͖ͥͥͧ͊̆ͩ̃ ̪̓͊ͣ̉͒͋s̯̪͒ͮͧ͌ͥ͑̚c̍ͫ̊a̲̳̘̬͐̾ͤ̾̆ȑ̺͓̲̱̟̖͓ě͍̹͍͌̑ͨd̳̙̓͌ͯ́̓ỷ̘̏͐ͦ̽̌-̮͇̼̟̱ͅc̱͆ͤā͌ͮť͕̯͔ͪ.̖̦̩̐̑ͪ̑ͪ̌̂
“I’m not either,” said Cao Mao, crossing his arms. “Let’s do this. Two hundred and sixty thousand redshirts. Generals, uh, Wang Ji, Chen Qian, Zhou Tai – wait, that Zhou Tai?”
D̗̖̘̺̹̳̔̈́̽̏̏ǐ̲͔̔ͮ̄̆̋ͅͅf͙̐ͫ̈ͦ̈́̅f͎͛̀ê͍͈̪̼̳rͨ̔̊e̟͎̙͖͖̼͗͑ͣͣn͆̓̋ͣ͌̈t̪̝̥̗͊͋ g̪͚̭̹̣̎u̼̖̔ͮ͋́y̰̫̯ͫ͑͌͂.̄̽ͭ̑̇̄
“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, let’s go kick some ass.”
The Imperial army marched south, where they ran into Zhu Yi, the leader of Wu’s vanguard. Wang Ji knocked him out in the third round, and his backup in three more. The first battle was all Wei’s.
“It’s on,” said Zhuge Dan. “Sima Zhao, here we come!”
Saxo Dramaticus 