Takeda Shingen embodied the Art of War’s maxim of Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain to its absolute peak.

Leading eight thousand elite Koshu warriors, he deployed the Wild Goose Formation to lure the enemy deep into the trap.

Beyond Wangshu Inn, amid the reed marshes, he unleashed a fire attack, incinerating Liyue’s sixty-thousand-strong army to ashes.

 

The young Sanada Yukimura, clad in crimson armor like blazing flame, struck and shattered the Nuo mask of Xiao, Liyue’s Guardian Yaksha, with his spear.

The moment the cyan mask splintered, the whole of Liyue Port seemed to echo with the mournful wail of mountains.

 

 

 

The skies over Liyue had always been clear, lofty, and imbued with the ethereal grace of immortals. But today, the firmament was shrouded by an ominous cloud mass—not the auspicious clouds ridden by Liyue’s adepti, nor mist borne of damp sea breezes, but a somber leaden haze heavy with the earthy scent of Koshu’s mountain lands. It hung low overhead, like the dust-stained base hue of the battle surcoats worn by the Takeda clan.

 

Takeda Shingen reined his steed atop a low mound. Beside him, the war standard emblazoned with Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain fluttered fiercely in the dry, saltpeter-tinged wind. His gaze was calm, sweeping across the vast withered reed marshes below to fix upon Wangshu Inn, standing sentinel at a strategic thoroughfare. Towering with upturned eaves and intricate dougong brackets, the inn was naturally easy to defend yet hard to storm. To Shingen, however, it was no more than a nail driven firm into Liyue’s territory; pull it out, and the entire tide of battle would shift.

 

Behind him stood eight thousand silent, disciplined Koshu elites. The red-armoured samurai’s doumaru glinted with a dull crimson sheen under the thin daylight, slumbering like molten volcanic lava. They bore none of the dazzling golden plate of Liyue’s soldiers, nor the ley-line radiance stirred by the Millelith’s formation. All they carried was a rock-solid silence forged through countless battles and bloodshed along the Shinano and Suruga rivers.

 

"Swift as the wind—" Shingen’s voice was low yet crystal-clear to the generals behind him. Seasoned veterans like Baba Nobuharu and Yamagata Masakage sharpened their gazes at once.

 

"Quiet as the forest—"

Sanada Yukimura stood at Yamagata Masakage’s side. Youthful resolve lingered on his young features, his vermilion full armour striking amid the ranks. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his cross-headed spear tight. Past his lord’s shoulder, his stare locked rigidly onto the inn’s highest spire, where a faint wisp of cyan-black karmic haze lingered unyieldingly.

 

"Raging as fire—" Shingen’s tone remained steady and unwavering.

 

"Unmovable as the mountain."

As the final four words fell, he slowly raised his hand.

 

They moved.

 

First charged Yamagata Masakage’s Red Armoured Cavalry, a dark crimson tide splitting into detachments to gallop along the reed marsh’s edge. Hooves thundered against the earth in a deep, rhythmic rumble like distant thunder. Instead of charging the inn’s fortified main gate head-on, they wheeled to outflank it. Arrows streaked true toward perimeter watchtowers and patrolling Liyue soldiers—provoke, harry, strike, then withdraw in an instant.

 

Liyue’s defenders within the inn reacted at once, horns blaring loud. Enraged by the insolent raiders, the commanding officer sent wave after wave of soldiers pouring out, determined to drive and annihilate the troublesome cavalry with sheer numbers. Golden bolts from the Guizhong Ballistae swarmed like locusts, carving sharp trails through the air—yet most landed on empty ground lured deliberately by the cavalry, or were narrowly evaded by their masterful horsemanship.

 

"The Wild Goose lure is nearly complete," murmured Baba Nobuharu under his breath.

 

Shingen gave a slight nod, his eyes still fixed on the battlefield. He watched as Liyue’s battle lines stretched and fractured in their pursuit, their main force drawn far from the inn’s defenses and deep into the vast, parched reed marsh. The autumn reeds rose as tall as a man, their withered stems rustling in the wind like endless faint whispers.

 

The moment had come.

 

The second contingent advanced: ashigaru foot soldiers led by Baba Nobuharu, marching in tight formation like an unyielding forest. Ostensibly coming to cover the retreating cavalry, they instead tightened the lure, pinning Liyue’s full attention to the frontlines.

 

Just as Liyue’s commander, believing he had cornered the enemy’s main force, ordered a full advance to crush these thousands of foolhardy invaders with overwhelming momentum—

 

The hand Shingen had held high sliced sharply downward.

 

"Ignite the flames!"

 

From hidden corners deep within the reed marsh, blind spots unseen by Liyue’s forces, the third strike team emerged. Silent and stealthy, they carried firebrands and oil-soaked torches, tossing them into the dry reed thickets littered with fallen leaves.

 

BOOM—!

 

It erupted in an instant.

 

Dry reeds caught flame in a terrifying blaze. Fire serpents reared high, greedily devouring the air, spreading rapidly along pre-laid flammable trails to merge into an unbroken sea of fire! Wind fed the flames, and the fire rode the gale—the true meaning of Raging as fire laid bare for all to see. Orange-red flames roared skyward, billowing smoke coiling like fiends to blot out the heavens.

 

Liyue’s once-orderly army descended into utter chaos. Flames devoured lives without mercy; metal armour seared scorching hot under the intense heat. Screams of the dying, wails of terrified horses, and the crackle of burning undergrowth drowned out the commander’s roaring orders. Sixty thousand soldiers trampled one another in the meticulously crafted fire purgatory, their formation shattered beyond repair. The golden light of Guizhong Ballistae dimmed to nothing amid the inferno, and the rock barriers conjured by the Millelith splintered one after another beneath the relentless blaze.

 

From Wangshu Inn came the sharp detonation of adepti talismans, wielding hydro energy to smother the flames. Yet their faint cool blue light was but a drop in the endless ocean of fire, futile and insignificant.

 

Amid this apocalyptic sea of flame, a cyan-black figure surged down from Wangshu Inn’s highest peak like a falling meteor, crashing straight toward Takeda Shingen’s main camp. Before the figure even landed, its bone-chilling killing intent clamped over Shingen’s guards, stealing their breath away.

 

"Fiend! Lay not a hand upon my lord!"

 

A clear, sharp shout rang out. Sanada Yukimura spurred his steed forward, his crimson form loosing like an arrow from the bow. The tip of his cross-headed spear sliced through the scorching air, thrusting straight for the cyan-black apparition.

 

CLANG!

 

The deafening clash of metal rang louder even than the fire’s roar.

 

Xiao was forced to halt, hovering mid-air. His Primordial Jade Winged-Spear, wreathed in ominous black mist, trembled in his grip. A ferocious Nuo mask concealed his features, leaving only cold, emotionless golden eyes fixed upon the red-armoured youth blocking his path.

 

"Mortal. You court death." Cold words spilled from beneath the mask.

 

Sanada Yukimura made no reply. Every fibre of his being focused entirely on his spear. He could feel the inhuman, ancient killing aura emanating from Xiao—an abyss of bloodshed accumulated over millennia, enough to chill the soul. Yet fear found no place in his heart; only burning resolve, as fierce as his crimson armour, as raging as the fire that had incinerated sixty thousand Liyue troops behind him.

 

Spear shadows clashed wildly against the jade spear’s flurries. Xiao moved like a phantom, blindingly fast, every fade and reappearance carrying lethal menace. Yukimura’s spearplay burned like a wildfire—broad, unyielding, steeped in the desperate valour of a warrior charging without retreat. Every thrust, sweep and parry rode waves of searing heat, a fusion of battlefield fire and his own unrivaled martial spirit.

 

Spear and jade spear clashed countless times, sending sparks flying. Each collision sent visible shockwaves rippling outward. Xiao’s strikes grew ever faster, karmic energy coalescing into black wind blades that sought to rend his foe apart. Yet Yukimura twisted and turned atop his steed, weathering or evading the brunt of the assault, his spear growing ever sharper and more relentless.

 

Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain… Swift as the wind! Yukimura chanted inwardly. His spear speed surged anew, merging with the violent wind stirred by the blaze. Thrust, jab, parry, strike—his spear wove a storm of crimson steel, entrapping Xiao entirely within its vortex.

 

An impatient cold huff escaped beneath Xiao’s mask. His karmic power flared violently; his form blurred, splitting into multiple afterimages that struck for Yukimura’s vital points from all directions—speed far beyond mortal sight to follow.

 

In that instant, Sanada Yukimura closed his eyes. He relied not on vision, but on the primal intuition honed through countless life-or-death duels, and the unshakable will of the Takeda clan: Unmovable as the mountain.

 

Got you.

 

Squelch!

 

The dull, heavy sound of spear piercing flesh cut through the din.

 

Time seemed to freeze.

 

At an impossible angle, Sanada Yukimura’s cross-headed spear pierced straight through one of Xiao’s afterimages, its tip deftly hooking and prying at the yaksha’s fierce Nuo mask.

 

Crack—

 

The crisp shatter was almost lost amid the battlefield’s chaos, yet it rang clear as day to both combatants.

 

The Nuo mask—symbol of guardianship and karmic torment, companion to the yaksha for centuries—split down the middle, shards drifting down through the air.

 

Beneath the mask lay a cold, elegant face etched with faint shock and bewilderment. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the endless sea of fire below and the unwavering resolve in the young samurai’s gaze.

 

He seemed on the verge of speaking, yet only pressed his pale lips tight. Karmic energy roiled violently around him, then settled slowly under some invisible restraint. He fixed Sanada Yukimura with a long, complex gaze—flecked with rage, astonishment, irritation at having his true face laid bare, and even a flicker of inexplicable release.

 

The next moment, cyan-black light flashed, and Xiao’s form vanished without a trace. Only a few mask shards spun in the scorching wind, before being licked by embers and reduced to ash.

 

Sanada Yukimura reined his steed, breathing heavily, his spear slanting to the ground. He stared toward where Xiao had disappeared, no trace of triumph on his young face—only the solemn weight of a brutal battle fought.

 

Behind him, the flames that had consumed Liyue’s sixty thousand soldiers still raged relentlessly, stretching Wangshu Inn’s lonely shadow long across the blood-red sky. The Takeda Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain standard danced wildly in the hot gale.

 

Far off in Liyue Port, an intangible sorrow seeped through the ley lines, faint and distant—like the mournful sob of mountains.