Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain Treads Upon Liyue
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.
风林火山踏璃月
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武田信玄将《孙子兵法》的“风林火山”发挥到极致，
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以八千甲州精锐布下“雁行阵”诱敌深入，
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在望舒客栈外的芦苇荡发动火攻，焚尽璃月六万大军。
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少年真田幸村赤甲如焰，枪挑璃月护法夜叉魈的傩面，
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当青色面具碎裂的刹那，整个璃月港仿佛听见了山峦的悲鸣。
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---
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璃月的天空，向来是澄澈高远，带着几分仙家逸气的。但今日，这片天际却被异样的云层所笼罩——那不是璃月仙人们驾驭的祥云，也不是潮湿海风带来的水汽，而是一片沉郁的、带着甲州山地泥土气息的铅云，低低地压下来，仿佛武田家阵羽织上染了尘的底色。
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武田信玄勒马立于一处矮丘之上，身侧“风林火山”的军旗在干燥而带着硝石味的风中猎猎作响。他目光沉静，越过脚下大片枯黄的芦苇荡，投向那座矗立在交通要冲的望舒客栈。客栈高耸，飞檐斗拱，确是易守难攻，但在信玄眼中，它更像是一颗钉死在璃月版图上的钉子，拔除它，便能撬动整个战局。他身后，是八千默然肃立的甲州精锐，赤备的胴丸在稀薄的天光下泛着暗红色的光泽，如同蛰伏的火山熔岩。他们没有璃月军那般耀眼的金甲，也没有千岩军结阵时引动的地脉辉光，只有一种历经信浓川与骏河无数血火淬炼出的、磐石般的沉默。
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“其疾如风——”信玄的声音不高，却清晰地传入身后诸将耳中。马场信春、山县昌景等宿将眼神一凛。
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“其徐如林——”真田幸村就在山县昌景身侧，他年轻的脸庞上还带着少年人的锐气，一身朱红具足格外醒目。他紧握着手中的十字文枪，指节因用力而微微发白，目光却越过主帅的肩头，死死盯住客栈最高处，那里，似乎有一缕极淡的青黑色业障之气萦绕不散。
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“侵掠如火——”信玄的语调依旧平稳。
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“不动如山。”最后四字落下，他缓缓抬起了手。
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动了。
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先是山县昌景的赤备骑马队，如同暗红色的潮水，分成数股，沿着芦苇荡的边缘疾驰而出，马蹄敲打着地面，发出沉闷而富有韵律的雷鸣。他们并不直接冲击客栈坚固的正门，而是做出迂回包抄的姿态，箭矢精准地射向客栈外围的哨塔和巡逻的璃月士兵，挑衅，骚扰，一击即走。
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客栈内的璃月守军反应迅速，号角长鸣。指挥官显然被这伙“猖狂”的敌军激怒了，更多的士兵从客栈中涌出，试图凭借人数优势将这些烦人的骑兵驱赶、歼灭。金光闪烁的归终机弩箭矢如飞蝗般射出，在空中划出凌厉的轨迹，却大多落在了赤备骑兵刻意引导的空地上，或是被那些骑兵以精湛的骑术险险避开。
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“雁行诱敌，已成大半。”马场信春低声道。
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信玄微微颔首，目光依旧锁定战场。他看到璃月军的阵型在追击中逐渐拉长、脱节，主力被成功地引诱着，离开了客栈的庇护，进入了那片广袤而干燥的芦苇荡。深秋的芦苇高达数人，枯黄的茎叶在风中摇曳，发出沙沙的声响，仿佛无数细小的低语。
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时机到了。
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第二批部队动了。这是由马场信春率领的足轻主力，他们以紧密的队形，如林般稳步推进，看似是要接应后撤的赤备骑兵，实则是进一步巩固“诱饵”，并将璃月军的注意力牢牢吸引在正面。
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就在璃月指挥官以为抓住了敌军主力，下令全军压上，试图以泰山压顶之势将这数千“不知死活”的入侵者碾碎时——
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信玄高高举起的手，猛地挥下。
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“火起！”
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第三批次，那些早已携带火种、浸油麻束的隐秘小队，从芦苇荡深处、从璃月军视野的死角猛地现身。他们沉默地将手中的火种投入积满枯叶的芦苇丛中。
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“轰——！”
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几乎只是一瞬间的事。干燥的芦苇遇到了明火，立刻爆发出恐怖的燃烧速度。火蛇疯狂窜起，贪婪地舔舐着空气，沿着预设的、涂抹了易燃物的路线急速蔓延，顷刻间便连成一片火海！风助火势，火借风威，“侵略如火”的真意在这一刻展现得淋漓尽致。橙红色的烈焰冲天而起，翻滚的浓烟如同妖魔，张牙舞爪地遮蔽了天空。
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原本秩序井然的璃月大军，瞬间陷入了巨大的混乱。烈焰无情地吞噬着生命，士兵们身上的金属甲胄在高温下变得滚烫，惨叫声、马匹的悲鸣声、火焰燃烧的噼啪声混杂在一起，盖过了指挥官的怒吼。六万大军，在这片精心准备的火狱中，相互践踏，阵型彻底崩溃。归终机的金光在火海中黯然失色，千岩军结成的岩盾也在烈焰的持续灼烧下纷纷碎裂。
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望舒客栈方向传来了急促的仙家符箓爆炸声，试图以水元素力压制火势，但那点清凉的蓝光在无边无际的火海面前，不过是杯水车薪。
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就在这片天地变色的火海背景中，一道青黑色的身影，带着滔天的戾气与业障，自望舒客栈的最高处如陨星般轰然砸向武田信玄所在的本阵！身影未至，那冰冷刺骨的杀意已经让信玄身边的护卫感到呼吸凝滞。
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“妖孽！休伤我主！”
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一声清越的断喝，真田幸村策马冲出，朱红的身影化作一道离弦之箭，十字文枪的枪尖划破灼热的空气，直刺那道青黑身影！
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“铛！”
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金铁交鸣的巨响甚至压过了火焰的咆哮。
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魈的身影被迫停下，他悬浮于半空，手中那柄萦绕着不祥黑气的和璞鸢微微震颤。他戴着狰狞的傩面，只露出一双冰冷、不含任何感情的金色瞳孔，注视着拦在面前的赤甲少年。
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“凡人，寻死。”冰冷的话语从傩面下传出。
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真田幸村没有答话，他的全部精神都已贯注于手中的长枪之上。他能感受到对方身上那股非人的、沉淀了无数岁月的杀戮气息，如同万丈深渊般令人心悸。但他心中没有恐惧，只有燃烧的战意，如同他身上的赤甲，如同身后那片焚尽六万大军的烈焰！
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枪影与鸢影在空中疯狂碰撞。魈的身法如同鬼魅，迅捷无比，每一次闪现都带着致命的杀机。而真田幸村的枪法则如同燎原之火，大开大合，充满了一往无前的惨烈气势。他的枪尖每一次刺出、横扫，都带着灼热的气浪，那是战场之火与他自身武勇的融合。
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十字文枪与和璞鸢不知交锋了多少次，火星四溅，每一次碰撞都激起一圈肉眼可见的气浪。魈的攻势越来越快，业障之力化作黑色的风刃，试图撕裂对手。但真田幸村的身形在马背上辗转腾挪，竟将大部分攻击硬生生接下或避开，枪势反而愈发凌厉。
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“风林火山……其疾如风！”幸村心中默念，枪速骤然再提一截，仿佛融入了四周因火焰而狂暴的气流，点、刺、挑、拨，化作一片红色的枪影风暴，将魈笼罩其中。
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魈的傩面下发出一声不耐的冷哼，业障之力暴涨，身形一晃，幻化出数道残影，从不同方向刺向幸村要害！这是超越了凡人视觉捕捉极限的速度。
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然而，真田幸村在那一瞬间闭上了眼睛。他凭借的不是眼睛，而是无数次生死搏杀中锤炼出的、近乎野兽般的直觉，以及武田家“不动如山”的意志核心！
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“中！”
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“噗嗤！”
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枪尖穿透血肉的沉闷声响。
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时间仿佛在这一刻凝固。
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真田幸村的十字文枪，以一种不可思议的角度，精准地刺穿了魈的一道残影，枪尖更是巧妙地挑中了魈脸上那副青面獠牙的傩面！
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“咔嚓——”
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清脆的碎裂声，在战场喧嚣的背景下显得如此微不足道，却又如此清晰地传入交战双方的耳中。
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那副象征着守护与业障、陪伴了夜叉千百年的傩面，从中裂开，化作碎片，纷纷扬扬地从空中坠落。
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傩面之下，露出一张清冷、俊逸却带着一丝愕然与茫然的脸庞。那双金色的瞳孔微微收缩，映照着下方无边的火海，以及眼前赤甲少年坚定无比的眼神。
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他似乎想说什么，但最终只是抿紧了苍白的嘴唇。业障之力在他周身剧烈波动，却又在某种无形的约束下缓缓平复。他深深地看了真田幸村一眼，那眼神复杂难明，有愤怒，有惊诧，有一丝被窥破真容的愠怒，甚至还有一丝……难以言喻的解脱？
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下一刻，青黑色的光芒一闪，魈的身影已然消失在原地，只余下几片傩面的碎片，在灼热的风中打着旋，最终被火星舔舐，化为灰烬。
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真田幸村驻马原地，微微喘息，十字文枪的枪尖斜指地面。他望着魈消失的方向，年轻的脸庞上没有任何胜利的得意，只有经历恶战后的凝重。
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身后，焚尽六万璃月大军的烈火仍在熊熊燃烧，将望舒客栈孤零零的影子在血色天幕上拉得老长。武田家的“风林火山”旗在热风中狂舞，猎猎作响。
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远在璃月港，似乎有某种无形的悲戚顺着地脉蔓延开来，隐隐约约，仿佛山峦的呜咽。
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