Night fell over the western ridges, cloaking the fortress in darkness. Lanterns flickered along the battlements, casting long shadows that danced like specters. Jeng Minh stood in the command hall, examining the reports from the first trap.
"They have taken the bait," he murmured, tracing the movements of the Silver Divide scouts across the map. "And they believe the battlefield belongs to them."
Bai Ye leaned over the table. "Commander… they might suspect something, but they haven't yet. What is the next step?"
Jeng Minh's eyes glimmered with cold focus. "We layer the deception. One trap is temporary. The true web is yet to be revealed."
Over the next two days, Jeng Minh orchestrated a series of staged movements.
False troop reinforcements were spotted along ridgelines.
Empty supply caches were "discovered" and left deliberately unguarded.
Signals were sent—flags, fires, and noise—suggesting that the fortress's strength had weakened after the first strike.
Every act was calculated to echo through the Silver Divide's ranks, amplifying their perception of vulnerability.
"They think they see cracks in our armor," Jeng Minh explained. "Let them believe it. Every illusion strengthens the reality we will create for them."
Predictably, the Silver Divide commander responded. They divided their forces, sending contingents to probe the supposed weak points.
But every move was anticipated. Hidden units, including members of the Elite Guard, shadowed each enemy detachment. Misdirection, feints, and sudden appearances created confusion and hesitation.
Heiman, observing from a ridge, muttered, "They move like puppets… and someone else holds the strings."
"Yes," Jeng Minh replied, calm and precise. "And the puppeteer is always unseen."
The true genius of Jeng Minh's plan lay not only in physical traps, but in the mental strain he imposed.
Messages were intercepted and subtly altered. Whispered rumors suggested betrayal among the Silver Divide officers. Troop movements were misreported, forcing the enemy to constantly question their own intelligence.
"Doubt is a sharper blade than any sword," Jeng Minh said. "When they hesitate, even for a heartbeat, we control the battle."
By the fourth day, reports confirmed chaos within the enemy's ranks. Skirmishes erupted not out of strategy but from confusion. Contingents retreated in disorder, leaving behind provisions, weapons, and crucial documents that revealed parts of their strategy.
Bai Ye could hardly hide his excitement. "Commander… it's working. They're unraveling without a full engagement."
Jeng Minh's expression remained composed, though a faint shadow of satisfaction touched his lips. "Yes… but the war is far from over. This is only the first echo. The full symphony comes next."
In the fortress, new plans were drawn. Jeng Minh prepared the main trap—a confrontation that would consolidate control over the western frontier.
The Elite Guard drilled relentlessly, and scouts were sent to monitor every hidden path, ensuring no enemy movement went unnoticed. Every ridge, every river crossing, every shadow would serve the purpose of bending the Silver Divide to his strategy.
"Tomorrow," Jeng Minh said, looking toward the west, "we begin the orchestration of the final act. They believe they move freely—but every step will be guided, every decision influenced, every outcome anticipated."
The fortress lay silent under the moonlight, a bastion of control, foresight, and shadows—waiting for the enemy to walk into a trap they could never see coming.