Low-angle wide in the courtyard; clockwise full orbit around her, easing fast to slow. Five soldiers close in on staggered timing; she sweeps a low circular parry deflecting two spears, reverses grip to knock a shield rim aside, then a burning oil pot detonates at the gate - she drops her center, angles the guandao across her body, boots skidding back three meters over ice, slicing a flying burning plank aside. Her spin whips the mantle into a circular trail; the blast births an orange fireball and fan-shaped shockwave, snapping braid and hem taut backward. Sound: layered readable clashes, boots on ice, air-suck then deep boom, shrieking skid. Transition: burning plank grazes the lens from right, flame wipe.