Zhang Xin looked at him for a moment, then finally nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. Remember it well."
Zhang Niujiao straightened his posture, clasped his fists, and bowed once more—this time with far more solemnity than before.
"This subordinate understands, my lord!"
Only then did Zhang Xin wave his hand, signaling for him to leave.
After Zhang Niujiao exited, the room gradually fell silent again.
Zhang Xin lowered his gaze, fingers lightly tapping against the table, his expression no longer as relaxed as it had been during the banquet.
Titles… ranks… authority…
These things were never just about honor.
They were lines.
Lines that separated ruler and subject. Lines that defined order. Lines that, if blurred, could one day cost lives.
Zhang Niujiao calling him "Commander-in-Chief" in private was loyalty.
But calling him that in public?
That was a problem.
Because now, he was no longer just the leader of a band of Yellow Turbans.
He was an official of the Han court. A marquis. The governor of Youzhou.
Every word, every title, every gesture—others would be watching.
"If even Niujiao hasn't fully adjusted yet…" Zhang Xin muttered softly.
Then the others…
Zuo Bao. Hu Cai. Li Le.
Even the newly promoted officers.
How many of them still saw him as their old commander, rather than a lord of the Han?
Thinking of this, Zhang Xin slowly exhaled.
"Seems like…"
"It's not just the army that needs to be reorganized."
"It's people's hearts."
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, Zhang Xin picked up the bamboo slip Cai Yong had given him earlier, but after staring at it for a long time, he didn't turn a single page.
Some matters couldn't be learned from books.
They had to be managed—carefully, patiently… and sometimes, ruthlessly.