After leaving the residence of Ma Ridi, Zhang Xin went to bid farewell to his teacher, Cai Yong.
Cai Yong was overjoyed to see him.
"Ziqing, now that you go to Qingzhou, you must be diligent and share His Majesty's burdens."
For days, he had been on edge watching Zhang Xin clash repeatedly with He Jin. Though he wished to help, he lacked real influence. Most of his powerful allies were gone, and even Lu Zhi was not on good terms with Zhang Xin.
Now that his disciple was leaving Luoyang, Cai Yong finally felt relieved.
After exchanging pleasantries, they sat down.
Zhang Xin's expression grew serious.
"Teacher… do you trust me?"
Cai Yong was startled. "We are master and disciple. How could I not trust you?"
In his eyes, Zhang Xin was nearly flawless—talented, capable, filial, and compassionate. He had even saved Cai Yong's daughter during the chaos of the Yellow Turban Rebellion.
Zhang Xin rose, stepped outside, dismissed the servants, and ordered Dian Wei to stand guard.
Only then did he return and sit close.
"If you trust me, then after I leave… resign from your post."
"Resign?" Cai Yong frowned. "Why?"
"I cannot explain everything," Zhang Xin said quietly. "But Luoyang is extremely dangerous right now. If you stay, your life may be at risk."
Cai Yong studied him for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded.
"Very well. I will do as you say."
He trusted his disciple's judgment more than his own.
"But what reason should I give?" he asked. "His Majesty may not approve easily."
Zhang Xin thought briefly.
"Use filial piety—say you must repair ancestral graves. If that fails, request a year's leave."
Cai Yong agreed.
After leaving, Zhang Xin went straight to the palace to bid farewell to Emperor Ling of Han.
Liu Hong encouraged him warmly.
"Pacify Qingzhou quickly and return. I'll be waiting for you in Luoyang."
Zhang Xin's vision blurred.
This emperor—his brother-in-law—had treated him well.
For a fleeting moment, he thought:
If only he could live longer… perhaps serving the Han would not be so bad.
Seeing his emotion, Liu Hong laughed.
"Why the tears? It's not as if we won't meet again."
Zhang Xin bowed deeply and departed.
Back home, his family had already been reunited—thanks to Liu Hong's orders. He spent a rare peaceful night with them before preparing to leave.
The next day, he visited Ma Ridi again.
"My lord," Ma Ridi said helplessly, "Yuan Pang is only willing to provide one thousand sets of armor."
Zhang Xin smiled. "That's already generous."
Since he was now Governor of Qingzhou, the court was not obligated to supply him. Even this much came with a condition—
"A written IOU," Ma Ridi added.
Zhang Xin paused… then sighed.
"Fine. I'll write it."
After signing the debt note, he collected the armor and weapons and had them transported out of the city.
Outside Luoyang, his forces had already gathered—three hundred former Yellow Turbans, along with Xun You and others.
Without delay, Zhang Xin led them north, crossing the Yellow River at Mengjin and entering Hanoi Commandery.
He temporarily stationed his forces at Heyang, gathering troops and purchasing supplies.
With over 3,000 men, the march to Qingzhou would take about a month.
Grain costs alone reached hundreds of thousands of coins—but Zhang Xin could afford it. His rewards from previous campaigns had already made him wealthy.
Inside his command tent, he spread out a map of Qingzhou.
Qingzhou contained six major regions:
Jinan Le'an Beihai Qi Pingyuan Donglai
Nearly four million people in total.
Pingyuan alone held over a million—and was the heart of the rebellion.
Traditionally, the provincial seat was in Linzi, capital of Qi.
But Zhang Xin had already made his decision.
Move the administrative center to Pingyuan.
His reasoning was clear.
The Mount Tai region in western Qingzhou formed a natural barrier. While it protected the land, it also restricted troop movement.
If he stayed in Linzi, future campaigns—especially toward Luoyang—would be inefficient.
From Pingyuan, however…
He could strike directly.
Zhang Xin narrowed his eyes at the map.
"If we launch from Pingyuan…"
The routes, the terrain, the future battlefield—
All began to take shape in his mind.