Suanzao sat at the throat of the land.
To the west, one hundred and fifty li away, lay Xingyang.Beyond it—Chenggao.
And further still—
Hulao Pass.
A gate that could decide the fate of the realm.
Since Zhang Xin issued his proclamation to punish Dong Zhuo, letters had poured in from every direction.
All asking the same thing—
What now?
Because among the gathered lords…
There was almost no one who truly understood war.
Cao Cao counted as half.
Bao Xin counted as half.
Together, they barely made one.
Without Zhang Xin—
They were blind men holding swords.
Zhang Xin's reply was concise.
Yuan Shu would advance from Nanyang, crossing the Danshui and entering through Wuguan—cutting off Dong Zhuo's retreat to Chang'an.
Zhang Xin himself would station in Henan, press toward Mengjin, and threaten Luoyang from the north.
The remaining lords would gather at Suanzao—seize Aocang, take Chenggao, and split forces to hold key passes like Huanyuan and Taigu.
Step by step—
Seal the cage.
Trap Dong Zhuo in Luoyang.
Like a beast waiting to be slaughtered.
When Cao Cao read the letter—
He slapped his thigh and burst into laughter.
"Brilliant! Marquis Xuanwei truly deserves his reputation!"
"These strategies strike at the very heart of warfare!"
"I thought the same myself—truly, great minds think alike!"
Cao Ren rolled his eyes.
"Brother… stop lying to yourself."
Cao Cao stiffened.
"What do you mean lying? I did think of it!"
"Yes, yes, of course you did."
Cao Ren waved him off, uninterested.
The other lords, after reading the letter, all fell silent.
Then—
One by one—
They nodded.
Not because they understood it fully.
But because they had no better plan.
Henan to the north.Nanyang to the south.Suanzao at the center.
A perfect gathering point.
Zhang Xin, however, did not bring a grand army.
He sent his forces ahead to Wild King.
He himself came lightly—
Only one thousand cavalry.
On the fifteenth day of the second month—
He arrived.
The lords came out to greet him.
Among them—
Cao Cao rushed forward first, smiling broadly, almost eagerly.
"Marquis Xuanwei—you've finally arrived!"
His tone carried a hint of relief.
And something else.
Dependence.
Zhang Xin dismounted, cupped his hands.
"My apologies, gentlemen. Matters in my province delayed me."
"No matter, no matter!"
The lords hurried to respond.
Their smiles were warm.
Their eyes—
Less so.
Zhang Xin observed them carefully.
One by one.
Memorizing faces.
Measuring ambition.
After formalities, he walked into the camp.
The others followed behind him.
Along the way—
He looked at the soldiers.
And frowned.
These men…
Were not soldiers.
They were farmers.
Dragged from their fields.
Their armor was scarce.
Their weapons—mostly wooden sticks.
Their eyes—dull.
No killing intent.
No discipline.
No spirit.
Zhang Xin's lips curled faintly.
With troops like these…
No wonder they dare not advance.
If I were them… I wouldn't either.
Inside the main tent—
Seats were arranged in two rows.
At the center—
The commander's position stood empty.
Waiting.
"Marquis Xuanwei, please."
Cao Cao gestured to the seat of honor.
Zhang Xin did not decline.
He sat.
Naturally.
As if it had always been his.
Yuan Shu watched him.
Then silently took the opposite seat.
Second in rank.
Second in pride.
The rest followed.
According to rank.
According to ambition.
Cao Cao, lacking official standing, sat near the entrance.
Smiling.
Watching.
Waiting.
Zhang Xin spoke first.
"I have just arrived. What has happened in Luoyang?"
Cao Cao answered eagerly.
Words spilling out like a flood.
Dong Zhuo had poisoned Liu Bian.
A message to the world:
Your emperor is dead.
Stop pretending otherwise.
The lords ignored him.
Yuan Shu raised fifty thousand troops from Nanyang alone.
Through connections.
Through ruthless taxation.
Through force.
Across the land—
Armies rose.
Ten thousand here.
Thirty thousand there.
Two hundred thousand in total.
Four hundred thousand, if one counted the baggage train.
An ocean of men.
Dong Zhuo—
Was afraid.
He dismissed officials.
Executed dissenters.
Promoted those who obeyed.
And decided—
To abandon Luoyang.
Move the capital.
Zhang Xin listened quietly.
Then asked:
"So… he is retreating?"
"Yes."
Zhang Xin nodded slowly.
Understanding something deeper.
Something unspoken.
Silence filled the tent.
Then—
Wang Kuang spoke.
"Marquis Xuanwei has arrived. The lords are gathered."
"We fight for righteousness."
"We must choose a leader."
The words hung heavy.
A leader.
The lords exchanged glances.
No one spoke first.
No one wished to yield.
But no one dared to step forward either.
Then—
Cao Cao stood.
Without hesitation.
"Marquis Xuanwei has fought countless battles."
"A renowned general."
"A pillar of the late emperor."
His voice was clear.
Firm.
"He should be the alliance leader."
For a moment—
Silence.
Zhang Xin looked at him.
A trace of surprise in his eyes.
Cao Cao… recommending me?
Bao Xin immediately followed.
"I agree."
"Marquis Xuanwei should lead."
The tent grew quieter.
Some nodded.
Some hesitated.
Some watched—
Carefully.
Because everyone understood—
This was not just about a leader.
It was about—
Who would control the war.
Who would command the armies.
And who—
Would hold the fate of the empire in their hands.
And now—
All eyes turned—
Toward Zhang Xin.