Cai Yong stepped into the Chancellor's residence with heavy steps.
Each one felt like a mistake.
I should have listened…
I should have listened to Zhang Xin…
Regret gnawed at him like a slow poison.
Back then, Zhang Xin had warned him clearly—
Dong Zhuo needed prestige.
And a man like Cai Yong was the perfect ornament.
He had urged him to remain in Qingzhou.
But Cai Yong hesitated.
His daughter had just been born.
How could he not return?
So he refused.
He left.
And just as predicted—
Two days after arriving in Chenliu—
Dong Zhuo's men came.
At first, Cai Yong refused.
Not out of defiance—
But out of caution.
He understood too well how this would look.
If he entered the capital and was immediately elevated—
The world would say he had bent the knee to a tyrant.
His name, his integrity—ruined in an instant.
So he resisted.
Politely.
Firmly.
Dong Zhuo's reply was simple.
If you do not come—
Your entire clan dies.
Cai Yong came.
And from the moment he stepped into Luoyang—
He understood what it meant to be trapped.
Doctor Libationer.
High Talent.
Imperial Censor.
Censor with Written Authority.
Minister of the Imperial Secretariat.
Three high offices—
Granted within three days.
Too fast.
Too generous.
Too deliberate.
Then—
Administrator of Ba Commandery.
Attendant at Court.
Promotion after promotion.
Like chains forged from gold.
Impossible to refuse.
Impossible to escape.
Cai Yong stood waiting.
When Dong Zhuo emerged—
His expression was dark.
A letter was clenched in his hand.
"Lord Bojie."
Dong Zhuo handed it over.
"I treat you with such favor… yet your disciple raises troops against me?"
Cai Yong's fingers trembled.
He took the letter.
Read it.
And fell silent.
Of course he knew.
Zhang Xin had told him everything.
And now—
Because of him—
His own student stood on the opposing side.
Dong Zhuo watched him.
The anger in his eyes slowly cooled.
"Tell me, Bojie."
His voice softened.
"How have I treated you?"
Cai Yong lowered his head.
"…With great generosity."
Truth.
Cruel, binding truth.
Dong Zhuo stepped closer.
An arm draped over Cai Yong's shoulders.
Heavy.
Like a shackle.
"You've heard about the Yuan brothers, haven't you?"
Cai Yong nodded.
Everyone had.
The coup.
The blood.
The lies dressed as righteousness.
"They rebelled first."
Dong Zhuo's voice dropped.
"Now they raise troops against the capital."
"Treason."
He tightened his grip slightly.
"But your disciple… he is outside the court. Misled. That can be forgiven."
A pause.
"As his teacher—"
"You should correct him."
Cai Yong hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
He nodded.
"I want you to write him a letter."
Dong Zhuo smiled.
"Tell him to return."
"Submit."
"I will recommend him as General of Chariots and Cavalry."
"We will rule together… and suppress these rebels."
Cai Yong thought carefully.
Two outcomes.
If Zhang Xin returned—
The war might end.
And perhaps—
Just perhaps—
Zhang Xin could restrain Dong Zhuo.
"…Very well."
Dong Zhuo laughed.
Called for brush and ink.
The letter was written.
Carefully.
Painfully.
Dong Zhuo read it—
And smiled widely.
He wrote another letter of his own.
Then sent both north.
After that—
He left.
To indulge himself.
War loomed.
The empire burned.
And yet—
He was thinking about which concubine to favor tonight.
Because soon—
The capital would move.
And what he could not take—
He would enjoy first.
The messenger rode hard.
Across the Yellow River.
To Ye.
Zhang Xin stood within a half-built military camp.
Earthworks rising.
Supply lines forming.
Order carved out of chaos.
"Dong Zhuo sent a letter?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Bring him in."
The messenger entered.
Two letters presented with both hands.
Zhang Xin opened Cai Yong's first.
His expression darkened immediately.
"…He still couldn't escape."
He exhaled slowly.
The letter was exactly as expected.
Condemn the coalition.
Urge submission.
And between the lines—
A quiet plea.
Control Dong Zhuo.
Zhang Xin shook his head.
"When this is over… I'll drag him out of politics myself."
"He's not made for this world."
Then he opened Dong Zhuo's letter.
Halfway through—
He almost laughed.
Little brother…
Didn't you say you wouldn't play with the Partisans?
Now look at you.
Come back.
We're family.
I'll give you the title.
Half the palace beauties.
We'll rule together.
Zhang Xin scratched his thigh slightly.
"…Tempting."
Then he read the rest.
If you don't come—
Your teacher dies.
Silence.
Zhang Xin folded the letter slowly.
"Still doesn't understand."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
He picked up a brush.
And wrote three letters.
One—
To Cai Yong.
One—
To Dong Zhuo.
And the last—
To Lü Bu.
The messenger was sent away immediately.
No rest.
No delay.
Not long after—
Wang Ling returned.
"My lord, several youths have come to enlist."
Zhang Xin didn't even look up.
"Handle it."
Wang Ling hesitated.
"Their leader… says he is from Yuyang."
Zhang Xin paused.
Yuyang.
A distant land.
And a familiar one.
"He says he has long admired you… and wishes only to see you once."
Zhang Xin leaned back slightly.
Then smiled.
"Let them in."
Moments later—
More than ten young men entered.
After being searched by Dian Wei, they stepped into the tent.
The one in front—
Stood out immediately.
Handsome.
Sharp-eyed.
Composed.
The moment he saw Zhang Xin—
His gaze ignited.
He stepped forward.
And bowed deeply.
"Tian Yu of Yongnu—"
"Pays respect to Lord Zhang."
And in that moment—
Zhang Xin knew.
This was no ordinary youth.