"This humble general believes the Lord's plan… is worth the gamble."
Zhang Liao's voice cut through the tent, low but resolute.
"Our army marched in the second month. Now it is the end of the ninth. More than half a year… and the men have done nothing but wait." His gaze drifted outward, as if he could see the restless soldiers beyond the canvas. "They're not calm. They're suffocating. All that strength, all that hunger—trapped with nowhere to go."
He paused, then added bluntly, "If we don't give them a battlefield soon, they'll find something else to tear apart."
The words hung heavy.
Zhang Xin said nothing.
"For this campaign," Zhang Liao continued, "you chose only young men—twenty to thirty. Strong bodies. Hot blood." He gave a faint, humorless smile. "Too much of it."
Across the river, Dong Zhuo waited like a lurking beast. Silent. Watching.
To conserve strength, Zhang Xin had split the army into three rotating groups—one trained, two rested. No one was exhausted. No one was worn down.
But that only made it worse.
They were sharp. Coiled. Unspent.
Every three days, a man trained once. The rest of the time, he waited—with his thoughts.
And thoughts, in a stagnant camp, turned poisonous.
"Even so… we should wait."
Xun You's voice was steady, but there was strain beneath it.
"When the Yellow River freezes, Dong Zhuo loses his shield. His men are already rotting from within—far from home, surrounded by ghosts and ashes." He exhaled slowly. "At that time, we strike. Cleanly. Decisively."
He looked directly at Zhang Xin.
"Your plan is not flawed. It is dangerous."
A pause.
"And danger… does not always reward courage. Sometimes it only buries it."
Since Dong Zhuo entered the capital the previous year, his army had been away from home for over twelve months.
But home no longer existed.
Luoyang was ash.
The people were gone—dead, scattered, or enslaved.
There was nothing left to loot. Nothing left to burn.
Even cruelty had been exhausted.
The soldiers camped in that wasteland like ghosts among ruins. At first, they endured. But as months passed, something quieter crept in.
Loneliness.
Then fear.
Then madness.
Outside the pass, hundreds of thousands of allied troops loomed like a tightening noose.
"When the river freezes," Xun You continued softly, "they will realize there is no escape."
"And that," he said, "is when men break."
Zhang Liao frowned.
"How can there be war without risk?" he snapped. "If we keep waiting for the perfect moment, we'll die of hesitation before the enemy ever touches us."
He had had enough of waiting.
Months in camp had worn his patience thin. Every day without battle felt like rot setting into his bones.
"War," Xun You replied coldly, "is not a place for your boredom."
The tent fell silent.
Zhang Xin watched them both, saying nothing—only calculating.
Then—
"Report! Xu He requests an audience!"
Zhang Xin's brow furrowed slightly.
"…Why is he here?"
Something felt off.
Moments later, Xu He rushed in, breath uneven, face pale.
He didn't even wait to settle.
"Lord… are you going to surrender to Dong Zhuo?"
The words struck like a blade.
"Nonsense."
Zhang Xin's voice turned cold instantly. "Do you think so little of me?"
"But it's everywhere!" Xu He's voice trembled. "Wang Kuang's men curse outside our camp every day! In Henan—great clans, commoners—everyone is saying it!"
"That you've already decided to kneel to Dong Zhuo!"
"The vanguard is shaken. Some don't even know who they're supposed to be fighting anymore!"
Silence.
Then—
The air inside the tent turned heavy, suffocating.
"…Yuan Shao."
Xun You's voice was filled with barely restrained anger.
"With the enemy before us, he chooses to stab from behind." His lips curled faintly. "Four generations of Three Excellencies… and this is what remains."
Zhang Liao let out a low, mocking laugh.
"Dong Zhuo couldn't spread rumors this fast if he tried." His eyes darkened. "This isn't rumor."
"It's design."
"Public opinion," he spat, "shaped like a knife."
Xu He froze. "…Then… the grain supply…"
"Cut off," Zhang Liao said flatly.
Xu He staggered back a step, face draining of blood.
Zhang Xin, however, smiled.
Calm. Almost amused.
"Relax."
That single word steadied nothing.
"I anticipated this long ago," he said lightly. "At Suanzao, I already saw what kind of 'alliance' this was."
"A group of wolves pretending to be hounds."
"Our reliance on Yuan Shao for grain was… a weakness." His gaze sharpened. "So I removed it."
"I had the Black Mountain forces establish a hidden depot in the Taihang Mountains. Zhao Yun guards it with three thousand men."
Xu He blinked. "How much grain…?"
"Two hundred thousand shi."
Silence.
Relief flooded the room—but uneasily.
That wasn't foresight.
That was preparation for betrayal.
Xun You studied Zhang Xin more carefully now.
"…The Black Mountain Army is not generous. How did you convince them?"
"I traded," Zhang Xin said simply.
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't need to.
Xun You lowered his eyes.
"…Then we cannot wait any longer."
Two more months, and Yuan Shao's whispers would become truth in the minds of the world.
Reputation, once poisoned, did not heal.
Zhang Liao grinned, something feral in it.
"Finally."
Zhang Xin nodded slowly.
"…But we won't follow the old plan."
He spread the map, his finger landing on Huai County.
"First—"
His voice hardened.
"—we break Yuan Shao."
Xun You's head snapped up. "Lord, you must not—this will be seen as internal strife! The world will—"
"What internal strife?"
Zhang Xin stood, hands behind his back, posture straight, voice filled with cold certainty.
"I am the vice-alliance leader. I uphold order."
His eyes gleamed.
"It is Yuan Shao who colludes with Dong Zhuo."
"It is Yuan Shao who raises troops against me."
The lie was spoken without hesitation.
Xun You stared at him.
"…The people are not fools."
Zhang Xin let out a quiet laugh.
"Fools? Smart?" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
His expression turned sharp—almost cruel.
"History is not written by the clever."
"It is written by the victorious."
A pause.
"As long as we crush Dong Zhuo…"
His gaze turned distant, cold as iron.
"…then Yuan Shao will have always been the traitor."
He looked back at Xun You.
"Gongda," he said softly, "a gentleman judges actions, not intentions."
"And the dead," he added after a beat, "have no intentions left to judge."