Wang Kuang was still feasting when the messenger arrived.
"What?! Zhang Xin has left his camp… to attack Lord Yuan?!"
The wine in his hand suddenly turned bitter.
The meat on the table lost all taste.
"Quick! Summon the generals! We march—now! We save Lord Yuan!"
Panic spread faster than orders.
Moments later, the tent filled.
"Zhang Xin, that traitor, has sided with Dong Zhuo and turned his blade on Yuan Shao—"
Before he could finish—
"Lord, you must not!"
A voice cut through the noise.
Wang Kuang turned sharply.
Han Hao stepped forward.
He was calm—but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
"Why not?" Wang Kuang snapped, already irritated.
Han Hao did not flinch.
"Dong Zhuo's army is across the river," he said. "If we empty the camp, he will cross immediately. He won't hesitate."
That single sentence was enough.
Wang Kuang froze.
The image came back to him—the slaughtered Yu Province soldiers, bodies piled like refuse, blood soaking into the earth.
He shivered.
"…Then what do you suggest?" he asked, his voice lower now.
Han Hao bowed slightly.
"In my view, we do nothing."
The words shocked the room.
"Lord Yuan has men, walls, and supplies—at least, that is what everyone believes." His tone carried a faint, unspoken doubt. "Zhang Xin lacks provisions. If Lord Yuan holds for two days, Zhang Xin's army will collapse on its own."
"We only need to watch Dong Zhuo."
Simple.
Cold.
Logical.
Wang Kuang hesitated.
It sounded right.
Too right.
"But…" he frowned, unease creeping back in, "Zhang Xin is no fool. If Yuan Shao cannot hold…"
His voice dropped.
"What if Zhang Xin wins?"
Silence.
"What if he turns back—joins with Dong Zhuo—and crushes us between them?"
The tent grew colder.
Han Hao didn't answer immediately.
Because he couldn't dismiss it.
"…Then I will go."
He raised his head.
"I will take a detachment. Reinforce Lord Yuan."
Wang Kuang's eyes lit up.
"Good! Take ten thousand—"
"Five thousand is enough."
Han Hao cut him off cleanly.
"My goal is not to fight head-on, but to disturb his rear. Too many men will only slow me down."
He glanced toward the river.
"You must remain here. If Dong Zhuo crosses, you will need every soldier."
Wang Kuang hesitated—then nodded.
Fear made the decision for him.
"Very well. Take five thousand. Go!"
Not long after Han Hao departed—
Zhang Xin received the report.
"This Wang Kuang…" he exhaled slowly, "…finally moved."
There was relief in his voice.
But also something darker.
Calculation settling into certainty.
"Gongda," he said, turning to Xun You, "it's time."
Xun You's expression remained grave.
"Lord… be careful."
Zhang Xin smiled.
Carefree. Almost arrogant.
"With Dian Wei at my side, who could possibly harm me?"
Then his tone shifted.
Sharp. Serious.
"You're the one in danger."
He looked toward the camp behind them.
"Guarding the main force… that's where the real knife will fall."
Xun You nodded.
"I understand."
Zhang Xin turned to Xu He and the others.
"If anything happens to the Military Advisor—"
His voice turned ice-cold.
"Bring me your heads."
No one dared hesitate.
"We will protect him with our lives!"
"Good."
Zhang Xin mounted his horse in one smooth motion.
"Depart!"
The gates opened.
The army moved.
Two thousand five hundred Yellow Turban veterans—each with two horses—rode out, banners doubling their apparent number.
Five thousand… at least, to anyone watching from afar.
They headed straight toward Han Hao.
The bait moved.
Dong Zhuo's scouts never stopped reporting.
"Wang Kuang's forces have left the camp—heading toward Huai County!"
"Zhang Xin's cavalry has left the camp—moving to intercept!"
Dong Zhuo's eyes lit up.
"Five thousand cavalry?"
"Yes. The banners and the sound—there's no mistake."
Dong Zhuo laughed.
A deep, satisfied laugh.
"So that's it."
"Zhang Xin left his cavalry behind… to cut off reinforcements."
He nodded repeatedly, more convinced with every word.
"If it were me… I'd do the same."
Everything fit.
Too perfectly.
Zhang Xin was all-in.
Twenty thousand infantry.
Five thousand cavalry.
Nothing left behind.
A gamble for total victory.
Dong Zhuo looked up at the sky.
It was already Wei Shi.
If he waited longer, darkness would steal the battlefield.
He hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
"Enough."
His voice rang out.
"Pass my orders!"
"Niu Fu—ten thousand men. Feign a crossing at Mengjin. Draw Wang Kuang out!"
"Hu Zhen—five thousand cavalry, six thousand infantry. Move to Xiaoping Ford. Build the bridge. Cross fast."
His eyes gleamed with ruthless intent.
"Strike Wang Kuang from behind."
"Break him—then don't linger."
"Go burn Zhang Xin's camp to the ground."
Victory unfolded in his mind.
Clean.
Decisive.
Inevitable.
Jia Xu stood silently nearby.
He said nothing.
But something gnawed at him.
This… was too smooth.
Zhang Xin—out of supplies?
Zhang Xin—committing everything?
Zhang Xin—leaving nothing behind?
It all made sense.
And yet—
That was exactly the problem.
It made too much sense.
But he couldn't find the flaw.
And without a flaw—
There was nothing to oppose.
At Mengjin—
Niu Fu began the crossing.
Hundreds of boats pushed into the river, each carrying a handful of soldiers.
They moved slowly.
Deliberately.
Visible.
Obvious.
Soon—
"They're crossing!"
Wang Kuang's scouts shouted.
Wang Kuang's face lit up with relief.
"Good… good!"
"Han Hao was right."
"If I had left—"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
"Archers! Forward!"
Arrows rained down on the river.
Dong Zhuo's men raised shields, taking losses—but continuing forward stubbornly.
More and more boats followed.
Wang Kuang frowned.
Why… weren't they retreating?
"Bring all troops out!" he ordered.
Fifteen thousand men filled the northern bank.
A show of force.
A warning.
But Dong Zhuo's soldiers kept coming.
Even as men fell into the river.
Even as arrows pierced shields.
They kept advancing.
Like they didn't care about dying.
Wang Kuang clenched his fists.
"He wants to reinforce Zhang Xin…"
The conclusion felt solid.
So he committed fully.
He had to.
He thought he understood the battlefield.
He thought he saw the truth.
But ten li to the west—
At Xiaoping Ford—
The real blade was already being drawn.