Chen Lin's brush moved like a blade.
Every stroke cut.
Every word bled.
He began with Dong Zhuo.
Not merely condemnation—but dissection. Each crime laid bare, each cruelty dragged into the light, until even the name "Dong Zhuo" seemed soaked in rot.
Then—
He turned the blade.
To Yuan Shao.
"How," the Manifesto demanded, "can a family that has served as Three Ducal Ministers for four generations… produce such filth?"
The words were not loud.
But they struck harder than thunder.
Yuan Shao's hands trembled as he read. His back grew cold. Sweat slid down his temples, as if he were already standing before judgment—stripped, exposed, condemned.
It felt—
Too real.
As if the accusations had weight.
As if they were truth.
And then, just as mercilessly—
Chen Lin began to praise Zhang Xin.
"The General possesses both virtue and talent… a pillar of the Great Han…"
The contrast was suffocating.
Light and shadow.
Saint and sinner.
Yuan Shao looked up unconsciously.
In his mind, Zhang Xin no longer looked like a man—
But something distant.
Untouchable.
Almost… divine.
Then came the explanation.
The "truth."
A truth so complete, so neatly arranged… that it left no room to breathe.
According to captured guards—
The scandal involving Dong Zhuo's granddaughter had been a scheme.
A scheme between Dong Zhuo… and Yuan Shao.
Every step. Every motive. Every hesitation—explained.
Sun Jian's defeat had planted fear.
Fear had bred doubt.
Doubt had led Yuan Shao… to seek surrender.
But Dong Zhuo did not trust him.
So he demanded proof.
"Attack Zhang Xin."
Simple.
Cruel.
Effective.
And Yuan Shao… had reason to agree.
He had already lost face once—when Zhang Xin stripped him of leadership before the lords.
Humiliation festers.
And festering wounds… seek blood.
But Yuan Shao feared the world's judgment.
So he needed an excuse.
And Dong Zhuo—
Provided one.
The granddaughter.
The hostage.
The performance.
A lie… wrapped in just enough truth to be believed.
Chen Lin's words tightened like a noose:
"If this were not so… why would Yuan Shao kill the envoys?"
One.
Two.
Three.
All dead.
All men who had once stood close to him.
"Is that not strange?"
The question lingered like a whisper in the dark.
No answer.
Only suspicion.
"Zhang Xin, you little bastard!"
The tent exploded.
Yuan Shao tore his sword free and slashed wildly, silk and wood splitting under his rage. The air itself seemed to tremble under his fury.
"Slander! Lies! I'll kill him—I'll tear him apart—!"
"My lord, calm yourself!"
Guo Tu and Pang Ji rushed forward, voices strained.
But Yuan Shao could not hear.
Or would not.
Xu You bent quietly and picked up the fallen manifesto.
His eyes moved quickly.
Calm.
Calculating.
He knew the truth.
Yuan Shao had not done these things.
But—
That did not matter.
Because the logic… was flawless.
Too flawless.
A lie, polished until it reflected reality.
And that—
Was far more dangerous than truth.
The latter half spoke of war.
Supplies cut.
Isolation.
A blade pressed silently against Zhang Xin's throat.
But Zhang Xin had seen through it.
Seen everything.
Turned everything.
Feigning weakness—
Drawing Dong Zhuo out—
Crushing him in one decisive strike.
Xu You's fingers tightened slightly.
"…Remarkable."
And when he read of Hua Xiong's death—cut down by Zhang Xin himself—
His breath slowed.
"Both wise… and brave…"
He glanced sideways.
At Yuan Shao.
Still raging.
Still blind.
Still trapped inside his own anger.
A thought, cold and unwelcome, surfaced—
Is this man… worth following?
After a long struggle, Yuan Shao finally calmed enough to read further.
Then—
His eyes widened.
"What?!"
"Zhang Xin only has ten thousand troops?!"
The calm shattered instantly.
"Thirty thousand of mine—deceived by ten thousand?!"
His face twisted with humiliation.
"Prepare the army! We march now!"
"Yuan Shao—no!"
Xu You stepped forward immediately, voice sharp.
"If you move now, you confirm everything written here!"
A pause.
Then Yuan Shao laughed—a harsh, broken sound.
"Confirm?"
"What reputation do I have left to protect?!"
His eyes burned.
"Tell me—who will the world believe?"
"Me?"
"Or the man who just crushed Dong Zhuo?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Because they all knew.
Pang Ji stepped forward slowly.
"My lord… have you considered this?"
"Zhang Xin has declared himself our enemy."
"He is exhausted now—but not for long."
"If we do not strike first…"
"When he returns—how will we resist?"
Guo Tu followed immediately.
"His troops are elite. Their morale is at its peak."
"If we let this chance slip…"
"We may never get another."
Still—
No one mentioned supplies.
Because it no longer mattered.
Zhang Xin had taken everything he needed.
Xu You's voice cut through again.
"Too perfect."
"All of this… is too perfect."
"If he dares reveal his numbers…"
"It means he wants us to see them."
"And if he wants us to see them—"
"He wants us to act."
His gaze hardened.
"This is a trap."
Pang Ji shook his head.
"Yesterday's battle—he committed everything."
"His men are exhausted."
"Where would he find strength for an ambush?"
Guo Tu added coldly:
"Unless… he can summon soldiers from thin air."
Yuan Shao nodded slowly.
Decision settling.
Rage… turning into resolve.
"Enough."
"No more arguments."
"We march."
Xu You stepped forward again.
"Do not do this!"
"A lord must not wage war in anger!"
The surrounding soldiers began to look.
Whispers stirred.
Doubt flickered.
Yuan Shao stopped.
Turned.
His gaze was no longer furious.
It was cold.
"Disrupting morale before battle…"
His voice dropped.
"…is a capital offense."
"Guards."
He pointed.
"Take him."
Hands seized Xu You.
He struggled.
"Just hear my last words!"
"I won't listen."
Yuan Shao turned away without hesitation.
"Lock him up."
Dragged away, Xu You did not resist further.
Only a bitter smile touched his lips.
A quiet sigh escaped him—
"Loyal words… are always unpleasant to hear."
And outside—
The drums of war had already begun.