"To Marquis Xuanwei?"
Xiahou Dun frowned, the name hanging heavy in the air.
"Didn't you say… we would go to Yuan Shao?"
Cao Cao did not answer immediately.
The wind brushed past them, carrying with it the distant scent of war—ash, iron, and something harder to name.
At length, he exhaled.
"Dong Zhuo's scheme is crude. Even a child would doubt it."
His eyes darkened.
"Yet Yuan Shao insists on believing."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.
"Outwardly generous… inwardly jealous. Ambitious… yet afraid to die. Willing to gamble everything—so long as the risk is borne by others."
He shook his head.
"A man like that…"
"…cannot shape the world."
Xiahou Dun studied him carefully.
"And Zhang Xin can?"
Cao Cao looked ahead.
Far beyond the road.
Beyond the mountains.
Beyond the chaos swallowing the realm.
"Yes."
His voice was quiet—but absolute.
"He alone still fights for something greater than himself."
"To defeat Dong Zhuo."
"To restore the Son of Heaven."
"To end this rot."
A pause.
"Whether he succeeds… is another matter."
"But if there is anyone worth following—"
"It is him."
Xiahou Dun hesitated.
"You barely know him."
"And he barely knows you."
"And you…" He lowered his voice slightly. "Your reputation among the Partisans… is not exactly clean in his eyes."
A dangerous truth.
Left unspoken—but understood.
"Will he accept us?"
Cao Cao laughed softly.
"Acceptance is not given because of friendship."
"It is given because of value."
His gaze sharpened.
"If I bring him soldiers…"
"If I bring him grain…"
"If I bring him use—"
"Then he will accept."
"And if he does not…"
A flicker of something cold passed through his eyes.
"Then he is not the man I thought him to be."
They did not head for Henan.
Instead—
They turned toward Taishan.
The mountains rose like jagged teeth against the sky.
Harsh.
Unforgiving.
Perfect.
"This land breeds hard men," Cao Cao said quietly.
"Men who do not break easily."
"And men like that…"
"…are what this war requires."
At Fenggao—
He split his forces.
The Cao and Xiahou clans remained outside, gathering recruits.
Cao Cao himself entered the city.
Alone.
The Hu Mu clan received him.
Cold at first.
Measured.
Then—
They named their price.
"Kill Wang Kuang."
No negotiation.
No hesitation.
Only hatred.
"A life for a life."
Cao Cao listened.
And agreed.
Not out of loyalty.
Not entirely.
But because the dead demanded balance—
And the living demanded advantage.
The attack came without warning.
Steel in the dark.
Fire in the streets.
Wang Kuang never had time to understand.
By the time the sun rose—
He was already a corpse.
Another lord of the alliance—
Gone.
Not slain by Dong Zhuo.
But by his own side.
Cao Cao did not linger.
He took what remained.
Men.
Grain.
Fear.
He forged them into strength.
Five thousand more soldiers.
One hundred thousand shi of provisions.
Enough—
To be taken seriously.
By the time he turned toward Henan—
Yuan Shao had already fallen back.
Retreating.
Fading.
Just as Cao Cao had expected.
"Some men," he murmured, "are destined only to lose."
Late October.
Mengjin.
Zhang Xin stared at the report as if it were a joke told poorly.
"Cao Cao… came to join me?"
Even now—
It felt unreal.
A name that would one day shake the world—
Standing outside his camp.
Waiting.
For a moment—
Zhang Xin did not move.
Memory flickered.
A different time.
A different position.
He had once considered following that man.
And now—
That man had come to follow him.
Fate had a sense of humor.
A dark one.
"I'll see him."
A pause.
Then—
"No. I'll go meet him."
Outside the camp—
Cao Cao stood calmly.
Behind him—
The Cao and Xiahou clans.
Silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Brother Cao!"
Zhang Xin's voice rang out, warm and open.
"After Suanzao—are you well?"
Cao Cao looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment—
Neither spoke.
Both measuring.
Both weighing.
Both understanding—
That this meeting mattered.
Then Cao Cao bowed.
Deep.
Without hesitation.
"Marquis Xuanwei."
Behind him, the others followed.
Zhang Xin returned the gesture.
Equal.
Respectful.
But not yielding.
"Come."
"Let us speak inside."
In the central tent—
They sat facing one another.
No audience.
No pretense.
Only truth—carefully chosen.
"Why have you come?" Zhang Xin asked.
Cao Cao did not hide it.
"The alliance is hollow."
"Feasts. Wine. Empty words."
"I fought—and was defeated."
"I raised men—and nearly died to betrayal."
His voice did not waver.
"If this realm is to be saved…"
"It will not be by them."
He leaned forward slightly.
"It will be by you."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Measured.
Then Cao Cao stood.
And bowed deeply.
"I have brought five thousand men."
"And provisions for a campaign."
"I ask only—"
"To be allowed to fight."
Zhang Xin rose.
Walked down.
Helped him up.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You are welcome here."
A pause.
Then—
A shadow crossed his expression.
"There is… one problem."
"Speak."
"We lack grain."
No embellishment.
No excuse.
Only fact.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
Cao Cao smiled.
Not warmly.
But knowingly.
"I brought one hundred thousand shi."
"You need not feed my army."
Something shifted.
Subtle.
But real.
Zhang Xin nodded slowly.
"Good."
But Cao Cao did not stop.
Instead—
He asked the question that mattered.
"If provisions are tight…"
"And you still hesitate to act—"
"Then the one on Bei Mang Mountain…"
"…must not be ordinary."
Zhang Xin looked at him.
For a moment—
Something almost like amusement appeared.
"Not ordinary?"
A faint exhale.
Then—
"He's the man who defeated you."
Silence.
Deep.
Uncomfortable.
Two men sat across from each other.
Both destined for greatness.
Both aware—
That one day—
They might not sit as allies.
But as enemies.
And outside—
The war waited.
Patient.
Hungry.
Unfinished.