"Secure the retreat…"
Dong Zhuo repeated the words under his breath.
Then he laughed.
A hollow, brittle sound.
"Secure the retreat…"
So that was it.
Even Jia Xu—
Had already decided.
This battle could not be won.
For a fleeting moment, Dong Zhuo stood still.
Not as a tyrant.
Not as a warlord.
But as a man who had finally understood—
That the tide had turned.
Jia Xu.
A man praised as equal to Zhang Liang and Chen Ping.
A man who never risked himself unless survival was assured.
A man who—
When death approached—
Always stepped aside first.
Dong Zhuo knew him.
Knew what that advice truly meant.
Run.
His lips curled.
Not in anger.
But in self-mockery.
"So even you…"
He turned abruptly.
"You. Stay here and watch."
"I will… relieve myself."
The guard captain hesitated.
Confused.
But he dared not question.
Dong Zhuo left.
With a handful of guards.
Not to relieve himself.
But to abandon everything.
In a deserted stretch of ground—
Armor was exchanged.
Clothes stripped.
Identity discarded.
A guard became Dong Zhuo.
Dong Zhuo became no one.
A messenger.
A shadow.
A fleeing man.
Without another word—
He rode.
Away.
Behind him—
His army remained.
Uninformed.
Unprepared.
Already condemned.
The Yellow Turban cavalry arrived like circling wolves.
They did not charge.
They did not shout.
They simply rode—
Back and forth—
Sealing the field.
Inside the imperial tomb grounds—
The Dong troops felt it.
The tightening.
The suffocation.
No cavalry.
No escape.
Only a battlefield that had quietly become a cage.
By mid-morning—
The horizon darkened.
A black line.
Endless.
Advancing.
Zhang Xin's army.
They stopped just beyond striking distance.
Ordered.
Silent.
Watching.
Then—
They moved.
Step by step.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Every ten paces—
A roar.
"Exterminate the traitor!"
The sound rolled forward like thunder.
Relentless.
Crushing.
The Dong troops trembled.
Hands shook.
Breath faltered.
"Where is the Chancellor?!"
The guard captain's voice cracked.
"Why hasn't he returned?!"
Messengers were sent.
One after another.
None returned with answers.
Only silence.
And a banner.
Standing alone.
The symbol of command—
Without the man.
Realization spread.
Slow.
Terrible.
They had been abandoned.
"Kill!"
The battle began.
Zhang Xin's vanguard struck first.
Clean.
Precise.
Like a blade finding the gap in armor.
"Only the chief culprit will be punished!"
"The rest will be spared!"
"Surrender first—and be rewarded!"
The words cut deeper than steel.
Because the soldiers believed them.
Because they wanted to believe them.
Because they had nothing else left.
Morale shattered.
Lines wavered.
Then—
Broke.
Zhang Xin saw it instantly.
No hesitation.
No delay.
"Yue Jin!"
Yue Jin stepped forward.
Encased in heavy armor.
Shield raised.
Blade ready.
He did not shout.
He did not hesitate.
He charged.
Behind him—
Men followed.
Pouring through the fracture.
Widening it.
Tearing it open.
The formation collapsed.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
But all at once.
Like a structure that had already rotted from within.
"Only the chief culprit will be punished!"
The cry rose again.
Louder.
Closer.
Unavoidable.
Weapons fell.
Knees hit the ground.
Surrender spread like fire.
Because there was nowhere left to run.
Yue Jin drove straight toward the central banner.
But there was no one there.
Only emptiness.
Only the illusion of command.
From the rear—
Cao Cao watched.
And for the first time—
He understood.
"Now I see…"
His voice trembled with something deeper than admiration.
"Why he is called Xuanwei…"
Power.
Not just in battle.
But in timing.
In judgment.
In daring.
Xun You had crafted the blade.
But Zhang Xin—
Had chosen where to strike.
The original plan—
Had been careful.
Measured.
Step by step.
Take Chenggao.
Hold it.
Link with Sun Jian.
Advance together.
Safe.
Reliable.
Predictable.
But Zhang Xin—
Rejected it.
He chose speed.
He chose risk.
He chose—
To end it now.
Even Cao Cao had hesitated.
"After forced march and battle…"
"Our troops will be exhausted…"
But Zhang Xin had answered without doubt:
"The cavalry can endure."
"The men crave victory."
"The traitor stands before us."
"If not now—"
"When?"
And now—
The answer lay before them.
The enemy had collapsed.
Before the battle had even truly begun.
Because Zhang Xin had not fought their strength.
He had shattered their will.
Far away—
Dong Zhuo fled.
Alone.
Unseen.
Behind him—
His army died.
Or knelt.
Or surrendered their fate to another master.
The world did not know it yet—
But in that moment—
Power had changed hands.