Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

The night was as dark as ink, thick and impenetrable. The remnants of the army stumbled and fled along the mountain path, the chaotic clatter of horses' hooves like drumbeats, shattering the dead silence of the mountains. Sun Ce practically slumped over his horse, blood seeping through the cracks in his silver armor, staining the saddle beneath him a sinister crimson, like a blooming Lycoris radiata. Zhou Tai, gravely wounded and dying, clung semi-consciously to the side of his horse, his iron halberd still tightly gripped. Every jolt brought a faint, breathless groan, as if the night wind would sweep away his last breath at any moment.

Wei Yan brandished his phoenix-beaked knife, the blood clots on the blade falling off with his movements. His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, and he sternly shouted at the soldiers around him: "Faster! Faster!" The remaining Jiangdong soldiers were all panting, their faces as pale as paper. They whipped their horses desperately, urging their mounts to speed up, fearing that the shouts of the Jingzhou army would be heard behind them at any time, and they would be trapped in despair again.

At the rear of the column, Lü Meng, Lü Dai, and the others seemed particularly unusual. Although they also pretended to be anxiously hurrying on, occasionally reining in their horses and looking back, the subtle uneasiness in their eyes betrayed their inner secrets like a venomous snake's tongue. They seemed to be worried about pursuers, yet also seemed to be waiting for a moment, each turn of their heads seeming to confirm something.

Finally, the camp outside Jiangxia came into view. Hope instantly ignited in the eyes of the remaining soldiers, and they erupted in hoarse cheers, their voices filled with the ecstasy of having survived. "Quick! Tell the camp!" Wei Yan shouted at the top of his lungs. As soon as he finished speaking, soldiers galloped towards the camp, whipping up clouds of dust that filled the night.

A moment later, the heavy camp gate slowly opened. Zhang Hong and Sun Quan were already waiting anxiously at the entrance. When Sun Quan saw Sun Ce's grievous wounds, the color drained from his face instantly. He stumbled forward, his voice tinged with tears, "Brother!" His trembling hands hovered over Sun Ce's bloodstained armor, wanting to support him but afraid to touch the wound. Fear and worry filled his eyes.

Sun Ce forced a smile, his breath fading as he said, "Zhongmou, don't worry. It's just some flesh wounds..." Before he could finish, a violent coughing fit struck him. Blood streamed from the corner of his mouth, staining his shirt and Sun Quan's outstretched hand red. Sun Quan, no longer able to care, hugged Sun Ce tightly, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Medical officer! Medical officer! Hurry and treat my brother!" His voice echoed in the night, filled with despair and helplessness, like the final roar of a trapped beast.

The camp was plunged into chaos. Soldiers rushed about in panic, shouts echoing. The medical officer stumbled over, carrying his medicine chest, his forehead covered in sweat, but he dared not pause. Dusk enveloped the tent, and the cowhide curtains rustled in the wind. Sun Ce was helped to sit on the couch. Blood seeped from the cracks in his silver armor and dripped down the edge of the couch into the cracks between the bluestone bricks, forming a thin stream on the ground. Zhou Tai was placed on the side couch, his breathing so weak that it was almost imperceptible. He still clenched the iron halberd tightly in his palm, his knuckles turning blue and white from the excessive force.

Sun Quan stumbled to the bedside, his gold-embroidered brocade robe sweeping the bamboo slips off the table. His voice trembled, "Brother!" Sun Ce strained his lips, dark red foam oozing from his pale lips: "Zhongmou... go see how Zhou Tai is doing first?" Before he could finish his words, he coughed violently again, and blood stained the plain handkerchief that Sun Quan had hurriedly pressed against the wound.

At this moment, hurried footsteps were heard outside the tent. Lü Meng, Lü Dai, and the others crowded at the tent entrance, their faces still stained with blood, but were stopped outside by Wei Yan's sword. The cold light of the phoenix-beaked sword flashed, causing Lü Meng's pupils to shrink suddenly. He forced himself to remain calm and bowed: "What do you mean, Wen Chang?"

"What do you mean?" Wei Yan shouted, shaking the copper bells on the top of the tent. The back of his sword slammed heavily on the door sill, and sparks flew over the edge of Lü Meng's boots. "My lord, you led the others in pursuit of Huang Zu. Why did you lag behind? You put my lord in danger!" His bloody finger almost stabbed the tip of Lü Meng's nose. "If I hadn't arrived in time, there would be a mourning hall in the camp by now!"

Lü Dai's expression suddenly changed, and he was about to explain when Lü Meng stopped him. Xue Zong stepped forward with an apologetic smile: "General Wenchang has misunderstood. We..." "Shut up!" Wei Yan's iron boots rolled heavily across the ground, leaving bloody shoe prints on the bluestone bricks. "This matter must wait until the lord wakes up and makes the final decision himself! You all wait outside the gate!"

Inside the tent, Sun Quan was grabbing the medical officer's wrist and roaring, "Hurry up and save me! If anything happens to my brother, I'll bury your whole family with him!" Zhang Hong stroked his goatee, his eyes darting back and forth between Sun Ce on the couch, the furious Wei Yan, and the glint-eyed Lü Meng and others outside the tent, a subtle flash of calculation in his eyes.

The arguing outside the tent made the cowhide curtain tremble. Zhang Hong frowned slightly, straightened his wide black sleeves, lifted the curtain and stepped out, his face instantly replaced with a stern and angry expression: "How dare you make such a loud noise at this critical moment? Don't you know that the lord needs to rest and recuperate?"

Lü Meng was about to open his mouth to protest when he saw Zhang Hong's sleeves twirl slightly, and he raised his chin imperceptibly towards the outside of the camp. Lü Dai understood and immediately clasped his fists and said, "It was our negligence. We will withdraw now!" Everyone pretended to be frightened, but deliberately slowed their pace as they headed towards the camp gate.

Wei Yan stood with his sword across his shoulders, the blood dripping from the phoenix-beak sword onto the bluestone slabs with a slight sound: "Mr. Zigang, these people..." His words were full of suspicion and dissatisfaction.

"General Wenchang's loyalty and righteousness are evident to me. I know this." Zhang Hong raised his hand to hold down Wei Yan's blade, his voice low, "But the morale of the army has collapsed at this moment. I need to reinforce the antler barricades and set up defenses." He turned his head to look at the pitch-black night, his expression solemn. "If Huang Zu takes advantage of the chaos in our army to launch a surprise attack, the safety of our lord will be in jeopardy..."

Wei Yan straightened his back immediately, his eyes determined: "I am here, and I will not let anyone get close to my lord!"

Zhang Hong feigned a stumbling gait as he ran out of the main tent, circumventing three rows of antler-shaped barricades and slipping into a secluded tent. Inside, candlelight flickered, its dim light casting shadows across the tent screen in a strange, distorted manner. Generals like Lü Meng and Xue Zong sat in a circle, their faces solemn, their fingers unconsciously stroking the hilts of their swords, as if they were their only hope.

Seeing Zhang Hong step in, Lu Meng stood up suddenly, and the sound of armor clashing startled the candlelight and flickered: "Mr. Zigang! Although Sun Ce was seriously injured but not dead, this..."

"What are you panicking about?" Zhang Hong slammed the tent door shut, his voice suddenly cold, like the north wind in winter. "Those old foxes in Jingzhou spared his life, but they wanted to kill him with a borrowed knife. But they forgot - Zibu and I have been planning for so long, how could this change disrupt our plans?"

Xue Zong loosened his bloodstained collar, his Adam's apple rolling: "But Wei Yan insisted that we were deliberately delaying. Given Sun Ce's temper..."

"The delay is just a pretext." Zhang Hong sneered, and his skinny fingers swept across the people in the tent, "The decoction is the killer move." Before he finished speaking, a burst of gasps rang out in the tent. Lu Meng's pupils shrank suddenly: "Sir, are you saying... to poison the medicine? But Wei Yan is already suspicious, how could Sun Ce take it so easily?"

"Don't forget, there's also Sun Quan." Zhang Hong leaned closer to the candlelight, his face a mixture of light and dark, like a ghost. "Who will take the throne in Jiangdong? If he wants to secure his position, it's safest for him to do it himself." He suddenly took out a small gilded bottle, which glowed a cold blue in the moonlight. "This 'Blood-killing Throat' is a treasure that Zibu begged from the Nanman."

Lü Meng stared at the powder in the bottle, his throat tightening. "If Sun Quan refuses to cooperate, what can we do to him?"

"Refused?" Zhang Hong slammed the table, sending sparks flying from the candlestick. "He wants to sit on the throne of Jiangdong for nothing? Why?" He approached the crowd, a fierce light flashing in his eyes, like a hungry wolf. "Zi Bu saw through him long ago - Sun Quan's desire for power is more urgent than anyone else!"

Xue Zong swallowed his saliva: "But what if he..."

"There's no such thing as a one-time accident!" Zhang Hong grabbed the sword on the table, and the cold light flashed three inches from its sheath. "If he doesn't agree, he won't be able to leave this tent alive tonight! But as long as he takes action..." The sword blade drew a cold arc in the air. "The whole of Jiangdong is his. He's not stupid, how could he not understand what's more important?"

Suddenly, footsteps approached outside the tent. Zhang Hong quickly sheathed his sword, his eyes sweeping over everyone like a hawk: "Everyone return to camp and wait until tomorrow when Sun Quan is ill to take care of him. When you return to camp, you must stabilize your troops and place your trusted aides in key positions. In particular, while Sun Quan is ill, place secret sentries outside Sun Ce's central army tent - we must not let Wei Yan, that foolish young man, cause trouble again!" He clenched the jade pendant at his waist, his joints turning white from the force. "If there is any unusual movement, it would rather kill a hundred people by mistake than miss a single variable!"

Just as everyone was about to accept the order, Zhang Hong lowered his voice and added, "Pass the order down. There is a curfew in the camp tonight. Anyone leaving the tent without permission will be executed!" After the footsteps faded away, he looked at the flickering candlelight, a sinister smile curling his lips - the ambition that could not be hidden in Sun Quan's eyes had long been the sharpest knife in their hands. When the time was right, it would sever the night of Jiangdong and set off a bloody storm that would turn the world upside down.

As the medical officer wrapped the final bandage around Sun Ce's bleeding ribs, the tent was thick with the scent of herbs and blood. Sun Quan knelt beside the couch, tears streaming down his bloodstained brocade robe. His fingertips clutched his brother's sleeve so tightly that they nearly wrinkled the fabric.

"Zhongmou, stop crying." Sun Ce raised his hand weakly, but shuddered suddenly due to the tug at the wound, and cold sweat rolled down his pale forehead. "You are already a man, why are you crying over a few injuries? Go, there is nothing to worry about here, let's go back to the camp and rest." He turned his face away from his brother's red eyes, but his heart was in a tangled mess - Jingzhou's calculations, his brother's revenge, and the severe pain surging in his body at this moment, all turned into blunt knives to cut his heart.

Sun Quan froze at the rebuke, then slowly rose and retreated from the tent, looking back every few steps. As the curtains fell again, Sun Ce began coughing violently. The blood seeping from between his fingers shone a strange dark red in the moonlight. He stared at the swaying shadows on the tent ceiling, his heart filled with resentment: "Those old thieves in Jingzhou...are they really going to... take my father's revenge?"

At this moment, Wei Yan's deep voice came from outside the tent: "My lord, I would like to see you."