Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

As soon as Lü Meng, Lü Dai, and the others stepped off the main ship, they surrounded Zhang Hong in a panic. Lü Meng lowered his voice and said urgently, "Mr. Zigang! Wei Yan has clearly noticed something. Why not kill him with a single blow to eliminate future trouble? If we let him return to Jiangdong, won't our entire plan be exposed?" Lü Dai's hand bulged as he gripped the hilt of his sword, his eyes filled with murderous intent. Sun Quan also frowned, looking at Zhang Hong with a puzzled look, as if waiting for an answer.

Zhang Hong raised his hand to signal everyone to be silent. The sharp river wind lifted his gray hair, but his tone was as steady as the abyss: "It's easy to say! In the Battle of Jiangxia, Wei Yan single-handedly carried the lord back from the army, and a hundred thousand soldiers witnessed it with their own eyes. Now that the lord has died suddenly, if he dies suddenly too, how can he stop the gossips?" He glanced at everyone, his eyes as sharp as a hawk. "Not to mention what the soldiers in the army are talking about, just Zhou Yu—" At this point, Zhang Hong narrowed his eyes slightly, "With his wisdom, how could he not notice something strange? The army went out to fight, and the lord and the general who sacrificed his life to save the lord died at the same time. Such a coincidence, Zhou Yu only needs to do a little investigation to follow the clues. By then, what do you think our chances of winning are?"

Everyone's faces paled instantly. Lü Meng's grip on the sword slowly loosened, and Sun Quan's fingertips, gripping his sleeve, trembled slightly. Zhang Hong gazed at the turbulent waves rolling over the river, his voice growing colder: "Keeping Wei Yan here makes him a chess piece. His confrontation with us only makes this seem like an internal struggle for power. We just need to keep him there until he reaches Jiangdong, and then we can slowly take action..." Before he finished speaking, the night watchman's clapperboard rang out in the distance, startling several jackdaws, which fluttered across the inky night sky.

The north wind blew snowflakes onto everyone. Sun Quan's pale face was colder than the snow. His fingers clenched into fists beneath his robe sleeves, his knuckles turning pale. "Mr. Zigang! Didn't you say it was foolproof? Now Wei Yan insists I was the one who poisoned him. This..." Before he finished speaking, Zhang Hong had already lifted his wide sleeves and prostrated himself in the snow. His dark robe was stained with frost. "Please forgive me for my presumptuous behavior. From today on, I shall call you my lord!" When he raised his head, a cunning glint flashed in his cloudy eyes, and a meaningful smile curved the corners of his mouth.

Lü Meng's hand, gripping the hilt, was throbbing with veins, his bronze face etched with anxiety. "What do you mean, sir? This traitor is clearly out to ruin our plans!" Lü Dai's thick brows furrowed, his heavy cloak rustling in the wind, his eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment. Quan Cong leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on Zhang Hong, clearly awaiting a crucial answer.

Zhang Hong slowly stood up, brushed the snow off his shoulders, and pointed his aged finger in the direction of the main ship, where Wei Yan's roar could be faintly heard. A confident smile appeared on his aged face: "Do you know who will suffer the most when this accusation is reported back to Jiangdong?"

Sun Quan suddenly stopped pacing back and forth, subconsciously pressing his slender fingers between his eyebrows. After thinking for a moment, a flash of enlightenment suddenly flashed in his eyes: "Mother!" His voice trembled slightly, and a blush of excitement appeared on his pale face.

"Exactly!" Zhang Hong laughed, clapping his hands. The frost and snow that fell on his gray beard melted in an instant, and his cloudy eyes sparkled with a gleam of light. His old face flushed slightly with excitement: "The lady has just suffered the pain of losing her son, and Wei Yan directly accused the lord of killing his brother. Such rebellious words are like stabbing the lady in the heart." He turned to look at Lu Meng, only to see that the fierce general frowned slightly, as if he had realized something. He then looked at Lu Dai, who was stroking his chin, his eyes gradually becoming sharper.

"If Zhou Yu insists on investigating, it will only deepen the old lady's resentment towards him." Zhang Hong leaned closer to Sun Quan, lowering his voice, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes hiding calculations, "The old lady loves the master the most, how could she believe you would harm your own brother? The more aggressive Zhou Yu is, the more he puts himself in opposition to the old lady." Quan Cong suddenly realized, slapped his thigh, and his face showed admiration.

Lü Meng was still a little worried: "But if Zhou Yu finds out the truth..." Before he finished speaking, Zhang Hong suddenly sneered contemptuously, with a cold glint in his eyes: "What if he finds out?" He glanced at everyone, his old voice full of confidence, "The lord is the legitimate son of Duke Wentai, and has the support of aristocratic families, plus the protection of four veteran generals: Cheng Pu, Han Dang, Huang Gai, and Zu Mao." Having said this, he deliberately paused, his eyes fell on Sun Quan, "As long as the lady stands by the lord, she will be the most solid backing."

Zhang Hong brushed off the snow on his robe, a smug smile spreading across his aged face. "My lord, all you have to do is serve the Madam well and appease the veteran generals. Sooner or later, the power of Jiangdong will be yours." The river breeze whistled past, lifting Sun Quan's sleeves. He stared toward the main ship, a sinister smile gradually curling up at the corner of his mouth.

A north wind whipped fragments of snow across the river, and the fleet of a hundred thousand naval forces glided silently through the night like a dormant giant python. Inside the main ship's cabin, Sun Ce's body lay draped in a plain white brocade quilt. Only the bronze eternal lamp flickered in the draft, casting a ghostly shadow on the bulkhead.

On this ship, Zhang Hong was leaning on the soft couch, his skinny fingers tapping the armrest occasionally, his wide black sleeves hanging down like solidified ink; Sun Quan was sitting upright at the desk, his pale face flickering in the flickering candlelight, the silk handkerchief held in his palm had long been soaked with cold sweat.

On the deck, the soldiers led by Lü Meng and Lü Dai were clad in black armor, their curved swords gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Their footsteps were deliberately light, the only sound being the subtle clink of armor clashing against armor. Quan Cong stood at the bow, his eyes warily scanning the surroundings, occasionally glancing back toward the main ship, his brow furrowed.

As the fleet reached the center of the river, a sudden gust of wind blew, filling the sails to their full height. Zhang Hong abruptly stood up, sweeping the bamboo slips from the table with the hem of his robe, and growled hoarsely, "Silence!" Everyone held their breath, the only sound being the lapping of the water against the side of the boat. After a long moment, he slowly sat down and sighed, "You must strictly observe the secret order. When you return to Jiangdong..." Before he could finish his words, Sun Quan chimed in, "This news must remain a secret!"

The lanterns atop the masts swayed violently in the wind, casting vast shadows across the river, distorting with the waves. Like a giant beast pinned to the bottom of the water, the entire fleet sped silently toward Jiangdong, its turbulent journey marked only by the blizzard and snow.

Meanwhile, the thatched cottage outside Hanzhong City swayed gently in the north wind, icicles dangling from the eaves like knives. Ma Chao's face was as pale as paper, his hair soaked with sweat clinging to his face. He occasionally murmured in pain, then quickly fell into a deep sleep. The house was filled with the aroma of medicine, and the pot on the ceramic stove gurgled. Hua Tuo twisted silver needles and inserted them into major acupuncture points throughout his body, his eyes as solemn as ice: "This arrow wound penetrated his marrow. It's a miracle that he has survived until now."

Zhen Mi knelt before the couch, twisting a cold-water handkerchief in her bare hands and gently wiping Ma Chao's forehead. Days of non-stop care had left a faint blue shadow under her eyes, yet she remained fixed on the man's face. Suddenly, Ma Chao's broken murmur escaped her throat: "Master Dong... Master... be careful..." The voice was weak, yet every word was alarming. She exchanged a glance with Hua Tuo, unconsciously clenching the handkerchief in her hand.

"Mr. Dong?" Hua Tuo stroked his beard, pondering, the silver needle gleaming coldly in the candlelight. "He cares so much about me, so I must be very important to him in the future." Zhen Mi observed the furrowed lines beneath Ma Chao's sword-like brow, her fingertips hovering over the blood-stained fragments of his armor before slowly withdrawing. Outside the window, the wind and snow howled, enveloping the thatched cottage in a vast expanse of white. Only the aroma of medicine and hidden speculation grew stronger in the dim candlelight.

The candlelight in the thatched cottage flickered in the cold wind. Zhen Mi looked at Ma Chao, whose face was ashen, lying on the couch. Her fingertips unconsciously tugged at the hem of her skirt, her eyes full of worry. "Mr. Hua Tuo, why hasn't he woken up yet? Is the poison from the arrow still there?" Her voice trembled, her eyes never leaving Ma Chao's pale face.

Hua Tuo put down the medical book in his hand, walked to the bed with a solemn expression, and placed his skinny fingers on Ma Chao's wrist. After a long time, he withdrew his hand and sighed softly: "Girl, he can hold on until now thanks to his tenacious vitality." He stroked his beard, his eyes revealing the deep thought of a doctor. "Firstly, he lost too much blood, his body is extremely weak, and his vitality is greatly damaged; secondly..." Hua Tuo paused, his eyes fell on Ma Chao's tightly furrowed brows, "In my opinion, his subconscious will to survive is not strong. These days, he often mutters in his dreams, and his words are full of pain and struggle. I think it is the work of his inner demons, and his consciousness is trapped in numerous entanglements."

Zhen Mi bit her lower lip, watching Ma Chao's eyelashes fluttering slightly at his mumbling. A pang of bitterness welled up in her heart. The wind and snow outside lashed against the window lattice. She instinctively gathered her cloak closer, then hurriedly draped the slipped quilt back over Ma Chao. "Then...is there any way to wake him?" She looked up at Hua Tuo, her eyes filled with hope.

Hua Tuo shook his head, a look of resignation on his face. "A heart disease requires a heart-felt cure, and a bell can only be untied by the person who tied it. If he himself refuses to wake up, no matter how hard others try, it will be in vain. Now we can only continue to use medicine to keep him alive and wait for a turn." With that, he turned and walked over to the medicine furnace to check on the progress of the decoction. Zhen Mi was left alone by the bed, whispering softly to the sleeping Ma Chao, as if comforting, but also like a prayer.

In the thick, inky darkness, Ma Chao's consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind. Lu Zhi's figure emerged from the void, his long white hair and beard fluttering in the invisible air. He swung a scroll of "The Book of Loyalty" from his sleeve and slammed it heavily on his chest: "Mengqi! I eat the emperor's salary and bear the emperor's worries. Even if the sky falls and the earth collapses, I must still fulfill my duty as a subject!" Before he finished speaking, Dong Zhuo's wild laughter exploded like thunder, and his bronze beast-faced armor sparked dazzling sparks. He grabbed Dong Zhuo's neck and pulled him to the other side: "Mengqi! This world should have changed its way of life long ago! The emperor is incompetent, and the ministers are corrupt. Only by overturning this mess can we save the people from dire straits!"

Two voices tore at each other in his ears, and Ma Chao stumbled to his knees, his knuckles sinking deeply into the empty ground. Memories flooded him like a surging tide—the beacon fires atop Luoyang City, his master's earnest teachings before the Xiping Stone Classics, the bowl of warm wine in the Grand Tutor's residence to dispel the cold, and the blood-soaked Han banners in front of the Weiyang Palace. Lu Zhi's wide sleeves brushed over his head, carrying the scent of pine soot and ink: "The Han Dynasty is not yet doomed. Do not be deceived by treacherous people..." Dong Zhuo's iron palm slammed him hard on the back, leaving a sweet taste in his throat: "Mengqi, you should be the one who creates the world for the people of this world!"

Countless cracks suddenly opened in the darkness, and countless faces peeked out from them: a desperate father, a ruthless emperor, the gnashing teeth of Li Jue and Guo Si... Ma Chao clutched his head and screamed, dark red blood seeping from the cracks in his armor. It was hard to tell whether it was a wound in reality or a crack in his consciousness. Lu Zhi's voice grew increasingly distant, while Dong Zhuo's urging grew more urgent. The two forces tore his soul to pieces, and in the endless tearing, he seemed to be back in the bloody twilight at Hulao Pass that year, forced to choose between loyalty and ambition.