Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Just as Ma Chao was nearly on the verge of collapse from the endless tearing, the thick darkness suddenly trembled violently. Sun Ce's figure, covered in poisonous blue-black patterns, slowly emerged. Black blood dripped from the corners of his mouth and fell to the ground, instantly transforming into hideous, twisted vines. Ma Chao seemed unaware, a long-lost light flashing in his eyes. He staggered forward, his silver-white armor gleaming coldly in the gloom: "Bo Fu! What are you doing here!" He gripped Sun Ce's cold wrist tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. "This damn place is like a living tomb. Master Lu and Mr. Dong's words... they've been banging on my head all day long!"

The veins in Sun Ce's neck throbbed, and a strange gray cloud formed beneath his half-lidded eyelids. Suddenly, he forced a stiff smile. His fingertips caressed Ma Chao's cheek, and a sound like a bursting bubble emanated from his throat: "Brother..." Before he could finish his words, the surrounding darkness suddenly boiled over. Lu Zhi's Confucian robes and Dong Zhuo's battle armor simultaneously ripped through the void, and four hands, like steel vices, gripped Ma Chao's limbs.

"I eat the salary of the emperor, and I should die for my country!"

"The Han Dynasty is doomed, why not take over its place?"

Two stern shouts exploded in Ma Chao's ears like thunder. He felt as if his spine was being twisted and broken, the excruciating pain making him see stars. Finally unable to bear it any longer, he violently shook off the entangled shadows, veins bulging on his forehead. "Enough! Master, Master Dong! Allow me to reminisce with Bo Fu!" As soon as he finished speaking, the two pulling forces suddenly dissipated. The shadows of Lu Zhi and Dong Zhuo stood on either side, staring at him like stone statues.

Ma Chao stumbled, rubbing his numb wrist, his eyes fixed anxiously on Sun Ce. "Bofu, why are you here? In this dark place, I've only seen Master and Master Dong arguing. You're the first..." His voice cut off abruptly. On Sun Ce's pale face, poisonous purple veins snaked down his neck. Black blood flowed from the corners of his festering mouth, forming strange chains in the air.

"Brother, I'm here to say goodbye." Sun Ce's voice seemed to rise from the bottom of a deep pool, with a heart-pounding emptiness. Ma Chao's pupils suddenly shrank, and he subconsciously grabbed the other's cold arm: "Nonsense! You just arrived, and I don't know how to get out of this predicament..."

"He must wake up." Sun Ce suddenly grabbed his wrist, the force from his fingertips causing Ma Chao's bones to ache. "Since hearing the bad news about you, Gongjin and I have assembled our troops. He stayed in Jiangdong, and I led the light cavalry straight to Chang'an..." Sun Ce's words were interrupted by a violent cough. Black blood sprayed onto Ma Chao's armor, instantly transforming into entwined vines. "But he was ambushed by Liu Biao and was seriously injured... and was poisoned."

Ma Chao was struck by lightning, and the memories of that night in Chang'an surged back like a tide: the whistling of arrows, his father's falling figure, the blood-red sunset in front of the Weiyang Palace... He took a half step back, his voice trembling: "Am I... really dead?" He turned and grabbed Sun Ce again, hope in his eyes: "Then why are you here?"

Sun Ce twitched his lips, but it was uglier than crying. A poisonous mist swirled around him, and his voice gradually became blurred: "I will die too... on the road to revenge." He raised his head, his empty eye sockets seeming to see through Ma Chao's soul. "Brother, don't be trapped in the past... Find out the truth..." His figure began to dissipate, and the last trace of his voice echoed in the void, "Wake up... wake up quickly!"

Ma Chao reached out to grab, but only grabbed a handful of nothingness. The shadows of Lu Zhi and Dong Zhuo approached again, and Sun Ce's voice still echoed in his ears, with a clarity that penetrated the darkness: "Brother... live!"

"Bofu! Bofu! Don't go!" Ma Chao's roar echoed through the air. He stumbled forward, only to grasp a wisp of drifting black mist. Where Sun Ce had vanished, a poisonous blue-black pattern spread like a spiderweb, instantly dragging him back into a vortex of memories—the flames of Luoyang's destruction, his father Ma Teng's fallen form, the trampled Han flags in front of the Weiyang Palace, all intertwined with the fierce shouts of Lu Zhi and Dong Zhuo, forming a cage of trapped beasts.

Meanwhile, the thatched cottage in Hanzhong was thick with the aroma of medicinal herbs. A medicine pot gurgled on a ceramic stove. Hua Tuo twirled his silver beard, surveying the ginseng slices floating in the medicine bowl. He sighed, "This century-old ginseng is ultimately not old enough. Although it's saved my life, it's still..." Before he could finish his words, a sudden, urgent cry rang out from the couch, startling Zhen Mi so much that she nearly dropped the medicine bowl in her hands.

"Bo Fu!" Ma Chao suddenly clenched the quilt, his vein-filled hands pawing at the air. Zhen Mi rushed to the bed, grasped his cold fingers, and said in a trembling voice, "General! I'm here! Wake up!" Her tears dripped onto the boy's blood-stained armor, but only a painful muttering came from him.

Hua Tuo stepped forward quickly, his bony fingers resting on Ma Chao's wrist pulse. The candlelight illuminated his suddenly furrowed brow, and the air in the room seemed to freeze. Zhen Mi held her breath, her heart nearly in her throat as she watched the old doctor repeatedly feel Ma Chao's pulse. After a long moment, Hua Tuo finally released his hand and breathed a sigh of relief: "The pulse... has slightly fluctuated." He looked out the window at the gradually brightening sky, a flicker of relief in his eyes, "Perhaps, he has finally figured out how to seize this ray of hope."

Zhen Mi's eyes sparkled with tears as she gently stroked Ma Chao's sweaty hair with her fingertips. "Sir! Does this mean he's about to wake up?" Her voice trembled slightly with anticipation, as if she was afraid of disturbing this hard-earned turn of events.

Hua Tuo's brows were still furrowed in a deep knot, his bony fingers repeatedly stroking the pulse pillow. "It's just that the pulse is a little more stable." He gazed at the white mist rising from the medicine cauldron, suddenly pulling at his beard and falling into deep thought, his aged face filled with worry. "Thousand-year-old ginseng, Polygonum multiflorum, Ganoderma lucidum... If we could find these rare treasures and use them as medicine, perhaps they would be of some help." With that, he abruptly stood up, grabbed his medicine hoe, and headed for the medicine cabinet, flipping over the medical book on the table with the corner of his robe.

Zhen Mi followed behind him, clutching the medicine bowl, her skirt sweeping across the scattered medicinal residue. "But where can I find such a treasure?" Her eyes followed the old doctor's flying hands as he pounded several herbs into the mortar. "But the force he just swallowed... was really much stronger than a few days ago!"

The charcoal fire crackled in the ceramic stove, and the aroma of medicine filled the small thatched cottage. Hua Tuo poured the decoction into a bowl, with fine residue floating on the surface. "Let's see tonight." He handed the bowl to Zhen Mi, a rare hint of hope in his eyes. "If you can give me three more doses, perhaps..."

Zhen Mi said no more and knelt lightly in front of the bed. The bitter taste of the medicine in her mouth had not yet dissipated when she leaned over to pass it to Ma Chao. She had been familiar with the action for many days, but now she was trembling slightly with nervousness. When she felt the obvious swallowing movement of the other party's Adam's apple, she suddenly looked up, her eyes flashing with surprise: "Sir! He... he really has strength! Tomorrow... tomorrow he might wake up!"

Hua Tuo leaned in to examine it, his old hand pressing against Ma Chao's chest, feeling the rise and fall. After a long moment, he sighed deeply, unable to hide the smile on his face. "It's a good sign. But as for life and death..." He gazed out the window at the dark night, "ultimately, it all depends on whether he can grasp this ray of hope."

The cold night seemed endless, the candlelight in the thatched cottage flickering in the morning breeze. Zhen Mi dozed off on the edge of the couch when she was suddenly awakened by the crackling sound of the medicine cauldron. Flustered, she checked the bowl and discovered Ma Chao had swallowed two more mouthfuls of the decoction. Delighted, she turned to Hua Tuo, only to find the old doctor staring intently at the undissolved residue in the bowl, his gray beard trembling slightly in the morning mist.

"Old man, when will he wake up?" Zhen Mi's voice was filled with tears, and her fingertips unconsciously tugged at the blood-stained handkerchief. "I swallowed more powerfully last night, but why am I still..." She choked with sobs and couldn't continue, her eyes fixed on Ma Chao's paper-pale face.

Hua Tuo put down the pulse pillow and gently pressed his withered fingers on Ma Chao's wrist. He held his hand for a long moment before withdrawing it. He gazed out the window at the rising sun, the morning mist casting mottled shadows on his aged face. "Miss, he was already actively cooperating when he swallowed just now." He pointed to the empty medicine bowl on the table. "This shows that his will to survive is becoming stronger and stronger."

Before he finished speaking, he sighed deeply, his sleeves sweeping across the medical books piled on the medicine cabinet: "But his injuries were too severe, and he had lost too much blood. His body is already riddled with holes. If he wasn't so strong, far superior to others, he would have died long ago." The old voice was full of helplessness, "It's like a dead tree coming back to life, how can it sprout branches if its roots are not stable?" He grabbed the rabbit hair brush on the table and quickly wrote a few herbs on the paper, "Thousand-year-old ginseng keeps you alive, Polygonum multiflorum strengthens the body, Ganoderma lucidum calms the mind... If we can gather all these natural treasures, and supplement them with decoctions..."

Zhen Mi suddenly grabbed his sleeve, hope in her eyes: "I'll send someone to look for her right away! No matter how far away, I must..."

"How easy is that!" Hua Tuo interrupted her and slammed the prescription on the table. "These treasures are either hidden in the mountains or cherished by the noble families." He looked at the sleeping Ma Chao, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes. "For now, we can only continue to use medicine to keep him alive, hoping that he can hold on for a few more days..."

The morning mist gradually dissipated, and the chirping of mountain sparrows reached the thatched cottage. Zhen Mi looked down at Ma Chao's slightly rising and falling chest and sipped the freshly brewed medicine. The bitterness of the medicine spread across her tongue. As she leaned forward, a tear quietly fell on the boy's bloodstained collar, leaving a small wet mark.

The morning mist of Jiangdong, shrouded in salty water, flooded the embankment. Zhou Yu jolted awake in his bed curtains, his shirt drenched in sweat and sticking to his back. The bronze sparrow lamp on his desk had gone out at some point, leaving only the jade pendant Ma Chao had gifted him on the table, its cold gleam stinging his eyes—a token of his brother's hand-me-down gift upon their departure in Chang'an.

"Prepare your armor." He stumbled, holding onto his dressing table, a taste of rust rising from his throat. Xiao Qiao's hand, gripping the brocade robe, trembled slightly. The candlelight cast their shadows on the shark silk curtain, flickering. As Zhou Yu tightened his jade belt, he caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror, and he was transported back to the panic he'd felt when he first heard Ma Chao was in danger.

The morning mist still hung by the riverbank, and Zhou Yu's silver armor gleamed coldly in the dawn light. He pulled the reins, staring intently at the surging water, listening to the crash of the waves, but perplexed that the sound was mingled with the sharp whistling of arrows piercing the air. Cheng Pu rode closer, the red tassel on his iron spear rustling in the wind. "General, so early in the morning..."

"Old General, do you remember that night in Chang'an?" Zhou Yu suddenly spoke, his voice so hoarse that Huang Gai tightened his grip on the ring-handled sword at his waist.

"Even before my brother was murdered, my heart was already pounding like a drum." Zhou Yu dug his fingertips deep into the reins, the stinging pain in his palms making him more awake. "Last night..." He turned his head abruptly, his pupils reflecting the rolling waves of clouds. "This feeling is back again." Before he could finish his words, the river breeze blew up his cloak, revealing traces of cold sweat on the lining.

Cheng Pu and Huang Gai exchanged a glance, the old general's Adam's apple rolling. "Perhaps... it's the recent fatigue of military duty?" Before he could finish his words, a rapid clapperboard sounded from a distant watchtower, startling a flock of egrets. Zhou Yu's horse suddenly reared to attention, its neighing mixed with his heavy breathing, echoing in the morning mist.

Zhou Yu gazed at the surging river, his knuckles white as frost as he gripped the reins. His voice was etched with unwavering worry: "Brother Bofu is heading deep into enemy territory this time." He turned, his silver armor faintly visible in the morning mist. "I once lost Brother Mengqi to such a heart palpitation..." His throat felt like an iron chain, making it almost impossible to speak. "Now that Bofu is away, this feeling of unease is intensifying. I'm afraid..." Before he could finish his words, a gust of wind blew muddy waves onto the embankment, sending splashes of water onto his pale cheeks, mingling with the still-dry sweat that trickled down. Cheng Pu and Huang Gai exchanged a glance, the old general's grip on his sword hilt unconsciously tightening. Banners rustled on the shore, as if ominous clouds were bearing down from the sky.