Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

A brilliant light shone through the Tianshi Mansion, and red lanterns hung between the vermilion lacquered columns stained the fresh snow crimson. The lingering scent of agarwood from the bronze cauldron blended with the charred aroma of roasted whole lamb and the sweet, rich aroma of newly brewed glutinous rice wine. Zhang Lu lifted the luminous cup with both hands, the wine gleaming amber in the candlelight, and said in a resounding voice, "Today's celebration banquet is specially prepared for Marquis Wei alone!"

The civil and military officials on the steps responded with a roar of response, the clinking of jade cups like pearls falling on a jade plate. Zhang Lu, embracing two young men, stepped forward, the dark patterns on his robe undulating with his movements: "These are my sons, Zhang Fu and Zhang Gui." Their eyes blazed, their hands trembling as they offered their cups. Ma Chao nodded in return. As he sipped the wine, he caught a glimpse of Yang Song's narrowed triangular eyes and Yang Bai's left hand resting on his sword—in those gazes, there was awe, and even more, scrutiny.

After Zhang Fu, Zhang Gui, and the Hanzhong generals had finished their rounds of toasts, the music suddenly shifted to a lush, melodious melody. Twenty-four dancers, their faces covered in light veils, swirled into the hall to the beat of drums. The lead woman's wide sleeves brushed against a gilded bronze censer, and the tinkling of her rings and pendants filled the room with the fragrance of agarwood. Zhang Lu, twirling his goatee, glanced sideways at Ma Chao, his voice deliberately lowered: "This girl is called Yunying, and she's the best singer and dancer in the palace."

The drumbeats suddenly quickened, and Zhang Qiying spun to Ma Chao's desk, the silver bells at her temples jiggling with her movements. Half-kneeling, her delicate hands cupped a silver cup filled with grape wine, her eyes flickering as she replied, "General, you are truly valiant. I will be honored to see you." Ma Chao lowered his gaze to the flickering candlelight in the cup, his pale face unperturbed. He simply tapped the rim of the cup with his fingertips in greeting.

Zhang Lu narrowed his eyes, taking in Ma Chao's reaction. He had deliberately concealed the fact that Yunying was actually his third daughter, Zhang Qiying, precisely to test the heart of the Western Liang warlord. If he could marry his beloved daughter to Ma Chao, the Western Liang cavalry would form an alliance with the Hanzhong religious community, forcing not only Liu Zhang of Yizhou but even the imperial court in Chang'an to be wary. Seeing that Ma Chao neither refused nor approached him, he clapped his hands and laughed: "Marquis Wei is a hero, and ordinary women are not worth his attention!" His words concealed a hidden agenda.

Upon hearing this, Ma Chao tapped the table with his fingertips, then slowly stood up and bowed. His pale face looked even colder in the candlelight, and the cold light reflected from his silver armor was incompatible with the brilliance of the room. "To be honest, Master, I have already married in Jiangdong and have a son, Cheng Huan." His voice was as low as ice, and after a pause, he continued, "In Xiliang, I have two beautiful women by my side. I am grateful for their love, but I dare not betray them again because of their kindness."

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over the banquet, and the music of stringed instruments came to an abrupt halt. Zhang Lu froze, his wine glass raised in the air, and out of the corner of his eye he saw wrinkles forming on the hem of his daughter's tightly clenched skirt. Civil servants and generals in the hall were whispering to each other. Yang Song's triangular eyes flashed with calculation, and Zhang Qiying's rouge face instantly lost its color. Only Zhang Lu quickly recovered his senses and laughed heartily to break the deadlock: "It turns out to be me, Meng Lang! Marquis Wei is loyal and righteous, and I admire you! Come, change the wine!"

Zhang Lu took a sip from his wine cup, his eyes falling on Ma Chao's pale yet resolute face. He sighed with a half-smile, "Marquis Wei already has a family and a young son, so the young master's presence in Jiangdong isn't a long-term solution. In my opinion, we should send someone to bring him back as soon as possible so that the family can be reunited." He twirled the luminous cup in his hand, and the wall reflected Ma Chao's suddenly tense jawline.

Ma Chao stared down at the swaying wine in his cup, his Adam's apple rolling slightly. "With my second brother Sun Ce and third brother Zhou Yu looking after me, I'll be safe in Jiangdong. Once I've pacified Chang'an, I'll be able to bring my wife and children back in style." Before he finished speaking, Zhang Lu had already placed the wine cup heavily on the table, shaking the bronze surface and causing the grapes in the fruit bowl to fall.

"Marquis Wei doesn't know yet?" Zhang Lu suddenly lowered his voice, worry seeping into the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. "Something big has happened in Jiangdong!"

Ma Chao's expression suddenly turned cold, his wrist guard clattering against the table. "What do you mean, Master Zhang?" He felt a chill run through him, causing everyone at the table to tremble with their wine cups. Zhang Lu's throat churned, "To be honest, a few days ago, our spies reported back—Sun Ce, the young overlord of Jiangdong, was leading his troops to attack Chang'an in revenge for you. He was ambushed and severely injured in Jingzhou, and then poisoned on the river. He has died from the poison!"

The banquet hall was as silent as a grave, the only sound being the crackling of agarwood in the bronze tripod. Ma Chao abruptly rose to his feet, the gust of wind from his silver spear overturning the food and wine on the table. His white horse, as if sensing its master's mood, neighed loudly outside the palace. "Impossible!" His voice was hoarse as a ripped silk, and he remembered the way Sun Ce had patted his shoulder and laughed at him before leaving. "Bofu has Gongjin as his assistant, and Ziyi guarding the border. Who would dare..."

Ma Chao's words were abruptly cut off mid-air, and he froze in place as if struck by lightning. In a trance, the blood-soaked dream from his coma suddenly exploded before his eyes—Sun Ce, bleeding from all seven orifices, streaked through the thick darkness, his pale face even more gruesome than in his memory. His trembling fingertips nearly touched the fatal wound in his throat. At the time, he had dismissed it as a feverish nightmare, but now, recalling it, Sun Ce's hoarse "Take care, brother" overlapped with Zhang Lu's unfinished words.

Cold sweat trickled down his back into his armor, and Ma Chao's veins bulged as he gripped the edge of the desk. He suddenly remembered the force that had pulled him back from the abyss while unconscious—the throbbing of a brother's soul, a thousand miles apart, a final farewell from Sun Ce at his deathbed. It was this that had freed him from the shackles of Master Dong's will and the constraints of his master's sect, reigniting his fighting spirit on the brink of life and death. A chill wind howled outside the window, swirling fine snow against his burning cheeks. Ma Chao stared at the bloodstains on his palms, which had seeped out of him at some unknown time. He finally understood that the "nightmare" of that day had been fate's final warning.

Ma Chao stumbled, clinging to a pillar, a sweet, fishy taste rising in his throat. The image of Sun Ce, bloodstained that day, suddenly overlapped with the reality before him. He suddenly remembered the faint, "Mengqi, help me..." sound in his coma. Every word hit him like a hammer. His nails dug deep into his palms, and he finally understood that his brother's warning to cross the line of life and death had come at the cost of his own life.

"It was me who murdered Bofu..." A hoarse whisper mingled with a suppressed growl as Ma Chao shattered the bronze lampstand beside him with a fierce blow. The gilded Vermillion Bird lamp crashed to the ground, its candlelight instantly igniting the curtains, illuminating his reddened eyes with the flames of revenge. "The court!" He tore at the silver chain at his collar, the hideous scar on his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing. "First, Chang'an murdered me, then he murdered Bofu. This corrupt court should have been buried with the Han mausoleum!"

The night wind, whirling thick smoke, threw the celebration banquet at the Tianshi Mansion into chaos. Zhang Lu and his men hurried to put out the fire, only to see Ma Chao kneeling on one knee, his trembling fingers digging deep into the cracks between the blue bricks. Blood seeping from between his fingers mixed with the dust, forming a distorted totem on the ground. "Bofu, wait for me." He looked up to the north, his pale face washed by the torrential rain, but the hatred in his eyes only grew stronger. "No matter who is behind this, I will destroy Chang'an and let this world be buried with you!" At this moment, the Xiliang God of War, once bound by morality and gratitude, completely transformed into an Asura burning with the fire of revenge. The corrupt court would eventually be ravaged by his wrath.

The fire gradually died down, leaving the ground in a mess. Zhang Lu dismissed the frightened guests. The air was filled with the scent of burnt silk and the lingering aroma of wine. Only in the corner, Zhang Fubao's fingertips, clutching the sable fur coat, trembled slightly. She looked at the figure kneeling under the fading candle—the figure that had once been emaciated on the sickbed, now suppressed like a trapped beast, a raging rage. Blood seeping from the cracks in the black armor stained the blue bricks a dark red.

"Wei...Wei Hou?" She stumbled to avoid the debris on the ground, her embroidered shoes making a slight sound as they stepped on the water stains. The moment Ma Chao turned his head abruptly, her breath hitched - the hatred surging in his red tiger eyes reminded her of the raging sand and waves she had seen in Xiliang when she was young. However, the next moment, the sharp edge suddenly faded, turning into thick sorrow, "Don't come over." He gave a hoarse warning mixed with sobs, and he pounded his clenched fist on the ground, splashing blood onto the hem of her skirt.

Zhang Fubao stubbornly squatted down, pulling a handkerchief from his sleeve and attempting to wipe the wound on his palm. In the flickering candlelight, she suddenly saw the new black hair at Ma Chao's temples. His temples, which had been as gray as frost a few days ago, now had a satin-like sheen, making his pale face even more breathtaking. "My father said that the Nine Revolutions Resurrection Pill can..." Her voice trembled, her fingertips hovering over the back of his hand, hesitant to let go. "If you treat yourself like this, wouldn't you be letting him down..."

Ma Chao suddenly coughed violently, and the blood foam that escaped from between his fingers stained his handkerchief red. He looked at the concern in the girl's eyes, and it suddenly overlapped with Sun Ce's dying gaze. He swallowed the sob that welled up in his throat and forced a smile that was uglier than crying: "Thank you, young lady... But I must avenge this vengeance."

After the last guest bowed and left, Zhang Lu surveyed the mess on the floor, his brow furrowed. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Zhang Fubao tiptoeing towards Ma Chao. He was about to call him out when he saw his daughter carefully draping the mink coat over her trembling shoulders. This usually spoiled little girl's eyes were now filled with a tenderness he had never seen before.

"Nonsense! Why don't you retreat!" The words turned into a sigh as they reached his lips. Zhang Lu stroked his beard and stepped forward, the hem of his robe brushing the broken lampstand: "Marquis Wei, I offer my condolences. General Bofu was a rare talent, and this misfortune is truly a stroke of genius..." Before he could finish his words, Ma Chao suddenly coughed violently, his knuckles slamming heavily on the blue bricks, splashing blood that landed on the hem of Zhang Fu's skirt.

Zhang Fubao instinctively reached out to help, but his father stopped him. Zhang Lu squatted down, pulled out a silk handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to him, his eyes fixed on Ma Chao's blood-stained wristband: "The court has become so corrupt. Although I am living in Hanzhong, I know that the world has suffered for a long time." He lowered his voice, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his daughter's clenched fist. "If Marquis Wei does not abandon you, Hanzhong is willing to support you."

Zhang Fubao watched her father conversing with Ma Chao, and suddenly felt a chill in her palms. She recalled Ma Chao's reddened eyes, his suppressed sobs, and dug her nails into her palms. So, the man, once as pale as paper on his sickbed, could conceal such surging sorrow. The calculating glint in her father's eyes and the surging heartache in her now mingled, forming a mystery in the flickering candlelight.

Zhang Lu lowered his eyes and gazed at Ma Chao, his calculations already clacking in his sleeve. He had previously planned to marry Zhang Qiying to Ma Chao, figuring that if Ma Chao could return to Chang'an, through this marriage, Hanzhong and the Western Liang Iron Cavalry could share the throne. If the imperial court crushed the rebels, with his youngest daughter's unique fate, the Tianshi Sect could also secure a place at the court. He gently stroked the Tianshi seal at his waist, a look of deep sorrow on his face: "Marquis Wei and General Bofu share a deep brotherly love, and I empathize with them!"

Zhang Fubao squatted beside Ma Chao, completely unaware of her father's gaze. She was busy wiping the blood from Ma Chao's palm with a handkerchief, but then Zhang Lu changed the subject: "The dead are gone, and Marquis Wei has a heavy responsibility, so you must take care of yourself."

Zhang Lu thought to himself: It won't be too late to make careful moves on this chess game once the situation becomes clear. Regardless, whether it's the God of War in Xiliang or the Emperor in Chang'an, someone will have to accept the olive branch offered by the Tianshi Sect.