Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

Outside the tent, the aroma of roasting beef and mutton mingled with the soldiers' laughter and chatter, and Ma Teng's tense expression relaxed slightly. He stroked Ma Chao's spear and said gravely, "Send a message to Lu Su and Xu Rong to discuss a plan for breaking the city." The flickering candlelight in the tent deepened the wrinkles around his eyes.

Li Ru tapped the table lightly, his eyes scanning the dense red dots outside Chang'an on the map. "Wait a minute, besides Lu Su and Xu Rong, please invite Jia Xu and Jia Wenhe, who came with Zhang Xiu." Seeing Ma Teng frown as if about to speak, a meaningful smile curved his lips, and his bony fingers traced sharp arcs on the parchment. "Jia Xu, this man is hiding his strength, but he is just waiting for a lord worthy of his trust."

Ma Teng paused stroking his beard, his memory surfacing of that face always smiling with downcast eyes. Jia Xu had been with Zhang Xiu for years, yet he never showed his true potential. Li Ru suddenly leaned in, his voice husky and chilling, "If we don't seize this opportunity to tie him to the Xiliang chariot, he will become a serious threat in the future." Before he finished speaking, a sudden snowstorm rose outside the tent, carrying a few sparks towards the battle flag hanging on the wall. The words "Marquis Wei" glowed crimson in the firelight.

The animal oil lamp cast a flickering glow on the cowhide tent roof, and the steaming aroma of alcohol and blood mingled in the air. Ma Teng, leaning on Ma Chao's spear, slowly scanned the people in the tent. Xu Rong wore a scowl, Lu Su sighed silently, and Jia Xu sat quietly in a corner with his eyes downcast, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the rim of his cup.

"Everyone, ever since Chao'er's blood was shed on the battlefield, we, the soldiers of Xiliang, have vowed to seek justice." Ma Teng's voice was like sandpaper grinding against rusty iron. "Driven by this grief and indignation, we have conquered three frontiers and captured five cities. But today..." His eyes swept over the scattered bandages on the ground. "Behind the city of Chang'an, eight thousand men were buried in a foreign land. The soldiers who returned were all wounded, and even the battle flags were soaked in blood."

The tent was completely silent, with only the sound of the cold wind slapping the tent curtains. Ma Teng slammed his spear into the ground, shaking the military books on the table. "If morale continues to be so low, let alone revenge, I'm afraid we won't even be able to defend our homeland in Xiliang! Tell me, how should we fight this battle?"

The animal oil lamp flickered in the chill wind, distorting the shadows of the people inside the tent onto the cowhide tent. Xu Shu's slender fingers tapped the table, and the bronze candlesticks trembled, shedding tiny tears of wax. "The city of Chang'an is ten feet high, the moat is covered in ice three feet thick, and powerful crossbows are stationed on the city walls." He paused, unfolding the blood-stained scout report, densely marked with the garrison's deployment. "Lü Bu's Fang Tian Hua Ji appears and disappears with mysterious force, the three brothers Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei fight to the death, and Zhao Zilong of Changshan rushes in and out seven times as if he were in an empty space..." Before he finished speaking, sighs echoed from within the tent.

Lu Su twirled his beard, looked at the Chang'an defense line marked with cinnabar on the map, and said in a heavy tone: "What Yuanzhi said is absolutely right. Although our army has captured several cities in a row, Xiliang is a barren land with poor people. If the emperor dispatches reinforcements from Guandong and Jingzhou, we will be attacked from both sides, and I am afraid..." His voice gradually disappeared in the howling north wind, and the atmosphere in the tent became more and more solemn.

Jia Xu stared down at the ceramic cup, his fingertips unconsciously drawing fine lines along its rim. Suddenly, Li Ru slammed the table, sending the wine splattering from the cup. "Wenhe, you're known for your cunning tactics, so why are you so silent?" This sudden question startled Jia Xu, and he jerked his head upwards. The candlelight illuminated his narrow, long, almond-shaped eyes, which gleamed coldly. He swallowed the words that were about to come to his lips, saying simply, "Our army is weakened. A hasty advance would lead to a desperate situation."

Ma Teng's eyes swept over Jia Xu's evasive eyes like a hawk, and the veins on his hand holding the spear bulged: "What do you think? Do you want us to watch the enemy defending their shells and do nothing?" The tent was as silent as a grave. Only the cold wind, carrying the groans of wounded soldiers in the distance, came in from the cracks in the corners of the tent, adding a bit of solemnity to the stalemate.

Jia Xu was forced to step back under Ma Teng's scorching gaze. He then straightened his clothes and bowed, his wide sleeves brushing the casualty list scattered on the table. "My lord, you generals only know that blood debts must be repaid with blood. Have you ever considered that Chang'an is as solid as a rock? Even if we bleed every last drop of blood from Xiliang, what chance of victory can we gain?" He suddenly raised his hand and pulled open the curtains. A biting cold wind swept in, carrying snowflakes, which mingled with the bloody odor in the tent and condensed into a white mist. "Not to mention Xiliang's thousands of miles of borders. The Xianbei, Xiongnu, and Jie are eyeing us covetously. If we march south while our army is out in full force, what will you do to protect your homeland?"

The bamboo slips in Xu Shu's hand clattered to the ground. The border fortresses marked on the map glowed a glaring red in the candlelight. Lu Su froze, stroking his beard, remembering the scouts' report the day before: the Jie tribe had assembled outside Zhangye. Ma Teng's knuckles turned white as he gripped his spear.

"In my opinion, the most urgent task is to negotiate peace with Chang'an." Jia Xu's voice suddenly softened, lingering in everyone's ears like a venomous snake. "I request the title of Duke of Liang, a hereditary title to guard the border. I also request money, food, and weapons to rebuild my damaged military equipment." He glanced at Li Ru's suddenly gloomy face, and a meaningful smile curled his lips. "When the war breaks out again, we will defend the pass and recuperate. By then, it is still unknown who will win."

The tent was as still as a grave. Ma Teng stared at Jia Xu's serene face, suddenly sensing a calculation sharper than a sword. With Ma Chao's recent death, the army's morale was already faltering. A truce and peace offer now would tear the very pretext of "revenge for Ma Chao" to shreds. But Jia Xu's every word struck a chord: Xiliang couldn't withstand the strain of fighting on two fronts.

"You want me to endure the vengeance of my son's death?" The old general's voice was like a blade tempered with ice. Jia Xu lowered his eyes and saluted, hiding the fleeting coldness in his eyes: "My lord, a true sword should know when to unsheathe."

Li Ru's hand slammed on the table, knocking the wine bowl over and spilling dark red wine across the map. "What nonsense! Negotiating peace now will only make eight thousand souls die with regrets. The army will return to Xiliang and their morale will collapse in no time!" He approached Jia Xu, a cold light flashing under his crane cloak. "If you continue to hide your head and show your tail, don't blame me for punishing you with military law!"

Jia Xu's throat churned as he glanced at Ma Teng's spear grip, veins bulging in his hand, the tip of the spear nearly piercing the ground. A cold wind howled outside the tent, carrying the groans of the wounded soldiers against the cowhide tent. Mixed with Li Ru's heavy breathing, it condensed into a suffocating pressure. He lowered his eyes to stare at the bloodstains splattered on his boots, then suddenly raised his head and sneered, "If that's the case, then let me be frank—do you think the remaining soldiers of Xiliang can capture the city before the princes of Guandong respond to the order to defend the king?"

Ma Teng's pupils suddenly shrank, and the spear in his hand clanged against the table. Xu Shu tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword at his waist, Lu Su's beard trembled slightly, and the atmosphere in the tent froze instantly. Jia Xu walked to the map, his fingertips traced the border of Xiliang, and his voice was like the tongue of a poisoned snake: "The Xianbei cavalry roams in the clouds, the Xiongnu royal court stationed troops in Hetao, and the Jie tribes are ready to fight in Longxi..." He turned around abruptly, a fierce look in his eyes, "Instead of sitting and waiting to die, why not form an alliance with the foreign race? Use their scimitars to break through Chang'an! By then, the Central Plains will be in chaos, and the various princes will be unable to take care of themselves. Only then will Xiliang be able to seek a chance to survive in the troubled times!"

The animal oil lamp suddenly erupted, illuminating Jia Xu's sinister features with flickering light. Ma Teng dug his nails into his palms, the rusty, bloody smell lingering in his mouth—this was a scheme even more ruthless than the peace talks, yet it struck everyone like a hammer. Li Ru stared at the curve of Jia Xu's lips, suddenly feeling that this man was even more like a Shura than himself, willing to invite a wolf into his house, using the entire Central Plains as a bargaining chip to gamble on the future of Xiliang.

Li Ru clapped his hands and laughed, but there was no smile in his eyes. He hit Jia Xu's shoulder hard: "What a good way to kill with a borrowed knife! Wenhe is really cruel!" Before he finished speaking, Xu Shu drew his sword from its sheath, and pointed the cold blade at Jia Xu's throat: "Young General, you have been loyal to your country all your life. How can I allow you to lead foreign races to trample on the Central Plains! How is this different from treason?" The sword tassel shook violently in the wind, reflecting Xu Shu's flushed face full of anger.

Lu Su stepped forward with trembling beard, pressed down Xu Shu's sword, and turned to glare at Jia Xu: "The Western Liang Iron Cavalry has always been proud of guarding the Han Dynasty's borders, and the Major General is known for his loyalty and righteousness. Now you have let a wolf into the house. How can he face the Major General in his afterlife?" His robe sleeves swept across the table, and blood-stained battle reports fell to the ground, as if telling of the iron will of the Western Liang soldiers.

Jia Xu remained unmoved, his fingertips still rubbing the rim of the cup. His eyes swept over the anger and shock of the people in the tent, and he sneered, "Loyalty? Can it buy the lives of millions of soldiers and civilians in Xiliang?" He suddenly grabbed the casualty list on the table and slammed it to the ground. "Look at these numbers! If we continue fighting, more men will die in the wilderness! When the reinforcements from the Guandong princes come like a tide, can so-called loyalty and righteousness stop the thousands of troops?"

Ma Teng's grip on his spear trembled slightly, the tip of the spear scraping the ground with a sharp sound. Ma Chao, clad in silver armor, chanting "Defend our home and our country," flashed before his eyes, but the image of eight thousand soldiers dead lingered as well. From outside the tent, the soldiers' mourning songs echoed, their desolate melody mingling with the chill wind and adding weight to the debate.

Before she could finish her words, the cowhide curtain was suddenly blown away by a strong wind, and a biting cold air, wrapped in a flash of white, rushed in. Her fingertips, clutching the half-melted snow, turned white, and her eyes were full of anger: "What nonsense!"

The girl walked straight into the tent, her embroidered boots crushing the candle wax on the ground, and walked straight to Jia Xu: "The emperor is foolish, and we in Xiliang have raised an army to fight against him. It is only natural. But Brother Chao..." Her voice suddenly trembled, and a bitter taste welled up in her throat. "Every time he went to war, he would rather lose more soldiers when attacking a city than protect the women and children in the city. If he allowed foreign tribes to trample on the Central Plains, thousands of people would suffer. If Brother Chao knew about this, he would never rest in peace!"

Dong Bai turned around abruptly and looked at the blood-stained spear in Ma Teng's hand, tears welling up in her eyes: "Uncle, have you forgotten? Brother Chao's ambition has always been." Her sobs mixed with the howling north wind outside the tent, making the solemn atmosphere in the tent a bit sad.

Xu Shu silently sheathed his sword. Lu Su sighed and turned away. Even the usually ruthless Li Ru clenched his fists. Jia Xu lowered his eyes to stare at the snow stains on his clothes, and suddenly realized that this seemingly fragile woman understood Ma Chao's obsession better than anyone else in the tent. That spear had never protected power and revenge, but every wisp of smoke rising from the chimneys of the Central Plains.

Jia Xu's diabolical plot was angrily dismissed by the crowd, but the tense atmosphere within the tent lingered. Ma Teng stared at the wine-stained Chang'an defense map on the table, his Adam's apple rolling several times before finally slamming his spear to the ground. "Let's withdraw our troops and rest for now!" As his words fell, the wind and snow outside rushed in, carrying the unfinished argument away in the biting cold.

The next morning, the Xiliang camp hoisted a black battle flag signaling "siege, but not attack." Wounded soldiers supported each other as they repaired damaged tents. From the blacksmith's shop came the clanging of hammers, polishing newly tempered weapons. Outside the moat, countless tents lined up like black beetles, encircling Chang'an impenetrably. Yet, the deafening roar of battle was gone.