Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

"This...this..." Liu Bei's face paled, clutching the arrow slits at the parapet. In the distance, in front of the Xiliang camp, the wolf-head battle flag was blown almost straight by the strong wind. A hundred thousand soldiers, holding their spears high like a forest, shone a blinding cold light in the sunlight. Further away, a silver-armored rider loomed in the snowy mist, his Aurora horse rearing its head and neighing, its cry echoing throughout the field.

Guan Yu's eyes widened, his long beard quivering with shock. He stared at the familiar figure, his Adam's apple rolling heavily. "General Divine Might... Could Meng Qi still be alive?!" Before he could finish his words, Zhang Fei had already pushed through the crowd and charged, his lance sparking on the bricks. "Who the hell is calling for battle? Wait for me, Old Zhang, to get down..." The words suddenly stopped at his lips, his eyes widening as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. "Wait... that horse... isn't that the Aurora Horse that treads on snow without a trace?!"

Liu Bei's fingers, gripping Guan Yu's arm, dug deep into his armor as he watched the cheering and jubilant crowd in the Xiliang camp, a wave of turmoil welling up in his heart. Ma Chao, thought long since lost in the chaos, had returned safely. What thrilling twist would this twist add to the chessboard of these turbulent times?

Night fell on the outskirts of Chang'an. Bonfires in the Xiliang army camp blazed like stars, smearing the snowy plains into a sea of ​​crimson. For the first time since the rumors of Ma Chao's death, the camp erupted in thunderous cheers. The cries of battle and toasts, mingled with the aroma of roasted lamb, reached the heavens. Ma Teng, standing before the main tent, overturned the alcohol ban with a single wave of his hand. The resounding crack of breaking wine jars and the cheers of the soldiers echoed, startling the enemy defenders on the city walls into gripping their weapons.

Inside the main tent, the bronze lamp cast a skewed shadow over Li Ru. His hand, holding the wine jug, trembled slightly, his dark Taoist robe making him look even thinner. "It was my poor planning that put the young general in such a desperate situation..." Before he could finish his words, Ma Chao had already grabbed the wine jar and filled two bowls, splashing the amber liquor onto the backs of their clasped hands. "Why do you say that, sir? If I hadn't been so arrogant and underestimated the enemy, how could I have fallen for that tyrant's treacherous scheme?" The young general tilted his head back to drink the liquor, his eyes blazing as his Adam's apple rolled. "In the future, to capture Chang'an and punish the traitors, we'll have to rely on your strategic planning!"

A chill wind howled outside the tent, while a sweltering heat surged inside. As Ma Chao, carrying a jar of wine, approached the generals, Xu Huang hurriedly knelt on one knee, his blood-stained bandage still wrapped around the axe handle. Zhang Liao tried to rise and salute, but he grasped his shoulder and said, "Brother Wenyuan's arrow wound hasn't healed yet. I'll take this bowl of wine for you!" Gan Ning patted his chest and laughed. The Jinfan bandits' reckless drinking startled the furs on the tent roof, snow falling from them. Ma Dai silently spilled the wine his brother had poured onto the ground, his tears reflecting the firelight, transporting him back to their youth, when they'd shared kumis.

When the last jar of wine was empty, Ma Chao suddenly leaped onto the table. He ripped open his shirt, the arrow wound on his chest glaring in the firelight. The lion-like sword at his waist reflected a cold light: "Tonight, plenty of wine and meat! Tomorrow—" Before he finished speaking, the roar of 100,000 soldiers pierced the tent: "Raze Chang'an! Blood debt must be paid with blood!" Startled birds flew over the city walls, casting shadows on the pale faces of the Chang'an soldiers.

In the bonfire's glow, veins bulged as Ma Chao raised his glass, the amber liquor rippled through the bowl. He tilted his head back to quaff the liquor, but a lump of unmelted ice burned in his throat—the warmth of Pan Feng's blood gushing from his neck onto his armor, the pounding of Wu Anguo by the thousand-jin valve, Dian Wei's roar as he fought to the death, and the feeling of black blood gushing from all seven orifices along his wrist before Sun Ce's pupils dimmed—all of it now transformed into steel needles, piercing his heart.

"Brother?" Ma Dai called softly, seeing his brother's knuckles turning white as he gripped the cup. Ma Chao suddenly set the wine bowl down, the porcelain shards clashing against the bronze table with a sharp, crisp sound. He looked toward Chang'an. In the night, the city resembled a dormant beast, the flickering lights on the towers like the eyes of a jackal. The emperor's hideous smile woven itself into a bloody web before his eyes.

"All dead..." He murmured softly, only Dong Bai, beside him, heard the three words clearly. The girl quietly grasped his sleeve, only to feel it cold—his palm beneath the armor had already been scratched with blood from his nails. Those faces that should have been vivid now recurred only in his nightmares: Pan Feng's wide-open eyes, the veins bulging from Wu Anguo's arms, Dian Wei's halberds broken in two, and Li Tong's gaze back at him amidst the chaos, filled with the final, longing attachment of a dying man.

From outside the tent, chants of "Long live the young master" echoed, but they couldn't dispel the gloom in his eyes. Ma Chao suddenly pressed down on the longsword at his waist, the lion's fangs piercing his palm painfully. This vengeance wasn't just for himself. He wanted to watch the emperor's blood splatter on the steps of the imperial court, to soak every brick and stone in Chang'an with the blood of his enemies, to let the souls wandering the road to the underworld sleep peacefully, clutching the hearts of their enemies.

The ambergris twisted into a hideous grimace in the copper censer. The Han emperor smashed the jade cup against the dragon pillar, sending shattered jade splattering on the faces of the ministers below, causing them to gasp. "Rebellion! All of them!" He stumbled and kicked over the imperial desk, sending bamboo slips and documents flying like snowflakes. "A mere Ma Chao, yet he has repeatedly ruined my plans!"

Liu Bei knelt. "Your Majesty, calm down. The Western Liang cavalry are watching closely, and since Ma Chao isn't dead yet, why not..." Before he could finish his words, the emperor grabbed his inkstone and threw it at him, splashing ink onto his cloak. "Negotiate peace?" The emperor approached, stepping over the mess, the hem of his robe brushing Liu Bei's trembling shoulders. "If I can make him fall into an icy cave, I can also send him to the eighteen levels of hell!"

The atmosphere in the hall was as still as iron. Lü Bu knelt on one knee, his painted halberd slashing against the blue bricks with a sharp sound. The emperor suddenly grabbed his golden hair crown, the beads on the imperial crown clashing against his forehead. "You reported with your own mouth that you had taken Ma Chao's head! Now he's standing outside Chang'an alive, and you think I'm a three-year-old child?!"

Lü Bu's Adam's apple rolled, and his face, distorted by the grip, turned pale. "I saw him fall..." His words were drowned out by the emperor's frantic laughter. The ministers below the steps fell to the ground, but Guan Yu tightened his grip on his Green Dragon Crescent Blade. He gazed at the mad figure on the throne, a barely perceptible coldness flashing in his phoenix eyes.

The emperor's boots crushed bamboo slips on the floor, and his dragon robe brushed against the pillars, knocking off the gilded lacquer. He suddenly drew the Emperor's Sword from his waist, pointed it toward the north, and roared, "Propagate my command! All the princes of the land must immediately march to the capital to defend the king! Whoever presents Ma Chao's head will be crowned king!" The candlelight in the hall trembled violently from the roar, and the shadows of the courtiers crouching on the blue bricks twisted like ghosts.

Xun Yu wore a Xiezhi crown, his robe stained with ink from the inkstone he had just spilled. He took two steps on his knees and said in a deep voice, "Your Majesty! The morale of the Western Liang army has been greatly boosted by Ma Chao's return. Although the walls of Chang'an are strong, they are no match for the sharp cavalry. I request to move the capital and temporarily avoid..."

"Shut up!" The emperor's sword tip instantly pressed against Xun Yu's throat, and ambergris sprayed on his pale face. "I am destined to be yours! You want me to abandon the city and flee?" He suddenly laughed grimly, and the tip of his sword lifted up Xun Yu's official hat. "When Dong Zhuo moved the capital, the people's bones covered the fields. Do you want me to bear this eternal infamy?"

Liu Bei was dragged to his knees, his gold-inlaid jade belt buckle rubbing against his chest. The emperor's free hand grasped Lü Bu's armored throat guard, and the three of them formed a strange triangle on the steps. "Xuan De! Feng Xian! One of you is my uncle, and the other is the most formidable general in the world!" The emperor dug his nails deep into their flesh. "You will guard the gates of Chang'an! When the army arrives, I will step over Ma Chao's corpse and return to the Weiyang Palace!"

Thunder roared outside the palace, illuminating the emperor's distorted features. Lü Bu stared at Liu Bei's suddenly pale face, cold sweat forming on his palm as he wielded his Fang Tian Hua Ji—he clearly saw the madness in the emperor's eyes.

The night shone like ink across Chang'an. The bronze bells on the eaves of the Weiyang Palace wailed in the chill wind. The emperor's frantic roar pierced the palace walls, startling the crows in the courtyard. At Wang Yun's signal, Lü Bu trudged into the darkened side hall. Amidst the flickering candlelight, Liu Xie, the Prince of Luoyang, stood quietly in the shadows, dressed in plain clothes. A gilded medicine box in his hand shone with a cold luster.

"Look at this chaos in the court!" Wang Yun flung open his sleeves, shaking the secret report on the table slightly. The words "Meng De is approaching Chang'an" with the ink still wet flickered in the candlelight. "Ma Chao is not dead yet, but the emperor has lost his mind. No matter how strong the walls of Chang'an are, they cannot withstand the wrath of the Western Liang cavalry!" He pointed his old finger fiercely at the window, a fierce light flashing in his turbid eyes. "The plan must be advanced! Tonight at midnight is a godsend!"

Lü Bu's hand, gripping the Fang Tian Hua Ji, was throbbing with veins. The Prince of Luoyang slowly opened the medicine box, revealing three crimson pills that shimmered eerily on the gold velvet lining. The young man's pale fingertips grasped one of the pills, his voice as cold as ice. "Your Majesty must take the pills daily at 3:30 AM. I will guide him to take them at 12:30 PM."

"Fengxian!" Wang Yun suddenly grabbed Lü Bu's armored shoulder guard, his skinny fingers almost digging into his flesh. "Immediately mobilize your trusted soldiers to guard the palace and seal all the palace gates! Once the emperor falls, stop Liu Bei's army!"

The night watchman ticked, and the shadows of the three people twisted and tangled on the blue brick floor. In the distance, the orderly footsteps of the night watchmen came from far away, approaching and then gradually fading away.

The carved sandalwood table cracked like spiderwebs under the heavy blow of the jade paperweight. The hem of the emperor's dragon robe swept the messy ground. The gilded incense burner fell, and the ambergris ash sprinkled like blood on the dragon pillar. He tore off the crown tassel and slammed it to the ground. Twelve oriental pearls burst out, and one rolled to the feet of the eunuch huddled in the corner, reflecting the young man's frightened eyes.

"Get out! All of you, get out!" The emperor's hoarse roar made the window frames buzz. He swept the bamboo slips from his desk, the sharp blades scraping against the blue bricks with a piercing sound. Only after the last palace servant stumbled out of the study did the emperor slump down on the Panlong Chair, a low, trapped animal gasping. The candlelight cast a distorted shadow on the wall, his hideous figure swaying with the violent rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, a eunuch's sharp voice came from outside the door: "The Prince of Luoyang requests an audience——!"

The emperor suddenly looked up, the remaining beads on his crown rustling softly. He stared at the closed carved wooden door, his Adam's apple bobbing twice as he slammed the medicine box shut. "Announce..."

The carved wooden door creaked open, and Liu Xie, the Prince of Luoyang, strode in, clutching a gilded food box. He was suddenly struck by the pungent odor of alcohol. Amidst the chaos, the emperor sat crooked on a carpet emblazoned with coiled dragons, his crown askew, his dark robe stained with wine. A gilded wine jug tumbled among the shattered bamboo slips, its spout still bubbling with residual wine. In the flickering candlelight, the emperor's reddened eyes danced with a frenzied fire, echoing the unclosed medicine box on the desk.

"My Royal Brother, what are you doing..." Liu Xie lowered his voice, kneeling to the Emperor's feet. He lowered his eyes to hide the cold light in them, and his fingertips brushed the Emperor's scattered hairpins. "I heard that Ma Chao has returned from the dead, and you are so worried about state affairs?" Before he could finish his words, the Emperor suddenly grabbed him by the collar, the smell of alcohol spraying across his pale face. "How dare you laugh at me?"