Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the streets of Chang'an were still bathed in a cold, gray light. The old woman clutched half a blackened cake. Through the crack in the door, she saw the cold gleam of armor grazing across the bluestone slabs. The Western Liang army was lined up to clean up the mess from the previous night. Broken halberds and bloodstained silks were gathered in piles, and no one had even set foot inside a house. Her throat tightened, and she pulled her granddaughter back to her. She saw a soldier bend down to pick up a fallen pottery jar and gently place it on the threshold.

As the sun rose higher, the owner of the rice shop west of the city trembled as he opened his door. He'd expected to see a ferocious soldier, but instead, he saw several Xiliang soldiers helping the old carpenter next door prop up his fallen stall. The leading centurion spotted him, untied the leather pouch from his waist, and shook it: "Shopkeeper, are you looking for business?" Copper coins tinkled from the pouch, and were worth twice the market value.

"This...this..." The rice shop owner trembled as he held the money, his cloudy eyes welling up with tears. Ever since the Bingzhou army entered the city, his rice jar hidden in the wall had been turned upside down. Now, someone was actually using real money to buy grain?

News spread faster than the wind. As dusk once again enveloped Chang'an, whispers echoed behind closed doors and windows. A widow working in the weaving workshop east of the city heard the sound of horse hooves and instinctively hugged her young son, only to hear a low shout from outside the window: "Don't alarm the people!" The sound of iron hooves actually bypassed her courtyard.

Meanwhile, in the square in front of the Weiyang Palace, Ma Chao let the evening breeze ruffle his hair. He gazed at the old officials from Chang'an kneeling at the steps and suddenly raised his hand. "Everyone, get up! Pass the order to open the granaries and release grain for three days to feed the hungry."

Li Ru's eyes flashed with admiration. "Your Excellency's move is more effective in winning over the people than a mighty army. However..." He glanced meaningfully at the market under the setting sun, "I'm afraid those wealthy families plundered by the Bingzhou army will be filled with resentment."

"Let them resent it." Ma Chao stroked the sword at his waist, his gaze fixed on the distant smoke rising from the houses. "When the people have rice in their pots, that's more reassuring than ten mountains of gold." He suddenly recalled the contrasting teachings of Master Dong and his master. The two perspectives collided with him, neither right nor wrong. After waking up this time, he finally came to his own understanding: true hegemony lies not in conquering cities but in empowering his subjects to open their windows and dream sweet dreams.

The dusk was blood-red, staining the eaves of the Weiyang Palace a dark crimson. The remaining snow piled into dappled frost marks before the palace gates. Ma Teng stepped into the palace, stepping on a floor covered in ice crystals. The hem of his dark brocade robe swept across the shattered steps of the imperial court, stirring up fine snow foam. His gaze passed over the tilted Panlong Pillar. Dark red bloodstains snaked down along the dragon scales, marking the hideous wounds left by the Bingzhou army's melee the previous night. The air still lingered with the acrid scent of rust and gunpowder.

"Father!" A familiar call boomed like thunder. Clad in blood-stained silver armor, Ma Chao, along with Zhang Liao, Xu Huang, Ma Dai, and other generals, knelt on one knee. The clink of metal armor echoed throughout the empty hall. Ma Teng's body lurched violently, his whip clattering to the ground. He reached out his hands, trembling, and his eyes burned as his fingertips touched his son's cool armor. "Mengqi..." The old man's voice was almost choked with sobs, and his rough hand caressed Ma Chao, as if to confirm the reality of the man before him.

Dong Bai stepped forward with delicate steps, her gold-embroidered shoes crushing the ice crystals on the ground. She gently stroked the damaged pillars, her gilded armor scratched by the deep cuts. "Uncle, look, Chang'an is now in the hands of the Ma family." Her voice held the delicate allure of a young girl, but the sharpness in her eyes couldn't be concealed. "Now that the emperor is dead, this Wang Yun has taken the new emperor with him to Yanzhou with Cao Cao. It's just..."

"Bai'er, whether there's a new emperor or not is too far-fetched for us." Li Ru walked out, his wide black sleeves sweeping across the toppled bronze lampstand. "But the beams and pillars of the Weiyang Palace need repairing." He tapped lightly on the rotten wooden beams, and sawdust fell onto the cloud-embroidered boots. "Otherwise, they won't be able to withstand the wind and rain in the future."

Ma Teng snapped back to his senses, his gaze sweeping over the devastated ground. Shattered jade cups, torn dragon robes, toppled incense burners, and even the trampled bamboo slips of the Han Shu in the corner—this should have been a sacred place where the emperor held court, but now it looked even more desolate than the ancient battlefields of Liang Province. Just a few days ago, he had been in the Xiliang army camp, burning incense and offering wine before Ma Chao's tablet, tearfully cursing the injustice of fate. And now, his son stood before him, alive and well, holding Chang'an, the symbol of imperial power, in his grasp.

"Father, we've taken Chang'an back." Ma Chao suddenly stood up, his gaze sweeping across the dilapidated caisson ceiling. His voice, deep as a drum, shook the dust from the beams. Ma Teng gazed at his son's upright figure and the large "Ma" banner fluttering in the wind, and suddenly felt the white marble tiles beneath his feet burning hot. From the desolate plains of Liangzhou to the golden halls of the Weiyang Palace, this journey had taken the Ma family far, far too long.

Dusk cast a sinister shadow over the Panlong caisson ceiling. Ma Teng gazed at the devastated palace grounds, a grotesque spectacle of broken glazed tiles and faded red steps. Ma Chao and his fellow soldiers knelt on one knee before the hall, while Li Ru stood fanning himself. The sight made his temples throb. Memories suddenly flooded back—years ago, he had been a mere general in Dong Zhuo's tent, watching the all-powerful Grand Tutor ignite a sea of ​​fire on the walls of Luoyang, only to end up defeated and utterly defeated. Now, the Ma family was following the same path, forcing the new emperor to flee eastward in panic. How could this trajectory of fate be so unpredictable?

"My lord!" Li Ru waved his folding fan lightly, and his wide black sleeves swept across the candlelight on the ground with a chill. "My Xiliang cavalry broke through Chang'an, and the young master was ordered to be appointed King of Liang in a time of crisis. This is the will of heaven! You should sit in the main seat, appoint generals and reward the army to reassure the army!" Before he finished speaking, his robe sleeve had wrapped around Ma Teng's wrist, and he was about to drag the Xiliang lord onto the dragon throne.

In the hall, Ma Chao straightened his back. Behind him, Xu Huang raised his arms and shouted, "Long Live the King of Liang!" The sound echoed loudly off the broken beams. Zhang Ren's armor trembled with excitement, and he clattered his sword half an inch out of its sheath before hastily inserting it. Ma Dai's face flushed red, his knuckles white as he gripped his spear, and an uncontrollable growl escaped his throat. Even the usually calm Zhang Liao smiled.

"Young Master, crown your king! We of Xiliang shall achieve unparalleled feats!" The resounding cheers from outside the palace seemed to shake Dragon Fault. Some threw up their helmets to catch them, others pounded their shields with the butts of their swords. Mixed in with the soldiers' discordant Xiliang tunes, the palace felt like a nightclub. Li Ru chuckled, but a cold glint clung to his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Xu Shu's gaze cast down in thought, and of Lu Su's fingertips unconsciously twisting his belt.

The two men stood outside the rapturous tide, as incongruous as a reef. Xu Shu's brows furrowed into a deep, crisscross pattern; Lu Su stared at the lingering blood on the Panlong Pillar, his Adam's apple rolling as he hesitated to speak. Their silence, like ice dropped into boiling water, stirred subtle yet glaring ripples amid the surging waves of sound.

The gilded dragon pattern flickered before Ma Teng's eyes, and the cold jade armrests seemed like the venom of a venomous snake. "No, no!" Ma Teng stumbled back, his gaze sweeping across the cheering generals below the hall, but he was suddenly struck by the solemn expressions of Xu Shu and Lu Su. His heart trembled, and his old pupils suddenly contracted. "What? Chao'er was named King of Liang?"

Ma Chao knelt down on one knee again, his voice muffled like a war drum: "While we are outside the city, Wang Yun and the new emperor are willing to offer Chang'an as a gift to protect our safety. I will also make my son the King of Liang and keep him in Guanzhong forever."

"Ridiculous!" Ma Teng's roar scared away the crows huddled in the corner of the hall. His finger, like a dead branch, pointed directly at the big flag with the word "Ma" fluttering outside the hall. "Emperor Gaozu of the Han Dynasty swore that 'only Liu can be king'. This title of King of Liang is clearly meant to put my Ma family on the fire!" He turned around abruptly, but saw that Xu Shu and Lu Su had already taken half a step forward. The look they exchanged showed the same panic as his.

Xu Shu stepped forward, his blue robe brushing across the messy bamboo slips on the ground, and he said in a loud voice: "Don't be blinded by the momentary joy! There are many princes in the world today. If you rashly declare yourself king and anger the princes of the world, you will end up dead and your clan will be destroyed. Now we are surrounded by heroes such as Yuan Shao, Gongsun Zan, Liu Biao, Liu Zhang, and Cao Cao. If we rashly declare ourselves king, won't we be making enemies and giving the princes a perfect excuse to attack? The title of King of Liang may seem glorious, but it is actually a sword hanging over the head of my Xiliang!" He spoke earnestly, his eyes sweeping over the generals and officers in the hall, trying to awaken everyone's reason.

Lu Su bowed, his elegant face full of worry: "What Yuanzhi said is very true. Even if you want to show off your achievements, it is enough to be conferred the title of Duke, and you must never easily confer the title of King. The words of Emperor Gaozu of Han's "White Horse Alliance" are still fresh in our minds. Anyone who is crowned a king with a different surname will be attacked by the whole world. Once this precedent is set, all the princes will surely rise up and attack under the banner of "supporting the king". Even if my Xiliang has strong soldiers and horses, how can we resist the gossips of the world?" His voice was steady but revealed anxiety, and his hands were slightly clenched under his sleeves. It was obvious that he was well aware of the danger of the situation.

The once-fervent atmosphere in the hall suddenly cooled, and cheers faded into whispers. Xu Huang scratched the back of his head, muttering, "This...isn't becoming king a good thing? How did it become a disaster?" Ma Dai also put away his smile, frowning in thought. Li Ru looked at Ma Chao, a meaningful smile curling his lips, but he didn't say anything to refute.

Ma Chao slowly stood up, the sword at his waist swaying with his movements, making a subtle sound. "Father, generals!" He turned to face the generals in the hall. His voice resounded like a bell, shaking the dust from the beams. "Listen to me!"

He stepped forward, his cloak sweeping across the scattered bamboo slips. "Now that the Han Dynasty is in decline, the emperor is in exile, and the princes of the world are harboring their own agendas. If we cling to the old system and willingly serve as Han ministers, we will be in vain! But if we become kings, firstly, we will bolster the prestige of Xiliang and let the world know that the Xiliang cavalry are not to be trifled with!" He suddenly drew his sword, its cold light illuminating the faces of the generals, some surprised and some thoughtful. "Secondly, becoming king will allow me to legitimately establish a government, recruit talented individuals, and expand my military! Are you willing to spend your entire lives as generals defending a remote corner?"

As Ma Chao finished speaking, Li Ru slowly stepped forward, fanning himself with a wave. His wide, dark sleeves brushed across the blood-stained, dragon-patterned table. "Young Master, every word you say is a gem. As you know, the word 'king' is both a shackle and a sharp sword."

He paused, then turned to Xu Shu. "Is Yuanzhi worried about making enemies? Not at all! Cao Cao now controls Yanzhou with the new emperor, and Liu Biao occupies Jingxiang and watches covetously. If Xiliang doesn't have a legitimate claim to power, they'll use the excuse of 'suppressing rebellion' to encroach on Guanzhong. But once we claim the throne, the situation will change. The other princes will be wary of our strength and will be forced to form alliances with us. This is called 'using force to overwhelm the enemy, conquering them without fighting'!"

Jia Xu spoke from the shadows, "Lord Li is right. The benefits of being king are far-reaching. First, we can establish a government and recruit talented individuals from around the world. Think about it, gentlemen! If we were still the 'Western Liang Army,' why would those learned scholars leave the Central Plains and join the frontier? But under the rule of the 'King of Liang,' we have the foundation for our hegemony!" He suddenly chuckled, his cloudy eyes sweeping across Ma Dai's bright eyes. "Second, being king allows you to exercise the power of enfeoffment. You have fought so hard, don't you want to be granted land and made marquises? Don't you want your descendants to enjoy eternal wealth and prosperity?"

"The most important thing is..." Jia Xu lowered his voice. "The emperor personally conferring the title of king further proves that the Han Dynasty is doomed. The world is no longer the exclusive domain of the Liu family. If we cling to our loyalty, we will only be making things easier for others. Only by becoming king can the hooves of the Western Liang cavalry crush this rotten old order!" He raised his head suddenly, a fierce look in his eyes. "Young Master's position as 'King of Liang' is both a vicious plot by Wang Yun and a godsend! If we can gain a firm foothold in Guanzhong, we can advance to fight for the world or retreat to defend Western Liang. This is a once-in-a-century change!"