Eastern Han Dynasty, not the Three Kingdoms

When everyone turned around at the sound, the bronze ring of the palace door clanged against the panel. Outside the threshold, in the twilight, Ma Teng wore his dark brocade robe draped inside out, the right lapel strap hanging loosely to his knees, revealing a sweat-soaked undershirt. A few strands of unbrushed grass still clung to his graying beard. Dong Bai, clutching his arm, stumbled forward, the old man's fingernails scratching deep marks at the cuffs of his embroidered lotus cuffs. His pearl-shaped hair swayed so drastically that he nearly fell to the ground.

Jia Xu's fingers, dangling from his sleeves, curled slightly. Xu Shu instinctively pulled his feather fan closer to his chest. Both of them glanced at Li Ru in the corner—he still had his eyelids lowered, stroking the jade pendant at his waist, as if Ma Chao's fury and Ma Teng's hasty arrival had nothing to do with him. Seeing him put on such a show, both of them secretly admired his cleverness.

"You've just been crowned king, and you're already getting carried away!" Ma Teng shook off Dong Bai's hand, saying bitterly, "Liu Zhang of Yizhou, Liu Biao of Jingzhou, Cao Cao of Xuchang, Yuan Shao of Jizhou, Gongsun Zan of Youzhou—" He pointed at the various vassal states on the map, "How could you possibly disregard them all? Jingxiang is swamped by many rivers and marshes, and the Jiangdong River stretches across it. Can the Western Liang cavalry wade across it?"

Ma Chao's sword grip trembled violently, and the steel blade streaked across the brick surface. "Father... Father..." He stared at the frosted hair on his father's temples, his Adam's apple rolling as he could not speak.

"Chao'er!" Ma Teng stepped forward, his skinny fingers poking the indentation of his shoulder armor. His voice suddenly choked. "Father thought you'd matured after the upheaval in Chang'an! Who knew you were still so irritable? You're raising an army in rage. Are you going to use the lives of the warriors from Xiliang to quench your rage?"

The candlelight in the conference room suddenly burst into sparks, and Ma Chao's knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his sword: "Father! Such a deep hatred, are you really going to tolerate it?" His black cloak swept across the table, rattling the Shu brocade with a map of Jiangdong painted on it. The jade scales hanging from his crown and belt hit the armor leaves, making a crisp sound.

"Your Majesty, please allow me to report." Li Ru straightened his sleeves and stepped through the shadows cast by the candlelight, his gray hair flickering in the flames. "In the past, Gou Jian was trapped in Kuaiji, sleeping on firewood and tasting gall for ten years, and finally conquered Wu with only 3,000 Yue troops. If you can't even contain your momentary anger, how can you hope to rule the world?"

Ma Teng pointed at Li Ru and said, "Listen! Mr. Wenyou is right!" His sleeves swept across the pile of documents on the desk. "It's not that I don't want revenge, but I want to keep the hatred deep in my heart. The news that you married four princesses with great fanfare has already spread throughout the world."

He suddenly grabbed Ma Chao's collar, his silver hair, loosely tied with a silver hairpin, brushing against his cheek. "Your mother has set out from Xiliang. Calculating the distance, she should have arrived long ago, yet there's been no news! The journey is long. What if something goes wrong? You're so focused on marching eastward, aren't you aware that the women and children of the old Xiliang camp are leaning against the gate, waiting for you?"

Ma Chao's eyes were fixed on the map.

"A ruler's duty is to endure what ordinary people cannot." Li Ru took a half step back, brushing the messy military reports with his wide sleeves. "If Your Majesty insists on raising an army, I will immediately go to the storehouse to fetch the marriage certificate—" He pointed to the dark night outside the hall. "Do you want the bride to have the wedding ceremony in the midst of beacon fire?"

Xu Shu's feather fan traced a semicircle across the map, the fan resting at the confluence of the Yangtze and Han rivers. "Your Majesty, please see! The seven counties of Jingxiang are interconnected by a network of rivers." He tapped the fan lightly at the word "Chibi," the candlelight casting a flickering shadow on the paper. "It's the plum rain season now, and the Mian River has surged three feet. The Western Liang cavalry, both men and horses, will likely be trapped in the mire." He pointed to the grain and fodder transport map in the legend. The cinnabar marking "Jiangling Granary" was blurred by the candlelight. "The grain and fodder must be transported via the Xiegu Road. If there's a flash flood while crossing the plank road..."

Jia Xu suddenly coughed and took a half step forward, his bony finger pointing to three red dots on the map. "Cao Cao in Xuchang, Yuan Shao in Jizhou, and Gongsun Zan in Youzhou—the combined forces of these three are over half a million. If we march east now, Cao Cao's cavalry will have already breached Hangu Pass by the time we reach Xiakou."

As the night deepened, Ma Chao's rage for revenge extinguished. Sitting alone in the hall, his fingertips unconsciously caressed the indentations of his sword's hilt. The candlelight on the desk dwindled, casting mottled shadows on the map, as if transforming the power of the princes into a flowing undercurrent. He thought of his father's trembling white hair, of Li Ru's promise of a wedding date, and even more of his mother—it seemed as if he had rushed forward recklessly, never once glancing back at Xiliang.

For the first time since the turmoil in Chang'an, Ma Chao finally realized the Han Dynasty's doom. He let go of his inner resolve, abandoning his desire to be a loyal minister who could turn the tide. He clenched his fists, believing that with just a sword in hand, he could carve out a new world. But now, the tip of his sword wasn't aimed at the heads of his enemies, but at the lives of the people of Xiliang.

Outside, the night wind, carrying gravel, lashed the window lattice. He suddenly remembered Xu Shu's description of Jingxiang and Jiangdong, the mighty rivers that made it difficult for cavalry to cross. He had once mocked the children of Jingxiang for only knowing how to navigate boats, but now he was shocked to realize that those winding water veins were like fine silk threads, trapping millions of soldiers in an invisible cage. The three red dots pointed by Jia Xu danced before his eyes. A half million enemy troops were enough to crush Xiliang into dust.

The crisp sound of the jade heng falling to the ground still lingered in his ears. It was the crown ornament he had ripped off in his rage. Ma Chao leaned over to pick it up, the cool jade against his palm, and suddenly understood the weight of Li Ru's words, "A ruler's duty lies in enduring what ordinary people cannot." He remembered the flames rising from the walls of Chang'an, remembered how he had single-handedly fought his way out of the encirclement, and the generals who had died to shield him from danger. Back then, he was just a general who took pleasure in avenging his enemies.

A true monarch must swallow his hatred, conceal his edge, and, as his father had said, simmer his hatred into a blazing fire. Ma Chao slowly rose and fastened his jade halberd back onto his sash. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice onto his shoulders, reflecting a cold glint from the frost on the armor plates. That night, he finally understood those seemingly cold lines on the map: they were not constraints, but the guiding principles for achieving hegemony.

At first light, Ma Chao pushed open the palace gates. Dong Bai, who stood guard in the corridor, was startled to see the general, whose fury had flared the previous night, now possessed a gaze as calm as a deep pool. He raised his hand to the sword at his waist and whispered to the brightening eastern sky, "Pass the word down; halt the eastward advance. Prepare your horses, and follow me to the old camp in Xiliang."

Horse hooves shattered the morning mist, and Ma Chao's dark cloak rustled against the city walls. The gates of the old Xiliang camp hadn't even fully opened when thunderous cheers surged in. The clink of armor, the thud of weapons, and the clatter of "Great King!" mingled with shouts of "Your Majesty!", startling the flocks of jackdaws overhead.

As he dismounted, several young soldiers rushed over, their eyes red. The leading youth clutched his wrist guard, his cuff still stained with blood from last year's Battle of Chang'an. "General, you're finally back! We've been waiting for your orders every day—" Before he could finish his words, the veterans parted the crowd, their scarred hands slamming down on his shoulder armor, tears glistening in their cloudy eyes.

Ma Chao ascended the observation tower, his gaze fixed on a vast expanse of military tents. Banners fluttered like a forest, and the morning dew on spear tips shone coldly in the sunlight. He suddenly recalled Xiang Yu's resolute suicide at the Wujiang River. Were not the Jiangdong cadets who had followed the Overlord to the end, like these men before him, entrusting their lives to a single belief? And why had the Overlord, Xiang Yu, chosen death over crossing the Yangtze River? So many brothers had followed him from his hometown in Xiliang, braving danger and risk, willing to follow him through thick and thin for a single word from this supposedly mighty general. If he had continued on his own, and these brothers had been decimated, how could he have the dignity to return to his homeland in Xiliang?

"Everyone!" Ma Chao drew his sword, pointing it toward the sky. "Cao Cao is sharpening his blade in Xuchang, Yuan Shao is training his troops in Jizhou, and all the heroes of the world are saying that the Western Liang cavalry are a formidable force."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over every familiar face, "But today I only have one question—"

A sudden mountain wind swept through the camp, carrying yellow sand. The soldiers held their breath as their king, one-handed, gripped his sword, slamming it down amidst the whistling wind. "If the path ahead is filled with mountains of swords and seas of fire, with ambushes on every side, do you dare to fight?"

He was answered with an earth-shaking roar. Spears rose like a forest, iron hooves pounded the ground, and the roar of "Dare to die for the King of Liang!" soared to the sky, breaking the thick clouds.

A sudden mountain wind swept through the camp, carrying yellow sand. The soldiers held their breath as their king, sword in one hand, raised his arm amidst the whistling wind and shouted, "I want you to join me in stomping across the Central Plains! Crushing the enemy's heads beneath our hooves! I want you to join me in ennobling your wives and children! Let your wives and children become the most honored people in the world! I want you to join me in sharing wealth and honor! Let the name of the Xiliang Iron Cavalry resound throughout every inch of the Nine Provinces!"

Sunlight pierced the mist, illuminating Ma Chao's raised lips and the blood-red battle flags billowing in the Xiliang army's formation. At that moment, he finally understood that true hegemony lies not in the bravery of a single man, but in the footsteps of millions of people willingly following.

As dusk settled over the tents, the aroma of wine wafted past the gates of the old Xiliang camp. Ma Chao rolled up his sleeves and personally poured wine from the jar into a coarse earthenware bowl. The amber liquid splashed across his still-unremoved armor, mingling with the soldiers' laughter and scolding, creating a warm atmosphere. The generals who had argued in the meeting hall yesterday now sat arm in arm around the campfire, some belting out Xiliang folk songs, others pressing roasted lamb into his hands.

Early this morning, the advisors were still worried about the king's decision, fearing he would rise in anger and cause immeasurable damage to Xiliang. Upon inquiry, they learned that Ma Chao and Dong Bai had already traveled to the old Xiliang camp outside the city. Upon inquiring about the generals in the city, they learned that they had all already gone. The advisors panicked and hurried out of the city.

As they made their way through the crowd, they happened upon Ma Chao, quaffing a bowl of strong liquor. The firelight illuminated his eyes, ablaze with rage, a trace of the fury he had displayed yesterday. Dong Bai chuckled softly, leaning against a tent post. The silver bell on her wrist chimed softly with her movements. "Gentlemen, we're finally here! The king said we won't leave until we're drunk!"

Jia Xu watched Ma Chao slam his wine bowl onto the wooden table, then glanced at the equally panicked Xu Shu, and suddenly stroked his beard, chuckling softly. Li Ru, however, stood still at the intersection of light and shadow, watching the young general pat his soldiers' shoulders. His eyes, once seared with hatred, now filled with a reassuring warmth. Li Ru had watched Ma Chao's gradual transformation from a loyal and patriotic general to finally possessing the bearing and breadth of mind that befitted a king.

"The fire's ready," Li Ru whispered. The night wind whipped sparks through the tent, casting a flickering shadow on his frosted hair. Jia Xu nodded slightly. In the distance, Ma Chao's hearty laughter echoed, mingled with a series of "Come on!" cries, startling the night owl perched on the gate.

That night, as the bonfire burned out and new wood was added, the clamor of the Xiliang old camp reached the heavens. As the first rays of morning light pierced the clouds, Ma Chao, slightly staggering, stood high on the fortress, gazing at the high-spirited soldiers. He finally understood that the magnanimity of a king lies not in the direction of his sword, but in winning the hearts and minds of millions, in transforming his sharp edge into a spark that unites them.