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Meanwhile, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da, whose tables sat just below Emperor Xian and Liu Zhang's position, exchanged quiet glances over their wine cups. The laughter and music of the hall rolled around them, but they were no longer listening. Their eyes, sharp and watchful, remained fixed on the Emperor, who continued to wear that thin mask of calm composure, raising his cup and smiling at every toast like a puppet that had learned how to mimic life.
Fa Zheng leaned back in his chair slightly, lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "He hides it poorly," he murmured under his breath.
Zhang Song tilted his head, following Fa Zheng's gaze. "He thinks himself clever," he whispered back, voice low and smooth, the words drowned beneath the clash of goblets and the hum of music. "But he forgets, every shadow in this court has eyes, and those eyes report elsewhere."
Meng Da, more cautious than the other two, kept his expression neutral. "Let him think his secrets are safe. The moment he suspects we know, he'll start to act desperate. And a desperate Emperor is unpredictable."
Fa Zheng's smirk widened. "Oh, he already acts desperate. The act of laughter, the forced calm, they reek of fear. But I admit, I didn't expect him to go this far." The image of two names floated in his mind, Wu Yi and Wang Fu.
When the army had returned to Chengdu after the victory at Zitong, they had barely begun their reports before an Oriole Agent appeared in the courtyard, slipping from the shadows like a whisper.
The man had brought them word that Emperor Xian had made a secret move, sending Wu Yi and Wang Fu westward to seek allies beyond the lands of China, to foreign tribes that are known only through fragmented records and merchants' tales that goes through the silk road.
The Oriole Agent had delivered his message calmly, without hesitation or apology.
Fa Zheng had listened intently, eyes narrowing, his sharp mind dissecting each word. He then ask the Oriole Agent, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Why were we not informed the moment this was discovered? And why were these envoys not… discouraged?"
"We were ordered to observe, not to interfere," the man had said, voice as calm as still water. "Our task was to gather information only. His Majesty commanded us not to alert you until the Zitong affair was concluded, to ensure your full attention there. And as for Wu Yi and Wang Fu… the Emperor himself wishes to see what sort of allies Emperor Xian can draw from the west. He believes this… curiosity, shall we say, may one day serve as justification for our own expansion."
The Emperor in Chengdu might believe himself a schemer, but there was another Emperor far greater, Lie Fan of Hengyuan, whose reach extended even into the hidden corners of the Han court.
Fa Zheng remembered the moment clearly, Zhang Song's wine cup pausing halfway to his lips, Meng Da's brow furrowing, all three of them staring at the Oriole Agent in stunned silence as realization dawned.
They were not shocked by the fact that they did not control the Oriole network. That much had always been understood. The Oriole Agents, loyal only to the Hengyuan Emperor, were the eyes and ears of a ruler who thought in centuries, not moments. Nor because they had been kept uninformed, Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da were pragmatic men, not easily offended by matters of command.
No, what struck them silent was the realization of Lie Fan's foresight.
Long before his banners would ever fly over Yi Province, long before the Emperor's seal might formally recognize his dominion, Lie Fan had already set his eyes westward, toward lands few in China had ever dared to dream of conquering. It was a vision that echoed Emperor Wu of Han, yet deeper, broader, and more deliberate.
The west, that untamed horizon of rumor and opportunity, was already within his calculations.
Now, in the present, Fa Zheng sat quietly, listening to the soft chatter and laughter, watching Emperor Xian perform his fragile illusion of control.
The Emperor thought himself the spider at the center of a web. But in truth, he was the fly, struggling while unseen threads closed around him.
So, sitting beneath the glow of lanterns and the laughter of Chengdu's victory feast, the three men concealed their thoughts behind measured smiles. They had come to understand the larger tapestry of things.
Emperor Xian's secret maneuver was not a threat to them, not yet. It was, in a sense, a mirror reflecting his desperation, his attempt to claw back relevance in a world that had long outgrown his fragile throne. But it was also a potential spark, one that could ignite a conflict or open a path, depending on how Lie Fan chose to move.
So, they acted as if unaware.
They played their roles as loyal servants, the very model of humble ministers. Yet beneath that calm surface, they tightened their web, doubling the watch on Emperor Xian's movements, ordering the Oriole network to shadow every road that led westward, to keep track of Wu Yi and Wang Fu's return. They would not stop them, not unless commanded to, but they would know, always, where the Emperor's hand reached and how far.
And tonight, at this glittering banquet, amid the swirl of dancers and the clinking of cups, they would deliver a message, subtle but unmistakable.
A reminder of who truly held power in Chengdu's court.
Not the weary Liu Zhang, content to bask in borrowed glory.
Not the trembling Emperor Xian, whose title was now but a ceremonial echo.
No, the true arbiters of Yi's fate were those who served Lie Fan, the unseen hand shaping the future of the realm.
Fa Zheng set down his cup slowly. His smile, gentle and courtly, carried the faintest glint of mischief. He rose to his feet, silk robes whispering softly, and lifted his cup high.
"Your Majesty! My lords! Honored generals! Brave soldiers of Han!" he began, his tone warm yet carrying to every corner of the hall. "Today, we celebrate not just a victory, but the valor of every man who stood upon the walls of Zitong. They shed their sweat and blood to keep the wolf from our door. Let this cup be a tribute to their courage, and to the peace their sacrifice has bought us!"
A cheer erupted across the hall. Cups lifted. Wine spilled. Even Emperor Xian, startled though he was by the sudden proclamation, raised his cup and drank, nodding in polite approval. "Well spoken, Master Fa Zheng!" he said, awkward laughter returning to his lips. "To our defenders of the realm!"
Liu Zhang laughed, pounding his table, his cheeks flushed red with wine. "Well said, Master Fa Zheng! Well said!"
But Fa Zheng was not finished.
As the cheer subsided, he stepped forward, the shadows of the hall's lanterns catching the gleam of his eyes. He turned to face the Emperor directly, cupping his hands in formal salute before bowing deeply.
"Your Majesty," Fa Zheng said, his voice dropping to a more intimate, yet still perfectly audible, register. "If this unworthy servant may be so bold, I have a suggestion that weighs upon my mind, one that concerns the future security of your reign."
The chatter dimmed at once.
Though the musicians continued to play, the hall itself seemed to hold its breath. Conversations stilled. Eyes turned toward the dais.
Emperor Xian felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. Being put on the spot by Fa Zheng was like being circled by a razor sharp blade, polite, precise, and lethally dangerous.
He forced a laugh, the sound echoing a little too loudly in the hushed space. "Master Fa Zheng is too polite," he said, his smile a touch too tight. "Speak freely, what matter could be so pressing that it must interrupt our celebration?"
Fa Zheng inclined his head slightly, the faintest smile curving his lips. "Only the future of the Han itself, Your Majesty."
The words struck like a quiet bell, soft, but resonant.
Even Liu Zhang blinked, his drink forgotten halfway to his lips.
Emperor Xian's face did not move, but a small muscle flickered beneath his eye. "The future… of the Han?" he repeated, carefully.
"Indeed," Fa Zheng continued smoothly, turning his gaze toward Zhang Song and Meng Da, who both gave faint, knowing nods. "Th three of us have discussed much since our return from Zitong. Your Majesty, we have repelled Cao Cao for now, but he is a man who licks his wounds and learns from his defeats. He will return. And now, with the Jianmen Pass firmly in his grasp, his path to Yi Province is clearer than ever. Our victory at Zitong, while glorious, has merely closed one gate. He will simply find another to batter down."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled nobles and generals. This was a fear they all shared, even in their cups.
Emperor Xian nodded, his expression carefully grave. "A dire assessment, but a true one. The question of our long term security is one that haunts my dreams."
"It is a question that demands a powerful answer, Your Majesty," Fa Zheng continued smoothly. "We need allies. Strong, reliable allies who can make Cao Cao think twice before ever marching south again."
At the word "allies," Emperor Xian very nearly choked on his own saliva. His heart hammered against his ribs. Did he know? Had his secret mission been discovered? He fought to keep the panic from his face, taking a slow, deliberate sip of wine to compose himself.
"Allies… yes. A sound notion in principle. But who, Master Fa Zheng? The south is pacified, thanks to Meng Huo's loyalty." He gestured toward the southern chieftain, who grunted in acknowledgment."Whom would you have me call friend, when all that remains are rivals?""
Fa Zheng let the question hang in the air for a moment, his gaze sweeping the room before returning to the Emperor. His smile widened, becoming almost benevolent.
"Why, the most powerful rising force in all the land, Your Majesty," he said, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. "The Hengyuan Dynasty."
A stunned silence fell, so profound that the soft strains of the guqin from the corner could be heard with crystalline clarity.
All eyes were locked on Fa Zheng. An alliance with the Hengyuan Dynasty? The dynasty that had devoured the northern plains and whose shadow now stretched long over the Middle Kingdom? The one that have declared itself as Emperor long before the others, while not answering to His Majesty summon to save him? It was an audacious, terrifying, and crazy proposition.
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Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 35 (202 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 966 (+20)
VIT: 623 (+20)
AGI: 623 (+10)
INT: 667
CHR: 98
WIS: 549
WILL: 432
ATR Points: 0