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They shared a brief, quiet embrace, no words wasted. Ma Chao's conversation with Sun Shangxiang was… louder. "You're WHAT?" she demanded.
"Going west," Ma Chao said, bracing himself. "Tomorrow."
"You're telling me this NOW?"
"Yes."
She stared at him, then laughed sharply. "Of course you are."
He scratched the back of his neck. "It's for the Crown Prince."
Her expression softened instantly. "Ah."
She stepped closer, gripping his arm. "Then don't die. I'll kill you myself if you do."
Ma Chao grinned. "Fair."
The night passed, a tapestry of whispered promises, fitful sleep, and silent prayers. When dawn broke, it did not creep, it arrived with the purpose of a drumbeat.
In the central military ground of Xiapi, 60,000 men stood in ordered, silent ranks. The morning light glinted off a forest of spearpoints and helmets, stretched across the earth like a giant, breathing entity of steel and resolve. The air was cold, still, and thick with anticipation.
Atop a high wooden platform, Lie Fan stood. He was no longer the father or the husband of yesterday. He was the Emperor, the Generalissimo. Clad in his dark, intricately crafted armor, the dawn sun catching the subtle dragon motifs, he seemed larger than life.
In his right hand, he held his formidable halberd, its blade pointing down but its presence speaking of imminent violence. The weapon was not for show, it was a part of him, an extension of his will.
Behind him, arranged according to rank and role, stood his retinue, the keen eyed Pang Tong and the thoughtful Xu Shu, their minds already racing ahead to the tactical puzzles of Hongnong.
The Crown Prince Muchen, dressed in a scaled down, practical version of officer's armor, his face pale but set in a mask of unwavering attention. To his sides, like twin pillars of guardian fury, stood Zhao Yun and Ma Chao, in full battle regalia, their presence a statement of absolute security.
Slightly behind them, the scholarly figures of Lu Zhi and Zhuge Jin, observers ready to annotate history and mentor a prince in real time.
Lie Fan's voice, amplified by the natural acoustics of the ground and the profound silence of the army, rolled out over the sea of faces.
"Soldiers of the Great Hengyuan! My brothers! My sons!"
He began not with grand titles, but with kinship. The army stirred, a single, unified intake of breath.
"Today, we do not march to a new conquest. We march to a completion! To the very gates of Hongnong, where our brothers, your comrades, have held the line! They have faced the cleverest tricks, the stoutest walls, the most desperate defenders! And they have held! Because they fight for the same thing you do! Not just for land, not for glory alone, but for the dream of a united land! A land where our children do not know the drum of war as a daily rhythm! A land where the only walls are those that guard our homes, not divide our people!"
He paced the platform, his halberd gesturing not as a weapon, but as a conductor's baton, orchestrating their collective spirit.
"I see in your eyes the same fire I see in the eyes of the men at Hongnong! The fire of those who are tired of waiting! The fire of those who are ready to build upon the peace we have bled for! We go to them not as rescuers, but as the final hammer blow! We go to add our strength to theirs, to add our will to theirs, and together, we will knock down those last, stubborn gates!"
His voice rose, thundering now, stripping away any last vestige of morning chill.
"The historians will say we marched for an empire! But you and I know the truth! We march for the man beside you! For the family behind you! For the future before you! We march so that the next time a standard rises in this land, it will be the standard of a harvest festival, not of a rival warlord! We march to END this chapter of blood, so the next chapter, a chapter of peace, of building, of prosperity, can FINALLY BEGIN!"
He raised his halberd high, the blade catching the sun and flashing like a beacon.
"FOR UNITY! FOR OUR BROTHERS AT HONGNONG! FOR THE FUTURE!"
The effect was electric. The 60,000 men, their pent up energy and latent excitement transformed into roaring certainty, erupted. A deafening, seismic wave of sound crashed back at the platform.
"FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR UNITY! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
The chant became a pounding heartbeat, shaking the very ground. Lie Fan stood amidst the roar, a statue of resolve, letting their fervor wash over him and his son. He looked at Muchen and saw the boy's awe, not just at the size of the army, but at the power of his father's words to shape that army into a single, mighty will. It was the first, and most vital, lesson.
As the cheers began to subside into a resonant, eager hum, Lie Fan descended the platform. His generals and son followed. Without further ceremony, he mounted his powerful warhorse. Servants helped Muchen onto a sturdy, well trained gelding beside him.
Zhao Yun and Ma Chao flanked them immediately, their own horses sensing their masters' alert tension. Pang Tong, Xu Shu, Lu Zhi, and Zhuge Jin settled into a sturdy, enclosed carriage that would serve as a mobile command post and study.
Lie Fan took one last look at the imperial city of Xiapi, its walls holding his heart, his family, his reason for being. Then he turned his face to the west, where the road stretched out toward the distant, troubled horizon.
He raised his hand.
A single horn blast tore through the morning, clear and commanding.
And the giant, the entity of 60,000 souls, began to move. With a rumble of carts, a clatter of armor, and the thunderous, rhythmic tread of boots and hooves, the procession left Xiapi.
They marched not into the unknown, but toward the final, bloody knot of a decades long struggle. And at the head of this river of steel, the Emperor rode with the future by his side, ready to teach and learn the last, hardest lessons of empire on the scarred plains before the walls of Hongnong.
The road west unfurled like a long, scarred ribbon beneath the hooves of 60,000 men. From Xiapi to Xiaopei, the march was swift and disciplined. The land there was familiar, fields worked by hands that now paused to watch the imperial banners pass.
Farmers stood at the edges of their plots, hats pressed to their chests, children peeking from behind their mothers' skirts as the river of steel flowed by. Drums beat a steady cadence, not rushed, not slow, an iron heartbeat meant to conserve strength and sharpen resolve.
Muchen noticed everything.
He noticed how Lie Fan rode without hurry, never urging his horse forward, never falling back. Always at the head, always visible. He noticed how Zhao Yun's eyes never stopped moving, scanning horizons, tree lines, distant hills. How Ma Chao rode with an easy, dangerous looseness, as if the march itself were barely containing him. He noticed how supply wagons were spaced precisely, how officers rotated commands so no one grew dull.
Xiaopei passed in a day.
Chenliu followed, its roads broader, its people more accustomed to armies. Here the crowds were quieter, respect mixed with fatigue, this land had seen banners change more than once in living memory. Lie Fan allowed the army only brief halts, long enough to water horses and redistribute loads. Jia Xu's preparations showed themselves in the smoothness of it all, there was no scrambling, no shouted corrections, no wasted motion.
At night, campfires dotted the plains like fallen stars. Muchen ate with his father once, sitting on low stools beside a folding table. The food was simple, steamed grain, salted meat, warm broth, but Lie Fan ate it without complaint, without ceremony.
"This is what your soldiers eat," he said, as if sensing his son's thoughts. "If you cannot eat this with them, you cannot ask them to die for you."
Muchen nodded and finished every bite.
When they passed through Hulao Gate, the mood shifted.
The towering pass loomed like a memory carved into stone. Every general, every scholar, every veteran knew the stories tied to this place. Even the horses seemed to sense it, their steps echoing more sharply between the cliffs. The wind carried strange sounds there, whistling through rock as if old battles were still being whispered.
They did not linger.
Luoyang came next.
The once glorious capital bore its scars openly. Burn marks blackened old walls, and empty spaces yawned where palaces had stood. Yet life persisted stubbornly between the ruins. Markets bustled, bells rang, and when Lie Fan's banners appeared, the city responded with cautious hope rather than fear.
Here, Lie Fan ordered a full day of rest.
Tents were raised outside the city proper, discipline maintained even in respite. Horses were groomed, armor repaired, wounds treated. Muchen walked the camp under escort, hearing laughter, arguments, dice games, prayers whispered to heaven. That night, Lu Zhi spoke to him quietly about the rise and fall of capitals, while Zhuge Jin discussed how power was never anchored to stone, only to people.
When dawn came again, they marched.
Hangu Pass narrowed the world once more, stone walls squeezing the column into disciplined lines. Scouts returned more frequently now, messengers riding hard with updates. The air itself felt heavier, charged.
Then, one afternoon, before the horizon could fully reveal it, the sound reached them.
A distant thunder, uneven and ugly.
Metal striking stone. Shouted commands carried on the wind. The deep, dull boom of siege engines. Even from far away, it was unmistakable.
Muchen turned his head toward the sound, his fingers tightening on his reins. "Imperial Father," he said quietly, voice steady but edged with awe, "the sounds of the fighting… they can be heard from here."
Lie Fan followed his gaze toward the west, where faint plumes of smoke smeared the sky. He nodded once. "Yes."
He let the silence stretch a heartbeat longer before continuing. "That is proof of how brutal it is. The farther the sound carries, the more men are bleeding to create it. A quiet battlefield is a lie. Real war is loud. It wants to be heard."
Muchen swallowed, then nodded. "I understand, Father."
Lie Fan glanced at him, the stern lines of command softening just a fraction. "Do not let your thoughts run too far ahead," he said. "Do not imagine what you think you will see. Reality is always worse than imagination. Prepare your heart, not your fears."
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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