As Shao Xian's procession moved through the open gates of Zhenlu, the weight of his presence settled over the city like an unseen force. The streets, usually alive with the sounds of merchants and travelers, had fallen into an eerie silence. Citizens peered from behind doors and windows, their faces pale with uncertainty.
The soldiers who had once stood firm on the city walls now lined the streets, their weapons lowered, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear. Even the most seasoned among them knew—resistance had never truly been an option.
Shao Xian's gaze swept over the scene with cold detachment. This was the moment where power shifted, where the illusion of control that the ruling clans had clung to shattered before the undeniable truth of absolute strength.
At the forefront of the procession, Lord Wei rode beside him, his posture rigid, his hands gripping the reins tightly. His face betrayed nothing, but Shao Xian could feel the turmoil within him. The man had ruled Zhenlu for decades, and now, in a matter of moments, he had been reduced to nothing more than a spectator to his own city's surrender.
As they approached the grand palace at the heart of Zhenlu, Wei finally spoke.
"My people are loyal," he said, his voice carefully measured. "They will not betray me easily."
Shao Xian let the words hang in the air for a moment before responding.
"Loyalty is a fragile thing," he said. "It bends under the weight of power."
Wei did not respond. He understood what Shao Xian meant. The moment his men had fallen to their knees atop the walls, the moment the gates had opened, loyalty had already begun to shift. Fear was a force that reshaped even the strongest convictions.
They entered the palace grounds without resistance. The guards stationed at the entrance stood frozen in place, their eyes darting between their lord and the man who had conquered their city without a single drop of blood spilled.
Inside the grand hall, high-ranking officials and noble families had gathered in anticipation. The chamber, adorned with intricate golden tapestries and towering pillars, was a symbol of Zhenlu's legacy. But now, its beauty was overshadowed by the suffocating silence that filled the air.
Wei dismounted first, his steps slow and deliberate as he ascended the marble steps. Shao Xian followed, his every movement exuding an effortless dominance.
As they entered the hall, the nobles rose from their seats. Their eyes flickered with uncertainty—some with defiance, others with silent submission. At the far end of the room, Wei's ministers stood gathered, their faces lined with tension.
Wei stepped forward, his voice steady despite the weight pressing upon him.
"This is Shao Xian," he declared. "You know his name. You have heard the stories."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Stories of Shao Xian's rise had spread like wildfire. Some dismissed them as exaggerated tales, but those who had witnessed his power firsthand knew the truth—he was not a mere warlord seeking to expand his domain. He was something far greater.
Wei turned to face Shao Xian, and in that moment, the last vestiges of resistance within him crumbled.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself to his knees.
A gasp echoed through the chamber. Ministers and nobles alike watched in stunned silence as the ruler of Zhenlu bent before the man who had broken his city without ever lifting a sword.
Shao Xian remained still, his gaze unreadable.
One by one, the others followed. First, the ministers, their pride shattered beneath the weight of inevitability. Then the nobles, some hesitating, some eager to align themselves with power.
The hall filled with the sound of knees meeting the floor.
At last, the final remnants of Zhenlu's defiance had been extinguished.
---
The night stretched long after the formal surrender, yet the city remained eerily silent. Wei's ministers worked tirelessly to draft the official decree of allegiance, their hands trembling as they sealed the documents that marked the end of their independence.
Shao Xian sat within the grand chamber, watching as the final pieces of his conquest fell into place. Bai Ren stood beside him, his expression unreadable.
"They submit quickly," Bai Ren remarked.
Shao Xian did not take his eyes off the trembling ministers. "Survival breeds obedience."
Bai Ren nodded. "And what of Wei? Will he remain in power?"
Shao Xian leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the polished wood of his chair.
"Power is not given," he said. "It is taken."
The words were not merely an answer—they were a declaration of what was to come. Wei had surrendered, but surrender alone did not earn trust. To allow him to remain as a ruler under Shao Xian's name would be a risk. A man who had once held power would always harbor thoughts of reclaiming it.
Bai Ren seemed to understand immediately. "Shall I arrange it?"
Shao Xian was silent for a moment before shaking his head.
"No. Wei must fall—but not in the shadows."
Bai Ren's lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. "Publicly, then."
Shao Xian's gaze was cold as he rose to his feet.
"Gather the people at dawn."
---
The first rays of sunlight bathed Zhenlu in a golden hue, but there was no warmth in the air. A massive crowd had gathered in the central square, whispers and murmurs flowing like a restless tide. The soldiers stood in rigid formation, their expressions unreadable as they surrounded the raised platform at the heart of the square.
On that platform knelt Lord Wei. His hands were bound, his once-proud robes disheveled. Despite everything, his eyes remained sharp, unbroken. He did not plead for mercy. He did not beg for his life.
Shao Xian stood before him, his presence towering over the fallen ruler. The crowd hushed as his voice rang clear through the square.
"Power is earned," he said, his tone calm, unwavering. "Those who hold it must prove they are worthy."
He gestured to the city around them. "Zhenlu belongs to those who can rule it. And I do not tolerate weak rulers."
Wei exhaled slowly, his gaze lifting to meet Shao Xian's.
"I see," he murmured. "This is how it ends."
Shao Xian did not answer with words. Instead, he raised his hand.
The air grew heavy, an invisible force pressing down upon the square. A flicker of energy crackled at Shao Xian's fingertips—a manifestation of his sheer will.
Wei's body trembled. A sharp gasp escaped him as an unseen force gripped his very soul, tearing at his essence. His breath hitched, his vision darkening at the edges.
And then, with one final pulse of power, it was over.
Wei's body collapsed onto the platform, his eyes still open, yet devoid of life.
A single moment of silence followed.
Then, the people of Zhenlu knelt.
They knelt not out of duty, not out of tradition. They knelt because they understood.
Their city no longer belonged to Lord Wei.
It belonged to Shao Xian.
And from this day forth, none would dare to stand against him.