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If Fei Qian was troubled by the thought of being used, and Li Jue and Guo Si were agonizing over which side to commit to, then for Sun Jian, the path before him offered precious few directions to choose from.
Although Zhou Ang had been defeated, the overall situation had hardly changed at all. Sun Jian might have won the battle, but in truth, he had also lost.
Before, Yuan Shu had been unwilling for Sun Jian to press forward into Luoyang. Over this matter, he had even cut off Sun Jian's supply of grain and fodder once, forcing Sun Jian to ride alone to appeal to Yuan Shu in person. Only after stating his case had he been granted a fresh batch of supplies.
But now...
Luoyang had been reduced to a wasteland.
Not only that, but for roughly a hundred leagues in every direction around Luoyang, there was not a single human soul to be found...
That profound desolation—marching an entire day without setting eyes upon a single living person—created an immense psychological pressure on Sun Jian's troops, gradually giving rise to a creeping panic.
For the officers, such pressure could, to some degree, be consciously managed. But for the illiterate common soldiers, this sensation of a world emptied of people fostered feelings of loneliness and helplessness, as though they were no longer fighting against men but waging a lonely struggle against Heaven and Earth itself.
Of course, the corpses and white bones scattered in the fields, along the roadsides, and beneath the withered yellow grass could no longer be counted as men.
In all four directions, across the eight wildernesses, everything was empty and desolate.
There were villages and hamlets still, but their gates too stood wide open, and not a single wisp of cooking smoke rose from them. All the houses were deserted. The unpainted window lintels, left untended, were like arms that had been hacked through, attached to the body of the house by a mere shred of skin, flapping feebly in the wind.
The only signs of life were two or three wild dogs, their fur mangy and rotting. They stared with red-rimmed, turbid eyes, barking madly at anything that moved...
Vast tracts of farmland lay fallow, overrun with weeds.
The ordinary soldiers merely felt a vague dread in their hearts, but they might not understand what it was they dreaded or where this fear came from. But Sun Jian knew very well: this panic stemmed from anxiety about the future.
In other words, what lay ahead was a campaign of pure attrition, with no resupply to offset the losses.
There were no people, no grain or fodder, no resources whatsoever to replenish the army's materiel. Even a single broken iron nail might prove impossible to replace...
Sun Jian was in anguish, utterly disheartened.
The people of Yangcheng had, by and large, all fled.
First, Dong Zhuo had dispatched soldiers to massacre the Yang community, and a wave of people had fled. Later, when Li Min was defeated by Xu Rong, another group had fled. After the death of Kong Zhou, the Inspector of Yu Province, many saw the situation worsening and fled in yet another wave. And when, some time ago, Yuan Shao sent Zhou Ang to attack, only those truly too exhausted or incapacitated to run had remained...
This place had once been the territory he dreamed of, a region that was truly his own. But now, he was forced to abandon it with his own hands, for holding onto it would be no different from marching straight to his own death...
He had once stood within the great hall of Han authority. He had once planted his banner atop the imperial capital. But now, all of that was utterly meaningless, for the place had been burned to blackened earth.
Except for that one thing.
That Imperial Seal.
Sun Jian clenched his fist so tightly that his arm trembled faintly.
Yuan Shu had not dispatched anyone to discuss any terms, but he had cut off the supply of provisions.
From what Sun Jian understood of Yuan Shu, that proud son of a prominent clan would not even stoop to negotiate some exchange of interests. He knew the Jade Seal was in Sun Jian's possession, but he felt that reaching out his hand to demand it would cost him face, as if such an act would make him appear no better than those merchants who scrambled for profit...
Thus, Yuan Shu feigned complete indifference, as unconcerned as though the seal were already securely in his own grasp.
In the very beginning, when Yuan Shu had first arrived in Nanyang, he had been so constrained by the Nanyang Grand Administrator that he could barely move. It was only by borrowing Sun Jian's blade that he finally managed to slice through the fetters binding his hands and feet.
But now, Yuan Shu's hall was filled with distinguished guests. The banquets in his official residence never ceased, an endless stream of visitors rushing in from various regions, all queuing respectfully, waiting for an audience...
It seemed the only opponent Yuan Shu had left... was Yuan Shao. As for everyone else...
How could Heaven be so unjust!
With a resounding crash, Sun Jian slammed his palm onto the table, drawing the attention of the three other officers in the hall.
Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, Han Dang.
And one seat remaining empty—the seat that had once belonged to Zu Mao.
Sun Jian's gaze drifted toward that desolate, empty spot. Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, and Han Dang all waited in silence for Sun Jian to make his final decision.
One option: hand over the Imperial Seal. If he did, it was almost certain that Yuan Shu would restore the flow of provisions.
The second option: withdraw from Yangcheng. This would mean, once again, losing the title and authority of the Inspector of Yu Province...
To win the battle, yet be forced to act as if he had lost it, to cede the territory under his control just like that—this was a colossal and cruel irony, impossible to ignore.
By then, Zhou Ang would need only send a single company of troops to effortlessly reclaim Yangcheng...
Must he simply hand over this square-cut jade seal?
Hand over this very seal, paid for with Zu Mao's life and the lives of so many soldiers, the seal representing the authority of the Han imperial house?
Then, completely lower his head, roll over, retract his claws and fangs, bare his belly, and become a loyal dog beneath Yuan Shu's foot?
Was this what Sun Jian had ultimately wished to achieve when he led his brothers and his home-raised troops in battle, fighting their way out of Changsha?
To become...
A dog?
"Demou..." Sun Jian spoke, "In your opinion, what should we do?" Cheng Pu was the eldest, held in high esteem not only among the officers but also in the eyes of the common soldiers. At this moment, when Sun Jian found himself wavering and indecisive, he wished to hear Cheng Pu's thoughts and use them as a reference.
Cheng Pu stroked his beard and said, gravely, "It has been said that when faced with a difficult decision, one should ask one's own heart. My lord may act according to his heart's true desire."
Sun Jian gave a faint smile. "...Ask my own heart, is it?"
Over the long journey of a lifetime, there had been no shortage of beautiful scenery, nor any lack of thorns and brambles. But could a man, from the very moment he first sets foot upon a path, continue to follow his innermost yearnings and press unwaveringly toward his original goal?
To give up is simple. But knowing what to give up... that is not so simple.
"We raised a righteous army together, resolved to save the altars of the state. The treacherous rebels were on the verge of being crushed, yet now each of us behaves in such a way. With whom can I join my strength to fight?!" Sun Jian lamented with deep feeling. He closed his eyes, and a single tear slowly traced its way down from the corner of his eye.
After a long, long pause, Sun Jian spoke, enunciating each word with deliberate weight: "Gongfu, pass on my command... Assemble the troops, pack the gear, and prepare to retreat."
Huang Gai was silent for a moment. Then, without a word, he clasped his fists in salute and departed to carry out the order.