Zhang Xin's heart violently seized. His grip on the carriage frame tightened so hard his knuckles turned white.
"How is my master?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low octave.
"Oh, General of Chariots and Cavalry, please, rest your heart," Zhang Zhong offered hastily, recognizing the sudden, predatory shift in the warlord's demeanor. He forced a reassuring smile. "Though we, the assembled ministers, failed to pierce the Prime Minister's stubbornness, your personal missive arrived at the absolute eleventh hour. In the end, the Prime Minister relented and granted Master Cai a full imperial pardon."
Zhang Zhong exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Master Cai is currently recuperating in the peace of his own manor. You have absolutely no cause for worry, General."
"I knew it."
The suffocating tension evaporated from Zhang Xin's chest, replaced by a massive wave of relief. The moment Zhang Zhong had stepped off the carriage addressing him by that supreme military title, Zhang Xin had deduced the political landscape: Wang Yun desperately needed to secure his allegiance. And if Wang Yun wanted him as an ally, he couldn't afford to present him with the severed head of his beloved mentor.
"Good... good. As long as the old man is safe," Zhang Xin murmured, his voice cracking slightly with uncharacteristic emotion.
Across ten years of blood, mud, and betrayal, only two men had ever made him feel the pure, unselfish warmth of an elder's love. One was Zhang Bao—who was long dead. The other was Cai Yong. With Zhang Bao gone, the old scholar was his singular remaining emotional anchor in a brutal world. Zhang Xin genuinely could not fathom the depths of the darkness he would have unleashed upon the Han Dynasty had Cai Yong been executed.
Witnessing this raw display of emotion, Zhang Zhong's eyes softened with genuine respect. "The General of Chariots and Cavalry is a man of profound filial piety. Master Cai is truly blessed to have fostered such a disciple."
Zhang Xin rapidly composed his features, the vulnerable disciple vanishing behind the mask of the calculating warlord.
"What exactly did you write in that letter, General?" Zhang Zhong asked, unable to contain his curiosity. "To think it could fundamentally bend the iron will of Prime Minister Wang..."
Zhang Xin offered a small, inscrutable smile. "Nothing extravagant. I simply reasoned with him through logic, and appealed to his sense of family."
In truth, the letter Zhang Xin had dispatched to Wang Yun was a masterpiece of passive-aggressive diplomacy. The subtext was written in pure steel:
Uncle,
I hear you have successfully executed the tyrant Dong Zhuo. Allow me to offer my most fervent congratulations on a historic triumph!
On a separate note of joy, Wang Jiao has recently blessed our house with a beautiful son and daughter. Should your heavy schedule permit, you are warmly invited to travel East to hold your great-grandchildren.
Oh, and a minor domestic detail: my master, Cai Yong, is an intensely sentimental old soul. Though Dong Zhuo was undeniably a traitor to the state, he treated my master with immense personal kindness during his life. It is highly probable the old man might shed a few private tears upon hearing of Dong Zhuo's demise.
Please understand that this is merely a manifestation of an old scholar's personal grief, completely divorced from imperial politics. Do not pay it any mind.
After all, you are my beloved uncle, and Master Cai is my sacred teacher. Are we not all one family? We are as close as grains of rice.
Now that you have cleansed the court and stabilized the Guanzhong region, your loyal nephew stands ready in the East to sweep away the remaining rebels on behalf of the Throne. With uncle and nephew locking hands, the restoration of the Great Han is a certainty.
If you ever find yourself in need, Uncle, simply point a finger, and I will gladly smash whomever you desire.
Though wrapped in silk and familial pleasantries, the core message was terrifyingly simple: As long as you leave my master unharmed, I will be the sharpest weapon in your imperial arsenal. But touch a single hair on his head, and I will tear the Han Dynasty apart root and branch.
Zhang Xin knew that as long as Wang Yun harbored even a shred of genuine ambition to resurrect the empire, he would never dare antagonize Qingzhou at such a critical juncture. Threatening a fanatic like Wang Yun with personal violence was useless; but threatening the survival of the Han Dynasty itself? That was an absolute trump card.
Whatever Wang Yun's flaws—his stubbornness, his political myopia, his bloated arrogance—he was, undeniably, a fiercely loyal servant of the Han.
A flash of profound realization dawned in Zhang Zhong's eyes. "I never imagined the General possessed such an intimate tapestry of connection with the Prime Minister..."
The Gilded Leash
Engaged in deep conversation, the retinue finally passed through the gates of the State Prefecture. The civil officials, acting on Zhang Xin's prior commands, had already arranged the ceremonial incense tables.
Zhang Zhong assumed his position and unfurled the golden silk scroll, his voice echoing through the courtyard as he proclaimed the imperial decree.
The wording was fascinatingly backhanded. Wang Yun began by addressing the anti-Dong campaign, noting that while Zhang Xin had ultimately failed to personally slay the tyrant, his exhausting efforts in the field could not go unrecognized. Therefore, by imperial command:
Zhang Xin was officially promoted from General of the Guards to the supreme rank of General of Chariots and Cavalry.
His regional military jurisdiction was officially stripped from Qing and Xu Provinces and transferred directly over Qing and Ji Provinces.
All other titles, wealth, and provincial honors remained unchanged.
"How exactly does this old man's brain function?" Zhang Xin thought, thoroughly amused yet utterly speechless.
The political intent behind changing his jurisdiction to Ji Province was transparent. Wang Yun was handed him a flawless, legal mandate to march into Jizhou and butcher Yuan Shao. The Prime Minister understood his strategic value and was actively trying to tether him to the court.
"But if you want to win me over," Zhang Xin scoffed mentally, "why must you insult my achievements in the same breath? 'Failed to slay Dong Zhuo?' Are you trying to inflate your own legend? You think because you smuggled a dagger into a bedroom you are a god of war? Your faction promised to secure the Emperor's safety, yet my vanguard had already breached the city gates while you were still snoring under your silk sheets. Is it my fault the capital fell into chaos?"
It was the classic hypocrisy of the court literati—taking credit for the blood spilled by soldiers.
Furthermore, at the tail end of the edict, Wang Yun officially stripped Dong Bai of her titles. Her fiefdom of Pingyuan was revoked, and Zhang Xin was explicitly ordered to surrender the girl into Zhang Zhong's custody so she could be marched back to Chang'an for imperial execution. Crucially, however, Wang Yun did not touch the title of Zhang Xin's infant son, who remained the Marquis of Quyang.
"General of Chariots and Cavalry," Zhang Zhong announced, rolling the silk closed and presenting it with a deep bow. "Please receive the imperial decree."
"Your humble servant, Zhang Xin, accepts the sacred decree with profound gratitude," Zhang Xin declared smoothly, rising to take the scroll.
"General," Zhang Zhong murmured, casting a sharp eye across the surrounding officers. "Where is the lady of the Dong clan? Where is Dong Bai?"
"Envoy," Zhang Xin replied, his tone shifting into something cool and unyielding. "The Dong clan has already been utterly extinguished; their blood has paid for their crimes. Dong Bai is merely a young girl, and she has not even reached her age of maturity."
He looked directly into Zhang Zhong's eyes. "She possessed no knowledge of Dong Zhuo's treasons, nor did she wield a single blade against the throne. By the letter of our law, her punishment is to be seized by the state and sold into penal slavery. Let us simply consider her a slave whom I have already personally purchased from the court."
"General, I fear that violates the Prime Minister's explicit directives," Zhang Zhong countered, a nervous sweat breaking on his brow. "The Prime Minister stated clearly that even the highest nobility must bow to the iron laws of the realm."
"We will do it my way," Zhang Xin stated. The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of an iron portcullis slamming shut.
Zhang Zhong's face paled. "General... this..."
"I carved a gentleman's agreement with Dong Zhuo in the sight of heaven, a pact known to every lord under the sun," Zhang Xin explained, his voice ringing with absolute political righteousness. "Dong Zhuo kept his word; he protected my master from the slightest harm. Therefore, I must keep mine. Tell me, Envoy—does the court truly wish to force a General of the Han to break his sacred word and prove himself untrustworthy to the entire world?"
In the Han Dynasty, the virtues of Loyalty, Filial Piety, Benevolence, and Trustworthiness were the absolute currency of political survival. They were unassailable cards. If a warlord wrapped his actions in the cloak of sacred honor, even the Emperor couldn't easily demand he act like a rogue.
Had Dong Zhuo sent a male heir like Dong Huang, the argument would have fallen flat. But for a minor female whose legal sentence was merely penal servitude, Zhang Xin's intervention was legally minor. Even if the late Emperor Liu Hong were standing in the hall, he wouldn't have gone to war with his premier general over a teenage girl. After all, Han Sui had raised the banners of open rebellion, yet his daughter Han Shu was still living comfortably within Zhang Xin's inner chambers to this day.
"Very well..." Zhang Zhong conceded reluctantly, bowing his head. "If it is framed as a matter of sacred honor, I shall report it as such."
"Oh, one last thing," Zhang Xin remembered casually as he guided the envoy toward the banquet hall. "When General Huangfu Song successfully wiped out the remnants of the Dong clan at Mei County... how did the court reward his valor?"
Historically, Huangfu Song was supposed to inherit the mantle of General of Chariots and Cavalry. Zhang Xin was deeply curious; since Wang Yun had tossed that exact title to him to buy his loyalty, what was left for the legendary veteran?
"General Huangfu's martial brilliance has been rewarded with the title of General of the Flying Cavalry," Zhang Zhong answered.
Zhang Xin nodded slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips.
The Imperial Military Hierarchy
[ GRAND GENERAL ] -> Supreme Commander (Vacant - Kept by Wang Yun) | [ GENERAL OF THE FLYING CAVALRY ] -> Awarded to Huangfu Song (Prestigious, typically posthumous) | [ GENERAL OF CHARIOTS AND CAVALRY ] -> Awarded to Zhang Xin (Commanding Qing and Ji Provinces)
In the strict traditions of the Han, the rank of General of the Flying Cavalry was a highly sacred honor, almost exclusively awarded posthumously to legendary ministers. To grant it to a living general was an extreme anomaly.
Ordinarily, a savior of the state like Huangfu Song would be promoted straight to Grand General. But the Grand General was the undisputed head of all military officials, ranking comfortably above the Three Ducal Ministers. Since Wang Yun was currently hoarding absolute dictatorial control over the government, he was terrified of allowing a legendary military titan like Huangfu Song to hold a rank higher than his own civil office.
Inventing a fancy, traditionally dead-man's title like General of the Flying Cavalry was a brilliant, cynical bureaucratic compromise to keep the old general content without surrendering real executive authority.
Once Zhang Zhong and his exhausted diplomatic retinue were comfortably settled with wine and meat, Zhang Xin wasted no more time. He summoned Dian Wei, packed the finest vintages of his personal guard, and galloped south toward Zhu'a to meet the Tiger of Jiangdong.