Sun Jian stood by the riverbank, staring at Zhang Xin with a sudden, anxious uncertainty hammering in his chest.
His impulsive outburst about a marriage alliance had been a spur-of-the-moment whim, fueled by fine wine and deep camaraderie. Now, in the sobering light of day, cold reality was beginning to settle in, and the proposal felt entirely inappropriate.
Though Zhang Xin was born of a humble, non-aristocratic background, his towering military achievements had already placed him in the absolute stratosphere of the empire.
He had crushed the Wuhuan, broken the nomadic hordes, and decisively severed the great security threats looming over the northern frontiers. Even now, with the Central Plains fractured by complete chaos, the wild tribes of Youzhou and the Wuhuan dared not move a single horse south; the lingering terror of Zhang Xin's name kept them tightly bound to the northern wastes. Had this been the earlier Guanghe era, the nomads would have already marched south to plunder the realm bare.
A warrior of his caliber had been granted the title of a formal County Marquis at the tender age of nineteen—a rare, genuine peerage, not some empty honorary title tossed out by a corrupt court. One could easily calculate the monumental scale of his contributions.
Furthermore, during the anti-Dong Zhuo coalition, the lion's share of the glory belonged exclusively to Zhang Xin. Sun Jian, by contrast, had barely managed to secure Shan County. It was only through Zhang Xin's structural intervention and constant tactical assistance that his operational crises were solved. The rest had merely been a test of endurance.
Compared to the history that should have been—where Sun Jian recaptured Luoyang and personally drove Dong Zhuo into exile—the Tiger of Jiangdong currently lacked any singular, earth-shattering exploit. His only commendable achievement, the execution of the rebel Ou Xing, had only occurred because Zhang Xin had deliberately recommended him for the office.
Moreover, Zhang Xin was the premier disciple of the legendary Confucian grandmaster Cai Yong. His wife, Lady Liu, was the late Emperor's imperial sister. The fact that Zhang Xin was the current Emperor's uncle was an open, unchallenged secret across the land.
Sun Jian asked himself with brutal honesty: If I were in Zhang Xin's boots, would I not demand my sons marry the daughters of the most prestigious, multi-generational clans in the empire, systematically forging the Zhang name into a legendary aristocratic house?
By contrast, what was he? A mere Governor of Yanzhou, the Marquis of Wucheng—a regional warlord, yes, but one who would likely still be a minor advisory official had Zhang Xin not pulled him into prominence. The fact that Zhang Xin loved Sun Ce so much that he was willing to offer his high-born daughter was already an astronomical honor.
Could he honestly expect a warlord of Zhang Xin's political weight to accept a boisterous, minor girl from a family of crude southern militarists as a daughter-in-law?
Seeing Zhang Xin sink into a prolonged, intense silence, Sun Jian opened his mouth to walk the proposal back. But the words died in his throat. To retract a formal offer now would turn the entire summit into a farce.
The pavilion fell completely silent, save for the crackle of the charcoal braziers.
What Sun Jian failed to realize, however, was that Zhang Xin wasn't harboring a single shred of elitist disgust toward his daughter. He was simply suffering a massive internal crisis, trying to calculate whether this three-year-old toddler was actually the historical icon he suspected.
"Wentai," Zhang Xin spoke up, breaking the silence as he made up his mind to bypass protocol. "What is your young daughter's formal name?"
In the strict traditions of the Han, the Six Rites of Matrimony were absolute:
[ 1. BETROTHAL ] -> [ 2. ASKING THE NAME ] -> [ 3. OMEN MATCHING ] | [ 4. GIFT SENDING ] -> [ 5. DATE FIXING ] -> [ 6. WEDDING NUPTIALS ]
To demand a child's formal name before the initial proposal had even been formally accepted was a distinct breach of propriety. But Sun Jian was a rough-hewn soldier, not a fragile Confucian moralist; he wasn't about to lose sleep over courtly etiquette.
Sure enough, Sun Jian's eyes lit up with immediate joy upon hearing the question. "My little girl is named Sun Ren."
"Does Wentai possess only this one daughter?" Zhang Xin probed further.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sun Jian wondered, slightly puzzled. "Does the General think a single daughter isn't enough?"
Dared not be careless, Sun Jian answered meticulously, "I am blessed with five sons and three daughters. My first four boys—Ce, Quan, Yi, and Kuang—were all born to my principal wife, Lady Wu. My youngest son, Lang, was born to a secondary concubine. Of my three daughters, only the youngest, little Ren, was born to Lady Wu. My other two girls were born out of wedlock, and their lineages are far too ordinary to ever be worthy of the General's noble household."
"I didn't expect Sun Wentai, a crude military man, to possess such an elegant, literary sense for naming his children," Zhang Xin thought, nodding slowly. "This seals it. It is her. It is Sun Shangxiang."
The naming convention was a perfect, harmonious pattern:
Ce (策) and Quan (权) both signified power and sovereign authority.
Yi (翊) and Kuan (匡) both translated to assistance and protection.
Lang (朗) and Ren (仁) embodied light, kindness, and deep benevolence.
The name "Sun Shangxiang" was actually a much later, fictional creation popularized by the Peking Opera Ganlu Temple as a stage name for Lady Sun. In the original, earliest Ming Dynasty editions of The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, her historical name was explicitly recorded as Sun Ren. It was only after the opera captivated the public imagination that later prints of the novel updated her name to match the play.
Furthermore, the theatrical legends had invented a fictional "Wu Guotai"—a younger sister of Lady Wu—claiming the sons were born to the elder sister while Sun Shangxiang was born to the younger. But Zhang Xin had known Sun Jian for years; the man was fiercely devoted and possessed only one singular Lady Wu.
From every analytical angle, this three-year-old girl born of the Wu bloodline was destined to become the legendary, formidable warrior princess who would one day marry Liu Bei.
Zhang Xin quickly detailed the ages and stations of his own children before looking up. "I wonder... which of my boys did Wentai have in mind for this match?"
Sun Jian hesitated, weighing his options carefully. "What of your eldest, young Zhang Ping?"
In truth, Sun Jian desperately wanted his daughter to wed Zhang Xin's primary heir, Emperor Zhang Huan. In the ancient laws of lineage, the eldest legitimate son was the undisputed path of imperial continuity. But he was terrified that Zhang Xin would view a girl from a rough military household as an unworthy match for the future lord of the realm.
After agonizing over the choice, Sun Jian had decided to settle for second best. Zhang Ping might have been born to a concubine, but he was still the firstborn child of the house. More importantly, because of his mother, he was a blood relative of the fallen imperial line and currently held the sovereign title of Marquis of Quyang. For little Sun Ren, marrying Zhang Ping would be a massive leap in social status.
"The eldest boy..." Zhang Xin mused, his mind flashing with immediate concern.
If history held true, Lady Sun's personality was notoriously domineering, volatile, and fiercely militant. Historically, even a hardened, ruthless pragmatist like Liu Bei was rumored to be so terrified of her armed maidservants that he slept with one eye open, functionally paralyzed by anxiety in her bedchamber. It was that exact domestic terror that drove Fa Zheng to coin the famous idiom regarding "a sudden change of circumstances at one's flank."
"With Zhang Ping's mild, scholarly temperament," Zhang Xin thought with a wry smirk, "could he honestly handle a southern Tyrannosaurus Rex? I'd rather not have my eldest boy scared into psychological impotence before he even reaches maturity."
"Wentai," Zhang Xin spoke aloud, his tone ringing with absolute authority. "Since you have honored me by offering your primary, legitimate daughter, how could I possibly insult your house by pairing her with a child born of a concubine?"
Zhang Xin struck the table firmly. "Let us do this: your daughter shall be betrothed to my fourth son, Emperor Zhang Huan."
"Emperor Zhang Huan is a naturally bold, fierce little wolf cub," Zhang Xin reasoned. "If anyone has the raw grit to keep that warrior princess in check, it's him."
Sun Jian was utterly thunderstruck with joy. He rose from his seat, bowing so low his head nearly touched the wooden planks. This wasn't just an incredible political windfall; it was a profound, public declaration that Zhang Xin viewed the Sun family not as crude mercenaries, but as absolute social and political equals.
"This servant gladly obeys the General's magnificent decree!" Sun Jian roared, his anxieties evaporating into pure euphoria.
"Then the pact is forged!" Zhang Xin laughed heartily, raising his silver goblet high into the air. "Come, my dear in-law—let us drink to the future of our houses!"
"To our houses!" Sun Jian boomed, his laughter echoing across the riverbank.
Tons, tons, tons, tons...
Mapping the Blockade
With their personal bonds locked in iron, the festive air dissolved, and the cold calculations of statecraft returned. Zhang Xin signaled for his guards to clear away the remnants of the feast and unfurl a massive, detailed leather tactical map across the center of the pavilion.
"Wentai, focus your eyes here," Zhang Xin commanded, pointing a slender finger at the southern quadrants.
[ JIZHOU (Yuan Shao) ] ^ | (Crosses River) [ YANZHOU (Sun Jian) ] / | \ [Weishi] [White Horse] [Fugou] ^ ^ ^ \ | / -- [ YU PROVINCE ] ---- ^ | [ Nanyang / Runan ] (Yuan Shu)
"Currently, Yuan Shu controls the three massive commanderies of Nanyang, Runan, and Yingchuan, though he has yet to successfully digest the independent States of Chen and Liang," Zhang Xin analyzed, his voice sharp and clinical. "By my estimation, if he attempts to march his hosts north to reinforce Yuan Shao, his only viable operational route is to breach Changshe, penetrate Chenliu, drive straight toward the crossing at White Horse, and cross the river into Wei Commandery."
Sun Jian studied the topography, nodding in immediate agreement. Yingchuan and Runan anchored the western borders of Yu Province; if Yuan Shu wanted a piece of the northern war, he was structurally forced to bottleneck his armies through western Yanzhou via Chenliu.
"Therefore, I require your forces to split," Zhang Xin directed, tracing two lines on the leather map. "Establish heavy garrisons at Weishi and Fugou counties. Form a lethal, defensive pincer to lock Yuan Shu in check. Simultaneously, throw a third independent army into White Horse to ensure he cannot slip through the perimeter and find an alternative river crossing."
"The strategy is flawless, Lord," Sun Jian murmured, unable to find a single tactical vulnerability in the deployment. "But... what if Yuan Shu bypasses Yanzhou entirely? What if he marches west into Sili Province, utilizes the passes of Henan, and crosses the river there to enter Jizhou from the flank?"
"You may rest easy on that front, Wentai," Zhang Xin smiled, a calm, terrifying confidence radiating from his eyes. "The Governor of Henan is Zhang Yang—my former military officer from my days in Bingzhou. A formal diplomatic envoy is already within his gates as we speak."
Zhang Xin leaned back, adding coldly, "Yuan Shao stands branded as a traitor to the imperial court. Zhang Yang is a man who understands his origins; I highly doubt he possesses the suicidal courage to defy the empire and disobey the explicit directives of his former master. Furthermore, even if we assume the absolute worst case—that he breaks under pressure and allows Yuan Shu to cross—my alliance with the Black Mountain Yellow Turbans is absolute. Their vanguard can descend from the ridges at a moment's notice to ambush Yuan Shu's lines of march."
"Plan before you act; calculate before you strike."
Sun Jian shook his head in pure awe, offering an unforced compliment. "The General's foresight is truly staggering. Your calculations leave no blind spots; you are undeniably the supreme master of military strategy in our era."
"Wentai flatters me far too much," Zhang Xin replied smoothly, waving away the praise with practiced modesty.
The two lords spent another hour hammering out the granular logistics of grain transport and signal flares before Sun Jian looked up, his brow furrowed. "General... are you absolutely certain you have no need for my personal vanguard to march alongside you into Jizhou? My blades are yours to command."
"I deeply appreciate your fierce loyalty, old friend," Zhang Xin laughed, clapping Sun Jian on the shoulder. "But your veterans have bled continuously since the anti-Dong campaigns. They returned only to smash the Zhou brothers before instantly turning to pacify the rebellion across Yanzhou. They are exhausted to the bone. To ask them to stop Yuan Shu is already a massive burden; how could I possibly endure the guilt of dragging them into another grueling northern expedition?"
It was a beautiful, benevolent explanation.
But in truth, it was pure geopolitical calculations. Jizhou was the absolute foundation of Zhang Xin's grand strategy for dominance. Under no circumstances would he allow Sun Jian to march his armies into that fertile territory and establish a territorial foothold or political influence there. Jizhou had to be conquered by Qingzhou blades alone to ensure absolute, uncontested authority in the years to come. Furthermore, the 500-li march from Changyi to Ye City was indeed a logistical nightmare for an army that had known no rest.
"The General treats his soldiers like his own flesh and blood; you are truly a sovereign of unmatched benevolence," Sun Jian praised, completely won over by the gesture.
The Exchange of Tokens
With the strategic objectives achieved and the sun dipping low toward the horizon, Zhang Xin signaled that it was time to conclude the summit.
Sun Jian grasped Zhang Xin's hands tightly, his eyes heavy with genuine reluctance to part. "The next time our paths cross, General, we shall bar the doors, unseal the oldest vintages, and drink until the dawn catches us completely drunk!"
He truly loathed leaving. He wanted nothing more than to pitch his tents right there on the riverbank and spend the night drinking with the only man who truly understood him. But with a massive war looming on two fronts, they were no longer free mercenaries; they were regional lords bound to the wheels of statecraft.
"A sacred vow, Wentai. Next time, we drink until we fall," Zhang Xin nodded emphatically, sharing his friend's sentiment.
Of all the historical titans he had encountered since his transmigration, Sun Jian was the only one whose raw, unpolished personality felt genuinely compatible with his own. The man was simple-minded, fiercely loyal, and generous to a fault. He lacked the venomous, shifting layers of deceit that defined the high aristocracy. There were no hidden daggers, no toxic conflicts of interest. He was the perfect ally, and the only true friend Zhang Xin possessed in this brutal era.
As they stepped out of the pavilion, Zhang Xin reached into his scholarly robes, pulled out an exquisite, intricately carved jade pendant, and presented it to Sun Jian as the formal marital token.
"Oh... oh dear, this is a disaster!" Sun Jian spluttered, suddenly turning frantic as he aggressively slapped his own pockets.
The marriage alliance had been an entirely spontaneous development. Because it hadn't been pre-planned, Sun Jian hadn't brought a single piece of formal jewelry or a ceremonial token. Zhang Xin had arrived dressed in the fine, ornamented robes of a high scholar, meaning he was naturally adorned with presentable jade. But Sun Jian was a career military officer; he despised wearing heavy, fragile ornaments that would snag on his armor or hinder his martial movements.
After digging through his leather undergarments for several agonizing minutes and finding nothing but dirt and sweat, Sun Jian growled, set his jaw, and unbuckled the legendary, ancestral Ancient Ding Blade hanging from his waist.
"General! Please accept my sword as the sacred token of our bond!" Sun Jian declared, thrusting the fabled weapon forward.
Sun Ce's eyes widened in sheer horror. "Father, no! You cannot give away—"
"Silence!" Sun Jian roared, glaring his son into immediate submission.
Zhou Yu, witnessing the mounting embarrassment, stepped forward smoothly, unhooking a pristine, valuable jade ornament from his own belt. "Uncle Sun, please... let us utilize my jade as the marital token for the household."
"Preposterous! How can the elders of two great houses utilize the personal ornaments of a junior to seal a sacred marriage contract?" Sun Jian barked, waving his hand in fierce refusal as he stubbornly pressed the ancient sword into Zhang Xin's chest.
"Wentai, calm your heart. There is absolutely no need for such extremes," Zhang Xin laughed, gently but firmly pushing the legendary blade back into its scabbard.
He was secretly sweating. "Good heavens, Sun Jian is almost too honest for his own good."
In the grand tradition of the realm, the initial exchange of tokens at a summit was merely a symbolic gesture—much like signing a modern letter of intent. Once both parties returned to their respective capitals and properly prepared the official, lavish engagement gifts, the real exchange would occur via formal envoys. He hadn't expected Sun Jian to try and hand over his primary war weapon on a riverbank.
"Alas... this..." Sun Jian muttered, his rough face flushing with deep embarrassment as he finally confessed his lack of preparation. "The alliance was struck on a whim... I truly have nothing of value on my person to match your jade, General."
"A warrior's honor needs no glittering gems to prove its weight, Wentai," Zhang Xin smiled. His eyes drifted upward, locking onto the faded, battle-worn scarlet cloth wrapped tightly around Sun Jian's head. "Tell you what. I have always harbored a great fondness for your iconic red turban. Why don't we use that as our sacred token?"
"Is... is such a crude thing truly appropriate...?" Sun Jian hesitated, his hand hovering near his brow.
Though a marital token didn't strictly need to be an priceless treasure, a piece of faded, sweat-stained red cloth was pushing the boundaries of aristocratic propriety. Given their current supreme statuses, it felt dangerously casual.
"I have spoken, and it shall be so," Zhang Xin commanded playfully. "You are a warlord of unmatched resolve, Wentai; why are you suddenly acting as slow and indecisive as an old monk?"
Hearing the friendly challenge, Sun Jian stopped overthinking. He reached up, untied the famous red headscarf, and handed it over to Zhang Xin with a solemn, reverent bow. If the General of Chariots and Cavalry didn't care about the optics, then continuing to refuse would only make him look petty and small.
"That is more like it," Zhang Xin grinned, smoothing out the scarlet fabric before folding it carefully into his sleeve. A sudden, vital historical memory sparked in his mind. He looked up, his expression turning intensely serious.
"Wentai, I have one profound, unreasonable request to ask of you."
"Speak it, Lord!" Sun Jian declared, fiercely patting his iron breastplate. "Let alone one request—ask ten, ask a hundred! So long as this old body breathes, I will march through raging fires and cross seas of blades without a single moment of hesitation!"
"You are no longer a lone vanguard officer, Wentai. You are a Governor, the supreme Commander-in-Chief of three provincial armies," Zhang Xin instructed, his eyes boring into Sun Jian's with an almost desperate intensity. "The security and survival of your entire prefecture are structurally tied to your personal life. When Yuan Shu launches his assault... you must not, under any circumstances, charge the vanguard like a common shock trooper. Do you hear me? Remember my words... guard your life as if it belongs to the empire."
"Understood. This Jian swears to heed your counsel," Sun Jian nodded warmly, his heart touched by the profound, protective concern radiating from his ally.
The Adoption of a Pupil
With the farewells finalized, Zhang Xin turned his gaze back toward the two exceptional teenagers standing by the horses. He looked at Sun Ce, then at Zhou Yu.
"Gods above, I truly love these two kids," he thought, a wave of predatory mentoring instinct flaring up.
"Wentai," Zhang Xin spoke aloud, turning back to Sun Jian with a calculating smile. "I find myself harboring yet another request. I wonder if you would be willing to grant me a grand favor?"
"Please, speak freely, General," Sun Jian replied, thoroughly mystified. What could possibly remain that would warrant Zhang Xin using the phrase 'unreasonable request' twice?
"Sun Ce possesses a martial talent that borders on the miraculous; I find myself utterly captivated by his potential," Zhang Xin declared openly. "It is my deepest desire to formally take him as my personal disciple, to personally instruct him in the advanced arts of grand strategy and military maneuvering."
Zhang Xin smiled warmly, adding, "During this upcoming campaign to conquer Jizhou, would you be willing to part with him for a season? Let him ride alongside my vanguard; I shall personally forge him into a master of war."
Since little Sun Ren was now formally betrothed to Emperor Zhang Huan, and given Sun Jian's unyielding sense of honor, the Sun clan was permanently locked into his political faction. Sun Ce was destined to be Emperor Zhang Huan's future brother-in-law. Zhang Xin wanted nothing more than to aggressively train the youth, transforming him into an invincible military asset that his son could inherit in the decades to come.
As for whether Sun Ce would grow strong enough to rebel and establish a separate regime as he had in the original timeline? Zhang Xin didn't harbor a single shred of fear. As long as Sun Jian remained alive and well in this timeline, Sun Ce would remain a fiercely loyal son of the realm. Furthermore, if Zhang Xin possessed the confidence to teach the boy grand strategy, he possessed the confidence to defeat him should they ever cross blades.
The Sun clan's political lineage was currently non-existent; they had no vast network of gentry backing them. They could hold a province through raw martial terror, but conquering the entire realm? That required a level of sophisticated statecraft they simply didn't possess. Zhang Xin held a monumental structural advantage, commanding an absolute stable of the finest administrative minds and invincible generals of the generation. If he somehow managed to lose the world to his own student under these conditions, then the Sun family rightfully deserved to rule the empire.
Sun Jian was practically floating with euphoria upon hearing the offer. He had personally witnessed Zhang Xin's terrifying, flawless command of legions during the anti-Dong campaigns. If Sun Ce could absorb even a microscopic half of that tactical genius, the boy would dominate any battlefield he ever set foot upon. Moreover, becoming the formal apprentice of the General of Chariots and Cavalry meant Sun Ce could leverage the immense, elite academic connections of the Cai family, instantly elevating the Sun clan's crude reputation across the empire.
Just as Sun Jian opened his mouth to enthusiastically accept, a crisp, refined voice cut through the pavilion.
"General, as the ancient moralists dictate: While one's parents are alive, a dutiful son must not travel to distant lands."
Zhou Yu stepped forward, his hands clasped in a smooth, respectful bow, his eyes cool and intensely analytical. "The winds of war are already rising across Yanzhou. At a critical juncture such as this, it would be far more appropriate for Sun Ce to remain anchored by his father's flank, offering his blade to defend his own household."
The elegant youth had used the unassailable cloak of filial piety as a defensive shield. In truth, his brilliant mind had instantly raced to a dark, pragmatic conclusion: Zhou Yu was terrified that Zhang Xin was attempting to smoothly strip Sun Jian of his eldest son, transforming Sun Ce into a high-profile political hostage to ensure Yanzhou's permanent, blind obedience.
As the military texts warned: One should never harbor the intent to harm others, but one must never lack the wisdom to guard against them.
Zhou Yu was overthinking the geopolitical dynamics, judging Zhang Xin by the cynical standards of the era's grand lords.
Sun Ce, instantly catching the subtle warning woven through his sworn brother's words, stepped forward and executed a deep bow to Zhang Xin. "This youth desires nothing more than to remain by my father's side during the coming storm, fulfilling my sacred filial duties. I humbly pray the General will not take offense at my choice."
Sun Jian's face turned from pure joy to an explosive, purple rage. He opened his mouth, unleashing a torrent of coarse military curses at his son, utterly terrified that the boy's stubbornness would permanently offend Zhang Xin and shatter a once-in-a-century opportunity for their lineage.
Yet, no matter how violently his father roared, Sun Ce remained rooted to the spot, his stance unyielding, his eyes locked onto Zhang Xin with absolute resolve. He was entirely willing to learn, but he refused to let his household be compromised or leave his father's side.
"Enough, Wentai! Quiet your fury," Zhang Xin laughed easily, his admiration for the two boys skyrocketing. He stepped down from the platform, gently raising Sun Ce by the elbows before looking at Sun Jian with a reassuring smile. "The boy's fierce, unyielding devotion to his father is a magnificent virtue. Why are you screaming at him?"
Zhang Xin turned back to Sun Ce, his tone warm and supportive. "We shall do this instead: Once I return to my administrative seat in Pingyuan, I shall personally curate a selection of my private military treatises and have a trusted courier deliver them straight to your quarters in Changyi. You shall study them diligently under your father's roof."
Hearing this, Zhou Yu's elegant face flushed with a sudden, deep tint of shame. He realized he had entirely misjudged the General, measuring a man of grand, peerless magnanimity by his own petty, defensive standards.
Sun Ce was completely overjoyed. Showing a rare flash of brilliant political wit, he instantly dropped to both knees, pressed his forehead against the ground before Zhang Xin, and delivered a formal, booming salute: "Disciple Sun Ce pays his sacred respects to the Teacher!"
"Superb! Congratulations, Lord, on acquiring the finest disciple in the realm," Zhou Yu chimed in hastily, bowing deeply to smooth over his prior caution.
Zhang Xin let out a roaring, triumphant laugh that echoed across the Ji River. He bid a final, lingering farewell to Sun Jian and the boys, mounted his imperial carriage, and began the smooth journey back to Pingyuan.
Mobilizing the Machine
Upon crossing the threshold of his own estate, Zhang Xin immediately sought out Zhang Ning, eagerly recounting the details of the marriage alliance he had forged at the border.
Zhang Ning's beautiful face lit up with genuine delight. Ever since his return from the anti-Dong campaigns, Zhang Xin had spoken of Sun Jian more than any other lord under heaven, painting him as a rare, authentic hero of the age. She knew her husband's heart; marrying their young heir into such a honorable, martial household was an incredible blessing.
Wasting no more time, Zhang Xin descended into his private treasury, selecting several priceless imperial treasures to serve as the formal engagement gifts. Beside the wealth, he placed a meticulously annotated, hand-written volume of his personal military doctrines, wrapping them securely to be dispatched to Sun Ce's quarters in Changyi.
With the domestic front settled, Zhang Xin walked into his study, unrolling a fresh sheet of high-grade silk.
He dipped his brush into dark ink, drafting a formal, sweeping administrative mobilization order. With a sharp, deliberate motion, he brought down his hand, stamping the document with the heavy, glittering ink of his newly minted imperial seal:
The General of Chariots and Cavalry, Commander of Qing and Ji Provinces.
The decree was addressed directly to Han Fu.
"Since old Wang Yun was generous enough to hand me a flawless legal mandate to conquer Jizhou," Zhang Xin smiled, his eyes flashing with a predatory, lethal brilliance, "it would be an absolute, historical tragedy if I didn't weaponize it to grind my enemies into dust."