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Chapter 103 - Traition

The capital stretched before him like a polished jewel, gleaming under the final golden rays of the sun.Luo Wen stood upon the ramparts of the southern tower, his hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on the city sprawling beneath him. Imperial banners fluttered from every rooftop, every window. The streets below echoed with the voices of the people, chanting his name with unrestrained devotion. Flags bearing the words "Unvanquished Chancellor" hung like sacred truths, boldly displayed as if no one dared question their legitimacy.

And yet, Luo Wen did not smile.

His mind had already moved past jubilation, past the wine, past the cheers. The north was secure. The barbarian tribes, once a looming threat, had been broken and bound. Shen Ruolin, despite the whispers of doubt that still clung to his name, held the northern territories with an iron grip. The eastern provinces were calm. The south, submissive. Only one region still resisted the imperial order — the west, where Wei Lian remained entrenched, the last flickering spark of rebellion.

"A flame," Luo Wen murmured, "soon to be snuffed out."

The plan was simple in theory, complex in execution. Encircle Wei Lian from three sides, sever her supply lines, and choke her strength slowly but surely. This was no reckless blitz. It was a measured purge — deliberate, methodical. And to set it in motion, he had acted before even departing north: Zhao Qing, one of his most promising generals, had been dispatched with a clear objective — to strike at the border fortresses of Wei Lian and destabilize her front before a larger campaign.

Zhao Qing had marched west with a formidable force: 150,000 seasoned troops. They were to be the vanguard of a greater invasion. His mission: capture the fortresses of Jinhe, Shuimen, and Yanyue — strategic strongholds that would secure a foundation for future offensives.

Everything was supposed to proceed according to plan.

Until the messenger arrived.

Night had already fallen when the doors to the Council Hall burst open. For a brief moment, the guards nearly ran him through, mistaking him for an assassin. His robe was torn and soaked in blood and grime. One arm hung limp and useless at his side. In the other, he clutched a bamboo scroll tube, sealed with Zhao Qing's insignia. He collapsed to his knees before Luo Wen, his forehead pressed to the ground, not daring to lift his gaze.

"Who are you?" asked the Chancellor, his voice cold but steady.

"General..." the man rasped, his voice raw with exhaustion. "I come from the west... from the frontier... on behalf of General Zhao Qing."

A heavy silence fell over the chamber, like a thick curtain pulled tight over the air.

Luo Wen descended the dais with measured steps. He took the scroll tube from the man's trembling hand, broke the seal, and slowly unrolled the parchment.

He read it once. Then again.

His eyes barely moved. But with each line, the muscles in his jaw tightened, and a chill settled in his gaze.

At last, he looked up.

"Where is Zhao Qing?" he asked — his tone devoid of emotion.

"I don't know, my lord... I was wounded... I escaped through the mountains... But before I fled, I saw him... surrendering his weapons."

"He surrendered?"

"Yes, my lord. To... to Wei Lian."

A hush, like the first tremor before an earthquake, rippled through the room.

"Was he taken prisoner?"

"No," the messenger coughed, blood flecking his lips. "She... offered him land. She promised he would retain command... under her banner. She offered promotions if he brought her victories. Honors. Gold. Power."

The man doubled over, shaking.

"And... he accepted."

A minister cursed under his breath. Another placed a hand over his mouth, disbelief etched into his face.

Luo Wen closed the scroll with deliberate slowness.

"And the soldiers who followed him?"

"Some died in the ambush... others surrendered with him. Only a handful of us managed to escape."

Luo Wen ordered that the man be tended to, but said nothing further. Once the chamber emptied, he remained where he stood, scroll still in hand.

The betrayal stung — but not as much as the fact that he hadn't seen it coming.

Wei Lian was no mere rebel holed up in the mountains. She had laid a trap — and Zhao Qing had walked into it willingly, smiling all the way. This wasn't a battlefield defeat. It was a political blow. A humiliation.

A direct strike at his authority.

In recent weeks, Luo Wen had felt power coalescing around him like armor. The emperor had become little more than a ceremonial shell. The nobles bowed and groveled. The people exalted him as if he were the empire's true heart. One enemy after another had fallen.

But this message had changed the board.

Wei Lian still lived — and now she commanded a general who had once served him. A man who knew his tactics, his command structure, his blind spots.

And worse still, he would have to explain this failure before the court.

The celebration of total victory would have to wait. The empire was not yet pacified. And in the shadowed corridors of power, doubts would begin to fester. Whispers would take root.

No one would speak them aloud — not yet.

But the seeds had been planted.

And Luo Wen could not allow them to grow.

He turned to his scribe.

"Summon Shen Ruolin. Tell him to prepare a coordinated offensive from the north. I want constant pressure on any route Wei Lian might use."

"Isn't he still consolidating the barbarian lands?"

"He can delegate. If he expects to keep his post, he must prove loyalty when it counts."

The scribe bowed and left the room.

Luo Wen returned to the map stretched across the war table. A sea of lines and symbols. Names and places. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place.

Everything — except one shadow that still moved unchecked.

Wei Lian.

The woman who refused to kneel.

The flame that refused to die.

And this time, Luo Wen knew, brute force alone would not be enough.

This time... he would have to play smart.

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