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"Thus, I take my leave!"
Li Ru nodded, rising to see a general out of the hall.
As he turned to head back, his gaze fell on a tree in the courtyard. He studied it briefly, then walked over, standing with hands behind his back.
It was an ordinary tree, its trunk tall and straight, with smooth gray-white bark, cracked in places. The canopy wasn't lush but not sparse either, with uneven branches and triangular-ovate leaves, some sprouting tender buds, hinting at spring.
Li Ru's eyes seemed fixed on the tree, yet also as if staring into some distant void…
"This tree's grown too large… it needs trimming…"
---
Within the Hongnong Yang clan's ancestral hall, six elders sat silently, like decaying tree stumps. Though they appeared intact, their vitality was fading. Their white hair and beards resembled fungi sprouting from wood or ashes left from a fire.
The Yang clan's hall was spacious, ten zhang long and over four zhang wide. On the main wall, tablets of the Yang ancestors were enshrined, each inscribed with names and titles in gold powder on black lacquer, exuding solemn dignity.
The Hongnong Yangs had stood in the Han court for nearly three centuries.
After Emperor Wu's death, Emperor Zhao ascended, and General Huo Guang promoted a young Yang Chang. He married Sima Qian's daughter and rose to Grand Minister of Agriculture, Imperial Censor, and Chancellor—marking the Yangs' first shine in Han politics.
Later, Yang Zhen (styled Boqi) also became Chancellor. From Yang Zhen to Yang Bing, and now Yang Biao, all held the Three Excellencies, making the Yangs an undisputed "Four Generations, Three Excellencies."
On the Han aristocracy's peak, the Yangs stood at the top, matched only by the Yuans.
Now, in the hall behind light gauze curtains, sat the six remaining Yang elders, representing the clan's branches.
Large clans had many branches, and some produced exceptional talents. Though these didn't become patriarch, they held influence, like the six elders now.
They sat like wooden carvings, silent, only twitching brows or rolling eyes under drooping lids proving they were alive.
Outside, a "tap-tap-tap" sounded. The six elders rose, clasping hands respectfully.
A dove-headed staff appeared at the door, held by a withered hand, spotted with age, like a rotting branch.
The six white-haired elders bowed slowly. "We welcome the Grand Elder." Their sluggishness wasn't disdain or impatience but the weight of their own age.
The Yangs had six elders, but "Grand Elder" meant one man: Yang Rang. His name was rarely spoken; Yangs simply called him Grand Elder.
Though aged and stooped, the Grand Elder refused aid, hobbling with his staff to the main seat.
Servants filed in, offering each elder a freshly warmed silk towel.
The Grand Elder took his, leaning back to let the heat spread across his face, as if it could warm his frail body.
The towel's warmth quickly faded, swallowed by the deep wrinkles like chasms. He carefully wiped his aged face, but the creases held unyielding weariness and dimness.
As he returned the towel to the golden basin, it signaled the others to do the same. The servants withdrew humbly, and with the door's closing, the hall became a world of these seven elders alone.
"The Wangs sit on the fence, watching. They can't be relied on," one elder broke the silence.
Another added, "Mad, short-sighted fools, not worth planning with. Now, Henei's troops move south, Liangdong's north. The traitor is caught head and tail—this is the moment."
The Grand Elder, head bowed, face shadowed, spoke slowly, "What of the Yuans?"
"Yuan Taifu is trapped in Xiatai, unreachable, but we have his token. City and beyond, we can command," another elder said, drawing a jade pendant from his sleeve and placing it forward under the light.
The pendant was smooth, intricately carved with a cloud-dragon seeming to leap from its surface. On the dragon's head, a faint "Yuan" character gleamed.
"Yuan atop the dragon, heh, quite bold…" an elder remarked.
The elder to the Grand Elder's left coughed, redirecting the topic. "The traitor's perverse actions ruin our Yang foundation. If we sit idle, in a century, Hongnong Yangs will be dust. Wang's Henei troops are at Mengjin, aimed at Heluo, keeping the traitor sleepless. He leads troops north to resist. Now, a feint at Shanjin could cut Hedong's grain and force Li's troops to respond, leaving Luoyang open. With Yuan aid, inside and out, taking the city would be child's play! Without his base, Dong will fall into chaos. Combined with Henei's troops, we can crush him! This saves us, elevates Hongnong's name, and will rally the realm to us, achieving immortal merit! This is a once-in-a-millennium chance—miss it, and we'll regret it forever!"
All eyes turned to the Grand Elder, but shadows hid his expression. He spoke slowly, "The Yuans seek change, hating Dong. They lost their edge at Suanzao, their strength at Bianshui, and failed to escape at Luo River. Now, trapped in prison, their north-south pincer is but a lost opportunity, unreliable."
The elder to his left was silent, then said deliberately, "Since the Grand Elder disagrees… let us call a clan vote."
A clan vote, per Yang rules, allowed elders to demand a vote once in their lifetime if irreconcilable with the Grand Elder. If passed, it would proceed.
The Grand Elder closed his eyes, pausing long before saying, "…So be it, a clan vote…"
The elder to his left first placed his elder's seal before him…
---
The hall's doors finally opened, and the six elders, faces stern, hurried out…
Much later, the Grand Elder, leaning on his staff, appeared at the door, his steps faltering.
He crossed the courtyard, passed the gate, but didn't board his carriage. Instead, he wandered to a grove outside, stopping under a large tree.
This tree, planted in his childhood with his brother Yang Li, had grown tall, while they were now separated by life and death.
The Grand Elder touched the trunk with his withered hand, gazing up, sighing, "The tree, too, is old… its branches and leaves wither…"