The Northern Zhou capital had a name older than its dynasty.
Beiliang City
A city of stone and ritual, where the old court had once retreated when the empire first fractured. Its walls were high, its gates iron-bound, its palaces built in imitation of Zhongjing — not as grand, but heavy with the weight of legitimacy.
And now, it waited.
Liang did not wait.
Wu An did not lay a long siege.
He did not have the time, nor the patience.
Artillery opened the gates within days.
Black Tiger battalions moved through the breaches with practiced precision. Musket fire echoed through the streets. Cavalry cut down retreating defenders before they could regroup. The new Zhou general attempted to organize resistance, but his orders came too late, too scattered, too uncertain.
This was not Cangyuan Plains.
This was not a battle.
This was an execution.
The soldiers of Northern Zhou fought.
They fought bravely.
They fought because this was their capital, their emperor, their last stand.
And Liang cut through them.
Not with chaos.
Not with rage.
But with discipline.
Street by street.
Gate by gate.
Courtyard by courtyard.
Wu An did not stop the killing.
Not for soldiers.
Not for defenders.
Because soldiers who chose to stand—
Chose to die.
By the third day, the palace gates were open.
The banners of Zhou still hung.
But they no longer meant anything.
The inner palace was silent.
No screams.
No chaos.
Only waiting.
The child emperor sat on the throne, pale, unmoving, surrounded by trembling attendants and silent guards who no longer knew whether they were protectors or witnesses.
The great doors opened.
Wu An entered.
Armor darkened by dust and blood, his presence filling the hall before he spoke a word.
Behind him stood Liao Yun.
Shen Yue.
And the generals of Liang.
All expecting the same thing.
The end of Zhou.
The child emperor looked at him.
Too young to hate.
Too young to understand.
Old enough to know he might die.
Wu An walked forward slowly.
Every step echoed across the hall.
Ministers who had survived the fall knelt, shaking, some already whispering pleas, some silent in despair.
The generals behind Wu An watched closely.
Waiting.
Because this moment would decide everything.
Wu An reached the steps of the throne.
And then—
He bowed.
The entire hall froze.
Liao Yun's eyes narrowed.
Shen Yue did not move, but something in her gaze sharpened.
The Liang generals looked at each other in disbelief.
Wu An, conqueror of Zhongjing, destroyer of Zhou's armies—
Bowed to a child emperor.
Deeply.
Formally.
As if nothing had changed.
"The Son of Heaven endures," Wu An said calmly.
His voice carried through the hall like law.
"I, Wu An of Liang, have come to restore order under heaven."
The child emperor stared at him, confused.
Alive.
Still alive.
The ministers did not understand.
But they would.
Very quickly.
The executions began that same day.
Not soldiers.
Not servants.
Not the imperial family.
The ministers.
The noble houses.
The officials.
Those who had argued in court while the empire burned.
Those who had dismissed General Pei.
Those who had ruled without understanding.
They were gathered.
Named.
Judged.
And erased.
Entire families.
Entire lineages.
Gone.
Their deaths were not chaotic.
They were announced.
Recorded.
Explained.
"For corruption."
"For incompetence."
"For betraying the realm."
"For failing the Son of Heaven."
Wu An did not say he was taking power.
He said he was removing rot.
And to the people—
That sounded true.
At the same time, orders were issued across the city.
Commoners were not to be harmed.
Markets were to reopen.
Grain was to be distributed.
Soldiers who stole from civilians were executed immediately.
Refugees were registered and fed.
Work began restoring roads, walls, and canals.
The city did not burn.
It stabilized.
Faster than anyone expected.
And slowly—
The people began to look at Wu An differently.
Not just as the man who destroyed Zhou.
But as the man who brought order after it.
A week later, in the great hall, the child emperor was brought forward again.
This time, there were fewer ministers.
Only those who had survived.
Or chosen to survive.
Wu An stood before the throne.
The imperial seal was placed on a scroll.
The emperor's small hand trembled as he held it.
Wu An knelt.
Again.
"Your Majesty," Wu An said calmly, "the realm is in chaos. The enemies of Zhou still gather. The land must be unified, or it will be torn apart."
He lowered his head.
"I ask only to serve."
The hall was silent.
The emperor looked at the seal.
Then at Wu An.
Then at the court.
No one spoke.
Because everyone knew—
This was not a request.
The seal pressed into the scroll.
The proclamation spread across the land within days.
"By decree of the Son of Heaven,
Wu An is appointed Chancellor of Zhou,
entrusted with the authority to restore order under heaven.
All who resist this mandate resist the will of Heaven itself."
The seal was real.
The words were official.
The empire—
Was now Wu An's.
Not as a usurper.
But as the protector of the throne.
In Zhongjing, in Wei, in Chu, in Jin, in Yan, in Zhao, in Han—
The rulers read the proclamation in silence.
Then they crushed it in their hands.
Because they understood what it meant.
Wu An had not just taken a capital.
He had taken legitimacy.
He had taken the Mandate.
He had turned himself from a conqueror—
Into the voice of the emperor.
Back in Beiliang City, Wu An stood in the palace hall once more.
Liao Yun stood beside him.
"You spared him," Liao Yun said.
Wu An looked at the child emperor sitting quietly on the throne.
"I didn't spare him," Wu An replied.
"I used him."
Shen Yue smiled faintly.
"And now?" she asked.
Wu An turned toward the north, toward the lands still outside his control.
"Now," he said quietly,
"They can no longer call me a usurper."
He looked out beyond the palace, beyond the city, beyond the empire.
"They either bow…"
His voice did not rise.
But it carried.
"Or they burn."
Across the realm, banners began to rise again.
But this time—
They were not rising against Zhou.
They were rising against Wu An.
Because now every ruler understood the truth.
He was not coming for a city.
He was not coming for revenge.
He was coming for everything under heaven