"What does that have to do with darkness?" Zhang Xin asked, puzzled.
"Huh?" Wang Rou blinked in confusion. "Didn't you want me to… attend to you in bed?"
Zhang Xin let out a helpless sigh. "What are you thinking? I just want the clothes you're wearing."
"Oh…"
Understanding at last, Wang Rou nodded and quickly removed her pink blouse.
"That's fine. You can go now," Zhang Xin said, waving his hand. "Find something else to wear—don't catch a cold."
Wang Rou quietly withdrew.
Zhang Xin glanced around the main hall, casually hanging the garment on a bookshelf before calling out, "Yang Yi!"
"Your subordinate is here." Yang Yi stepped in from outside.
"Bring some armored soldiers into the hall. And bring the head of that Wuhuan prince as well."
"At once."
Before long, rows of armored soldiers lined both sides of the hall. The remaining prefectural officials hurried over as well, their faces filled with unease and curiosity.
Chen Song stepped forward and bowed. "May I ask why the Commander has summoned us?"
"Please, have a seat," Zhang Xin said calmly. "A Wuhuan envoy will arrive shortly. When I look at you, just smile. Otherwise, say nothing."
Though confused, the officials complied, sitting down with forced composure.
Soon, a tall Wuhuan man entered with a single attendant. Upon seeing Zhang Xin seated at the head, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. He hadn't expected the Yellow Turban leader to be so young.
"You are the Yellow Turban commander?" he asked in accented but fluent Chinese.
Zhang Xin ignored him, continuing to eat the bowl of noodles in front of him.
"How dare you be so rude!" Yang Yi barked. "You stand before my commander and still refuse to bow?"
The envoy glanced at the soldiers lining the hall, then placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. "My name is Baqi. I greet the Commander. May I know your name?"
"Zhang Xin… Zhang Ziqing," Zhang Xin replied between mouthfuls, not even looking up. "What do you want?"
Baqi suppressed his irritation. "May I ask—did your army capture a Wuhuan man outside the city yesterday?"
"There was such a person," Zhang Xin said casually. "Why?"
"That man is the son of Khan Wuyan," Baqi said solemnly. "I ask the Commander to show mercy and release our prince."
Murmurs stirred among the officials—they hadn't even known a Wuhuan prince had been captured.
"Your prince," Zhang Xin said coldly, "slaughtered dozens of Han civilians. And you think I'll release him just because you ask?"
"My king is willing to offer a ransom of one thousand taels of gold," Baqi replied.
Zhang Xin set down his bowl and looked at him. "So the lives of dozens of commoners are worth only that much?"
Baqi hesitated, then increased the offer. "Two thousand taels."
"Not enough."
"Three thousand—and three women!"
"Still not enough."
Baqi clenched his teeth. "Three thousand taels and one hundred warhorses. That is my limit."
Zhang Xin shook his head.
"Then name your price," Baqi said, barely containing his anger.
"Good," Zhang Xin said with a faint smile. "Let's settle the account properly."
He picked up a bamboo slip and began reading aloud records of past raids—year after year of Wuhuan and Xianbei incursions, deaths, and abductions.
"General, wait!" Baqi interrupted. "What do these old records have to do with this matter?"
"When settling accounts, one must settle them thoroughly," Zhang Xin replied calmly. "Over the past decade, your people have killed tens of thousands of Han civilians."
"These were the actions of multiple tribes!" Baqi protested.
"Fair enough," Zhang Xin said with a nod. "Then we'll count only one-tenth. Compensate me with five thousand people, and I'll return your prince."
Baqi's expression twisted. "That would destroy our tribe! You have no sincerity at all!"
"You're only realizing that now?" Zhang Xin laughed.
The officials forced out awkward laughter, recalling his earlier instructions.
Baqi's patience snapped. "Do you think our army won't march on Yuyang? We will leave no one alive!"
Zhang Xin's expression turned cold. "How many men can your tribe muster? Two thousand? Three?"
His gaze sharpened. "Go back and tell Wuyan—when spring comes, I will lead ten thousand troops and wipe your tribe from existence."
"Yang Yi. Give him the 'gift.'"
Yang Yi tossed a bundle to the floor before Baqi. It rolled to his feet.
A sense of dread rose in Baqi's chest as he opened it.
Inside was the severed head of the Wuhuan prince.
The officials paled at the sight.
"You've gone too far!" Baqi roared, trembling with rage.
Zhang Xin only smiled faintly. "You won't have the chance to complain."
With a glance from Zhang Xin, Yang Yi drew his sword and dragged Baqi away. A moment later, a scream rang out—and then silence.
Yang Yi returned, holding Baqi's head.
Zhang Xin rose and approached the trembling attendant. "Hello there."
The man shook uncontrollably. "G-General…"
"Take these two heads back to Wuyan," Zhang Xin said casually.
The attendant nodded frantically, grabbing both heads and turning to flee.
"Wait," Zhang Xin called out.
The man froze and turned back.
Zhang Xin picked up Wang Rou's discarded blouse and stuffed it into his arms. "Give this to Wuyan. Tell him to put it on and learn how to raise children properly. If he can't even manage that, he shouldn't complain when they die causing trouble elsewhere."
The attendant dared not respond, nodding repeatedly before fleeing in panic.
Once he was gone, Chen Song and the other officials stepped forward, their faces pale.
"Commander… why provoke them so?" Chen Song asked nervously. "If the Wuhuan unite and attack, how can Yuyang withstand it?"
Zhang Xin turned, a faint smile on his lips.
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "I already have a plan."
"If Wuyan dares to come… he won't be leaving alive."