Soon, word spread through the rear courtyard that Zhang Xin had awakened.
Liu Hua, Wang Meng and his mother, along with an elderly physician, all hurried over.
"He's mostly recovered," the old doctor said with a faint smile after taking Zhang Xin's pulse. "The general's injuries are largely superficial. The only concern is the broken ribs on his left side—it will take time to heal."
"However, I've already set the bones. I'll prepare a prescription shortly. The commander is young and strong; with proper rest and medicine, he will recover."
"Many thanks, sir."
Zhang Xin nodded, then turned to Wang Meng. "Meng, go to the treasury later and bring ten taels of gold for the doctor."
"Yes, my lord."
"Absolutely not!" the old doctor waved his hands repeatedly. "The commander fought bravely for the people of Yuyang. If I accept payment, I fear I'll be scolded by everyone when I return!"
Zhang Xin insisted several times, but the old man refused just as firmly. In the end, Zhang Xin could only thank him sincerely and have Wang Meng escort him out.
As soon as the doctor left, Liu Hua grabbed Zhang Xin and scolded him harshly.
"In future battles, you are not allowed to charge ahead like that again. Do you understand?"
Zhang Xin only smiled and nodded.
Not long after, Wang Meng returned. Zhang Xin immediately ordered him to summon the generals.
"You're in this condition and still want a meeting?" Liu Hua said, clearly displeased.
"General Di Gong entrusted the Yellow Turbans to me. How can I be careless?" Zhang Xin sighed softly. "We suffered heavy losses this time. I must know the exact number."
Liu Hua fell silent.
"My lord, the meal is ready."
Wang Rou entered, carrying a tray, breaking the tension.
"Mmm! That smells wonderful. Arou, your cooking is excellent."
Zhang Xin smiled, deliberately changing the topic.
He ate a bowl of meat porridge and some vegetables with surprising appetite.
Afterward, he coaxed Zhang Ning to sleep and chatted idly with Liu Hua until Wang Meng returned again to report that the generals had assembled.
"Help me up."
Supported by Wang Meng, Zhang Xin slowly made his way to the main hall.
Inside, Zhang Niujiao, Zuo Bao, Yang Yi, Hu Cai, and Li Le were already waiting.
Seeing him arrive, they all rose and saluted.
"General, how are your injuries?"
"I'm fine. Sit."
Once seated, Zhang Xin looked at Zhang Niujiao.
"When did you and Zuo Bao return?"
"Yesterday afternoon," Zhang Niujiao replied. "Following your orders, after rescuing Commander Zuo, I stationed troops in Fox Slave City. We only withdrew after the Wuhuan completely retreated."
"And Fox Slave?"
"No major issues."
Zhang Xin nodded, then asked, "What were our casualties?"
Zhang Niujiao's expression darkened. "1,356 dead. 1,179 wounded—over a hundred seriously injured, more than fifty crippled."
Zhang Xin then turned to Yang Yi. "How many cavalry remain?"
"Just over a hundred."
"And the Xiliang veterans?"
"…Twenty," Yang Yi said bitterly.
Silence filled the hall.
After a long pause, Zhang Xin spoke quietly:
"Send fifty thousand coins to each fallen Xiliang soldier's family. They followed me thousands of miles north—I will not let their families suffer."
Yang Yi's eyes reddened. "Thank you, Commander!"
Zhang Xin continued issuing orders—compensation, rewards, care for the wounded, burial honors.
When he heard that over two thousand warhorses had been captured, his eyes lit up despite his injuries.
"All those horses—give them to Yang Yi. Rebuild the cavalry."
"Yes!"
"Zuo Bao, recruit 2,500 more men. Offer three hundred coins monthly."
"Yes, Commander."
"Li Le, oversee equipment production. Speed is critical."
"Yes!"
Everything was quickly arranged.
Then suddenly—
"Hu Cai. Li Le."
The two froze.
"Do you know your crime?" Zhang Xin asked coldly.
__
Jail Scene
Soon after, a jailer brought a basin of hot water.
"Open the door," Zhang Xin said.
Guan Yu turned his head, a sharp killing intent flashing in his eyes.
"General…" the jailer hesitated. "This man is extremely dangerous. If we open the door—"
"It's fine," Zhang Xin said calmly, meeting Guan Yu's gaze. "If not for him killing Nanlou, I would already be dead."
"We owe him a life. If he truly wishes to take mine, then so be it."
The jailer hesitated—but under Zhang Xin's unwavering look, he finally unlocked the door.
Zhang Xin picked up the basin himself, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and walked slowly into the cell.
Each step was heavy.
Each step brought him closer to danger.
Yet Guan Yu did not move.
Zhang Xin let out a quiet breath of relief.
"Your name is Guan Yu, courtesy Yunchang… correct?"
He set the basin down and sat beside him, soaking the cloth.
"Then I shall call you Lord Guan."
Guan Yu stared at him, conflicted.
"You come this close… and are not afraid I'll kill you?"
Zhang Xin smiled faintly.
"You saved my life. Returning it to you would only be just."
He handed over the cloth.
"But I do have one question. Why do you wish to kill me?"
Guan Yu snorted coldly.
"Traitors deserve death."
Zhang Xin lowered his eyes, sighing.
"I never wished to rebel…"
He spoke of hardship, of survival, of protecting the people.
As he spoke, his voice grew hoarse.
"These soldiers… they are just starving commoners. If they had food, why would they rebel?"
Guan Yu fell silent.
The words… rang true.
After a long time, he sighed deeply.
Zhang Xin gently reached out to wipe the blood from his face—
"What are you doing?" Guan Yu grabbed his wrist.
A small figure suddenly stepped forward.
"Don't touch my lord!"
Wang Meng glared fiercely.
"Ah Meng, don't be rude," Zhang Xin said gently.
Then he smiled at Guan Yu.
"A hero like you… shouldn't have blood on his face."
Guan Yu froze.
For a moment… he saw another figure in Zhang Xin.
Someone he once respected.
Someone righteous.
His grip loosened.
After a long silence—
"I'll do it myself," Guan Yu said quietly, taking the cloth.