"Chancellor!"
The cry split the hall like a thunderclap. Niu Fu rushed forward, barely catching Dong Zhuo as the massive warlord staggered and collapsed, his face ashen with shock.
Attendants swarmed in panic—pinching his philtrum, slapping his back, calling his name again and again. After what felt like an eternity, Dong Zhuo's chest heaved. His eyes snapped open.
Bloodshot. Burning.
The moment he recognized Niu Fu, fury erupted like a wildfire.
"You dare show your face?! I'll kill you!"
Steel flashed. The sword leapt from its scabbard.
Niu Fu didn't argue. He ran.
In war, one retreats before overwhelming force. Before Dong Zhuo's wrath, survival demanded the same principle.
"Stop right there!"
Dong Zhuo thundered after him, blade raised, robes flaring. Behind them, servants scrambled in terror.
"Chancellor! It's the New Year—spare him!"
"General Niu is your son-in-law! Think of the Young Lady!"
"Father-in-law, mercy!" Niu Fu cried, sprinting for his life.
"I am not your father-in-law!" Dong Zhuo roared, then faltered mid-stride, momentarily confused—before rage took him again. "I'll kill you anyway!"
Around pillars, across tables—the two circled like predator and prey in a grotesque dance. Niu Fu darted left, then right, using every obstacle to stay alive.
But Dong Zhuo was no longer the unstoppable warrior of his youth. His breath grew ragged. His steps slowed. With a final stagger, he collapsed onto a table, gasping like a beast spent from the hunt.
Niu Fu peeked out from behind a pillar. "Fa… Father-in-law?"
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Dong Zhuo surged up again.
Niu Fu bolted.
Just as death seemed inevitable, salvation arrived.
"Father, calm your anger!"
Lady Dong swept into the hall, her presence cutting through chaos like a blade through silk.
Niu Fu nearly wept. He rushed behind her, clinging to life itself.
"My dear wife, save me!"
She stepped forward, placing herself between sword and victim. "Father, what has caused such fury?"
Dong Zhuo snorted, then unleashed his rage—each word like a hammer blow.
Lost territory. Ignored strategy. Trusted superstition. A city gone. River East… gone.
By the time he finished, even Lady Dong's face had hardened.
She turned.
"What have you done?!"
Niu Fu shrank like a scolded child, nodding repeatedly, bowing, apologizing with desperate smiles.
Only after venting did she turn back to her father, softening her tone. "It is the New Year…"
"The New Year?!" Dong Zhuo barked. "He gifts me defeat as a celebration?!"
Yet the storm had weakened. The chase, the shouting—his fury had burned itself down to embers.
"Speak," Dong Zhuo growled, glaring at Niu Fu. "How did you lose River East so completely?"
Niu Fu swallowed. "Niu Feng camped outside Anyi… laid down arms… rested openly…"
"I consulted a diviner. He said attack was favorable. So I—"
"You charged out like a fool, pursued too far, and walked straight into an ambush."
Silence.
Niu Fu blinked. "How did Father-in-law know?"
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
The chase began anew.
Lady Dong tried to intervene—only to be shoved aside. She fell hard.
Niu Fu froze.
Then ran faster.
"War is deception!" Dong Zhuo roared, voice shaking the hall. "When strong, appear weak! When near, appear far! I taught you this—yet you trust charlatans instead?!"
Each word struck like a whip.
"If you had listened—once—you would not have fallen to such a childish trick!"
Niu Fu collapsed to his knees mid-run, bowing frantically. "I was wrong! I'll study! I'll never trust shamans again!"
Dong Zhuo stood there, drenched in sweat, chest heaving.
Silence fell.
Lady Dong rose, steadying herself, and once more stepped forward.
This time, he did not push her away.
"…Forget it," Dong Zhuo muttered at last, waving a heavy hand. "You've already lost everything. What use is killing you now?"
Niu Fu froze, hardly daring to breathe.
"You are stripped of rank. Return home. Await punishment. Without my order—you do not step outside."
Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave.
"Thank you, Father-in-law! Thank you!"
"Scram!"
Niu Fu didn't wait. Grabbing his wife, he fled as though chased by death itself.
Silence returned to the hall.
Dong Zhuo stood alone.
River East… lost.
A single failure had shifted the balance of the entire war.
His gaze darkened.
Puban Ford.
That crossing was now the key. If the enemy crossed the river, they could strike Huayin—or march straight on Zheng County. Either path would carve open the heart of Guanzhong.
If Huayin fell, his forces would be trapped—surrounded and crushed.
If Zheng County fell…
Behind it lay Chang'an.
The empire's throat.
His grip tightened.
He considered Lü Bu—but mistrust lingered. Too many of his generals had once served the enemy.
Li Que. Guo Si. All uncertain.
The rest?
Dead. Defected. Gone.
For the first time, Dong Zhuo felt the chilling weight of isolation.
No one left.
No one he could trust.
At last, he made his decision.
"Summon Dong Min."
The next day, Dong Min marched with eight thousand Xiliang troops toward Puban Ford.
Dong Zhuo remained in Chang'an, his direct forces reduced to less than ten thousand.
Every hour mattered.
Reports were demanded—morning, noon, and night.
Each message carried hope.
Each passing day stretched tension tighter.
Until—
The tenth day of the first lunar month.
A messenger burst into the hall, face pale, voice trembling.
"Chancellor!"
He fell to his knees.
"Puban Ford… has fallen!"
The war had entered a new phase.
And the storm was only beginning.