Before dawn, the river lay silent beneath a veil of mist.
Under cover of darkness, Yu Jin led his armored troops across the Yellow River, arriving at Puban Ford like shadows returning to land. Without delay, he entered Niu Feng's former camp and delivered Zhang Xin's orders to Wang Meng.
The young strategist's eyes lit up.
"General Yu, you've come a long way—rest in the camp. I'll gather the troops at once."
Not long after, Wang Meng assembled two thousand men and returned.
Following orders, Yu Jin handed over the armor.
But Wang Meng shook his head.
"We don't need that much. Five hundred sets will suffice."
Yu Jin paused. "Why?"
Wang Meng smiled faintly.
"The lord intends to rotate troops to create the illusion of constant reinforcements. If we send out two thousand armored soldiers today, and another two thousand tomorrow… where would we get so many?"
"Within days, Dong Zhuo would see through it."
Yu Jin's eyes widened.
Just then, a messenger arrived at full gallop.
"Order from the lord—only five hundred sets of armor are to be used."
Yu Jin couldn't help but admire it.
Even this detail—anticipated.
Wang Meng chuckled softly, though his tone carried a trace of concern.
"With the lord's intellect, such a thing wouldn't be overlooked… He must be exhausted."
Yu Jin fell silent.
He remembered how, when others hesitated after the coalition formed, only Zhang Xin pressed forward—planning, fighting, bearing the burden alone.
Soon, Wang Meng marched out with his troops—openly, deliberately—moving along the riverbank where all could see.
It didn't take long.
Dong Zhuo's scouts spotted them.
"What did you say? Another two thousand reinforcements?!"
Inside his camp, Dong Zhuo's voice rose in disbelief.
"Yes, Chancellor. I saw them clearly across the river."
Two thousand men were no small number.
They could not be hidden.
Dong Zhuo's brows furrowed.
"So fast…?"
Yesterday—four thousand.
Today—another two thousand.
His thoughts spiraled.
Niu Feng's rebellion. Niu Fu's blunder. The loss of River East. The fall of Huayin. The cooperation of Yang Biao.
One event alone might be coincidence.
Together—
They formed a web.
A plan.
A trap.
"…Zhang Ziqing…"
Dong Zhuo felt a chill run down his spine.
"If he could contact Yang Biao… could he contact others?"
Wang Yun.
Cai Yong.
How many in Chang'an had already turned?
How many smiled in his court by day—and plotted his downfall by night?
"Guards!" he snapped. "Go outside—observe their camp carefully!"
From afar, Zhang Xin's camp had grown.
Walls were reinforced.
Smoke from cooking fires rose thick and steady.
Dong Zhuo counted carefully.
Ten thousand.
Originally five thousand.
Add reinforcements—
The numbers matched.
Then he asked again:
"How many armored troops?"
"Five hundred."
Dong Zhuo exhaled slightly.
Acceptable.
Still manageable.
But the next day—
More troops arrived.
Then the next.
And the next.
Every day, new forces appeared.
Every day, the smoke thickened.
By the fifth day, Dong Zhuo's calculations turned grim.
Fifteen thousand.
More than his own.
The advantage he once held—
Gone.
Inside the main tent, Wang Meng bowed.
"My lord, we've maintained the illusion for days. In Dong Zhuo's eyes, we now hold superior numbers."
"Should we send troops out to challenge him—to reinforce the deception?"
Zhang Xin paused his writing and looked up.
"No need."
He smiled faintly.
"Even if Dong Zhuo suspects the truth, his soldiers won't."
"They only see reinforcements arriving daily… and smoke filling the sky."
"If he attacks, their morale won't follow."
He set his brush down.
"Besides… Yu Jin's troops are real."
"Before, we held with five thousand."
"Now?"
His eyes sharpened.
"We hold even more firmly."
A brief pause.
"I believe… he's about to retreat."
Moments later—
Yue Jin rushed in, unable to hide his grin.
"My lord—Dong Zhuo is retreating!"
Zhang Xin rose immediately.
"Let's take a look."
From the watchtower, he gazed out.
Dong Zhuo's camp was being dismantled.
Troops withdrew in long, weary lines.
No pursuit.
No celebration.
Just a quiet, decisive victory.
Zhang Xin smiled.
With Dong Zhuo gone, the next step was clear.
Shan County.
Meanwhile—
Dong Zhuo rode hard toward Chang'an.
He left five thousand troops in Zheng County under Dong Huang and brought the rest back.
He knew what came next.
Zhang Xin would take Shan County.
He could not stop it.
All he could do—
Was buy time.
Back in Chang'an, Dong Zhuo's mind raced.
Control the army.
Stabilize the court.
Prepare defenses.
And delay.
Delay until Zhang Xin's vast coalition fractured under its own weight.
Delay until morale waned.
Delay—
Until opportunity returned.
Then suddenly—
A name surfaced in his mind.
A figure long overlooked.
A man of unquestionable ability.
Dong Zhuo's eyes lit up.
"How could I forget him?"
Without hesitation, he went to the palace.
Emperor Xian sat reading when Dong Zhuo strode in unannounced.
The young emperor stiffened.
"Chancellor… what brings you here?"
Dong Zhuo clasped his hands.
"I request an imperial decree."
"What decree?"
Dong Zhuo's voice turned cold.
"Zhang Xin has risen in rebellion, marching on the capital. Such treason demands suppression."
The emperor's fingers tightened around his scroll—but he said nothing.
Dong Zhuo continued:
"I request Your Majesty appoint Huangfu Song as General Who Conquers the East."
"Let him lead thirty thousand troops—"
"To Zheng County."
"To stop Zhang Xin."
The board was reset.
And this time—
Dong Zhuo had chosen a true opponent.