"What did you say—Huangfu Song has arrived?!"
Inside the Huayin grand camp, Zhang Xin shot to his feet, eyes wide in disbelief.
"The army bears the 'Huangfu' banner," the scout confirmed. "Dong Zhuo has appointed him General Who Conquers the East. He held an oath-taking ceremony outside Chang'an—he's coming for you, my lord."
Zhang Xin fell silent.
For a moment, even he was stunned.
"Huangfu Song… and Dong Zhuo actually dares to use him…"
A complicated expression flickered across his face.
Huangfu Song—a name that carried the weight of an era.
A general whose early life saved the dynasty… and whose later choices allowed it to slip further into chaos.
Not for lack of ability.
But for loyalty.
Unbending. Absolute. Blind.
Zhang Xin clenched his fist.
"If only he had chosen differently…"
But history had no "if."
He exhaled, steadied himself, then turned back to his desk.
Grinding ink, lifting brush—he quickly wrote a letter.
Old General… where do you stand?
The messenger departed at once.
Half a day later, he returned.
Zhang Xin looked up sharply. "Well?"
The messenger bowed.
"After reading your letter, Huangfu Song said only one word—"
"'Fight.'"
Silence.
Then—
"Fight?! He's really going to fight for Dong Zhuo?!"
Zhang Xin slammed the table.
"Foolish loyalty! Pedantic to the bone!"
His anger flared—but just as quickly, it cooled.
Because deep down—
He understood.
Huangfu Song was not a villain.
Just a man bound too tightly by duty.
Zhang Xin straightened, eyes blazing now with something far sharper than anger—
Resolve.
"Very well."
His voice was calm, but it carried steel.
"Send word back to him."
A pause.
Then, word by word:
"If you want to fight—"
"Then let's fight!"
The messenger felt his blood stir at those words.
Without rest, he turned and rode again into the night.
Zhang Xin stepped out onto the camp wall.
The wind swept across the plains.
Far in the distance lay Zheng County.
His hand rested on the sword at his waist.
Among the great figures of the late Han…
Zhu Jun lacked true weight.
Lu Zhi had already retired.
Only one remained—
The last pillar of the old order.
Zhang Xin narrowed his eyes.
"Then come… Huangfu Song."
"Let me see what remains of the Han's greatest general."
At Zheng County—
The messenger arrived breathless and delivered the reply.
Huangfu Song listened quietly.
"I understand."
He nodded once.
"Tell him—I will be waiting in Zheng County."
As the messenger departed, a young man stepped forward.
"Old General," he asked, "how do you plan to fight Zhang Xin?"
This was Dong Huang—Dong Zhuo's nephew, sent as a supervisor.
And a leash.
Huangfu Song's family, along with those of his officers, remained in Chang'an.
"Protected."
In truth—
Hostages.
Huangfu Song knew it.
Which meant—
This battle could not be avoided.
He looked toward Zheng County.
"Our men have marched far. They are weary."
"We rest first."
"Then we plan."
Soon, the army entered Zheng County.
Huangfu Song deployed his forces carefully:
One thousand men within the city.
Two thousand outside, forming mutual support.
Then he sent scouts to observe Zhang Xin's movements.
By noon, the scouts returned.
Huangfu Song had just lifted his cup when he heard the report—
And nearly choked.
"What did you say?!"
The scout hesitated.
"Zhang Xin… has ordered more than thirty trenches dug outside his camp and the city."
"…Thirty?"
Even Huangfu Song was stunned.
Most commanders dug two. Five at most.
Trenches could be filled.
Crossed.
Too many—and you hinder yourself as much as the enemy.
What was this?
Before he could think further—
Dong Huang burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! The great Zhang Xin is terrified!"
"Hearing the Old General has arrived, he's panicking—digging trenches everywhere!"
The others joined in.
But Huangfu Song did not laugh.
His brows furrowed.
Zhang Xin… afraid?
Impossible.
A man who dared challenge Dong Zhuo head-on would not crumble at a name.
No.
This had meaning.
He simply… could not see it yet.
Unable to sit still, Huangfu Song personally rode out to observe.
From a distance—
Dust filled the air.
Soldiers and laborers swarmed like ants, digging trenches in every direction.
He narrowed his eyes.
They were shallow.
Rushed.
Incomplete.
"Strange…"
Before he could approach further, a patrol cavalry spotted him.
Without hesitation, Huangfu Song turned and withdrew.
No need to risk more.
Back at Huayin—
Wang Meng stood atop the camp wall, watching the endless digging.
Dust coated the sky.
The ground was scarred with lines like a broken web.
He frowned.
"My lord… why are we digging so many trenches?"
Zhang Xin smiled faintly.
His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon—
Where Huangfu Song had just come… and gone.
"Because…"
His voice was quiet.
"But soon—you'll understand."
The battlefield was set.
Not with blades—
But with minds.
And somewhere between those thirty trenches—
A trap was already taking shape.