The night wind over Chang'an was unusually still.
The great capital—once the heart of the Han—now lay under layers of tension, as if even the city itself were holding its breath.
Outside its southern walls, darkness stretched across the plains.
And within that darkness… three torches began to move.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Following a pattern only one man in the city could recognize.
Yang Yi stood at the edge of Zhang Xin's formation, eyes fixed on the signal.
"It's done," he whispered.
Zhang Xin nodded once.
"Then we wait."
Dian Wei stood nearby, hand already resting on his weapon. His gaze never left the city wall.
Not trust.
Not doubt.
Just readiness.
Minutes passed.
Then—
a response.
On the city wall, faint torchlight flickered back.
Once.
Twice.
Then paused.
Then again.
A coded answer.
Yang Yi exhaled slowly.
"South gate… is open."
Zhang Xin's eyes sharpened instantly.
No hesitation.
No hesitation at all.
"Move."
Three thousand elite soldiers began to advance—silent as shadows.
Hooves wrapped.
Armor muffled.
Breathing controlled.
Like a blade sliding out of its sheath without a sound.
At the same time—
inside Chang'an.
The southern gate captain frowned.
"Why are patrol torches responding from outside?"
A subordinate hesitated. "Perhaps… General Yang's men returning early?"
The captain frowned deeper.
"…Open the gate slightly. Verify."
That decision—
was the crack in the dam.
Outside the walls, Zhang Xin's eyes narrowed.
The gate… moved.
Just a fraction.
Enough.
"Now," he said softly.
Dian Wei moved first.
Like a black storm breaking free, he surged forward, leading the vanguard straight toward the opening gate.
Behind him—
Zhang Xin's elite troops exploded into motion.
The night shattered.
Inside the gate—
the defenders only had time to register confusion before the first wave hit.
Steel flashed.
A roar erupted.
Dian Wei's halberd swept forward like a collapsing mountain.
The gate guards didn't even have time to scream.
"Enemy attack!!"
A desperate shout finally tore through the night—but it was already too late.
Zhang Xin stepped forward into the gate's shadow, his expression calm, almost cold.
"This gate…"
He looked up at the towering walls of Chang'an.
"…is weaker than I expected."
Behind him, Yang Yi lowered his head slightly.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Just relief.
"It begins," he said quietly.
And then—
the city truly awakened.
Drums sounded from within Chang'an.
Torches lit up like wildfire.
Footsteps thundered across stone streets.
Dong Zhuo's capital, finally realizing—
a blade had already entered its heart.
But Zhang Xin did not rush.
He raised his hand.
"Hold formation."
His voice was steady.
"We are not here to break in."
A pause.
"We are here to take everything."
Outside the gate—
the first wave of resistance surged forward.
Inside—
Dian Wei laughed like a beast set loose.
"Good! Finally something worth killing!"
And in the darkness of Chang'an's southern gate—
war fully erupted.
Not a siege anymore.
Not a probe.
But the opening move…
of the final conquest.