Cao Cao's curse landed awkwardly in the wind, half anger and half regret, like he had arrived at a banquet just as the meat was being carried away.
Zhang Xin glanced at him. "You're disappointed?"
Cao Cao didn't hide it. "I came all this way and didn't even get a proper fight in Chang'an. Instead I get… watching Dong Zhuo hang the Son of Heaven like a flag."
The words made the nearby officers go quiet for a moment.
Even Sun Jian, still seething on the other gate line, fell silent when he heard it again.
Because no matter how absurd Dong Zhuo's act was, the implication behind it was clear: Chang'an had turned into a hostage cage.
Inside the city, Dong Zhuo stood on the wall, still holding Emperor Xian of Han as if he were a trophy that could not be put down. The officials around him were already shifting from anger to anxious calculation—who could be saved, who would be purged, and who would survive the aftermath.
Zhang Xin's gaze stayed fixed on the city wall.
"This isn't over," he said quietly.
Xun You stepped forward, voice low. "Dong Zhuo has achieved his goal. He has forced us out of the city and gained breathing space. If we press again now, the Son of Heaven becomes a shield every time."
That was the most troublesome part.
A siege could be broken by force.A hostage could not.
Zhang Xin tapped the table once. "Then we don't press blindly."
Cao Cao raised a brow. "You're going to wait?"
"Not wait," Zhang Xin corrected. "Reset."
Outside, the army began reorganizing under orders—no longer attacking, but tightening control of the outer gates and cutting movement in and out of Chang'an. Sun Jian's forces mirrored the same posture on the eastern side, aggressive but restrained, like a drawn blade not yet swung.
Inside the city, Dong Zhuo finally threw Emperor Xian of Han back onto the ground with a laugh.
"See?" he said loudly to the officials. "As long as he's here, Zhang Xin doesn't dare move."
Emperor Xian of Han remained silent, face pale but composed, saying nothing even as his dignity was dragged through the mud in front of the entire court.
That silence unsettled some of the officials more than any shouting could have.
Because a ruler who stopped reacting… was often the most dangerous kind of symbol.
At Zhang Xin's camp, Cao Cao finally exhaled, half amused, half frustrated.
"So this is Chang'an," he muttered. "I came expecting the final battle of the era."
Zhang Xin replied without looking away from the city:
"The final battle hasn't started yet."
And somewhere beyond the walls, the political storm that had already swallowed the Han court was still shifting—waiting for the first real crack to appear.