The war room in Liang Province's capital stank of old wine, sweat, and the iron tang of too many armed men in one place.

Torches guttered along the stone walls, throwing long shadows across the scarred oak table where four warlords sat like wolves around a fresh kill.

They had stopped killing each other for one reason only: the enemy had taken Liu Wei. The real emperor. That single blow had landed harder than any army. It had forced the truce no one wanted.

Dong Zhuo had once commanded the largest army in Xia-two hundred thousand soldiers.

His four generals each held fifty thousand men under their banners.

The endless conflicts between them served only to weaken all parties. In the end, they chose to set aside their grudges and form a temporary truce to consolidate their strength—so that they might later divide Xia between themselves.

Li Jue leaned over the map, thick finger dragging across the faded lines. "Zhang Ji takes fifty thousand east. Yan and Qing provinces. You kill Bai Xiaochun and that emperor he's hiding. Bring back the imperial seal. We end this before those two provinces grow teeth."

Guo Si poured himself another cup of wine, the dark liquid sloshing over the rim. "Scouts say Bai turned his soldiers into farmers. They dig ditches and build walls instead of training. His real fighting strength is maybe thirty or forty thousand at best."

Zhang Ji's eyes stayed flat. "I'll handle it."

Inside, the thought burned hotter than the wine.

'Once I hold the emperor and the seal, I won't need any of you.'

Fan Chou sat at the far end of the table, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the others the way a man watches a loaded crossbow. "And me?"

"You go after Yuan Shu," Guo Si said. "Our people say he has no more than forty thousand. Can you finish him with fifty?"

Fan Chou gave a short, ugly laugh. "He's already a dead man walking."

Li Jue straightened. The torchlight cut deep lines into his face. "When it's done, we split Xia four ways. West, east, north, south. No more fighting over scraps."

No one argued. They had all dreamed the same dream for months. Now the pieces were finally moving.

Three days later the armies left Liang.

Zhang Ji's columns stretched for miles along the old imperial road—fifty thousand men in ordered ranks, banners snapping in the dry wind, supply wagons groaning under the weight of grain, arrows, and siege equipment. Dust rose in thick clouds behind the marching feet. Scouts rode far ahead, eyes sharp for any sign of Bai Xiaochun's forces.

They moved like men who had already won.

The same day, Fan Chou's army headed west, fifty thousand strong, banners flying, the men singing rough songs about the easy loot waiting in Yuan Shu's lands. They expected a short campaign and rich rewards.

Back in the capital, Li Jue and Guo Si watched the last dust settle from the city walls.

Guo Si spat over the parapet. "Zhang Ji thinks he's clever. He'll take Yan and Qing and try to keep the emperor for himself."

Li Jue's mouth curved in something that was not quite a smile. "Let him try. When he gets the seal and the boy's head, we'll decide what to do with him.”

Far ahead, the war room in Yuan Shao's northern stronghold felt like a tomb lit by dying candles.

Maps covered every table and spilled onto the floor. Lanterns flickered across the faces of his generals and the black-robed strategists who had not slept in days.

Two hundred thousand soldiers answered his banners-more than any other warlord could claim. Yet the distance to Yan Province was the real enemy.

One or two months of marching through hostile lands. Supply wagons breaking down. Grain spoiling. Men deserting or dying on the road.

Yuan Shao sat at the head of the long table, fingers tapping once against the polished wood.

"Give me a way to win this without bleeding my army dry," he said.

The senior strategist leaned forward.

“A direct march is possible, my lord, but costly. Your men will arrive exhausted and undersupplied. Bai Xiaochun's forces will be rested and waiting on ground they know. Even if we take the provinces, the price in blood will be high."

A younger strategist spoke next, eyes hard. "The reports are consistent. Strange methods. Water falling from clear skies to kill torches. Shadows that pull men away in silence. If even a fraction is true, we should not fight him where he chooses."

Yuan Shao's gaze sharpened. "Then find another path."

The senior strategist traced a line across the map with one finger-not toward Yan, but toward the red-marked territories in the wild lands.

Orthodox and unorthodox sects. Demonic paths. Cultivators who answered to no throne and owed loyalty only to coin and power.

"Send blades instead of armies," he said. "The best assassins the murim alliance can gather. Offer gold. Offer land. Offer titles if they want them. If Bai Xiaochun and the boy emperor die in their sleep, the provinces fall into chaos on their own. You can declare yourself the only true emperor."

A third strategist added, "We have already received quiet approaches from two demonic sects and one unorthodox school. They will accept the contract. As long as the payment is worth their risk."

Yuan Shao stared at the small marker on the map that stood for Changyi. His jaw tightened once, then relaxed.

He lived comfortably within his four provinces, where he lacked for nothing and could obtain anything he desired. Yet his true dream was to become the Emperor of Xia.

"Do it," he said. "Form the alliance. Pay them whatever they demand. I want Bai Xiaochun's head and the emperor boy's head on this table before the first snow falls. Make it plain—this is not a negotiation. It is extermination."

The strategists bowed. Lantern light caught the hard lines of their faces as they turned to their work.

***

Far away, the grand harem pavilion in Changyi glowed softly under the warm light of countless lanterns.

At its center sat Emperor Liu Xie, a thin young boy clad in imperial yellow. He had never known a single day of peace - until now.

For the first time in his life, the world asked nothing of him. He could eat whatever he wanted. Sleep as long as he liked. Walk the gardens without guards dragging him back to a cold throne room.

And at night, when the silk screens closed around his chambers, he could lose himself in the arms of women who smiled at him without fear or calculation.

The days blurred into one long, golden haze of music, fine wine, rich food, and soft laughter. It felt like heaven.

Meanwhile, inside the Prime Minister's grand five-story pavilion, in the spacious first- floor meeting hall, Alex stood facing the five governors who had hurried in from the neighboring provinces.

They stood rigidly before the long map table, eyes downcast and shoulders tight with tension. Each of them had heard the rumors. Each of them feared that the new

Prime Minister would seize their armies and leave them utterly powerless.

"I don't want war," Alex did not raise his voice. He never needed to. “I want to send teams into your provinces to improve the irrigation and farming systems. Better yields. More food for your people Nothing else. Can you make that happen without trouble?"

The governors exchanged quick glances. The tension in their faces eased into careful smiles.

They had braced for demands on troops, on taxes, on control. Instead the man who now held the real power in Xia asked only for farmers and engineers. Relief washed through the room like a cool wind.

"It can be done, Prime Minister," the eldest governor said. "We will give your people every cooperation."

The others nodded quickly. The meeting ended with bows and polite words. No threats. No raised voices. When the last governor left, the heavy doors closed behind them with a soft thud.

Only Zhuge Liang remained.

They then ascended to the fifth floor of the pavilion, where a more advanced map awaited them.

Alex stepped closer to the wide table. Upon it, a living map of Xia shimmered with a faint blue light. Small glowing markers drifted

slowly along the eastern road net

Zhang Ji's army. Another column advanced westward- Fan Chou Both forces were still days away.

Zhuge Liang bowed. "Sir. Should we ready the troops?"

Alex studied the map a moment longer, then shook his head. "Have you seen the new production lines? Do you honestly believe fifty thousand men with swords and bows can stand against what we have now?"

Zhuge Liang's eyes flicked to the faint outline of the aircraft hangars marked on the edge of the map. "I have seen the aircraft, sir. And the bombs. Against dozens of those, fifty thousand soldiers are nothing."

Alex gave a single, slow nod. He understood exactly what it meant to drop modern weapons into a world that still fought with cold steel. It was not a fair fight.

It was not meant to be. With careful use of the technology he had brought from

Prussia, Xia was already his. The land, the people, the throne itself—already in his palm.

The only variable that still worried him was the one thing Prussia had never solved.

"This country is ours if we move carefully,” Alex said quietly. “But the murim alliance and the old grandmasters... they are the real threat. They do not fear machines the way soldiers do."

He never finished the thought.

A streak of burning light tore across the night sky outside the tall windows. It hit the fifth floor of the Prime Minister's building like a falling star.

Wood exploded outward. The entire upper level of the war room disintegrated in a roar of shattered woods and screaming wind.

Through the gaping hole an old man descended on a sword of pure qi, robes whipping around him, eyes blazing with righteous fury. He landed amid the rubble, sword already drawn, the blade humming with lethal power.

"You dare bring the forbidden technologies of Prussia into Xia,” the old man snarled. His voice cracked like dry thunder. "You betray your own blood for foreign devils. For that, you die."

Alex instantly realized this was a great catastrophe. The man approaching was a Nascent Soul cultivator — far from someone he could easily contend with.

The sword flashed.

Alex moved on pure instinct, but the strike was far too fast and too perfect. The blade sliced through the

air with a sharp sound like tearing

silk. Inan instant, vere

Zhuge Liang's body and Alex's body were severed in two before they could

even react.