Jian Yong and his party slowed their pace, stepping aside and tugging their packhorses inward to give the old man's group room to pass.
As they crossed, Jian Yong instinctively took stock.
A single donkey. A bundle of household goods tied in rough cloth. A talkative old woman muttering complaints under her breath. Two daughters, thin and silent, their faces weathered by wind and hardship. And one small child, clinging tightly to his mother's sleeve, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
The old man had said he had two sons and two daughters.
There was no sign of the sons.
Jian Yong felt his chest tighten, but he said nothing.
As they parted ways, the old man raised his voice and shouted back,
"Young master, if you're heading toward Guanzhong, add two more layers of clothing!"
Jian Yong turned and bowed slightly, raising his voice in thanks.
The weather truly was turning colder.
Judging by the season and the pace of events, Jian Yong estimated that Han Sui, Ma Chao, and Cao Cao would clash at least once more before the snow fell. Otherwise, once winter arrived, Han and Ma would gain the defensive advantage while Cao Cao's momentum stalled. None of the three were the sort to willingly bow their heads.
Yet to Jian Yong's surprise, after only a few more days of travel—before they had even fully exited the Gallery Roads—they encountered a wave of defeated soldiers.
Stragglers.
If Jian Yong had been traveling alone, with nothing but a single horse, these men would have taught him a cruel lesson about what "chaotic times" truly meant.
But Jian Yong cherished his life.
His personal retinue was small, yet every man had been hand-picked from Chen Dao's guards. They rode in silence, hands never straying far from their blades. Add to that Jian Yong's famously slick tongue, and the defeated soldiers quickly became cooperative—almost eager.
"Lord Cao was defeated?" Jian Yong asked, brow knitting tightly. "And General Ma as well?"
He hadn't expected this outcome at all.
"What happened? And what of General Han Sui?"
As he spoke, Jian Yong handed over a few flatbreads. The simple food instantly loosened tongues.
"The gentleman doesn't know," one soldier said bitterly. "General Ma and General Han… they started fighting each other."
Jian Yong froze.
"What?"
"Aren't Han and Ma allies?"
The soldiers exchanged glances, their misery written plainly on their faces—as though all their suffering were the fault of those far above them.
"At first, we were winning against Lord Cao," one of them said. "But for some reason, General Han and General Ma turned on each other. Lord Cao seized the opening, struck back, and defeated both sides. That's how we ended up like this."
Their account was scattered and emotional, but Jian Yong needed little else.
Combined with the Military Counselor's earlier predictions, the picture became clear.
Ma Chao was ambitious. Han Sui was no less so. Two men with bottomless ambition could never truly cooperate. Once the alliance formed, the question of command—who bowed to whom—became a blade pressed against the throat.
Jian Yong recalled Pang Tong's smiling explanation from earlier:
"Think of it as the 'two wolves and a tiger' scenario from the future. Han Sui and Ma Chao are hungry wolves joining forces to hunt a tiger. But Cao Cao… Cao Cao is a tiger who plans."
Jian Yong exhaled softly.
"Two short-sighted wolves."
Before Kongming and Pang Tong had joined Liu Bei, Jian Yong and Mi Zhu had often been forced to play the role of strategist themselves. He wasn't brilliant, but he understood enough.
The wolves had started fighting over the carcass before the tiger was dead.
And yet…
This was perfect.
Now Jian Yong could use his silver tongue to maneuver among all three parties, carving a path for his lord. He thought of the arrogant "Splendid Ma Chao" he had once met.
No personal grudge—but Jian Yong truly wanted to see what that proud general looked like now.
Inwardly, he even found himself cheering for Cao Cao.
A wolf like Ma Chao, who only ever stared at the heavens, deserved a solid beating. Only after that would he learn to listen.
"Pick up the pace," Jian Yong ordered.
After delivering the letters in Guanzhong, he would head straight to Liang Province.
He would visit Ma Chao personally.
Chengdu had never been so busy.
Roads were being laid. Rivers dredged. Houses repaired. Even the Dujiangyan irrigation system—abandoned for years—was being restored. And most astonishing of all, the "Imperial Uncle" Liu Bei himself had taken hundreds of men to labor there personally.
To the common people, it was an unbelievable sight.
Chengdu had not been this loud in years.
"General Zhang! Take a break and have some tea!"
The shout came from the riverbank.
Down in the riverbed stood a man built like a bear, bare-chested, clad only in short trousers, leading the work from the front as he shoveled foul-smelling silt.
Zhang Fei.
Sentenced—by his brother—to dredge the river.
Zhang Fei bore no resentment. Compared to Liu Bei personally clearing mud at Dujiangyan, this was barely punishment at all. Even Mi Zhu and Liu Ba were exhausting themselves planning new markets and administrative districts.
Zhang Fei filled one last basket of black mud and climbed the ladder. Looking at his filthy hands, he scratched his head in embarrassment.
"Old man, just set the tea on that stone," he said loudly. "I'm covered in filth—don't let it offend you."
The old man waved him off and stepped closer, utterly unconcerned.
"What are you saying, General? We should be thanking you! Besides, this river's always smelled like this. Haven't we been breathing it our whole lives?"
He grabbed Zhang Fei's hands and pressed the tea bowl into them.
Flustered, Zhang Fei gulped it down—tea leaves and all.
The old man immediately refilled the bowl.
Faced with such sincerity, Zhang Fei drank again, then waved frantically.
"Enough, enough! I'm full!"
Sitting on the embankment, Zhang Fei felt deeply awkward under the curious stares of elderly folk and women. The young men, at least, were all still in the river with him.
To break the tension, he boomed,
"Old gentleman! The government's posted many new notices lately. If there's anything you don't understand, I'll explain it!"
Recently, Pang Tong, Kongming, and Fa Zheng had been drafting policies nonstop, sending officials into the streets to explain them. Liu Bei wanted the entire city united in purpose.
The old man shook his head modestly.
"I wouldn't dare call the General my teacher. But… there is one thing I wish to ask."
Zhang Fei listened carefully.
After hesitating, the old man asked softly,
"My eldest son… the previous governor sent him to serve that man named Cao as a soldier. Can the Imperial Uncle bring my son home?"
Zhang Fei fell silent.
As he looked around, he realized many of the nearby elders were watching him intently. Those "gifted soldiers" were their sons, their husbands, their fathers.
During the Red Cliffs campaign, Liu Zhang had sent several thousand Shu soldiers to Cao Cao. Back then, it had seemed like an insignificant number.
Now—
"By next year at the latest," Zhang Fei said loudly, forcing confidence into his voice, "my brother will reclaim Hanzhong! Once the road to Guanzhong is open, your son will definitely be able to come home!"
As long as he's still alive, he added silently.
The odds were slim. He knew it.
Yet the old man thanked him as though he had received a divine decree.
That gratitude weighed heavily on Zhang Fei's heart.
He turned without another word and jumped back into the river, burying himself in mud and labor.
That evening, after scrubbing himself raw in the river, Zhang Fei returned to the government office.
His family was in Jingzhou. His troops were stationed at Baishui Pass. The newly renovated office served as his temporary residence.
"I can smell it—Yide is back!"
Before Zhang Fei even crossed the threshold, Kongming's calm voice rang out.
Despite repeated washing, the scent of river silt clung stubbornly to him. Zhang Fei only laughed and pushed the door open.
"Military Counselor! I haven't seen you in ages—I missed you to death! Come, let me give you a hug!"
He lunged forward.
Kongming reacted instantly—shoving Pang Tong directly into Zhang Fei's arms.
Zhang Fei didn't mind in the least. He rubbed his face against Pang Tong's, then tossed him aside and charged again.
The hall descended into chaos—until Liu Bei returned and smacked Zhang Fei on the head.
"What's all this nonsense?"
Zhang Fei leaned over the table. A circular hole had been cut into its center, glowing red with burning coals.
"The chicken soup's here! Yide, make room!"
Mi Zhu entered, carrying a massive clay pot of chicken soup, placing it directly over the coals.
Zhang Fei sat down, eyes wide, as Mi Zhu, Fa Zheng, and Liu Ba brought in plate after plate—meats, vegetables, fruits—moving like butterflies through flowers.
He even spotted the canned lychees from the light screen.
"Is this… that future way of eating?" Zhang Fei asked.
Kongming set aside his feather fan and picked up his chopsticks.
"Sit and try it with us, Yide."
Zhang Fei dropped two slices of lamb into the boiling broth, then brought up the matter of the soldiers sent away.
"That matter…" Kongming paused. "There is such a troop. According to the records—2,132 men, around nine hundred households from Chengdu."
Liu Bei sighed, dropping greens into the pot.
"If Liu Zhang were still here, perhaps he could have asked Cao Cao for them back. For us… it's impossible."
He stared into the boiling soup.
"All we can do is our best."
Zhang Fei waited until the lamb turned fully white before eating it with garlic paste.
"Big Brother," he said, "I want to return to Baishui Pass early."
Liu Bei chewed thoughtfully.
"Chengdu's grain stores may not yet support a full strike on Hanzhong."
Pang Tong dipped a lychee into the pot with a rueful smile.
"The Hanzhong plan… must wait a bit."
"Can we do it this year?" Zhang Fei pressed.
With the treasury stretched thin and news of raids in Jingzhou, Kongming insisted on preparing for a two-front war.
Pang Tong nodded.
"Most likely."
Relieved, Zhang Fei began boiling everything in reach.
"What's this red powder?" he asked.
Kongming glanced over.
"Cane sugar."
Zhang Fei boiled meat, dipped it in sugar, swallowed—and grimaced.
"That Cao Pi really was mentally ill."
Trying a tiny bit of sugar alone, his eyebrows shot up.
"Counselor… is this expensive?"
"Yes," Kongming said honestly.
Zhang Fei sighed.
"This is terrible with meat. Maybe…"
Pang Tong interrupted, rolling a lychee in sugar and eating it blissfully.
"Bad with meat. Excellent with fruit."
Finally, Liu Bei took pity.
"We made twenty pounds. Kongming sent ten to Jingzhou."
Zhang Fei grinned.
"Counselor, you were teasing me again."
Night fell over Chengdu. Steam from the hot pot drifted into the breeze.
In Jingzhou, Guan Yu stood on the city walls, gazing at the moonlit streets below. Curfew hour. Silent.
He remembered the sleepless cities of the future shown on the screen.
"How can a city exist without curfew?" he murmured.
"When granaries are full, people learn etiquette. When clothing and food suffice, they understand honor and shame."
"Why do you sigh, General?" Zhao Lei asked.
Guan Yu shook his head.
"Come. Patrol the night with me."
After a grueling journey, Jian Yong finally saw Chang'an's walls.
Pitted. Scarred.
Graves lay piled at their base—those who had died and been buried where they fell.
The gates stood open and unguarded. Refugees huddled against the inner walls, seeking shelter from the cold.
"So this is Chang'an…" Jian Yong sighed.
Since the Emperor's departure, the once-glorious capital had been abandoned.
He learned the situation quickly: Han Sui and Ma Chao had fled west. Cao Cao was in pursuit. Only a token garrison remained.
The people were terrified—but with nothing left to lose, few fled.
Following Mi Zhu's instructions, Jian Yong found the house. After exchanging coded phrases, he produced a sealed letter.
"Deliver this to Xuchang. The name inside is vital."
"Easy enough," said the fat merchant with a genial smile. He glanced at the sky. "Does the Master have any advice?"
Jian Yong warmed his hands on hot tea.
"Han and Ma won't be wiped out easily. Lord Cao will return to the capital—but he will reclaim Chang'an soon. This place will be safe."
The merchant exhaled deeply.
"I hope you're right."