Chapter 896: 854. Emperor Xian’s Secret Maneuver
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Go to Xian continued, his voice firmer now. “That is why I have summoned you. To give you a task that bypasses their eyes and their ears. A task that strengthens me, not them. A task that restores power to the Han throne, not to the cabal of self serving men who whisper in my imperial cousin’s shadow.”
Wu Yi leaned forward slightly, his soldier’s instinct stirred by the tone. “Name it, Your Majesty. If it strengthens the Dynasty, I will do it, no matter the cost.”
The Emperor’s smile deepened, this time genuine, as if pleased by the fire in Wu Yi’s reply. He nodded once, then spoke.
“Your task is this, travel northwest and southwest. Beyond our borders. To the Qiang tribes of the northwest, to the Tibetans near the Qinghai Plateau, and to the fierce clans on the wild hills southwest of Yunnan. You will go in secret, carrying not the banners of Han, but my seal alone.”
“You will forge alliances with them, alliances bound by reward and recognition. I will grant them titles of nobility, official positions, lands to govern under my dynasty. Not within the court ranks, no, outside of them, but with domains they can call their own. If they fight for me, they will be lords of their people, sanctioned by the Son of Heaven himself.”
At this, both Wu Yi and Wang Fu were struck silent, their cups forgotten. The idea was audacious, reckless even. But in Wu Yi’s eyes was widened by intrigue, his soldier’s blood warming at the thought of armies of tribesmen swelling Han ranks. But Wang Fu recoiled, his mind racing with caution.
“Your Majesty,” the counselor said quickly, his voice tinged with alarm, “forgive my boldness, but this plan, though it may empower you, is a double edged blade that could cut both ways. These tribes are fierce, yes, but fickle. They may swear loyalty today and turn on us tomorrow. To grant them titles, lands, domains… it is to plant wolves in the sheepfold. You ask us to arm a viper and hope it strikes our enemies alone. Have we not seen before how such promises can unravel?”
Wu Yi, stirred by Wang Fu’s words, nodded reluctantly. “Wang Fu speaks true, Your Majesty. Such an alliance could indeed bring strength, but also peril. These tribes respect strength, not law. If they grow too bold, they may bite the hand that feeds them. Your Majesty must weigh this carefully.”
Emperor Xian listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When they finished, he drew in a slow breath and let it out, his eyes settling on them with a clarity that pierced.
“I know the risks,” he said quietly. “Do you think I am blind to the treachery of men? I wear a crown forged from betrayal. But I also know this, our enemies are many, and our so called allies are weak reeds in a storm. The walls of Zitong tremble even now beneath Wei’s assault. If Cao Cao breaks through, Yi Province falls, and with it, the last vestige of Han independence.”
“Even here, within Chengdu’s walls, my will is shackled by men who smile while they tighten their leash around me. I will not sit idle and wait for Han to die gasping like a fish on a riverbank. I am still the true Son of Heaven, even if the world forgets it. If I must turn to barbarians to preserve the dynasty, then so be it. Better a dynasty preserved by strange allies than a dynasty extinguished by hesitation.”
He leaned forward, his voice fierce now. “These tribes… they crave recognition, honor. I will give it. I will bestow upon their chieftains titles of nobility, not within the rigid hierarchies of the court, but titles that grant them land and recognition. Domains that tie them to us, that bring their people under the canopy of the Han. If we offer them legitimacy, they will give us their spears. They will fight for me not only for reward, but for pride. And should they falter…” A thin edge of steel entered his voice. “Then we will break them as we have broken others.”
Silence fell again, thicker than before. Wang Fu felt the weight of the emperor’s words pressing on him. His mind raced with images of wild riders thundering down from the mountains, banners of strange patterns flying beside the dragon of Han. It was unthinkable and yet, perhaps it was salvation.
Finally, Wu Yi bowed deeply, pressing his forehead to the mat. “Your Majesty, if this is your will, I will carry it out. I will go to the Qiang, I will go to the Tibetans. I will offer them your word and your gifts. If they pledge loyalty, their strength will be yours. I will return with the banners of tribesmen who will fight for the Han.”
Wang Fu hesitated, his eyes troubled, but after a moment, he too bowed. “If this is the path you choose, Your Majesty, I too will obey. But I beg you, tread carefully. For though they may swear loyalty in words, their hearts remain their own. These wolves may wear our collars, but they will never be tamed.”
Emperor Xian’s lips curved faintly. “Caution is the shadow of ambition. I will keep it close.”
He lifted his cup once more, the faint steam curling in the dim light. “Then it is decided. What we have spoken tonight must never pass beyond these walls. You will leave quietly, under the guise of inspecting garrisons. This secret leaves this chamber with you two alone. No one, not Fa Zheng, not Zhang Song, not Meng Da, must know. If they catch scent of this, they will strangle it before it breathes.”
As the two men bowed again, the emperor raised his cup, the flickering light casting shadows across his determined face. “The world believes the Han is dying. Let them believe it. But while I yet breathe, I will not allow the flame to be extinguished. If I must fan it with barbarian winds, then so be it. The dynasty will endure. When the time comes, the Han will rise, not because of them, but because of us.”
The three men then drank together, sealing the pact in silence.
Far away, at Zitong, the clash of steel and the roar of men rolled on through the night, Cao Cao’s banners pressing hard against Yan Yan’s walls. But in Chengdu, a quieter war had begun. A war of secrecy, of tribes and titles, of ambition cloaked in trust.
And in that secret chamber, Emperor Xian, so long dismissed as a puppet, a shadow, had taken his first true step to reclaiming his birthright and dynasty that have been taken from him.
The Emperor’s chamber was still heavy with the scent of incense long after Wu Yi and Wang Fu had left, but within the darkness of Chengdu’s palace grounds, not all eyes had been fooled. The Oriole Agents, whose sole purpose was to watch every breath and movement of their Emperor’s enemies, had been tricked, completely, humiliatingly tricked.
From the start of their creation, the Orioles had prided themselves on being shadows no one could outmaneuver. They prided themselves on reporting every hidden whisper, on tracing every step taken within the palace walls, on ensuring that even the Emperor himself could not breathe without their knowledge.
But that day, the young Emperor had made a mockery of them. The young emperor had grown shrewd, shrewd enough to outmaneuver even the ever watchful Oriole Agents.
Wu Yi and Wang Fu had been summoned not openly, but through layers of deception. First, messengers disguised as common peddlers had delivered subtle instructions. Then, the two men had been made to change clothes three times, at three different random safe houses scattered across Chengdu’s back alleys.
Only then had they donned the robes of eunuchs, shaven crowns covered with black caps, and slipped unnoticed into the palace through an unused side passage known only to a handful of loyal retainers.
By the time the Oriole agents suspected that something unusual was happening, the meeting was already underway in the deepest chamber of the Emperor’s own residence.
When the truth came to light later, the humiliation burned like acid in the hearts of the Oriole commanders. Their teachings would forever mark that night as their greatest shame, their worst failure, being outmaneuvered by the very man they believed to be nothing but a powerless puppet.
It became a parable repeated to every fresh recruit thereafter, never underestimate even the weakest of prey, for even an ant, if it bites the right place, can topple an elephant.
But that lesson would come too late to stop what Emperor Xian had already set in motion. Thus, Emperor Xian had won a silent victory, one that would outlive the moment itself. In the training manuals of the Oriole, this very event would be cited as the greatest failure in their history, the night when the last Son of Heaven of Han Dynasty outplayed the watchers in the shadows.
Wu Yi and Wang Fu returned to their residences in silence, slipping through the night by the same twisting, confusing routes they had used to arrive. Their hearts still hammered with the weight of what they had heard, but neither dared speak aloud. Not yet. The streets of Chengdu, even at night, had ears.
When at last they stepped through their own gates, greeted by lanterns and the familiar scents of home, both men were met with confusion from their households.
Their wives, startled to see them returning so late with tense faces and hurried steps, were soon even more bewildered when the men began gathering travel gear themselves.
Wu Yi’s wife, a woman of calm dignity, looked on in confusion as she found her husband packing his own luggage in haste, a rare thing for a general accustomed to having servants handle such matters.
“Where are you going?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. “What has happened that you leave with such urgency?” Her hands tightening on the edge of his sleeve as she watched him roll spare tunics and boots into a bundle.
Wu Yi offered a tight smile, shaking his head. “It is official duty. His Majesty has entrusted me with inspection of the western border forts. Nothing more. His decree will be made public tomorrow.”
Wang Fu faced the same inquiries in his home. His wife pressed him with questions as he quietly bundled scrolls, maps, and traveling gear himself, something she had not seen him do in years. He too replied in the same manner.
“The Emperor has issued a decree. I am to head toward the southwest to inspect garrisons. It is routine, though His Majesty insists upon urgency. I will return as soon as I am able.” Though the words were calm, his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease, a reflection of the dangerous truth he dared not speak.
“It is the Emperor’s command,” Wang Fu replied with a faint smile, masking the storm of unease inside him. “That is reason enough.” Neither woman was satisfied, but both knew the dangers of prying too deeply into imperial business. They bowed their heads and helped their husbands quietly prepare for departure.
______________________________
Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 35 (202 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 966 (+20)
VIT: 623 (+20)
AGI: 623 (+10)
INT: 667
CHR: 98
WIS: 549
WILL: 432
ATR Points: 0
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