The sun climbed high into the sky, casting a golden glow over the imperial capital, a stark contrast to the lingering scars of war. Smoke from dying fires curled into the morning air, mingling with the acrid scent of dust and dried blood. The city, once a battlefield of steel and screams, now pulsed with an uneasy calm. Its inhabitants, emerging hesitantly from their hiding places, bore expressions caught between hope and fear as the banners of the rebellion fluttered triumphantly atop the battered walls.
Outside the imperial palace, a disciplined assembly of soldiers stood in formation, their gazes locked on the horizon with quiet anticipation. Among them were not only Jiang Yu's men—the ones who had stormed the capital in the name of revolution—but also the forces of Luo Wen, who, after a strategic withdrawal from An Lu's territories, had finally arrived. The rhythmic pounding of horse hooves echoed through the stone streets as Luo Wen, leading his army, rode through the city gates.
From the grand plaza, Jiang Yu observed his approach with the same measured composure that had guided him through the siege. At his side, Zhao Min leaned against the haft of his battle-worn axe, a wry smile tugging at his lips. High above, perched on a rooftop, Lin Xue kept watch, her bow slung across her back, her keen eyes scanning the streets below, ever-vigilant for the unexpected.
Luo Wen dismounted with the effortless grace of a man who had spent more time on horseback than on solid ground. His armor, still caked with mud and dust, gleamed faintly under the morning sun, a testament to countless battles fought and survived. With measured strides, he approached Jiang Yu, his sharp gaze probing for any sign of weakness, any fracture in the man's unshakable demeanor. Jiang Yu met his eyes with an unwavering steadiness.
"You took your time," Jiang Yu remarked, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Luo Wen let out a short laugh, folding his arms across his chest.
"Someone had to make sure An Lu wasn't on our heels," he replied. "I hope you didn't burn the whole city down before I got here."
Jiang Yu's expression remained unreadable. "Only what was necessary," he said in a calm, almost dismissive tone. "The emperor is secure, the palace is under our control, and the Four Families have been uprooted… for the most part."
Luo Wen narrowed his eyes.
"For the most part?"
Jiang Yu's jaw tightened before he answered.
"The patriarchs managed to slip away in the chaos. Their power is shattered, their supporters scattered or dead, but they still breathe."
Luo Wen's expression darkened.
"Then we're not finished. As long as they live, they'll conspire from the shadows."
Jiang Yu nodded slowly.
"I know. But what troubles me more is what comes next. The war against the Four Families was simple: us against them. But now that we've won, there will be new battles—battles of politics, of ambition. Governing a broken empire is far messier than tearing one apart."
Luo Wen exhaled, shifting his gaze toward the wide staircase leading to the imperial palace. At the top stood the emperor, a frail young figure draped in royal robes, watching the two generals who had upended his fate.
"The emperor is weak," Luo Wen murmured. "We freed him from his captors, but he's not ready to rule."
"No," Jiang Yu agreed. "But the people see him as the symbol of a new era. If we push him aside now, we risk throwing the empire into another civil war."
A heavy silence settled between them. Both knew the weight of victory. This was not merely the end of a war but the beginning of something far more dangerous. A blade could end a battle, but politics was a battlefield where steel alone would not suffice.
Zhao Min, weary of the grave discussion, let out a scoff.
"Enough talk—where's the wine?" he grumbled. "We've spent years killing for this moment. I don't know about you two, but I could use a drink."
Jiang Yu let out a low chuckle. Luo Wen shook his head, though the faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips.
"A brief respite before the next war," Luo Wen muttered. "But keep the men on alert. This isn't over."
Jiang Yu inclined his head.
"It never is."
And so, beneath the sky of a liberated capital, the commanders stepped through the palace gates, knowing full well that the greatest test was yet to come. Victory on the battlefield was merely the beginning; now, they would have to build a new order upon the ruins of a fractured empire. The shadow of the Four Families, though weakened, still loomed over them, and the loyalty of their allies was as unpredictable as the wind that rustled the banners above.
As they walked deeper into the palace, the gazes of soldiers and civilians alike followed them—filled with expectation, with uncertainty, with the weight of history unfolding before their eyes. The story of the empire was being rewritten in that very moment, and every step they took echoed through the halls of time.
Peace, if it could even be called that, was fragile, and everyone knew it. But for now, beneath the golden sun of morning, there was a fleeting moment to breathe—to remember that, for at least one day, the war had ended.