The grand hall of Guangling Fortress was bathed in the flickering glow of dozens of oil lamps, their light casting long, restless shadows across the stone walls. The very air inside carried the scent of melted wax, aged wood, and the faint, lingering trace of iron from past battles. At the center of the room stood an imposing war table, a relic of countless strategic discussions, its surface marred with scars of ink stains and dagger marks.
Laid out upon it, like a miniature battlefield, was a detailed map of the empire. Tiny banners and bold strokes of red ink marked the territories controlled by Luo Wen, while other regions, still clinging to the vestiges of feudal independence, were represented in pale, fading colors, a reflection of their uncertain fate.
At the far end of the table, An Lu stood with arms crossed, his face a mask of impatience, the weight of urgency pressing upon him. Around him, the Four Patriarchs, each clad in opulent robes embroidered with the ancient insignias of their respective noble houses, exchanged murmurs sharp as blades. Their voices, hushed but edged with determination, carried the tension of men who knew the stakes of the game they were about to play.
Across from them, seated with the calm of a man who had seen too many wars to be rattled by words, was Yuan Guo. His face, unreadable, remained composed as he listened in silence, watching as the powerful men in the room deliberated the course of a war where his voice carried little weight.
An Lu, never one for excessive patience, finally spoke, his tone cutting through the whispers like the swing of a sword.
—There is no reason for delay. —His knuckles rapped against the map, emphasizing his point—. With every passing day, Luo Wen tightens his grip on the capital. His army is disciplined, his leadership decisive, but his dominion over the rest of the empire is not yet absolute. If we wait, we give him the time he needs to consolidate his power. If that happens, no force will be able to dethrone him.
A solemn silence followed his words, but the Four Patriarchs nodded knowingly. If there was one lesson history had taught them, it was that the centralization of power was the deadliest weapon in politics.
—If we strike with overwhelming force, we will crush his defenses before he has a chance to reorganize —added Patriarch Chen, a man of sharp eyes and a beard streaked with silver—. Our forces still outnumber his.
—And what of the capital's walls? —Patriarch Wei interjected, his brow furrowed in concern—. Luo Wen's defenses are no longer what they were before. He has fortified the palace, restructured the imperial guard, and gathered enough artillery to make any siege stretch into months.
A slow, cunning smile spread across An Lu's lips.
—That —he said— is why the Four Patriarchs have a crucial role to play in this war.
The noblemen exchanged glances, curiosity flickering in their eyes.
—No one knows the capital better than you do —An Lu continued, gesturing toward them—. Your connections run deep: allies hidden in the shadows, servants, mercenaries, nobles who still bear grudges against Luo Wen. If we are to take the city swiftly, the revolt must begin from within its own walls.
Patriarch Zhou leaned over the table, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map.
—We can make his own people turn against him —he murmured, a cruel satisfaction creeping into his tone—. We will sabotage his supply lines, infiltrate spies into his ranks, and stir the discontented into rebellion. Once An Lu's forces strike from the outside, the capital will crumble from within.
The plan was beginning to take shape, but just as momentum built, a calm yet unyielding voice sliced through the discussion like the edge of a blade.
—This course of action is reckless —Yuan Guo stated, his voice as steady as an unshaken river—. If we launch a direct assault without first weakening Luo Wen, we will be marching into the jaws of a well-fortified enemy. Should the internal revolt fail, all we will have done is warn him of our arrival.
A wave of unease rippled through the room. Some of the gathered lords cast wary glances at Yuan Guo; others, less inclined to subtlety, barely concealed their disdain.
An Lu let out a dry laugh, eyes flashing with amusement.
—So what do you propose? —he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm—. That we sit idly by while he dismantles us one by one? Don't make me laugh, old master. We have all seen what happens when you give a tyrant too much time.
—This is not about waiting —Yuan Guo countered, his sharp gaze locking onto An Lu—. It is about striking at the right moment, in the right way. If we move in calculated waves, we can chip away at his authority, strip him of his generals' loyalty before we face him in open battle. A cautious advance gives us strategic superiority.
The Four Patriarchs exchanged silent glances, but An Lu slammed his fist against the table, leaning in with a sneer.
—Perhaps the great master of war prefers to remain safe in his tower while others fight his battles? —he mocked—. But I am not some old man content to play with ink and parchment.
Yuan Guo did not flinch. His voice remained as cold as steel.
—Do not mistake me, An Lu —he said—. I do not fear war, but I do know when a war should be fought with the mind and when with the sword.
Patriarch Chen raised a hand, signaling for calm.
—We do not have the luxury of hesitation —he declared—. Luo Wen will not wait for us to be ready. The majority here has already agreed on our path. If Master Yuan Guo prefers a slower approach, he may guide his own followers in preparation. But the attack will not be delayed.
Yuan Guo pressed his lips together. He knew now, without a doubt, that his words carried no weight in this alliance. The decision had already been made.
After a pause, he inclined his head slightly.
—Understood. I lack the power to change your course, but those still loyal to me within the army will stand with you when the battle begins.
An Lu smirked as the Four Patriarchs nodded in approval.
—Then it is settled —An Lu declared, eyes returning to the map—. We will raise the greatest army this empire has ever seen and march upon the capital.
—We, the Four Patriarchs, will ensure the city rots from the inside —added Patriarch Zhou—. We will unravel Luo Wen's rule like a disease, and when the moment is right, his own people will betray him.
—And once the capital falls, the emperor will be placed under our 'protection' —An Lu added, his gaze gleaming with calculated intent.
Yuan Guo said nothing, but he recognized that these words carried a poison of their own.
The meeting ended with a final exchange of knowing looks. Every leader in that room understood the truth: though they were allies now, once Luo Wen was gone, a new struggle for power would begin.
As the others dispersed, Yuan Guo lingered for a moment, staring down at the map, his expression unreadable.
He had tried to warn them. He had attempted to offer a path of wisdom over blind ambition.
But now, he had no choice but to move forward with them.
—If this is the war they want… —he murmured to himself—. Then so be it.
Somewhere in the distance, the low beat of war drums began to echo. The march had begun.