"You don't lose to the enemy. You lose to your own men — one silence at a time." — Xu Liang, during the Frost Courtyard Argument
The fire in the council chamber burned low.
Outside, spring rains battered the roof tiles. But inside, the tension was worse than thunder.
Xu Liang sat with arms crossed, the deep scar on his shoulder still raw. Yi Fen stood near the hearth, wiping ash from his hands. Beside him, a young scout named Qiao — newly promoted and fiercely loyal — cast dagger-eyes at anyone who questioned the latest orders.
Huai Shan leaned forward, silent.
"We're moving too fast," Xu Liang said, voice even. "We've barely secured our rear flanks. And now we're taking Longchuan?"
"Better to strike first than wait to starve," Yi Fen snapped. "You want to dig trenches again and hope Han Yu forgets we exist?"
Xu Liang's eyes narrowed. "I want to live. And I want these men to live. We're acting like we already have an empire. We don't."
Qiao smirked. "Sounds like fear."
That word cut the room in half.
Yi Fen didn't stop sharpening his knife.
Xu Liang stood. "Fear keeps you alive. Ask Jun. Ask Lin. Oh, wait—"
Huai's voice cut through like ice. "Enough."
Silence.
He rose slowly. His armor wasn't on — just the rough shirt of a commoner. But somehow, he still looked heavier than all of them. Tired. Older. Made of stone and frost.
"We're not debating whether to fight," he said. "Only how. Longchuan is necessary. But we take it right — or we lose everything we've bled for."
Xu Liang nodded once. So did Yi Fen. Begrudgingly.
But the crack had formed.
That night, Xu Liang wrote a letter.
It was never sent.He burned it before dawn.
The next day, scouts brought news: Longchuan's commander had doubled his garrison. The element of surprise was gone.
Someone had leaked the plan.
Yi Fen raged. Qiao suggested torture. Even the more cautious council members whispered the word traitor.
But Huai said only this: "Lock down the camp. No one leaves. No one."
And quietly, he began to question everyone — including his own.