Dawn broke over the coalition camp in a haze of gold and gray. The banners, once proud and vibrant, now fluttered with a nervous energy, as if even the silk could sense the tension that gripped every corner of the encampment. Yuan Zhen awoke to the distant clang of swords and the low murmur of voices—rumors, he knew, spreading like wildfire.
He dressed quickly, strapping his sword and spear to his back, and stepped out into the brisk morning air. The camp was already alive with activity: martial artists sparred in open courtyards, servants hurried with trays of food, and messengers darted between tents, their faces drawn and anxious. Everywhere Yuan Zhen walked, he felt the weight of eyes—some curious, some wary, and some openly hostile.
A group of young disciples from the Beggar Sect paused as he passed, their conversation falling silent. One of them, a wiry youth with a scar across his cheek, met Yuan Zhen's gaze for a moment before looking away.
"Did you hear? They say Lord Yuan's men attacked a village last night. Burned it to the ground."
"That can't be true," another whispered, "He's always fair to the commoners."
"Doesn't matter. The elders believe it."
Yuan Zhen kept walking, jaw clenched. He knew better than to confront rumors head-on; in the coalition, perception was often more dangerous than truth.
At the council tent, the atmosphere was even heavier. Yuan Shao sat at the head of the table, flanked by Lady Liu and Yuan Shang. The hero from Wudang stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Sect elders from Wudang, Beggar Sect, and Mount Hua filled the remaining seats, their faces grim.
Yuan Zhen bowed. "You summoned me, Father."
Yuan Shao's eyes were cold. "There are accusations against you, Zhen. Witnesses claim your men attacked the riverside village. Survivors saw Bohai banners. What do you have to say?"
Yuan Zhen met his father's gaze. "My men were all in camp last night. I checked the rosters myself. If someone used our banners, it was to frame us."
Lady Liu's lips curled in a faint smile. "Convenient, isn't it? The perfect alibi."
Yuan Shang leaned forward, voice oily. "Perhaps you've grown too close to the commoners, brother. Maybe you've forgotten where your loyalties lie."
The Wudang elder spoke next, his tone sharp. "The coalition is fragile. We cannot afford scandal. If Lord Yuan is innocent, let him prove it. Bring the witnesses."
A guard ushered in three villagers—two men and a woman, their faces pale and drawn. They bowed low, trembling.
"Tell us what you saw," the elder commanded.
The eldest villager spoke first, voice shaking. "It was night. We heard shouting, then saw men in armor with Bohai banners. They set fire to the houses. Their leader… he spoke with a northern accent."
Yuan Zhen frowned. "Did you see his face?"
The villager shook his head. "No, my lord. They wore masks. But the voice—he sounded like you."
A murmur rippled through the tent. The hero from Wudang watched Yuan Zhen closely, searching for any sign of guilt.
Yuan Zhen remained calm. "Anyone can mimic an accent. My men would never do this."
The second villager, a woman, added, "They called themselves justice for the coalition. Said anyone who opposed them would burn."
Lady Liu's eyes glittered. "It seems the evidence is clear."
Yuan Zhen's mind raced. Who would go to such lengths? Was it Yuan Shang, desperate for favor? The hero, threatened by Yuan Zhen's growing influence? Or someone else, manipulating them all from the shadows?
After the villagers were dismissed, the council erupted into debate. Some argued for a full investigation, others for swift punishment. Yuan Zhen stood silent, listening to the storm swirl around him.
Yue Lian entered quietly, her presence commanding immediate respect. She approached the elders, bowing. "I request permission to question the witnesses myself."
The Wudang elder hesitated, but nodded. "Proceed."
Yue Lian's questions were precise, her tone gentle. She drew out details the others had missed—the attackers' height, their movements, the weapons they used. None matched Yuan Zhen's men. She glanced at Yuan Zhen, her eyes full of doubt and something like hope.
Afterward, she found him outside the tent, standing beneath a willow tree.
"You're being set up," she said quietly.
He nodded. "I know. But knowing isn't enough."
She looked away, troubled. "The coalition needs someone to blame. You're too visible, too different."
Yuan Zhen smiled bitterly. "I thought justice mattered here."
"Justice is a luxury in times of war," she replied. "Be careful, Yuan Zhen. There are those who want you gone."
He watched her walk away, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and sorrow. Yue Lian was one of the few who saw him as he truly was, not just as a rival or a threat.
Later that day, Yuan Zhen met with his trusted lieutenant, Wei, in the privacy of his tent.
"We've checked every patrol, every roster," Wei reported. "No one left camp last night. The banners are missing from the supply tent, but that could have happened at any time."
Yuan Zhen nodded. "Someone's playing a dangerous game."
Wei's brow furrowed. "What will you do?"
"Prepare for the worst," Yuan Zhen said. "And watch Yuan Shang. He's too eager for my seat at the council."
As night fell, the camp grew restless. Fires burned low, and the sound of distant arguments carried on the wind. Yuan Zhen sat alone, polishing his spear, replaying every moment of the day in his mind.
He remembered the cheers from the arena, the respect in the eyes of the commoners, the warmth of Yue Lian's gaze. All of it felt distant now, as if belonging to another life.
A messenger arrived, bowing low. "Lord Yuan, the council will convene at sunrise to pass judgment."
Yuan Zhen dismissed him with a nod, his thoughts already racing ahead. He wondered if anyone would stand with him in the morning, or if he would face the council alone.
He lay awake long after the camp had quieted, staring at the canvas ceiling of his tent. Shadows flickered across the fabric, twisting into shapes that looked like old friends, lost family, and enemies waiting in the dark.
When sleep finally came, it brought no rest—only dreams of fire, betrayal, and a future shrouded in uncertainty.