Winter gripped Atsuyo with quiet cruelty. Snow had begun to fall, dusting the fractured remnants of the Qin army as they licked their wounds beneath gray skies. The Gu Ren Tai, once 10,000 strong, now counted fewer than 1000.
Ren stood alone outside the barracks, wrapped in a wolfskin cloak, his sword buried blade-first into the frozen ground before him. The battle with Ji Aga and Kan Saro had left his body scarred — but it was the silence after, the utter stillness of survival, that haunted him most.
"Commander Ren," Kai called from behind, his arm still in a sling. "They're gathering inside. Supreme Commander's message just came through."
Ren followed without a word. Inside, the remaining commanders of the campaign sat in a circle, heatless brazier between them. Sou'ou, Shi Ryou, and a battered A Ka Kin were among the few still breathing from the higher ranks. Ren noticed a seat left open — the one once reserved for A Kou.
A letter was read aloud, its wax seal bearing the mark of Shou Hei Kun.
"Effective immediately, all surviving forces are to return to Kanyou to regroup and reinforce. The campaign is over. General Ou Sen has officially stepped down. His titles and lands will be temporarily held in trust by the court. Further orders to follow."
A heavy silence fell. Then, murmurs.
"He stepped down himself?"
"He did more than most would survive," Shi Ryou muttered.
"He didn't bleed," Kai said quietly, not without bitterness.
Ren's eyes flicked up, but he said nothing.
Later, as the camp returned to sullen order, Ren stood at the outskirts, looking north — toward Hango. Behind him, the men rebuilt walls and buried their dead. Ahead, Zhao watched and waited.
It was in that moment that a shadow arrived: a rider bearing the private seal of the king himself.
Ren read the letter once. Then again.
"You are to report to Kanyou. The king requests your presence in the inner court."
Kai looked stunned. "Is that… for what?"
Ren folded the scroll. "I don't know. But I'm going."
Meanwhile, in Kanyou…
Shou Hei Kun stood alone before the great map of the eastern kingdoms. His beard had grown, his robes loose, untouched by the usual polish of court life. On the table lay dozens of scrolls — old records of warfare, treaties, grain routes, and rumors.
A servant entered. "My lord, the council has convened."
"I will join them," he said, not looking up. "And send word. Begin reconstruction of the unification plan. From the ground up."
The servant bowed. "Where shall we begin?"
He stared at the northern border.
"With Han"