Dawn bled through the clouds, painting the coalition camp in a harsh, unforgiving light. The air was heavy with anticipation and dread—today, the council would pass judgment. Rumors had grown teeth overnight; wherever Yuan Zhen walked, silence fell and eyes followed, some with pity, most with suspicion.
He dressed with deliberate care, donning his best robe and fastening his mother's jade pendant beneath the collar. Every movement was a reminder of what he stood to lose. Wei, his loyal lieutenant, waited outside the tent, face drawn.
"Are you ready, my lord?" Wei asked, voice low.
Yuan Zhen nodded. "As ready as one can be for a trial that's already decided."
Wei's jaw tightened. "If there's any justice left in this camp, they'll see through the lies."
Yuan Zhen managed a faint smile. "Justice is a luxury for the powerful, Wei. Today, I am neither."
They walked together toward the council tent, passing groups of martial artists and soldiers. Some averted their eyes; others stared openly, as if memorizing the face of a man about to be erased.
The tent was crowded, thick with incense and the murmurs of assembled elders. Yuan Shao sat at the head, his expression carved from granite. Lady Liu was beside him, her eyes cold and triumphant. Yuan Shang stood with the other Yuan sons, a smirk barely hidden. The Wudang delegation, led by the silver-haired elder and the so-called hero, watched with unreadable faces. Yue Lian stood quietly at the edge, her gaze troubled.
The Beggar Sect elder rose, voice echoing through the tent. "Let us begin. Yuan Zhen, you are accused of leading an attack on the riverside village, resulting in the deaths of innocents and the destruction of homes. Witnesses claim your men wore Bohai banners and that you gave the order. How do you answer?"
Yuan Zhen stepped forward, meeting the elder's gaze. "I deny the charges. My men were in camp all night. The so-called witnesses contradict themselves—some say the attackers were tall, others short; some say they wielded swords, others axes. None of the descriptions match my men."
The Wudang elder's eyes narrowed. "And yet, the survivors insist they heard your voice. How do you explain this?"
"Anyone can mimic an accent," Yuan Zhen replied. "And anyone can steal a banner. If the council values truth, let them investigate further."
A ripple of discomfort passed through the elders. Yuan Shao's voice cut through the silence. "The coalition cannot afford division. Our unity is fragile. If there is even a shadow of doubt, we must act."
Lady Liu's lips curled. "The Yuan family cannot be tainted by suspicion. For the sake of our alliance, we must sever the diseased limb."
Yuan Shang stepped forward, voice syrupy with false concern. "Brother, perhaps it is best if you step aside. Let the coalition restore its peace."
Yuan Zhen's jaw clenched. "You mean let you take my place."
A tense silence followed. The hero from Wudang broke it, his tone measured. "Lord Yuan, if you are innocent, time will reveal it. But for now, the coalition must protect itself."
Yuan Zhen looked around the tent—at the faces of men and women who had once called him ally, at the elders who had praised his fairness, at the friends who now looked away. Only Yue Lian met his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
He bowed deeply to Yuan Shao. "As you command, Father."
Yuan Shao's face was unreadable. "From this moment, you are stripped of your titles and command. You are to be exiled from the coalition and the Yuan family. You are no longer my son."
The words fell like a sword stroke. The council erupted into whispers—some relieved, others uneasy. The decision was final. There would be no further investigation.
Wei stepped forward, fists clenched. "This is madness! My lord—"
Yuan Zhen shook his head, silencing him. "It's over, Wei. Look after the men. Tell them to keep their heads down."
He turned to leave, but Yue Lian stepped into his path. "Yuan Zhen—" Her voice trembled. "This isn't justice. I will find the truth."
He managed a faint, grateful smile. "Thank you, Lady Yue. Be careful. The truth is dangerous here."
As he walked out of the tent, the camp seemed to close around him—walls of suspicion and betrayal. He passed the martial artists who had once cheered him, the commoners who had trusted him. Some looked away in shame; others watched with cold satisfaction.
Outside the camp, Wei pressed a small bundle into his hand—a jade pendant, his mother's last gift. "For luck," the old soldier said, voice thick.
Yuan Zhen's eyes stung. "Thank you, Wei. Serve Bohai well. I will not forget."
He set out alone, the path to Chengdu stretching before him like a sentence. Each step was a vow: he would survive, he would rise, and one day, he would return.
As the sun climbed higher, Yuan Zhen's shadow stretched long and solitary across the road. He walked until the camp was a distant memory, until the only sound was the wind and the steady beat of his heart.
When he finally stopped to rest, he looked back only once. The banners of the coalition fluttered on the horizon, bright and empty. He pressed the jade pendant to his chest and swore an oath beneath his breath.
You took everything from me. Now, I will take everything from you.