The purge

Han Yue's camp, normally a place of order and efficiency, had fallen into a heavy atmosphere since the arrival of Luo Wen and Yuan Guo. Although the alliance with them presented a strategic advantage, not everyone in his army shared their leader's vision. Discontent grew among officers and advisors who viewed the newcomers with suspicion. The tension hung in the air like an impending storm. Soldiers, accustomed to discipline, now moved cautiously, as if every step could trigger unforeseen consequences. The once-bustling camp, filled with clear orders and coordinated movements, had become eerily quiet, broken only by whispers of doubt and distrust.

In the shadows of the tents and the fortress corridors, murmurs spread among Han Yue's most loyal soldiers. "How far does our lord intend to go?" "Do we now rely on outsiders to maintain our position?" "If he continues trusting foreigners, he will soon cease to be our leader." What had once been whispered in secrecy was now gaining strength, fueled by uncertainty and fear. The presence of Luo Wen and Yuan Guo did not just signify an alliance—it marked a shift in the balance of power that many were unwilling to accept. The veterans, those who had fought alongside Han Yue since the beginning, watched the newcomers with wary eyes, their intentions as unclear as their words.

The most outspoken opponent of the alliance was General Wei Shun, a seasoned commander who had served Han Yue for years. Loyal but pragmatic, he saw reliance on external forces as a weakness. Wei Shun was no conspirator, but his experience in battle had taught him that trusting outsiders could be as dangerous as an unsheathed sword. In a private meeting with other skeptical officers, he voiced his concerns:

"We have defended this land without their help," he said firmly. "These men are not allies; they are opportunists. They haven't come to strengthen our position but to exploit it. If we allow them to stay, sooner or later, they will demand more than we are willing to give."

Some officers nodded in silence, while others exchanged uneasy glances. The thought of Han Yue relinquishing control of his army to Luo Wen and Yuan Guo was unsettling. They had always trusted their leader's cunning, but this time, some began to wonder if he had made a mistake. Loyalty, once unquestioned, was now cracking under the weight of doubt, and doubt was more dangerous than any external enemy. Wei Shun understood the risks, but he was prepared to face the consequences if it meant protecting what they had built.

Wei Shun's words soon reached Han Yue's ears. To him, absolute loyalty was non-negotiable, and any challenge to his authority was a direct threat. But rather than confronting Wei Shun and his followers head-on, he chose a more silent and effective approach: eliminate them before their doubts turned into open rebellion. Han Yue was no stranger to purges; he knew that power was maintained not just through strength, but also through fear. And at that moment, fear was his greatest weapon.

The purge began at night. Han Yue's most loyal soldiers were sent to arrest the dissenting officers. Some were executed in silence, others mysteriously disappeared, and a select few—like Wei Shun—were summoned to the leader's tent for a "discussion" from which they never returned. The once-lively camp, filled with the sounds of military preparations, now lay shrouded in an ominous silence. Soldiers walked lightly, avoiding eye contact, afraid of being the next to fall. The purge did not just remove dissenters—it instilled fear in those who remained. Loyalty was no longer an act of devotion but a means of survival.

Luo Wen observed the movements within the camp carefully. Though he had not instigated the purge, he was surprised by Han Yue's audacity and determination. A leader who hesitated was a dead leader, and Han Yue was proving he would not tolerate disobedience. Yet, Luo Wen also understood that this action would not only breed fear but also resentment. Soldiers who had once fought for Han Yue out of loyalty now did so out of obligation, and fear, as Luo Wen knew well, was a double-edged sword. As he watched the soldiers carry out their duties with vacant stares and mechanical movements, he wondered how long it would be before resentment turned into open rebellion.

Yuan Guo, meanwhile, simply smiled when Luo Wen shared his concerns.

"A necessary move," he said calmly. "If Han Yue had not acted swiftly, those men would have eventually tried to take power from him. In war, indecision kills. Han Yue has shown that he knows how to rule."

Luo Wen nodded, but a troubling thought was beginning to form in his mind: How far would Han Yue go to maintain his control? More importantly, how long before he saw Luo Wen and Yuan Guo as threats as well? Their alliance was fragile, built on mutual interests rather than trust. And in a world where power changed hands as easily as the wind shifted direction, Luo Wen knew he had to stay vigilant.

As the blood from the purge dried in the shadows of the camp, Luo Wen gained a deeper understanding of his allies. War was not just fought on battlefields—it was fought in the minds of those who sought power. And in this game, only the most cunning would survive. Han Yue had proven that he was willing to sacrifice his own men to secure his throne, making him both a valuable ally and a potential future enemy.

In the days that followed, Han Yue's camp appeared to return to normal, but beneath the surface, tension lingered. Soldiers carried out their duties, but their gazes were more cautious, their movements more calculated. The purge had left an indelible mark on the army, and while no one dared to speak openly against Han Yue, resentment was beginning to fester.

Luo Wen, always observant, took note of these changes. He knew that fear could keep men in line, but if taken too far, it could be the catalyst for rebellion. For now, all he could do was wait and prepare. War was a game of patience, and Luo Wen was willing to play it until the end.

Meanwhile, Yuan Guo remained unfazed. To him, the purge was simply another maneuver in the great game of war. He did not dwell on the long-term consequences; his focus was on the present, on seizing every opportunity to strengthen his position. But even he, in his moments of reflection, began to wonder if Han Yue was digging his own grave with every ruthless decision. Loyalty based on fear was fragile, and Yuan Guo knew that, sooner or later, that fragility would be exposed.

Thus, in Han Yue's camp, the alliance with Luo Wen and Yuan Guo remained a dangerous gamble. Power, as always, was a treacherous game, and in this game, no one was ever truly safe. The question lingering in the air was who would fall next and who, in the end, would emerge victorious. Meanwhile, the soldiers continued their tasks, their faces impassive but their minds filled with unspoken questions. The camp, once a symbol of strength and unity, now served as a reminder that, in war, even the closest allies could become the deadliest enemies. And in this world of shadows and betrayals, only the most cunning—the most ruthless—could hope to survive.