Resolving Contradictions, Firming the New King's Resolve

Morning light slanted through the crack in the door, falling across Chen Wuya's hand. The mud and ash in his palm had dried and cracked, his knuckles slightly taut, yet his hand remained steady on the door ring. Bai Zhi stood at his side, her sword still sheathed, but her shoulders drawn rigidly straight.

The New King said nothing. He merely stepped into the hall, his cloak sweeping over the threshold and stirring up a wisp of dust.

Leaning on his iron crutch, Gurtai's gaze was sharp as a blade. "Your Majesty has come in person. Have you come to hear this foreigner's beguiling words?"

The New King raised a hand, cutting him off. His eyes fell first upon Chen Wuya's face, then slowly swept across the nobles filling the hall, before finally settling on that charred wooden tag—Chen Wuya had gently placed it at the edge of the table, like a brand no one dared touch.

"I came to hear the truth." The New King finally spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it pressed down every restless murmur. "You say an alliance would disgrace our ancestors. But if we do not form one, who will defend these grasslands?"

For a moment, the hall fell silent.

An elder bearing an eagle crest rose to his feet. "The Central Plains harbor the hearts of wolves! Today they join hands with us; tomorrow they will swallow us whole! We would rather die in battle than become slaves of a fallen people!"

"What about the three hundred cavalrymen at the front?" Bai Zhi suddenly spoke, her cool gaze sweeping over the crowd. "They are neither foreigners nor people of the Central Plains. They are living, breathing soldiers. Here, you speak of righteous principles; out on the wasteland, they gnaw ice and swallow