Zhang Han claimed the fourteenth victory of his career—a brilliant siege battle.
As for Chen Sheng, the loser, he fled eastward in panic.
He lay in his carriage, staring blankly at the road receding behind him and the scenery on either side, as though his life, too, was fading away.
He understood that his luck had run out. There was no longer any possibility of making a comeback.
He had been able to launch his uprising only by raising a rallying cry from on high, then riding the momentum of that cry. Whether he succeeded or failed depended entirely on how far that momentum could carry him.
Chen Sheng's momentum had only carried him as far as Chen County before Zhang Han smashed it to pieces.
He had no money, no land, and no resources. The best outcome ahead of him would be to seek shelter under someone else and serve as some sort of officer. He knew himself well enough.
At the heart of a fallen noble was, ultimately, the fact that he had fallen.
Only a few people still followed him now. Some had died, while the rest had fled.
Now, only his driver, Zhuang Jia, was willing to stay by his side.
But—
Pfft—
Before Chen Sheng could form any further thoughts, a sharp dagger pierced through his chest from behind.
Chen Sheng spat out blood and turned his head tremblingly, unable to believe it.
It was Zhuang Jia.
"Zhuang Jia—you, why—"
Shing—
Zhuang Jia pulled out the dagger, and Chen Sheng's body went limp like grain beneath the noonday sun.
His heart had undeniably been pierced through and torn apart in that instant. There was not the slightest chance of survival left for him. Lying on his side, he coughed twice and spewed a great deal