The fires began at midnight.
At Yunhai Port, the sky turned red as one dock after another ignited. Oil stores exploded. Ships burned at anchor. Workers ran in panic as hidden Chu loyalists struck from within.
Shen Yue did not shout.
She watched.
Counted.
Measured.
"How many?" Lin Hai asked.
"Six ports burning," she replied calmly.
"Containment?"
"Impossible."
Another explosion tore through the harbor.
Sailors jumped into black water lit by fire.
"Then we evacuate the fleet," Lin Hai said.
Shen Yue shook her head.
"No."
She turned.
"Let it burn."
Lin Hai froze.
"If we stop it, we show strength," she continued.
"If we let it spread…"
A pause.
"They think we're collapsing."
For a moment, Lin Hai said nothing.
Then—
He understood.
"Fake weakness," he said.
Shen Yue nodded.
"Send word to Wu An," she said.
"He'll already know."
In Daliang, the war council was not calm.
It was breaking.
"They're advancing on all fronts!"
"We're losing the south!"
"Zhao is pushing through the eastern lines!"
"Wei remnants are taking cities back!"
"And now the ports are burning!"
Voices clashed.
Arguments overlapped.
Fear crept in.
For the first time—
The ministers did not look at Wu An as certainty.
They looked at him—
For answers.
Wu An said nothing.
He listened.
Then slowly—
He stood.
The room fell silent.
"We cannot defend everything," he said.
No one spoke.
Because they all knew—
It was true.
"Our forces are stretched."
"Our enemies are united."
"Our supply lines are unstable."
Each word—
An admission.
Liao Yun watched him closely.
Because this—
Was not how Wu An spoke.
Then—
Wu An continued.
"So we stop trying."
The room froze.
"Withdraw from outer Chu positions," he said.
"Pull back from exposed eastern cities."
"Abandon secondary fortresses."
Shock spread.
"We can't—!" one general started.
Wu An cut him off.
"We already have."
Silence.
Because suddenly—
It made sense.
The burning ports.
The weakening defenses.
The scattered retreats.
This was not failure.
This was design.
Across the realm—
The message spread.
Wu An was collapsing.
Zhao commanders laughed.
"He's retreating," one said.
"Good," another replied.
"Run him down."
Wei remnants surged forward.
"Take back the cities!"
Yan's court erupted in confidence.
"The usurper weakens," ministers declared.
"The Mandate returns to Zhou."
Western Zhou issued proclamations across the land:
"The false emperor falls.
Heaven rejects Wu An."
And the people—
Began to believe it.
Because everywhere they looked—
Wu An's empire was shrinking.
Cities abandoned.
Ports burning.
Troops withdrawing.
It looked like the end.
Back in Daliang—
Liao Yun spoke quietly.
"They've taken the bait."
Wu An nodded.
"Yes."
"But we're losing real ground."
Wu An turned toward the map.
"Yes."
A pause.
"That's the price."
Far to the east—
Zhao cavalry surged deeper into Zhou territory.
No resistance.
No traps.
No slowing.
"This is too easy," one commander muttered.
But momentum—
Overruled doubt.
"Forward!" they shouted.
Further.
Faster.
Wei followed.
More cautiously.
But still—
Advancing.
Taking cities.
Reclaiming land.
But stretching.
Always stretching.
At Yunhai—
Shen Yue watched the fires die down.
The ports—
Half destroyed.
Half abandoned.
Lin Hai approached.
"They'll think we've lost control."
Shen Yue nodded.
"Good."
"Can we recover from this?"
She looked out at the broken harbor.
"Yes."
A pause.
"But they won't."
Back in Daliang—
Wu An placed markers on the map.
Zhao—deep inside.
Wei—extended.
Yan—committed.
Western Zhou—exposed.
Chu—overconfident.
All moving.
All advancing.
All—
Out of position.
Liao Yun finally asked:
"When do we strike?"
Wu An smiled.
Not wide.
Not triumphant.
Cold.
"When they can't turn back."
Outside—
The realm moved as one.
Against him.
But that was the point.
Zhao cavalry pushed deeper—
Too deep.
Wei armies stretched thinner—
Too far.
Yan committed everything—
Too late.
And Wu An—
Finally—
Raised his hand.
"Now…"