Chereads / The curse of chance / Chapter 8 - Barracks

Chapter 8 - Barracks

The night air was crisp

and biting as Zhao Wei rode swiftly through the narrow forest path leading to

the secluded barracks. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves was muffled

by the dense canopy overhead, the shadows stretching long and dark across the

trail. The urgency of the night weighed heavily on him, but his expression

remained calm and controlled, his black eyes fixed on the road ahead.

 

Zhao Wei had summoned

only his most trusted generals and lieutenants for this emergency meeting.

Trust was a rare commodity, and tonight, he could not afford even the smallest

breach.

 

The barracks were hidden

deep within the forest, a fortress in all but name. Constructed as a fallback

for his campaigns, it had served as a gathering point for his elite forces

during emergencies. Tonight, it would host a discussion that could determine

the survival of his men—and himself.

 

As he approached, the

gates swung open, the guards saluting silently as he passed. Zhao Wei

dismounted, his tall frame straightening as his long black hair caught the

faint moonlight. His tanned skin, honed body, and commanding presence exuded an

aura of unshakable authority. He handed the reins to a waiting soldier before

striding toward the central hall..

 

Inside, a small group of

trusted generals and lieutenants awaited him. The men rose to their feet as he

entered, saluting with precision. They were his finest—a group of seasoned

warriors and strategists who had fought alongside him in countless battles.

 

"Sit," Zhao Wei

commanded, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

 

The men obeyed, though

their postures remained rigid, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the

situation. Zhao Wei took his place at the head of the table, his sharp gaze

sweeping the room.

 

"We have little time,"

he began, his tone calm but firm. "The Imperial Guards will arrive within

hours. The Emperor has made his intentions clear—whether by exile,

imprisonment, or execution, I will be removed from my position. This meeting is

to ensure that my absence does not dismantle what we have built."

 

Murmurs rippled through

the room, but a single glance from Zhao Wei silenced them. He continued, his

voice steady:

 

"Should the palace be

raided, the Emperor will seek to discredit not only me but all those loyal to

me. To protect our forces, I am ordering the temporary disbandment of all

advisory councils and visible chains of command. Return to your homes, scatter

if you must, but remain ready to regroup when the time comes."

 

One of the generals, a

burly man with a scar running down his cheek, spoke up. "Your Highness, with

respect, disbanding leaves us vulnerable. If the Emperor declares us traitors,

who will speak for us?"

 

Zhao Wei's gaze locked

onto the man, his expression unyielding. "You will speak with your silence. Any

show of resistance now will only confirm their lies. Let the dust settle before

we make our move."

 

The general nodded

reluctantly, his loyalty overriding his doubts.

 

Zhao Wei shifted his

attention to Chen Hao, who stood at his right. "Dispatch scouts to all

potential routes leading from the capital. I expect assassination attempts once

I am exiled. Have the scouts monitor for unusual movements and set traps where

necessary."

 

"Yes, Your Highness,"

Chen Hao replied, his voice steady.

 

Zhao Wei turned to

another lieutenant. "Ensure provisions are prepared for all soldiers still

loyal to me. Food, weapons, and medical supplies. The likelihood of exile is

high, but I will not leave unprepared. Make it happen discreetly. No one

outside this room is to know."

 

The lieutenant saluted

sharply. "It will be done."

 

The meeting continued

with the same efficiency, each man receiving precise orders tailored to their

strengths. Zhao Wei's mind worked like a blade, cutting through the chaos to

form a cohesive plan. Every contingency was considered, every risk mitigated.

 

As the final orders were

issued, one of the youngest captains in the room, a wiry man with sharp eyes,

stood abruptly. "Your Highness," he said, his voice firm despite his youth.

"With respect, I will not leave."

 

Zhao Wei's black eyes

fixed on him, unreadable. "Explain yourself."

 

The captain

straightened, his voice unwavering. "You raised me from nothing. You taught me

how to fight, how to lead. If you are exiled, I will follow. If you are hunted,

I will stand by your side. My life is yours, Your Highness. Command me as you

see fit, but I will not abandon you."

 

A murmur of agreement

spread through the room as other soldiers and officers echoed the captain's

sentiment. Zhao Wei's sharp gaze swept across their faces, reading the loyalty

etched into every line.

 

"Fools," he said softly,

though his voice carried no malice. "Your loyalty will be your undoing."

 

He stood, his tall frame

casting a long shadow over the room. "Very well. Those of you who choose to

stay will act as my shadow guards. You will have no official title, no records

tying you to me. You will operate in the dark, unseen but ever present. Do you

accept this?"

 

"Yes, Your Highness,"

the men replied in unison, their voices steady.

 

Zhao Wei nodded. "Then

prepare yourselves. When the storm comes, we will endure it. When the time is

right, we will strike back. Dismissed."

 

The men saluted and

filed out of the room, their movements disciplined and silent. Zhao Wei

remained behind, his sharp eyes fixed on the map spread across the table. The

hours ahead would determine everything—his survival, his men's future, and perhaps

the fate of the empire itself.

 

The night air was crisp

and biting as Zhao Wei rode swiftly through the narrow forest path leading to

the secluded barracks. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves was muffled

by the dense canopy overhead, the shadows stretching long and dark across the

trail. The urgency of the night weighed heavily on him, but his expression

remained calm and controlled, his black eyes fixed on the road ahead.

 

The barracks were hidden

deep within the forest, a fortress in all but name. Constructed as a fallback

for his campaigns, it had served as a gathering point for his elite forces

during emergencies. Tonight, it would host a discussion that could determine

the survival of his men—and himself.

 

As he approached, the

gates swung open, the guards saluting silently as he passed. Zhao Wei

dismounted, his tall frame straightening as his long black hair caught the

faint moonlight. His tanned skin, honed body, and commanding presence exuded an

aura of unshakable authority. He handed the reins to a waiting soldier before

striding toward the central hall, his black robes trailing behind him like a

shadow.

 

Inside, a small group of

trusted generals and lieutenants awaited him. The men rose to their feet as he

entered, saluting with precision. They were his finest—a group of seasoned

warriors and strategists who had fought alongside him in countless battles.

 

"Sit," Zhao Wei

commanded, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

 

The men obeyed, though

their postures remained rigid, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the

situation. Zhao Wei took his place at the head of the table, his sharp gaze

sweeping the room.

 

"We have little time,"

he began, his tone calm but firm. "The Imperial Guards will arrive within

hours. The Emperor has made his intentions clear—whether by exile,

imprisonment, or execution, I will be removed from my position. This meeting is

to ensure that my absence does not dismantle what we have built."

 

Murmurs rippled through

the room, but a single glance from Zhao Wei silenced them. He continued, his

voice steady:

 

"Should the palace be

raided, the Emperor will seek to discredit not only me but all those loyal to

me. To protect our forces, I am ordering the temporary disbandment of all

advisory councils and visible chains of command. Return to your homes, scatter

if you must, but remain ready to regroup when the time comes."

 

One of the generals, a

burly man with a scar running down his cheek, spoke up. "Your Highness, with

respect, disbanding the council leaves us vulnerable. If the Emperor declares

us traitors, who will speak for us?"

 

Zhao Wei's gaze locked

onto the man, his expression unyielding. "You will speak with your silence. Any

show of resistance now will only confirm their lies. Let the dust settle before

we make our move."

 

The general nodded

reluctantly, his loyalty overriding his doubts.

 

Zhao Wei shifted his

attention to Chen Hao, who stood at his right. "Dispatch scouts to all

potential routes leading from the capital. I expect assassination attempts once

I am exiled. Have the scouts monitor for unusual movements and set traps where

necessary."

 

"Yes, Your Highness,"

Chen Hao replied, his voice steady.

 

Zhao Wei turned to

another lieutenant. "Ensure provisions are prepared for all soldiers still

loyal to me. Food, weapons, and medical supplies. The likelihood of exile is

high, but I will not leave unprepared. Make it happen discreetly. No one

outside this room is to know."

 

The lieutenant saluted

sharply. "It will be done."

 

The meeting continued

with the same efficiency, each man receiving precise orders tailored to their

strengths. Zhao Wei's mind worked like a blade, cutting through the chaos to

form a cohesive plan. Every contingency was considered, every risk mitigated.

 

As the final orders were

issued, one of the youngest captains in the room, a wiry man with sharp eyes,

stood abruptly. "Your Highness," he said, his voice firm despite his youth.

"With respect, I will not leave."

 

Zhao Wei's black eyes

fixed on him, unreadable. "Explain yourself."

 

The captain

straightened, his voice unwavering. "You raised me from nothing. You taught me

how to fight, how to lead. If you are exiled, I will follow. If you are hunted,

I will stand by your side. My life is yours, Your Highness. Command me as you

see fit, but I will not abandon you."

 

A murmur of agreement

spread through the room as other soldiers and officers echoed the captain's

sentiment. Zhao Wei's sharp gaze swept across their faces, reading the loyalty

etched into every line.

 

"Fools," he said softly,

though his voice carried no malice. "Your loyalty will be your undoing."

 

He stood, his tall frame

casting a long shadow over the room. "Very well. Those of you who choose to

stay will act as my shadow guards. You will have no official title, no records

tying you to me. You will operate in the dark, unseen but ever present. Do you

accept this?"

 

"Yes, Your Highness,"

the men replied in unison, their voices steady.

 

Zhao Wei nodded. "Then

prepare yourselves. When the storm comes, we will endure it. When the time is

right, we will strike back. Dismissed."

 

The men saluted and

began filing out of the room, their movements disciplined and silent. Zhao Wei

remained behind, his sharp eyes fixed on the map spread across the table. The

hours ahead would determine everything—his survival, his men's future, and the

fate of the empire itself.

 

When the last soldier

left, Chen Hao returned to his side. "Your Highness, all preparations are

underway. The palace awaits your return."

 

Zhao Wei nodded once,

his expression cold but resolute. "Then we move."

 

He mounted his horse and

rode back toward the palace under the cover of night, his thoughts sharp and

focused. The path ahead was perilous, but Zhao Wei's mind was already several

moves ahead.

 

By the time he arrived

at the palace gates, the first light of dawn was breaking over the horizon.

Zhao Wei dismounted, his tall silhouette framed by the rising sun. He entered

the palace grounds with the air of a man who refused to be conquered, ready to

face the next phase of the Emperor's challenge.