Chapter Twenty-One: Renowned Across the Land

After Cao Cao and Cao Hong spoke for a while longer, they each returned to their rooms to sleep. The next day, Cao Hong, Cao Ren, Xiahou Yuan, and Xiahou Dun led the household ahead to leave Chenliu County and rendezvous with Wei Zi. As for Cao Cao, he went to the prefectural office to bid farewell to Zhang Miao. With Cao Cao’s intellect, he could easily come up with a hundred plausible excuses; such matters were nothing for Cao Hong to worry about.

After waiting outside the city for a while, they saw Cao Cao riding out at a gallop, and the group set off for Xiangyi. Xiangyi lay to the southeast of Chenliu, about two hundred li away. It took the party three days to reach the town. Though Xiangyi’s walls rose no higher than ten meters, the county itself contained over ten thousand households—a great settlement indeed.

Wei Zi clearly wielded great influence here. At his appearance, the county soldiers immediately opened the gates with utmost courtesy, addressing him as “Lord Wei” with fawning deference. Later, it became clear: the county magistrate himself was of the Wei clan. In Xiangyi, Wei Zi was the uncrowned king, a local tyrant.

Upon entering the town, Cao Ren’s younger brother Cao Chun appeared. Style name Zihe, Cao Chun was a towering man, over two meters tall, with dark skin. What surprised Cao Hong even more was that Cao Chun’s martial cultivation was nearly equal to that of Xu Chu, reaching the peak of the Qi-refining and Spirit-transforming stage—just a step away from the supreme realm of Spirit-returning and Void-merging. This stirred a sense of crisis in Cao Hong’s heart: the Cao family already had two such masters, soon there would be three. With so many experts in the world, if he did not quickly regain his former power, it would be difficult just to protect himself.

Cao Chun led his retainers to lodge at the county barracks, while Wei Zi summoned the magistrate, the assistant magistrate, and all local officials to welcome the Cao family with a grand feast, giving them full honors. Here, Cao Cao took the seat of honor, with Wei Zi accompanying him as guest host. Cao Cao cast aside the modesty he had shown in Chenliu, commanding the gathering with wit and eloquence, winning the admiration of all present.

This was truly a hero of the age! Cao Hong, watching, could not help but praise him inwardly.

Now in Xiangyi, their treatment naturally changed. The Wei family allocated five separate residences—one each for Cao Cao, Cao Ren, Cao Hong, Xiahou Dun, and Xiahou Yuan. Each was an eighteen-courtyard compound, not large but entirely private, a secure base at last. Shi Huan and Liao Hua now returned to reside with Cao Ren and Cao Hong. As for the training of retainers and the managing of weapons and armor, Cao Chun and Wei Zi saw to these affairs. Cao Cao, meanwhile, conferred with Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Cao Ren, and Cao Hong on the details of raising an army. At the same time, rolls of bamboo strips sealed with red wax continued to pile up in the warehouse—the manifestos against Dong Zhuo.

In drafting these preparations with Cao Cao, Cao Hong learned much about ancient military logistics and the calculation of soldiers’ expenses. He gained a deep understanding: in both ancient and modern times, war requires resources. For example, a soldier consumed about twenty-two shi of grain per year, nearly two shi per month, costing over four thousand coins a year. In addition, there was salt—about 140 coins per year—and clothing, another 3400 coins. Altogether, maintaining a single soldier cost at least 8000 coins annually. At this rate, even a high official with a stipend of two thousand shi could support only twenty or thirty soldiers, and those were infantry. A horse alone cost seven to eight thousand coins per year; a military sword, seven hundred coins; and if a soldier died, the compensation for his family exceeded a hundred thousand coins.

At the end of the Han, the rise of warlords was not led by grassroots heroes, but by clans and official families—for the simple reason that without money, no one would follow you!

Every time he saw Cao Cao and Cao Ren calculating these endless details, Cao Hong’s head throbbed, especially at the notion that each soldier needed several laborers to support him. As a mercenary king used to single combat, he now truly appreciated the value of strategists. Scholars, after all, loved statistics. Fortunately, Cao Cao would never lack for such men.

Days passed in this fashion. Besides discussing military plans with Cao Cao, Cao Hong occasionally served as a guest instructor in the barracks, teaching the soldiers simple and effective fighting techniques. In his spare time, he devoted himself to nurturing his strength, striving toward the supreme martial realm of Spirit-returning and Void-merging.

Two months later, in mid-November, swift horses galloped out from Xiangyi, each rider bearing a manifesto against Dong Zhuo. This stirring document catalogued Dong Zhuo’s many crimes and called upon the heroes of the realm to rise against him. The style was impassioned and eloquent, penned by Cao Cao himself. For a man whose writings would be handed down through the ages, a manifesto was child’s play.

In less than a month, the thousands of words condemning Dong Zhuo spread among prefects, scholars, and gentry throughout the land. Along with the manifesto, the name of the Military Commandant of the Eight Colonels of the Western Garden, Cao Mengde, became widely known.

The reactions across the realm varied greatly.

In Changyi, seat of Yanzhou, Inspector Liu Dai sat in his office, the manifesto laid before him. Stroking his beard, he sighed, “Zhang Mengzhuo! To think you would plot under my very nose, paying no heed to me as Inspector. Still, the words of this manifesto are stirring and much discussed in the streets, and since it arose from Yanzhou, as a member of the imperial clan I cannot pretend not to see it.”

In Puyang, seat of Dong Commandery under Yanzhou, Qiao Mao, the fifty-something Prefect, read the manifesto. His clan-uncle, Qiao Xuan, had once served as Grand Commandant. Qiao Mao burst out laughing, “Excellent! This is the perfect chance for me, Qiao Yuanwei, to gain fame throughout the land!”

In the Chenliu commandery office, Zhang Chao threw the manifesto to the ground in a fury. “Cao Mengde! He told us he would make a grand move, but instead he’s spread his manifesto to the world first—truly treacherous! I must raise troops against him!”

Zhang Miao said coldly, “If you and our friend had not underestimated the Cao family, with my friendship with Mengde, would he have acted in secret? Now, if we attack, won’t it seem we side with Dong Zhuo? Let’s wait for spring and make our position clear then.”

North of the Yellow River, in Jizhou, on the vast plains with their rich fields, the seat of Gao Yi was a magnificent provincial office. Civil and military officers sat in rows, at the head a man of about forty, handsome and dignified. Gazing at the bamboo slips spread before him, his eyes showed inner conflict as he asked, “Commandant Ju, what course should I take?” This was Han Fu, Governor of Ji Province, a scholar of Yingchuan Academy, indecisive by nature.

A middle-aged scholar below him stood and replied, “Governor, now that three of the Four Friends of the North, including Zhang Mengzhuo, have responded to Cao Mengde’s call, the tide is with him. The heroes of the realm are sure to follow; we must go along with the times.” This was Ju Shou, styled Gongyu, formerly Assistant Officer in Ji Province, now Commandant of Cavalry, a man of ambition and resource.

Han Fu nodded, “Ji Province faces Luoyang across the river. If we respond, we will be in the forefront. I will supply grain and provisions to the valiant men of the land.”

In Nanpi, seat of Bohai Commandery under Ji Province, in a plum garden, a man of impressive presence in fine dress sighed deeply, “Mengde, you’ve seized the spotlight this time! But once I, Yuan Benchu, raise my arm, the heroes of the realm will surely rally to me!” This was Yuan Shao of the illustrious Yuan clan, four generations of high office.

In Pingyu, seat of Runan under Yuzhou, in the Yuan family mansion, Yuan Shu lounged with two beauties. His general, Ji Ling, asked, “General, now that Cao Mengde’s manifesto is known everywhere, how should we respond?”

Yuan Shu laughed wildly, “A eunuch’s descendant can never achieve greatness. I, Yuan Gonglu, hold both Nanyang and Runan, with countless retainers. Why should I ally with Cao Mengde? Next year, I’ll raise my own army and march north, attacking Dong Zhuo from the south!”

In Linxiang, seat of Changsha under Jingzhou, a six-story tower overlooked the scenic Xiang River. There, clad in gleaming armor, Sun Jian stood gazing into the distance, his tall and powerful figure flanked by two equally robust men and a tall, handsome youth—his valiant generals Cheng Pu, Huang Gai, and Zhu Zhi.

“Cao Mengde! Who is he, to dare defy Dong Zhuo’s might and issue a manifesto against him? Truly, the world holds heroes!” Sun Jian murmured, hand resting on his steel sword.

“Governor, the manifesto is known everywhere—now is the time to raise our banners and march north, so our army’s might will shake the land!” urged Cheng Pu.

Sun Jian turned in a whirl, a smile breaking across his resolute features. “Let us meet Dong Zhuo on the field! After victory, we’ll march on northern Jingzhou, unify the land, and make our name known in the Central Plains!”

Elsewhere, Wang Kuang, Prefect of Henei; Yuan Yi, Prefect of Shanyang; and Kong Zhou, Inspector of Yuzhou, all decided to raise troops. Yet not all acted—some remained still, others sought to undercut the movement at its root.

To the north of Jingzhou, the misty expanse of Dongting Lake spanned several commanderies. Thirteen boats set out from various ports, all bound for one island: Three Friends Island, home to three of the world’s six greatest martial masters. Among the passengers were members of the prominent Kuai, Cai, and Huang families of Jingxiang, as well as bandit chiefs like Bei Yu and Su Dai, who had long held county seats and styled themselves as prefects and magistrates—known as the “clan bandits.” Though Jingzhou’s Inspector Wang Rui was himself of noble birth, Jingxiang was a land of great wealth and warring factions, beyond his control. With Sun Jian’s growing strength, the powerful Kuai, Cai, and Huang clans, and the fierce clan bandits, the region was a patchwork of competing forces.

Now that Cao Cao called the realm to arms against Dong Zhuo, the balance of power had shifted. The gentry and bandits of Jingzhou, fearing their own interests would suffer, thought first of inviting the Three Friends to act—just as they had killed Zhang Jiao, leader of the Yellow Turbans, by striking at the source.

But to their disappointment, the Three Friends refused to meet them, sending disciples to turn them away. Facing such supreme masters, the bandit chiefs and gentry dared not protest—lest they lose their heads overnight. While the world believed the Six Great Masters had slain Zhang Jiao, the gentry of Jingzhou knew it had been none other than Leng Shouguang, one of the Three Friends, who delivered the fatal blow. It was these same people who had invited Leng Shouguang, fearing the Yellow Turban uprising would spill into their lands, so they sought to eliminate the threat at its root.

After these visitors departed, a small boat slipped away from Three Friends Island late at night. A disciple at the peak of Spiritual Transformation carried a letter from Master Leng Shouguang for Prefect Cao Yin of Wuling, quietly setting forth.

Meanwhile, on the island, in a pavilion atop a small hill, a refined old man with snow-white hair and beard played chess with a plain-looking middle-aged scholar. The pair, seemingly merged with the moonlight, the cool breeze, and the mist, had reached a realm of cultivation where essence, energy, and spirit fused with the void. Had Cao Hong been present, he would have seen that their mastery was supreme.

The middle-aged scholar spoke: “Brother Shouguang, Dong Zhuo’s harm is no less than Zhang Jiao’s. Why refuse these men?”

Leng Shouguang placed a stone, stroked his beard, and replied with a calm smile, “Dear brother Lu, Dong Zhuo’s evil does not threaten Jingzhou. The heroes of the realm will force him to retreat for now. Rather, the chaos in Jingzhou has long been apparent. Sun Wentai, proud of his valor, will likely move to annex Jingxiang after dealing with Dong Zhuo. Though Jingzhou teems with noble clans, not one can match him. With his army about to march, it is time to set things in order.”

Lu Nu Sheng asked, “So you sent Changfeng to Wuling?”

Leng Shouguang smiled, “Just a living piece on the board.”

Lu Nu Sheng responded, “Sun Wentai’s ambition is contrary to our Taoist ideals of non-action. Jingzhou must not fall to him. Yet amid the turmoil, no one has emerged to restore order.”

“This move is decisive,” Leng Shouguang said, capturing a group of Lu’s stones. “Brother Tang has already left for Luoyang to see Dong Zhuo. Once Wang Rui is dead, Dong Zhuo will issue an imperial edict appointing the man we recommend to Jingzhou. In exchange, the Three Friends will not interfere in the struggle between Dong Zhuo and the coalition.”

Lu Nu Sheng smiled, “You two have considered everything. May I ask whom you have in mind?”

“From Shanyang, a clansman of the Han, a Northern Army Colonel, famed as one of the ‘Eight Talents’—Liu Jingsheng!” Leng Shouguang replied.

Lu Nu Sheng nodded in realization, “So, it is he!”