The Six Grandmasters

Cao Hong sheathed his sword and stood still, turning to look at Sheng Meizhen, only to see her beautiful eyes filled with astonishment and surprise, along with an overflowing affection that could not be contained. With such a lovely maiden gazing at him, a thought sprang to Cao Hong’s mind. He tossed his Han sword toward the weapon rack—clanging sharply—the blade seemed to have eyes of its own as it flew back into its scabbard.

Striding forward, Cao Hong approached Sheng Meizhen, clasped her fragrant shoulders with both hands, and gazed deeply into her delicate eyes. The love in Sheng Meizhen’s eyes grew all the more apparent, a teasing smile curling on her lips. “Husband, were we not to have a spar?”

Cao Hong laughed heartily. “Indeed, we are to spar, but in a different place!” With that, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the room, her laughter ringing out in the crisp autumn wind.

Behind closed doors, the two reveled in their union. That day, Sheng Meizhen found her image of her husband thoroughly overturned. Normally, he was always so earnest and reserved, but today he pressed kisses to her neck and lips, even slipping his tongue into her mouth, leaving her body tingling and weak, his tenderness beyond words.

Had they not shared a bed for three years, she might have doubted whether this was truly her husband. She could not fathom what had prompted such a change in him, but though strange, she found herself savoring it, experiencing for the first time the true joys of being a woman.

Entwined naked upon the couch, Cao Hong himself was far from satisfied. In his previous life, he had been known as the “Scythe of Death”—not only for his invincibility as a mercenary, cutting down all who opposed him, but for his conquests in love, leaving a trail of hearts in his wake. To have only Sheng Meizhen as his wife now left him quite discontent. Had the short-lived soul he now inhabited been so incompetent as to settle for a single wife, without even a concubine?

Moreover, Sheng Meizhen had once been another’s wife—he was, in essence, raising another man’s widow. This left a knot in his heart, stirring in him the desire to gather beauties about him. In his past life, he loved women, but mercenary work offered no lasting attachments. Now, as Cao Hong, a future pillar of the Cao family’s power and glory, such matters need not trouble him. His mind turned to which renowned beauties this era might hold.

“Cao Pi’s wives, it seems, were all remarkable—Zhen Mi, Lady Guo, Xue Lingyun, Duan Qiaoxiao, Chen Shangyi, Mo Qiongshu, and others… But Cao Pi is just a child now; most of those women likely aren’t even born. So, in my time, it must be…”

Suddenly, a line from a ballad he saw in a hand-drawn scroll by Zhang Fei before his death flashed through his mind. Plain as the words were, they revealed important clues.

“In Jiangnan, the Two Qiaos; in Hebei, Zhen Mi’s charm; in Peiguo, Xiahou’s beauty; the world’s most graceful.” This indicated that in Zhang Fei’s time, the Two Qiaos, Zhen Mi, and Xiahou’s beauty were famed throughout the land—the Two Qiaos being the wives of Sun Ce and the fair Zhou Yu, Zhen Mi the wife of Cao Pi and mother of Emperor Ming of Wei. As for Xiahou’s beauty from Peiguo, he was less certain, for in Cao Hong’s memories, there was no record of these four women; the first three he only knew thanks to his knowledge of history, not the original owner’s recollections.

Still, in Cao Hong’s memory, his cousin Cao Ren currently resided in Qiao County, Peiguo, while Cao Ren’s younger brother, Cao Chun, served as an imperial attendant in Luoyang Palace.

“Perhaps I could ask my cousin Cao Ren for some information,” Cao Hong mused.

“Husband…” At that moment, Sheng Meizhen, nestled in his arms, softly called his name.

“What is it, Meizhen?” Cao Hong inquired.

Sheng Meizhen’s slender hand caressed his cheek, her voice gentle. “I have long seen, husband, that your skill far surpasses mine. For three years, I relied on the clever techniques my master taught me, matching you blow for blow, thinking myself truly adept. Yet now I see you were yielding to me all along. Since you have surpassed me, I ought to tell you the truth about my teacher’s identity.”

In the memories of the body’s former owner, curiosity about Sheng Meizhen’s mysterious master had always abounded. Cao Ren, too, believed that her teacher must be a renowned figure of the time. In his own thoughts, the most famed martial artists were not the familiar names like Lü Bu, who had only recently joined Dong Zhuo and had yet to make his mark.

Instead, there were the Three Friends of Dongting, the Yin-Yang Duo, and the Immortal of Runan—six great masters. The Three Friends of Dongting were Leng Shouguang, Tang Yu, and Lady Ru, recluses by Lake Dongting in Jingzhou. The Yin-Yang Duo were Xu Deng from Minzhong and Zhao Bing from Shanyang. The Immortal of Runan was Fei Changfang. Their reputations surpassed even that of Zhang Jiao, leader of the Yellow Turbans, whose uncanny powers were said to be outmatched by these six. Some claimed one among them was responsible for Zhang’s death after only a year of rebellion. The martial world revered these six, holding them in awe.

The original Cao Hong held them in utmost respect and fear. Beyond them, he admired his cousins in the Xiahou family—Xiahou Dun and Xiahou Yuan—both renowned as masters in his estimation. Xiahou Dun, as a youth, killed a man for insulting his teacher; Xiahou Yuan, taking the blame for Cao Cao, was imprisoned and later rescued, causing both to leave their home and secretly protect Cao Cao in Luoyang.

Cao Hong had always suspected that Sheng Meizhen’s master was one of the Three Friends, the Yin-Yang Duo, or the Immortal. How else could a delicate woman possess martial prowess enough to challenge even him, who had trained for decades? The martial art he practiced was no mere common skill, but the culmination of techniques passed down through the Cao and Xiahou families, tracing back to the founding heroes Cao Shen and Xiahou Ying. Refined over generations, it was known as the “Thirteen Forms of Wenyin”—named for the posthumous titles of Cao Shen (Marquis Wen) and Xiahou Ying (Marquis Yi).

This art encompassed fist, palm, and footwork, long and short weapons, archery, and horsemanship—a superior martial tradition. When inheriting the original’s memory, Cao Hong had been deeply impressed by the “Thirteen Forms of Wenyin,” a remarkable classic honed over four centuries, explaining why the Cao and Xiahou clans produced so many generals—Cao Ren, Cao Hong, Cao Zhen, Cao Xiu, Xiahou Dun, Xiahou Yuan, Xiahou Yun, Xiahou Mao, Xiahou Heng, and others all benefited from it.

Now, as Sheng Meizhen spoke of her lineage, Cao Hong asked casually, “May I know which master instructed you, Meizhen?”

With a playful smile, Sheng Meizhen flipped atop Cao Hong, her smooth body pressing against his, her bright eyes mischievous. “It was the Yin Charm, Xu Deng, of the Yin-Yang Duo!”

Cao Hong paused in surprise—though the suspicion had belonged to the former Cao Hong, hearing it confirmed still astonished him. That his own wife was truly the disciple of such a legendary master filled him with a strange feeling. With so many masters—Three Friends, Yin-Yang Duo, Immortal—where did that leave the likes of Lü Bu, Dian Wei, Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, Huang Zhong, Ma Chao? What kind of prodigies were these famed warriors?

Suddenly, Cao Hong found himself filled with curiosity for this era, an urge to explore it firsthand.

“If I cross arms with them, will I not find out…” he thought.

Leng Shouguang, Tang Yu, Lady Ru, Xu Deng, Zhao Bing, Fei Changfang—all were real figures recorded in history, their deeds chronicled in the “Book of the Later Han – Treatise on Methods.” Those interested may seek them out; it is said that these men could cut water with a blade, bring spring to dead wood, and traverse the world in a single thought.