Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Radical Liu Ye

Liu Xun brought Cao Hong into his own martial hall and took down from the weapons rack a spear about eighteen feet long—roughly four meters and twenty centimeters. Its blade was two feet in length, double-edged, with a raised ridge, sharp beyond compare. At the butt end was a lump of red copper, called a “suan” in the parlance of the era—a metal weight affixed to the end of any cavalry weapon, meant to ensure balance. When a horse charges at high speed, the equilibrium of a long-handled weapon is crucial for mounted warriors to strike effectively.

Cao Hong did not favor polearms, for although the long-handled weapons in Liu Xun’s hall were valuable, their balance was lacking, and none could match the ease and familiarity of his own “Nameless.”

Liu Xun brandished the long spear and declared, “This resembles a spear, but its name is horse-lance. Do you know, Zilian, that crafting this horse-lance requires over three years and only a forty percent chance of success?”

Cao Hong searched his memory but could not recall any weapon that demanded so much time to forge. Mystified, he took the horse-lance; his hand touched the shaft, and he immediately sensed something unique. The shaft was not made from a single piece of wood. Typically, after soaking a wooden shaft in pork fat, it would turn slick and smooth, but this one felt lined with parallel grooves.

“This shaft—is it not made from a single piece of wood?” Cao Hong asked in astonishment as he ran his hand along it.

Liu Xun laughed heartily. “The shaft is indeed wooden, but not a single rod. It’s crafted from the finest zhe wood, stripped into uniformly thick strips, then bound together with superior fish glue. Its resilience is extraordinary.”

At his words, Cao Hong bent the shaft forcefully, and it arched like a bow. The recoil was so strong that even this expert nearly lost his grip. Loosening his hold, he exclaimed, “Remarkable resilience!”

Fish glue is made by boiling the inner skin of a fish’s palate and its swim bladder in water, adding a touch of lime, and simmering until thickened. This isn’t something found in an ordinary household—the process is intricate and expensive. Not only fish glue, but even glue from deer, horses, cattle, or rats is rare.

Liu Xun continued, “Not only that. Before gluing, the strips must be soaked in oil for over a year, until they neither crack nor warp. After removing them from the oil, they are air-dried for months, then glued into a shaft. The outer layer is wrapped with hemp twine. Once the twine dries, it is coated with fresh lacquer and wrapped with ramie cloth. Each layer is dried and wrapped again, until finally, when struck with a blade, the shaft rings like metal but does not break. Only then is it considered complete.”

Cao Hong could hardly believe it. Could wood be harder than iron? He drew his “Nameless,” struck the shaft with force, and watched as it vibrated with a humming resonance, yet bore no mark from the blow. He immediately looked at the horse-lance with newfound respect and praised, “This is truly a miraculous weapon! The spearhead is forged from refined steel, incomparably sharp, the red copper suan perfectly balanced. It sits comfortably in the hand, neither tilting nor swaying—a work of a master. Who crafted it?”

Liu Xun replied, “It was commissioned by my old friend in Jingzhou, who paid handsomely for it. It was forged by Pu Tiesheng, apprentice to Master Lu, one of the Three Friends of Dongting. In Lujian, peace prevails and bandits are few, so I have not needed such a weapon. It has sat in my hall for years. Now, Zilian, you have abandoned wealth and family for me. I have always regarded you as a younger brother and could not bear to take advantage of your sacrifice. Therefore, I gift this horse-lance to you.”

Upon hearing this, Cao Hong was overjoyed. Since arriving, he had used only the “Nameless” given by Xu Deng, and ordinary weapons held no appeal for him. This horse-lance, however, was different: hard, resilient, and—most importantly—lighter than typical polearms, with perfect balance. Such a weapon is truly beyond price, rare as a phoenix feather or unicorn horn. In Liu Xun’s estimation, it could not compare to Cao Hong’s holdings in Shuxian, but to Cao Hong, this horse-lance was worth more than gold.

“Brother Zitai, thank you!” Cao Hong said solemnly, expressing his gratitude. Liu Xun smiled, summoned a servant, and had the horse-lance delivered to Cao Hong’s villa. He then spent some time chatting with Cao Hong in the county office. Around noon, Shi A and Liu Ye returned, and the four gathered for a banquet. After drinking heartily, Cao Hong and Shi A took their leave, while Liu Ye escorted them out.

On the road leaving the county office, Liu Ye, his face flushed from drink, spoke to Cao Hong, “General, though I am kin to the Han imperial clan, seeing the world collapse, I have no heart to restore the dynasty—only to protect myself. Yet upon reading Lord Cao’s proclamation, it was as if a tonic poured down my throat, awakening me from a long dream. How can a man of seven feet stand by while chaos reigns? From that moment, I resolved to join you. But my family is still here, my elderly mother remains, so I could not travel far. Now, you have forsaken your fortune for me, and the governor has promised to care for my kin, freeing me from worry and allowing me to pursue my ambitions. My gratitude cannot be expressed in words.”

Cao Hong patted Liu Ye’s shoulder and said, “Sir, though a royal kinsman of the Han, you have chosen to serve in my army—this is our great fortune. When my elder brother learns of your allegiance, he will surely welcome you with open arms.”

Liu Ye sighed, “A kinsman of the Han! Ha! What is a royal kinsman without land or title? A hollow name. When Zheng Bao was arrogant that year, it was only Lord Cao’s authority that resolved the crisis. The world is in turmoil, now is the time for talent and virtue to stand out. Noble houses and royal clans, without true ability, will soon be swept away.”

Cao Hong nodded repeatedly. Liu Ye, though of noble birth, saw the situation clearly and possessed a keen mind. Yet, in Cao Hong’s view, Liu Ye’s outlook was somewhat extreme. Four centuries of the Han had bred, through feudal society’s greatest “achievement,” a class of big landlords and bureaucrats. The sickly hereditary system, recruitment, and civil service examinations had turned the Han bureaucracy into a system of sons inheriting fathers’ posts, disciples following their teachers, clans forming factions, and schools seeking private gain. If now was the time for talent and virtue to prevail, it was still too soon—aristocratic power remained influential.

Of course, Cao Hong would not dampen Liu Ye’s enthusiasm. After all, independent thought was a good thing. Within any group, differing voices often foster growth, just as a special forces unit requires different branches. People may hold divergent views on life, the world, and values, but their faith must be unified.

So, after Liu Ye finished his reflections, Cao Hong praised, “Sir, your insight is enlightening. Tomorrow I must depart for Wu County to recruit soldiers. If you are free, why not join me?”

After Lord Cao issued his call to arms, the Cao family’s name spread throughout the land, and their ancestors were renowned. Liu Ye was no exception. The governor of Wu County, Cao Ding, was Cao Hong’s uncle. In both sentiment and propriety, Liu Ye was bound to pay his respects. He replied, “My whole family has moved to Shuxian. I need but half a day to settle affairs and will gladly accompany you.”

By now, the three had left the county office. Cao Hong stood by his carriage and said, “In that case, I will send someone to fetch you tomorrow.”

After thanking him, the three parted ways. Cao Hong and Shi A boarded their carriage and rode off into the distance.