Chapter 15: Huang Zhong Presents the Blade

"I... lost." Huang Zhong stared blankly at the nine arrows scattered on the ground.

He had lost—lost at the very skill he prided himself on most. Nine arrows in a single draw, each striking true at a vital point—such godlike mastery, even Li Guang reborn could not have hoped to replicate it.

After more than a decade of galloping across battlefields, who could have foreseen that his first defeat would come at the hands of a youth not yet twenty?

Excuses, there were many. For instance: Chen Cong was only strong, his martial skill a complete mess. If not for his warning shout, Chen Cong might not have dodged even three arrows. All his ability lay on horseback—without a mount, his strength was diminished.

But a loss was a loss. Huang Zhong had the magnanimity to admit that, though it pained him that he could not serve his lord unto death.

"May I ask, my lord, when shall I escort your family back to safety?"

Cao Cao returned to himself, his eyes brimming with affection. For a moment, he truly wished to keep Huang Zhong, even knowing that doing so would bring countless uncertainties.

But he could not bear to see such a mighty warrior so dejected.

"Hansheng..."

Huang Zhong exhaled a heavy breath and smiled.

"I wagered and lost. I must keep some dignity. Yet, though Zining is exceedingly brave, his martial arts are scattered and disordered. If given time, I would gladly teach him the essence of the blade."

Cao Cao was overjoyed at these words. He knew his own: Chen Cong had trained for little more than a month and already showed remarkable results. If Huang Zhong instructed him further, invincibility was within reach!

Alas, the imperial decree from Dong Zhuo had already arrived, and Chen Cong had other matters to attend to. Little time remained for the two of them.

Cao Cao gritted his teeth. "Three days—no more than three days."

Huang Zhong nodded and turned to Chen Cong, cupping his fists. "I hope Zining will not disdain advice from one he’s defeated."

"If I had to kneel and bow to become your student, I’d refuse. But if not, then I accept."

Huang Zhong burst out laughing, stroking his beard. "Zining jests! Let us treat it as friends sparring."

"Deal. I won’t take advantage of you. Next time at the Emerald Red Pavilion, drinks are on me."

Ah, well...

Cao Cao kicked Chen Cong behind the knee. "Scoundrel! What nonsense is this! Hansheng, pay him no mind. Matters of the fairer sex, I shall handle personally."

Huang Zhong sucked in a sharp breath, his face twitching uncontrollably. For a moment, he could not tell who was the more outrageous.

...

The next day, before sunrise.

Chen Cong, finally on the right side for once, was about to douse the raging fire at Red Cliff with a heavenly flood—when he suddenly felt a chill race up his back, the wind howling and the sky vast.

He opened his eyes to see Huang Zhong standing solemnly at his bedside, clutching his blanket in a death grip.

"Hansheng, old friend, I don’t owe you money, do I?"

"Far from it. The debt I owe Zining, I shall never forget," Huang Zhong replied.

Chen Cong pointed at the blanket. "Then what’s this? Returning kindness with enmity?"

"The lord has entrusted you with a great task. The burden is heavy. Up early—train your body!"

Chen Cong kept up a cheerful face, but inwardly he cursed. His body clock was set for six in the morning; he never slacked in daily training.

Up early? The moon was still high outside! His mood soured.

Stepping out, he saw Zhi Hua slumped against the wall. In that moment, Chen Cong felt as though a thousand wild horses thundered past in his mind.

"Hansheng, old friend, was this really necessary? She’s a sweet girl—how could you bring yourself to do it?"

Huang Zhong was unmoved. "The lord’s command is heavy. Only by leaving nothing to chance can we seize life from the jaws of death. I showed restraint—she’ll only have a headache when she wakes, nothing more."

For a moment, Chen Cong wanted to grab Huang Zhong by the collar and shout: Fool, the lord you trust is full of schemes—if you cut open his heart, you’d find more holes than you have hairs on your legs. You should worry more about yourself than him!

In the end, Chen Cong relented—not because he couldn’t say it, but because at that moment, Huang Zhong’s mind was filled with nothing but Cao Cao. If Cao Cao claimed the moon was square, he’d believe it. Speaking out would only make him seem small-minded.

As it turned out, a mighty general does not make a good teacher.

Chen Cong finally understood why modern teachers needed certification. Knowing something and being able to explain it clearly are two very different things.

Huang Zhong himself was formidable, but his teaching left much to be desired—worse than any rank-and-file soldier Chen Cong had met. At least old veterans explained things plainly and thoroughly. In Huang Zhong’s case, if not for Chen Cong’s strong reading comprehension, he’d have been hopelessly confused.

Huang Zhong: Move as your heart desires, let the arm extend power swiftly through the wrist to the blade; follow the flow if possible, oppose it if not, add or yield strength as needed, and when force reaches its peak, twist and stir.

Chen Cong first tried to ponder it as a profound martial manual, and later realized it wasn’t that deep. Translated:

Move as your heart desires—empty talk, just do as you wish.

Let the arm extend power swiftly through the wrist to the blade—use explosive force, arm driving wrist, so the blade moves faster.

Follow the flow if possible—inertia, like throwing a shot put: run up, push, release, and the ball flies onward. If you stubbornly hold on, you only get counterforce.

Same with hacking at something: when your force peaks, use the blade’s momentum to strike.

If you meet resistance, either increase force to hack through, or yield in the direction of the counterforce.

When the blade is at its fastest, don’t go straight—twist, adjust angles, avoid letting the opponent easily deflect your force.

Huang Zhong said: If stronger, meet straight with straight, transform trickery with force, strike before the enemy shifts. If weaker, yield to all, conserve strength, and wait for your moment.

In other words: If you’re stronger, go head-to-head with direct force; when the enemy uses tricks, counter their changes. Strike when their moves are in transition. If you’re weaker, no matter what they do, yield and deflect, waiting for your chance at a decisive blow.

Rather than teaching blade techniques, Huang Zhong was imparting the mechanics of force—principles that applied beyond the blade.

Perhaps that’s why the ancients said: Master one method, and all others follow.

Ordinary people know, but doing is another matter; doing well, harder still.

But in Chen Cong’s case, he skipped all the intermediate steps.

From knowing to mastering—it took him only a morning.

Mind you, most of that was spent deciphering Huang Zhong’s convoluted explanations. If not for that, he’d have mastered it in less than half an hour.

And once Chen Cong mastered it, Huang Zhong couldn’t keep up.

At first, Huang Zhong could use his superior skill to feed Chen Cong moves. But after Chen Cong grasped the mechanics, he could make Huang Zhong’s arm go numb in three to five strikes.

By noon, the cold-faced instructor of the morning was sitting at lunch, grimacing as he asked Cao Cao for leave.

"My lord... if time is truly short, perhaps I should escort your family away tomorrow."

"Was Hansheng not to teach Zining the blade?"

"No need. Zining’s talent is extraordinary—he’s grasped the essentials..."

Huang Zhong was on the verge of tears. He genuinely had nothing left to teach.

Techniques? Among top generals, quick eyes and adaptability win the day; fixed patterns are a death sentence. As for basic cuts and slashes, Chen Cong already wielded them with ease—there was nothing left to instruct.

Further progress would require real combat experience, and aside from the mechanics of force, Huang Zhong truly had no more to offer.

Yet, this one thing had taken Huang Zhong two whole years to learn from his father.

Who would have thought that Chen Cong, that monstrous talent, would master it in a single morning?

A student too clever brings no joy to the teacher.

The young surpassing the old too quickly is hard to bear. As one swept away by the tide, he decided to lie peacefully on the sands and accept his fate.