Chapter 47: Fierce Zhang Fei Causes an Uproar Among the Allied Forces

Chen Cong returned to his tent, ate and drank his fill, and drifted off to sleep. After days of marching, his body wasn’t particularly weary, but his spirit felt drained. They had only just reached Suanzao, and who could say what awaited at Sishui Pass?

Chen Cong had figured it out: the more people in an army, the slower it moves, and the slower it moves, the more exhausting it is. Now that the armies had merged, the allied forces totaled over three hundred thousand strong—a massive host that would only lumber along. It would take at least ten days, if not more, to reach Sishui Pass. In contrast, a small detachment could march quickly for a few days, rest briefly, and recover with ease.

Chen Cong didn’t know how long he had slept, lost in a muddled doze, when a commotion outside the tent roused him.

“General Xu, you can’t go in!”

“Oh? Chen Zining really knows how to put on airs. I could walk right into the lord’s tent—what, is Chen Cong more precious than our master?”

“The general’s orders are clear, sir: no one is to enter while he sleeps. Please, don’t make things difficult for me.”

“Out of my way!”

A dull thud sounded, and Xu Chu frowned down at the fallen guard. “What? You’re a woman?!”

Chen Ten coughed up a spatter of blood and struggled to her feet. She had once thought that standing out among a hundred household servants would guarantee her achievements in the army, but now such notions seemed laughably naïve.

“General Xu, you’re mistaken. This is a military camp—only soldiers here, no women.”

Xu Chu ignored her, striding into the tent with large, impatient steps.

Chen Ten tried to block him again, but a wave of nausea rolled through her, and her legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

Three heartbeats later, Xu Chu came flying out—literally, this time.

His massive body crashed to the ground, making the earth tremble. He clutched his eye, his broad, rugged face twisted in part outrage, part wounded pride, as he bellowed into the tent, “Chen Cong! You sneak! How base of you!”

Inside, Chen Cong emerged, flexing his wrist as he sauntered out. He shot a feigned glare at Chen Ten, scolding, “What’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you warn Zhongkang? I tend to kill in my sleep.”

Chen Eleven was stunned. She’d never heard the general had such a habit—if it were true, wouldn’t the lady of the house be in constant danger? But then it dawned on her: there was no such thing as killing in one’s sleep; the general was simply avenging her.

“My apologies, sir.”

Chen Cong grinned and helped Xu Chu up. “Fatty Xu, see how awkward this is? I didn’t mean to hit you, but this—well, it’s my affliction... And this little guard—can’t even speak properly. Just try to understand.”

Xu Chu snorted with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

He understood all too well and could only swallow his indignation.

Back in the tent… He’d seen Chen Cong turn, had seen the punch coming, and yet, he’d still been knocked out the door. To explain the truth would be even more humiliating—it was easier to just accept Chen Cong’s nonsense, and pretend it was his own carelessness that got him thrown out.

“Let it go—it’s beneath me to argue.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the council meeting with my father-in-law? Why are you back?”

“Oh, right!” Xu Chu slapped his forehead, remembering his errand. “A black-faced brute showed up in camp, claiming you nominated his brother as the alliance leader. He’s making a scene in the main tent, and the lord wants you to come and clear things up.”

A gust of cool wind passed, and Chen Cong shivered. Zhang Fei’s brashness was no surprise, but Liu Bei’s failure to rein him in was utterly unexpected.

Stranger still…

“With so many generals in the main tent, not one can stop a single black brute?”

“Oh, don’t even ask. The lord forbade me from using force, and those other commanders from the allied lords are all useless—good for nothing but wine and food!”

Chen Cong was even more puzzled. Why wouldn’t his father-in-law let Xu Chu intervene? Wasn’t Cao Cao supposed to be a minor underling to Yuan Shao? If they were content to let their brother-in-arms be insulted, why call him in to explain?

Still, Chen Cong kept his wits about him and ordered, “Go fetch my Crouching Tiger Blade.”

“Yes, sir.”

Xu Chu asked, bewildered, “Didn’t you give up the blade for the spear? And didn’t your blade get broken?”

“With your intellect, it’s hard to explain the intrigues of clever men.”

“Bah! Always putting on airs.”

…

When they arrived at the allied command tent, several officers lay piled like slaughtered pigs, while others looked on in cold amusement.

Zhang Fei sat atop the heap, laughing boisterously, hurling insults at the assembled lords.

“Liu Dai, you cur! Who are you to question my brother’s imperial lineage? Bah! And you, Yuan Shu, is it? When the three of us put down the Yellow Scarves, you were still suckling at your mother’s breast—how dare you look down on my brother’s rank? If you ask me, in this whole tent of lords, only my brother, Gongsun of Baima, and that Cao Cao who stabbed Dong Zhuo are worthy of being called heroes. The rest are nothing! But since Chen Cong nominated my brother as alliance leader, you two should stop squabbling—it’ll be my brother, no question!”

Chen Cong’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

So Liu Dai had questioned Liu Bei’s imperial kinship? No wonder Liu Bei hadn’t tried to stop it. That imperial bloodline was Liu Bei’s very foundation—if Liu Dai dared to challenge it, Liu Bei’s restraint in not slapping him outright was remarkable. Why would he stop Zhang Fei from asserting his authority?

And as for black-faced, fierce Zhang Fei—he appeared to have insulted every one of the eighteen warlords, but in truth, he’d only trampled two: Liu Dai and Yuan Shu.

Liu Dai, as Inspector of Yanzhou, was constantly at odds with the various commanderies of his province; this was not a personal conflict, but a political one. An inspector, unlike a governor, held neither military nor civil power—his only authority was to supervise and restrain the commanderies. Without the power to appoint or dismiss officials, his authority depended entirely on the respect of his subordinates; if they ignored him, he was nothing. Especially now that Dong Zhuo held sway over the court and imperial edicts never left Luoyang, there were plenty who resented Liu Dai—among them Zhang Miao, Prefect of Chenliu; Bao Xin, Administrator of Jibei; Qiao Mao, Administrator of Dongjun; and Yuan Yi, Administrator of Shanyang. If Liu Dai had truly been able to control these men, he wouldn’t have been cut down by Yellow Turban remnants later on.

Yuan Shu had fewer political enemies, but Zhang Fei’s attack on him would secretly please Yuan Shao. Even if Yuan Shao felt obliged to defend his kinsman’s honor, he certainly wouldn’t go so far as to crush the trio.

Most importantly, Zhang Fei knew whom to draw in. Gongsun Zan and Liu Bei were as close as brothers, commanding three thousand elite White Horse Cavalry. While not the most famous among the warlords, they were among the most powerful. Cao Cao was the opposite—less powerful, but of great renown, and wielding the imperial edict to claim moral authority.

If anyone thought this wasn’t orchestrated behind the scenes, Chen Cong would never believe it.

Cao Cao caught sight of Chen Cong and winked exaggeratedly. “Chen Cong! You tell us—did you not say earlier that Yuan Benchu, scion of four generations of high office, famed across the land, was fit to be alliance leader? Why the sudden change of heart?”

The tacit understanding between father-in-law and son-in-law was clear—Chen Cong understood instantly.

He turned to Zhang Fei with a look of blank confusion. “Who are you?”

“Huh?” Zhang Fei leapt off the pile, jabbing a finger at his own blackened face as he strode over. “Me? Zhang Fei, Zhang Yide! We just met by the banks of the Ji River!”

“What Ji River? You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

Seeing how certain Chen Cong was, and noting the long blade in his hand, Zhang Fei hesitated.

“Don’t you also have a spear?”

Chen Cong grinned—not at Zhang Fei, but at the man beside him, a giant of seven and a half feet with arms hanging to his knees.

Enunciating each word, he declared, “Are you joking? Who in all the land does not know that I, Chen, am a master of the blade?”