Chapter 53: Striking Against the Wind

“Put down your swords,” Yuan Shao spoke again.

Chen Cong paid no heed, while Sun Jian dared not respond. Anyone confronted by a top swordsman with a blade at their throat would be loath to relinquish their weapon. The other lords, too, dared not rush forward to intervene. Mediation was plausible, but with not a single subordinate present, how could they step in? Had they not seen Chen Cong topple a host of fierce warriors from Jiangdong in mere moments?

Perhaps Chen Cong exercised restraint and would not lash out indiscriminately, but who would gamble their life on another’s self-control?

Yuan Shao’s temples throbbed incessantly. He had deliberately forbidden the lords from bringing their generals into the tent after hearing of Sun Jian’s defeat, hoping to undercut Yuan Shu. Now, the result: Yuan Shu escaped censure, while Sun Jian, the Tiger of Jiangdong, suffered humiliation.

If he could not swiftly restore order, what would become of his authority as alliance leader?

Chen Cong...

Suddenly, Yuan Shao realized Chen Cong was not one of Yuan Shu’s men. He turned abruptly to Cao Cao and called, “Mengde!”

Cao Cao appeared half-asleep, only stirring after Zhang Miao nudged him. He blinked and murmured, “Mengzhuo, why shove me?”

Zhang Miao wiped sweat from his brow and whispered, “The alliance leader calls for you.”

Awakening fully, Cao Cao straightened his robes, stepped forward, and saluted. “Forgive me, alliance leader, my mind wandered.”

Yuan Shao drew a deep breath and spoke gently, “Mengde, you have labored these many days in the march.”

Cao Cao replied loudly, “To serve the Han with loyalty—there is no hardship!”

Yuan Shao detected Cao Cao’s strange demeanor, his eyelids twitching. From ‘I await the alliance leader’s command, ready to give my life,’ to ‘I serve the Han loyally,’ and now acting blind to the tense, sword-drawn standoff in the tent.

He had once thought Chen Cong aided Yuan Shu of his own accord, and that Cao Cao, his childhood friend, would side with him. But now, it seemed matters were far more complicated.

Yuan Shao dared not speak harshly, instead pleading, “Mengde, I ask you to instruct your son-in-law to sheath his sword.”

Cao Cao was secretly amused. The once-proud Yuan Shao, scion of four generations of high office, could also humble himself and beg?

He glanced at the assembled lords; their gazes had changed—three parts respect, seven parts cordiality.

So this was how it felt to have a supreme warrior at one’s side! No wonder Dong Zhuo always kept Lü Bu close. It was exhilarating!

Cao Cao dusted his sleeve lightly and looked at Chen Cong with a smile. “Zining, what are you doing? Put away your sword.”

Swish—

The sword, Tai’a, slid into its scabbard.

Chen Cong edged past Sun Jian’s blade, moved to Cao Cao’s side, and stood at attention.

Cao Cao looked again at Sun Jian. “Wentai, my brother?”

Sun Jian silently sheathed his sword, helped his officers to their feet, and bowed his head in silence. For one so proud, to feel grateful for a mere ‘Wentai, my brother’—how bitter a fate...

Yuan Shu grumbled quietly, “Mengde, why favor Sun Jian? That scoundrel slanders my virtue, utterly vile!”

Cao Cao had to stifle a laugh; Yuan Shu reeked of foolishness.

He himself was not yet free of disgrace, yet wished to strike down Sun Jian in one blow?

The lords were not fools, nor blind; the rights and wrongs were plain to see.

To claim Sun Jian slandered him was laughable. That was merely Chen Cong’s casual fabrications, meant for amusement. Why take them seriously?

Could this matter be pursued further?

Did Sun Jian have time to frame Yuan Shu? If he began plotting before his defeat, it would be madness—he was leading troops at the front, fighting desperately, with no time to slap the grain supervisors about. It made no sense.

Surely he did not, after his rout, have leisure to abduct women and accuse Yuan Shu. If so, his mind was far too relaxed.

To use this as a pretext to kill Sun Jian would cause the alliance to fracture immediately. In the face of tragedy, no one could guarantee they would not be the next victim.

Cao Cao shook his head ever so slightly at Yuan Shu, then turned to address the assembly.

“At a time of grave peril for the nation, we must unite our efforts to slay the traitor. Gentlemen, let us set aside our private grievances and work together, forging a new China!”

“Mengde speaks truly.”

“Well said!” Yuan Shao declared decisively. “Strike camp, march forth!”

...

...

“Sigh!~”

“Sigh….”

“Sigh.”

Cao Cao raised his foot and kicked Chen Cong’s backside, cursing, “What are you sighing for?”

Chen Cong gazed at Cao Cao with longing.

“My second father-in-law is utterly hopeless, mud that cannot be shaped. After this debacle, it will be nearly impossible for him to ever become alliance leader again. Without him in charge, our iron mine is as good as lost.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Huh? Not necessarily?”

Cao Cao climbed onto his chariot, seated himself, and stroked his chin. “Tell me, what kind of alliance leader do the lords desire?”

“What kind?” Chen Cong frowned, pondered, and ventured, “Wise and valiant, highly respected, generous.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Cao Cao smiled. “You speak as a subject choosing a master, not as lords selecting an alliance leader.”

“Then…”

Cao Cao said, “Of course, they want someone close to themselves, someone beneficial. Preferably not too outstanding, so as not to eclipse their own standing.”

“But that’s odd—why did they all promote Yuan Shao before? Yuan Benchu’s reputation is enormous; didn’t he overshadow everyone?”

“Because people’s hearts are hidden; who can guarantee others won’t curry favor with Yuan Shao? If only one or two oppose him, they stand out too much.”

Chen Cong blinked.

A prisoner’s dilemma from ancient times?

Cao Cao stroked his chin and continued, “Moreover, Yuan Shu has two advantages Yuan Shao lacks.”

“Stupid and evil?”

“Arrogant and partial!”

Chen Cong was stunned, then suddenly enlightened.

Arrogance and partiality are not good qualities, but viewed from another angle, they become something else entirely.

Indeed.

Over the next few days, Chen Cong felt firsthand the arrogance of Yuan Mi Shui.

Having caused a colossal disaster, he made no effort to restrain himself. Once the veil was torn away, he brazenly asserted himself.

The eighteen regional lords were divided into clear ranks according to closeness.

Cao Cao and Gongsun Zan, who openly sided with him, had their grain supply doubled on the spot.

Those who merely spoke a few words in his favor saw their allocation rise thirty percent the next day.

Those who remained neutral had their share reduced by ten percent.

Enemies like Yuan Shao and Sun Jian had their rations slashed by thirty percent.

Yet Yuan Shao and Sun Jian were not the worst off.

The most miserable was Tao Qian, who tried to play both sides.

The Xuzhou army could barely receive any grain; at every stop, Tao Qian had to sell off horses, weapons, and armor to buy food. By the time his troops reached Si Shui Pass, they were reduced to the level of the Yellow Turban rebels—pitiful to behold.

When Yuan Shao finally realized something was amiss and sought to strip Yuan Shu of his grain oversight, the majority remained silent.

Those who benefited were embarrassed to speak, for from one perspective, they were feasting on others’ blood.

Those who suffered dared not protest; being targeted merely meant going hungry. If the serpent was not killed, they would be the next Tao Qian. They knew the stakes.

Only Tao Qian, now utterly destitute, could muster tearful complaints against Yuan Shu.

Yet Tao Qian, fearing Yuan Shu’s power, could only voice feeble, meaningless grievances.