Chapter 58: Golden Ideas

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Southern Palace, Hall of Virtuous Governance.

A sneeze on the steps sent the assembled ministers prostrating, none daring to lift their heads.

Dong Zhuo rubbed his nose and climbed the long flight, casting a sidelong glance at Liu Xie.

“Rebel armies sow disaster; three hundred thousand strong now press on Sishui Pass, and the realm teeters on the edge of chaos. Yet why do I see no sorrow on the Emperor’s face?”

Liu Xie hurriedly bowed his head and stammered, “I… I have the Grand Tutor. I fear no traitors.”

Dong Zhuo burst into laughter. “Well said, Your Majesty! With two hundred thousand armored men under my command and the finest cavalry in the land, whoever stands with me stands as firm as Mount Tai!”

After a brief silence, the courtiers echoed their assent.

Whatever they truly felt, none dared provoke Dong Zhuo. When that demon lord became enraged, he truly killed without hesitation.

Yet their submission brought not peace, but only emboldened further tyranny.

“Where is Grand Preceptor Yuan Kui?”

Yuan Kui stepped forth and bowed. “What does the Grand Tutor command?”

Dong Zhuo waved his hand carelessly. “Take him out and behead him. Make his skull into a chamber pot and deliver it to the rebels’ camp. I want Yuan Shao to see what comes of defying me. And don’t spare the Yuan clan.”

Yuan Kui collapsed on the spot, trembling and speechless.

“Father-in-law, you mustn’t!”

Dong Zhuo shot Li Ru a cold look, drew his sword, and stabbed it into the floor.

“Well, if it isn’t the Minister of the Imperial Physician, ever fond of siding with outsiders! Speak, what is your advice?”

“Father-in-law…”

“In court, who is your father-in-law? Besides, I am not blessed with so filial a son-in-law as you.”

Li Ru glanced at the imperial steps, wishing to whisper counsel but not daring to overstep. He could only steel himself and say, “Lord Yuan’s reputation is great. Killing him rashly may wound the hearts of the scholars throughout the realm.”

Dong Zhuo laughed in fury. “Excellent! Well said! The scholars of the realm—tsk, tsk. When scholars rise in rebellion, do they ask if my heart is wounded? If you care so much for them, why not join him?”

A chill ran down Li Ru’s spine; in Dong Zhuo’s eyes, he glimpsed murderous intent.

Startled, he bowed and withdrew, not daring to utter another word.

With no one left to dissuade him, armored guards seized Yuan Kui and, moments later, returned with a bloodied head.

Just as Dong Zhuo prepared to further intimidate the court, a sudden commotion arose outside.

“Report!”

A scout rushed up the palace steps, knelt with one knee, and presented a dispatch. “Grand Tutor, a message from Commander Hu Zhen at Sishui Pass.”

Dong Zhuo, eager to cow the court, did not catch the subtlety in the scout’s tone. He waved a hand. “Read it!”

“Grand Tutor! This cannot be read aloud!”

Li Ru, heedless of Dong Zhuo’s wrath, snatched the bamboo tube and clutched it to his chest. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself. “The contents are confidential, unsuitable for all ears. I beg Grand Tutor to reconsider.”

For this defiant son-in-law, Dong Zhuo’s patience was spent. He dragged his sword down the steps and rested it on Li Ru’s shoulder.

“I said, read.”

Li Ru clung to the tube, the sharp blade cutting his neck so that warm blood trickled down his collar, tickling as it went.

He locked eyes with Dong Zhuo’s murderous gaze.

In that moment, Li Ru was suddenly at peace. The bold, unrestrained Dong Zhuo of old was not grown old but dead—dead amid the endless revelry of Luoyang.

Compared to the ceaseless winds of desolate Liangzhou, Luoyang’s splendor was overwhelming.

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It wore down ambition and clouded the heart’s original purpose.

Was this what was meant by “adversity breeds survival, ease brings death”?

Having orchestrated regicide with his own hands, Li Ru now found some sense in Confucian thought. How absurd.

It wasn’t that he balked at bloodshed—merely that there was no point anymore...

He opened the bamboo tube, glanced at the dispatch, and thought, as expected.

Then he read aloud: “On the third day, Commander Hua Xiong refused all counsel, led five hundred cavalry out to challenge the enemy, and was defeated by Chen Cong in single combat. Hua Xiong was captured; one hundred seventy-four cavalry lost. The rebel force is now pressing the attack on Sishui Pass. I beg for urgent reinforcements. Respectfully, Hu Zhen.”

Li Ru’s voice was not loud, but every ear in the hall caught each word.

Clang!

Dong Zhuo’s sword fell to the floor as he seized the dispatch, trembling with rage.

“Sound the drums! Summon the generals!”

...

“Advance!”

“Shields up!”

“Set the ladders!”

Before Sishui Pass, the coalition army launched a new assault. Bugles blared, morale soared.

Yet on the walls, arrows fell like rain, wave after wave.

As the vanguard reached the base and raised the siege ladders, they were greeted by falling rocks, rolling logs, boiling tung oil, and molten gold, ignited by flaming arrows from above. Below the walls, it became a scene of hell.

Hua Xiong, the defender, had been captured.

The coalition’s morale was high, their numbers overwhelming.

Yet thirty thousand against five thousand, they had stormed the pass for seven days without rest and still failed to break through.

Over there, Yue Jin stripped to his outer armor, muscles bulging, strong bow slung across his back, crossbow at his waist.

Knife in his left hand, shield in his right, he crashed them together for focus before stepping forward. “Lord, I go now.”

Cao Cao looked worriedly at the pass and cautioned, “Be careful, Wenqian.”

“Fear not, my lord.”

On a war chariot, Chen Cong felt a surge of relief that he commanded cavalry, not infantry.

Siege warfare was truly inhuman.

If he had to rank military achievements by difficulty, “first over the wall” would top the list.

The danger went without saying—it was sheer terror.

Especially the thought of boiling gold poured from above. To even imagine the smell was enough to make his stomach churn.

He’d rather charge through Xiliang’s tens of thousands seven times over than attempt a scaling assault once.

Damn it!

All Hua Xiong’s fault!

If only that stubborn fool had surrendered and opened the gates, none of this would be necessary!

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At this thought,

Chen Cong leapt from his chariot, grabbed the bound and bundled Hua Xiong, and produced a willow switch he’d prepared. With a crack, he began to thrash him.

As he struck, he shouted, “Will you surrender? Will you? Will you?”

Hua Xiong, incensed, strained against his bonds and bellowed, “A man can be killed, not humiliated! Grant me a swift death! Cao Cao, will you permit your son-in-law to insult me so?”

Cao Cao intervened, “Enough, Zining. His family and clan are all in Luoyang—he will not surrender.”

Chen Cong tossed aside the willow switch, exasperated. “So what now? We’ve spent seven days at this little Sishui Pass and haven’t even touched the wall. How long will it take to storm Hulao Pass behind it—a year or two? I’d like to get home and hold my child!”

In an army of rough men, just thinking of Cao Rong...

Sometimes, Chen Shi even felt like a woman herself.

No, wait.

She was a woman, just not one who looked the part...

Cao Cao, puzzled, asked, “What are you saying, Zining? Sishui Pass is also called Hulao Pass, named for when King Zhou hunted tigers here.”

Chen Cong forced a laugh. “Ha, ha, I actually knew that—I only misspoke to test Father-in-law.”

Cao Cao rolled his eyes in disdain.

How could such a fool raise a child properly?

“If Rong’er bears a daughter, name her Chen Wei and you shall raise her. If a son, call him Chen Du, and he will be sent to me to study.”

What the—!

Chen Cong was stunned. All his hard-earned efforts would end up benefiting someone else?

Intolerable!

Worse, what kind of name was that—Chen Du? Like calling a child ‘calf’? Good families don’t give livestock names to their kids.

“Fine! If my son’s named Chen Du, then your next son will be called Cao Woodwood.”

Cao Cao scolded, “Nonsense! Who names a child ‘Cao Woodwood’?”

Chen Cong shouted, “And ‘Chen Du’ is a proper name?”

Cao Cao slapped his forehead, his blood pressure rising.

He always forgot his son-in-law was an uneducated fool.

“‘Du’ means a bamboo slip—a record or a book. Why not a proper name?”

“...Well said.”

With that, Cao Cao kicked him off the chariot. “Get lost! I can’t stand the sight of you.”

“When you were collecting deeds the other day, you didn’t seem to mind,” Chen Cong muttered.

“Go win a few more deeds from Yuan Shu and I’ll fan you and sew clothes for you.”

Chen Cong fell silent.

Even the ancients practiced emotional manipulation? So this is the real Cao the Thief.

Down from the chariot,

Chen Cong wandered to the front lines to watch the men man the siege crossbows.

These massive engines required ten men to pull the string, and each bolt was thicker than a man’s arm. Yet even these were useless against the strongest pass in the realm.

The thick bolts smashed into the walls and vanished without effect.

Chen Cong had considered dismantling one to use as a bow, but it was simply too big—upright, it towered over him. He was no weakling, but couldn’t aim such a giant weapon.

“Wait a second! Maybe I can’t operate the siege crossbow—but what if I shoot myself into the city? I really am a genius!”