Chapter 71: The Demon King Shows His Weakness

Chen Cong had laughed enough. Leading Jueying by the reins, he strolled leisurely back toward the city.

He was met by an endless, turbulent sea of people.

Soldiers stood atop the city walls and lined both sides of the main road, their faces flushed, weapons raised high.

The cry of “Invincible!” echoed on and on without ceasing.

He hadn’t felt the force of it from below the walls, but now, in the midst of it, he realized just how terrifying the wave of sound could be.

Caught within it, even if you shouted directly into someone’s ear, your voice would vanish beneath the roar.

A faint smile played at his lips as Chen Cong paused in the middle of the throng, spread his arms wide, and slowly closed his eyes. He was like a deity receiving the feverish worship of his followers, savoring the glory of this moment to the fullest—the glory that belonged to him alone.

In this moment,

The people truly believed, from the depths of their hearts, that following such a general meant they would live to see the final victory.

And so...

Wasn’t this the very meaning of a peerless warrior’s existence—to strike fear into the enemy, and grant courage and hope to his own brothers-in-arms?

Cao Cao leapt up and embraced his son-in-law, clutching him as tightly as a miser grasping a treasured jade, utterly refusing to let go.

The proudest moments of his life weren’t killing corrupt nobles with the Five-Colored Staff, or plotting against Dong Zhuo and earning fame, or the heady days of raising arms in Qiao County.

It was simply that day, long ago in the woodshed, when he’d asked one more question—and then, without hesitation, married off his daughter.

The rest of them smiled, some with envy, some with regret.

Regret that they had no daughters, or regret that they’d not met Chen Cong earlier—how had that cunning Cao Aman managed to seize the chance first?

In the end, Chen Cong managed to slip away, the head-splitting roar as much a reason as his dislike of being hugged by burly men.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, a faint sigh sounded from a corner, stark against the surrounding excitement.

Limping Pan Feng cast a sideways glance at the “rice dumpling” beside him.

“What are you sighing about, you rascal? Did you see that iron-banded bow Invincible Chen was carrying? That’s mine!”

Hua Xiong rolled his eyes in disdain.

What was wrong with this guy? Hadn’t he just been complaining, “Chen Cong is so unscrupulous, taking my beloved bow while I was unconscious”?

And now he’s calling him “Invincible Chen”? Now he’s basking in reflected glory?

Pan Feng grew even more animated, folding his arms with pride. “What’s with that look? Don’t believe I can, like Invincible Chen, draw a three-stone hard bow?”

Hua Xiong’s disdain only deepened.

What a pity...

If Chen Zining hadn’t interfered back then, he’d be winning twenty bouts with his broadsword right now—thrashing this oaf before him!

How frustrating!

The tiger fallen to the plain is tormented by dogs; a molting phoenix is no match for a chicken.

...

After returning to camp and changing his clothes, Chen Cong set about demolishing two buckets of sesame flatbread and four pots of mutton, eating with gusto.

A crowd had gathered around him, and those not sturdy enough couldn’t even make it to the front.

Poor Cao Cao, so delighted moments ago to be hugging his son-in-law, now found himself shoved to the edge by Xu Chu’s massive backside, cursing “Scoundrel!” in frustration.

Chen Cong enjoyed the cheers, but had no intention of being treated like a zoo animal. He tossed aside half a mutton leg and glared at those around him.

“What’s wrong with you people? Never seen anyone eat before?”

“You can still eat?” Xu Chu squeezed his broad face into the front row, licking his lips.

Chen Cong snorted with laughter. “Fatty Xu, is something wrong with you? I’m invincible—why shouldn’t I eat? You lot, who can’t even beat Lü Bu, still eat and sleep just fine, don’t you?”

Swish!

In an instant, more than half the crowd vanished.

He’s back, the Chen Cong they knew—just as insufferable as ever.

To think they’d actually been worried about him; so much for good intentions!

With fewer people around, Cao Cao hurried to squeeze in, looking Chen Cong up and down.

“Father-in-law, that’s enough!”

“I’m just curious—why were you so serious earlier?”

All the boisterous men pricked up their ears; they were curious too...

They’d thought sharp-tongued Chen Zining would talk Lü Bu into a fit of rage.

Yet he’d been almost polite to Lü Bu.

Or at least, polite with his words...

Chen Cong’s expression darkened.

What do you mean, “so serious”? Am I not usually a serious person?

“A warrior faces another on the field—why insult him? To belittle the enemy is to belittle oneself.”

There’s a time for jest, and a time for respect. A worthy opponent must always be treated with respect.

It’s simple: if Chen Cong really believed Lü Bu was a fool, what did that make himself?

Besides, his victory over Lü Bu in a hundred rounds was, if he was honest, achieved through cunning.

In a true contest of skill, another one or two hundred rounds might not guarantee victory—he could well have lost.

If Lü Bu were truly worthless, wouldn’t that just make it a battle of weaklings?

Cao Cao was stunned, then burst out laughing and clapped Chen Cong on the shoulder. “Zining, you’ve truly matured.”

Damn, this is getting more absurd by the minute.

“Father-in-law, do you actually have something to say, or can I get back to eating?”

“Hahaha! Nothing, nothing. Eat, eat—watching you eat brings me joy.”

Chen Cong: ...

...

Meanwhile, in the Liang camp, gloom hung thick in the air.

Dong Zhuo sat slumped in his chair, so distraught he hadn’t even bothered to lay out a cushion.

His mind replayed, again and again, the sight of Chen Cong leaping up to strike Lü Bu down.

Was Lü Bu to blame?

How could he be?

Should he be blamed for lacking courage?

The memory of Lü Bu facing three heroes at once was still vivid. If that wasn’t courage, then the rest of Dong Zhuo’s generals might as well go home and farm.

Should he be blamed for not risking his life?

With hands bloodied and arms limp, what more could he possibly do? He couldn’t very well bite Chen Cong to death...

Or was it for not using the Flying Bear archers?

Now Dong Zhuo wasn’t even sure if five hundred Flying Bears could kill Chen Cong. Didn’t Hu Zhen sob and refuse to return to Hulao Pass, desperate to avoid being sent to atone for his failures? If fifty thousand soldiers couldn’t kill Chen Cong, could five hundred archers succeed?

He even wondered if things might have turned out differently had he been kinder to Cao Cao, or simply married his daughter to Chen Cong.

And as for Fan Chou...

It turned out the man wasn’t useless at all—the enemy was simply too formidable.

Truly, until Chen Cong falls, Hulao Pass cannot be taken!

But there was one thing Dong Zhuo didn’t know.

Fan Chou, in secret, had erected a longevity tablet for Chen Cong, and at this very moment was making offerings to the Bodhisattva...

“Foster father, I...” Lü Bu tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Dong Zhuo waved him off, dazed. “Enough, Fengxian. Go find the army physician and have your arms bandaged.”

Lü Bu exhaled heavily. His arms felt like lead, barely able to move. He bowed and withdrew.

Dong Zhuo sat in a stupor for a while, then suddenly noticed Li Ru standing nearby and called out, “Wenyou...”

Li Ru opened his eyes and came forward, bowing. “Grand Tutor.”

Grand Tutor...

Dong Zhuo rolled the words around in his mouth, then gave a bitter smile. “Wenyou, do you blame me?”

Li Ru replied coolly, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Wenyou, is there any way to win over Cao Cao?”

Li Ru sneered inwardly. So—the demon king could feel fear after all. And in fear, even regain his senses.

But it was far too late for that...

“Cao Cao is the leader of those opposing the imperial edict. Even if the Grand Tutor wished to win him over, he would never dare defect—nor would he want to.”

Dong Zhuo pressed on, “What about Chen Zining? He has no such edict hanging over him.”

Li Ru felt a chill in his bones.

Chen Zining... how intimate that sounded!

He, Li Ru, had devoted himself to Dong Zhuo, and for that was called only by his office, with a sword at his throat.

But Chen Cong?

A blood-stained executioner, slayer of countless Liang warriors, and captor of the great general Hua Xiong.

And now, out of fear, you call him Zining?

How bitterly ironic!

“If the Grand Tutor wishes to try, then try. Send Li Su to speak with him.”

Dong Zhuo nodded thoughtfully, and silence once more swallowed the great tent.