Chapter 78: The Ruffian

Henei Commandery was under the jurisdiction of the Capital Inspectorate, bordering Luoyang to the south. Nestled in the heart of the Central Plains, it was blessed with abundant resources and a flourishing population. Though the land was troubled by the rising tides of war, the northern Mang Mountains and two formidable passes sheltered it, so that here, the scent of battle was barely perceptible.

If any trace could be found, it would be that when Wang Kuang, the former administrator of Henei, betrayed Dong Zhuo to raise arms in answer to Yuan Shao’s call, he took with him a number of able-bodied men. Yet, compared to other places, this land was nothing short of paradise.

Heyang was the largest county in Henei. Though not as prosperous as Huai or Yewang, its population was still dense and lively.

In the early morning, a mist shrouded the sky. Traders rose with the dawn, packing wild goods, straw mats, firewood and the like, some pushing single-wheeled carts, others bearing loads on their shoulders, all entering the city to sell their wares. There were also runners coming to buy, brokers acting as middlemen, and idlers wandering without purpose. At the city gate, a long line formed as soon as day broke, all waiting for the four gates to open.

Behind each gate, more than thirty Xiliang armored soldiers, bristling with weapons, emerged to inspect those entering the city. As it was still early, the guards yawned incessantly, their faces listless and inattentive. If someone looked agreeable, they waved him through; if not, a few coins sufficed to settle the matter.

All proceeded as usual...

“Next, next,” the squad leader urged impatiently, waving his hand.

Suddenly, the sky darkened. Looking up, he saw a towering man, broad as a mountain, whose very presence blocked the scant sunlight at the gate.

A chill ran down the squad leader’s spine; he instinctively stepped back two paces. But then, remembering he was armed and this was merely a burly commoner, he straightened his back and strode forward, pressing the scabbard of his sword against the man’s chest.

“Where are you from, brute? What are you carrying?” he sneered.

“Weapons,” the giant replied.

“Weapons?” The squad leader scoffed, tapping the man's chest with the scabbard. “You ignorant fool! This city is now under the command of the Central General. How dare you bring weapons inside?”

As the scabbard tapped against metal with a dull thud, the squad leader sensed something amiss.

“What are you hiding under your coat? Open it up!” he barked.

In the meantime, Dian Wei had already estimated the numbers: thirty-two men at the gate, more than twenty behind, and over a hundred archers on the walls. Beneath his coat, he wore armor—unless struck in a vital spot, the arrows from above would do him no harm.

He calmly reached up and opened his outer garment, revealing the grimy armor beneath.

The squad leader froze in shock. In that instant, Dian Wei raised his massive fist and struck the man’s chest with a thunderous blow. A crisp crack rang out; the squad leader’s eyes bulged with disbelief as he staggered forward, collapsed to his knees, and blood pooled beneath him.

For a moment, the surrounding guards were stunned, then all drew their swords.

“Enemy attack!”

“Sound the drums, send word!”

“Close the gates, quickly!”

The outbreak of violence sent the nearby townsfolk fleeing in terror, scattering in all directions and exposing fifty armored soldiers mingled in the crowd.

Dian Wei, composed, slung down his pack, untied the rope, and pulled out a short halberd, hurling it at the drummer on the wall. The weapon spun through the air in a graceful arc, piercing the man’s back and bursting from his chest. Blood spattered across the drum before the mallet could fall, and the man’s desperate hands slid down, leaving two crimson streaks on the drumhead.

Without bothering to retie the sack, Dian Wei hung it from his shoulder guard, lifted two menacing iron halberds, and charged into the fray.

The long halberd in his right hand measured eight feet, each sweep deadly—anyone grazed was crippled, any struck outright was slain. The short halberd in his left was five feet, deft and agile, reserved for close combat; he targeted soft bellies and vital spots, and with a twist, spilled white entrails onto the ground.

Dian Wei’s eyes remained fixed on the war drum above. If anyone reached for the mallet, he drew another short halberd from his sack and hurled it, each throw swift and lethal.

Within ten breaths, thirty-two men at the gate lay dead, and three more on the wall had fallen.

At last—with a loud bang—the war drum sounded just before the gate slammed shut. At that instant, a bloodstained hand slapped heavily against the door, and through the gap, a face twisted in a cold smile glared in.

The guards behind the door broke out in a cold sweat, straining with all their might to hold the gate shut. But with the strength of that single arm, the door began to open, inch by inch, as if some ghost were forcing its way in.

To look or not to look, the demon was just a door away. To flee or not to flee, they feared the demon would burst through.

But their agony was brief; Dian Wei’s fifty armored men soon arrived. With their combined strength, pushing open the gate was effortless.

A storm of slaughter followed, and in the blink of an eye, not a soul was left alive beneath the walls.

As for the Xiliang troops on the ramparts, they had long since vanished.

Dian Wei, dragging his halberds through the city, gave a casual order: “Scatter and search. Find where the enemy holds; use whistles to signal.”

“Ah... General, if we meet the enemy, what then?” one asked.

“Don’t waste words. Blow your whistles, I’ll handle the rest.”

The soldiers exchanged glances, speechless. Was the only reason this fierce man kept them around to serve as scouts?

Ruthless...

At the west gate, progress was even swifter.

Huang Zhong, calm and steady, was also supremely brave, though less savage than Dian Wei. Mounted beneath the walls, his treasured eagle-bow loosed arrow after arrow, felling dozens. The rest, terrified, abandoned their posts and fled.

Yu Jin led the main force into the city, seizing the streets, securing the granaries and rice stores, and driving the routed foes south.

Only when Huang Zhong remembered that Dian Wei had few men did he send Yu Jin north to assist. They found Dian Wei still stalking the streets, iron halberds in hand, a silver-helmed head—the city’s commander—hanging from his belt. All fifty crack soldiers had become mere scouts.

Yu Jin pointed at the head. “General Dian, why didn’t you let the enemy commander live to send a message?”

Dian Wei grunted. “I meant to let him go, but the fool tried to shoot me from horseback, so I killed him with a thrown halberd.”

Yu Jin was left speechless. One main general, one deputy, both unstoppable, and yet he had no chance to distinguish himself.

...

The scouts rode hard, exhausting two swift horses along the way, and in barely a day and two nights reached Sishui.

“Disaster! Disaster! Grand Preceptor, terrible news!”

Dong Zhuo, slumbering in the arms of a beauty, was jolted awake by the urgent report and tumbled from his bed in shock.

He hastily dressed and went out at once.

The other generals arrived, alarmed by the commotion.

“Grand Preceptor, it’s terrible!”

Dong Zhuo pressed his forehead, took a deep breath, and snapped, “Out with it!”

“The Central General, the Northern Central General—they’ve been killed in battle!”

The Northern Central General?

Yang Ding!

Dong Zhuo collapsed into his chair, blood surging, his vision swimming.

The other generals gasped, their faces grim as death.

Yang Ding... the commander of Mengjin Pass!

If he had fallen, did it not mean the enemy could reach Luoyang within days?

With Tiger Trap Pass ahead barring all advance, were Luoyang to fall, there would be no road home. Where then would the two hundred thousand Xiliang troops go?

“Meng... Mengjin... Is Mengjin lost?” Dong Zhuo’s face was ashen, his lips quivering uncontrollably.

He had no time to wonder where such formidable enemy troops had come from.

“Not yet, sir!”

Mengjin was not lost, but Yang Ding was dead?

Could it be that Yang Ding, leading from the front, was struck by a stray arrow?

Dong Zhuo fumed, “If you make me ask again, I’ll have you fed to the dogs!”

“Y-yes, your servant knows his guilt.”

The scout kowtowed repeatedly. “On the ninth day of the third month, the enemy struck Heyang, and the Northern Central General fell.”

“Wait!” Dong Zhuo frowned. “Why would Yang Ding, not stationed at Mengjin, die at Heyang?”

“Mengjin... there’s no entertainment there. After you left Luoyang, the General kept three thousand men stationed at Heyang...”

Dong Zhuo’s fury shook his very liver. He cursed, “Good, good! If he weren’t dead already, I’d flay him alive! Go—send word to Luoyang’s commander Dong Yue. For Yang Ding’s folly, let his family be handed over for the garrison’s pleasure.”