Chapter Forty: I Wish to Ride the Wind to Infinity

On the ramparts of Ye City, the royal banners shifted, and the province of Jizhou changed its surname to Yuan.

What this meant for all of Jizhou, even Hebei, Zhang Yu did not yet know.

He had no idea that Jizhou had just been handed over to Yuan Shao by Han Fu.

Though he hailed from a later age and was an ardent enthusiast of the Three Kingdoms, he never paid much attention to the exact timing of such pivotal events. Moreover, the administrative seat of Zhongshan, Lunu City, was far from Ye, so news had yet to reach him.

At this moment, Zhang Yu wore a silver winged mask, leisurely riding his white steed, accompanied by his six loyal companions as they made their way along a mountain path.

Their destination was none other than—Wuji County.

It was his first time being permitted to ride his white horse for such a journey, for at seventeen, he had reached an age in the ancient world considered capable of bearing responsibility.

Look at his large-eared uncle—at twenty-three he went off to fight the Yellow Turbans, and how old could Guan and Zhang have been at the time?

Does one not recall Han Zhongjun, who at barely twenty bound captives and prayed for glory? Not to mention Huo Qubing, who was made Champion Marquis at seventeen and conquered the Xiongnu at twenty-two, or little Gan Luo, appointed as Prime Minister at twelve. If he remained locked away, cherished and protected, it would not do.

A man ought to read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles; the books, he had already devoured in this strange world, now was the time to traverse those miles.

After much persuasion, Zhang Shiping, having witnessed Han Long’s martial prowess and considered the distance from Wuji to Lunu, finally agreed.

The seven of them, after their journey through Changshan, had grown closer and more united. Zhang Biao, who once sparred with Han Long when Zhang Yu first met the refugees, now found himself bested even in play by the eleven-year-old child.

Their laughter echoed as scenery passed by, the wilderness gradually giving way to the scattered signs of habitation, and Wuji City drew ever nearer.

Within the city, at the Zhen residence:

“Luo’er! Fifth Sister?” the eldest sister Zhen Jiang called out.

“What is it, Elder Sister? Luo’er is right here,” little Zhen Luo replied, skipping out of her room, a sheet of white paper in hand, upon which another poem seemed to be transcribed.

“Is my Luo’er still diligently studying? Rest for a while. We’re visiting the Wang family at noon today; tidy yourself up soon.”

“The Wang family?” Zhen Luo nodded obediently, then returned to her room.

“This child, ever since she learned that Gentleman Yu is actually Zhang Yu, has become lively and adorable, knowing so much at such a young age,” Zhen Jiang smiled gently, and turned to another courtyard.

...

“Reporting, my lord! At the gate is a man, claiming to be Xun Yu of Yingchuan, courtesy name Wenruo, come especially—”

“Who?”

“Xun Yu, Wenruo.”

The man upon the couch hurriedly rose, slipped on his shoes, and rushed outside, jogging to the front of the residence.

“Is it the renowned Xun Wenruo with the talent of a king’s advisor?”

“Yu dares not accept such praise,” the man bowed slightly in greeting.

He stood tall and handsome, with a well-trimmed beard, a subtle fragrance about him; his very appearance was enough to awe onlookers.

“If you are Xun Yu, Wenruo, then I am he.”

“Your talent precedes you, Wenruo. I had heard you served under Yuan Benchu. Yet I must ask, why, when Benchu has just claimed Jizhou and covets Hebei, do you abandon him for me, when my forces are so meager?”

The words, though polite, carried a forceful tone uncommon in guests. Were it Liu Bei, he would have instantly invited Xun Yu inside for a private discussion.

Yet Xun Yu was undisturbed, replying warmly, “Though Benchu is ambitious, I see no prospect of success with him. Thus, I come to serve you.”

Upon hearing this, the man threw his head back in laughter, his narrow eyes vanishing in the creases. He stepped forward, grasped Xun Yu’s arm, and asked, “How do you compare me to Benchu?”

“Outwardly not as great, inwardly far superior.”

“Hahaha! Excellent. With Wenruo beside me, it is as if Gaozu had Zhang Liang in days of old!”

...

“Young master, we’ve arrived!”

The seven riders entered the city, their fine attire and sturdy mounts attracting many curious glances.

Especially the one at their head—no words of elegance or beauty seemed adequate for him. A strange mask concealed most of his face, making him appear all the more extraordinary.

“Aunt Chen, look at that young man on the white horse—such a figure! I wonder how handsome he is beneath that mask!”

Before the old woman could speak, the burly man beside her replied,

“Forget it, Sister Liu. Look at that white horse—I've never seen one so splendid in my life. It’s leagues above the steeds the gentry ride. Such a person is beyond your imagining.”

So spoke the common folk, but in the shadows of the alleys, other voices murmured—

“This horse is worth a fortune.”

“Boss, what are we waiting for? Let’s take it!”

“Boss, man will die for wealth, bird—”

“Smack!” A slap rang out, and the leader cursed, “If you want to die, go ahead. That white-clad youth’s companion, I couldn’t last ten bouts against him! Pick another target.”

Before the Zhen residence, Zhang Biao stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door, while Zhang Yu’s heart raced in time with the sound.

“Creak!”

The door opened.

A half-century-old steward peered out, sweeping his gaze over the group, finally settling on Zhang Yu.

---

“I am Zhen Wen, steward of the Zhen household. May I ask your purpose, young master?”

“I am Zhang Yu of Zhongshan. Are Lady Zhen or Brother Zhen Yan at home?”

“Zhang Yu of Zhongshan?” Zhen Wen pondered, his brow tightening imperceptibly. “Are you the young master of Zhongshan’s Zhang family, betrothed to our Fifth Miss?”

“That is indeed I,” Zhang Yu replied courteously.

Having served the Zhen family for many years, Zhen Wen was no ordinary man; he quickly composed himself and addressed Zhang Yu warmly, “I have long heard of your renown, but unfortunately, today the mistress and all the sons and daughters have gone north to the Wang family.”

“What a coincidence. Then I shall return another day.”

“My apologies for making you wait…”

“No trouble at all,” Zhang Yu said, turning to descend the steps and mount his horse, when he heard Zhen Wen mutter, “I only hope Fifth Miss remains safe.”

“What did you say?” Zhang Yu’s brow furrowed.

“Nothing…nothing…” Zhen Wen hastily covered.

“Is she in danger?”

“Master, I—”

“Don’t force me,” Zhang Yu’s tone was calm, yet the six men behind him placed their hands on their sword hilts.

“How dare you—”

“Whir—”

The house servants nearby, seeing the steward seemingly threatened, rushed forward, only to be swept aside by Han Long’s sword, falling to the ground one after another.

“Such skill!” Zhen Wen thought inwardly, steadying his breath before he explained, “The Wang family is the foremost clan in Wuji, wealthier and more powerful than ours. Their eldest son leads the local garrison, and is quite formidable.

Normally, our families are amicable, but who knew they harbored ill intentions!

My brother works for the Wangs, and just now sent word—their young master has taken a fancy to Fifth Miss. Today, the family head plans to force her betrothal at the banquet. If she refuses, our Zhen family may be swallowed up. Most of our servants have already gone…”

“Swallowed up? How could a great family be so easily subdued? Who governs Wuji now?”

Three rapid questions left the old steward flustered, “I hear…the magistrate has been sidelined by Wang Yong—Where are you going, young master?”

Watching Zhang Yu mount and ride away with his men, Zhen Wen called out.

“To kill.”