Chapter Sixty-Two: Meeting Dong

“Ding! Congratulations, host, you have successfully completed the reputation quest ‘Longing for Chang’an’! You have received the quest reward: a paper edition of ‘Zhuangzi: The Joy of Fishes’.”

A slender book suddenly materialized inside the lining of Zhang Yu’s white robe, yet he was completely unaware—for at that moment, all his attention was tightly focused on Dong Zhuo.

This man was like a mountain shrouded in sinister black flames.

His name was Dong Zhuo, styled Zhongying, Grand Chancellor and Grand Tutor of the Han Dynasty… and more than that, a demon king.

He held dominion over Guanzhong; advancing, he could emerge from Mount Xiao and Hangu Pass to conquer the world, retreating, he could rely on the natural fortifications to defend, having secured an invincible position.

His power was nearly enough to sweep through all under heaven. He commanded the most elite Xiliang cavalry of the era, had top strategists like Li Ru and Jia Xu—men capable of throwing the empire into chaos—and even the peerless Lü Bu, leading the wolf cavalry of Bingzhou.

Let alone Liu Bei and Yuan Shao—even if all the warlords of the land united, they would still be overshadowed by his might.

Now, together with all those standing at the summit of power in the Han dynasty, he stood outside the towering city gate, gazing at the green-canopied carriage by his side, at Zhang Xiu encircled by guards, and at Zhang Yu and his party.

Little Bai, too, seemed to sense Zhang Yu’s anxiety, tossing his long mane as if to cheer him on.

When they reached the very front of the city gate, Zhang Yu halted his steps.

“The Eighteen Riders of Yan and Yun!”

“Present!” All eighteen, except Han Long, responded in a thunderous shout that seemed to stir the dust and wind, echoing across the vast and open plain.

Since Han Meng, a warrior as fierce as his name, had joined them on the road to Chang’an, Han Long had been reassigned by Zhang Yu to serve as his personal bodyguard, while the resourceful and courageous Xiahou Lan had become the de facto leader of the Eighteen Riders.

“Follow me to escort Lord Weiyang into the city!”

“Yes, sir!”

On the other side, beneath the walls of Chang’an—

“Grand Tutor, these are not our Xiliang soldiers.”

“I know.” Dong Zhuo looked at the sparse group atop the slope. “Zhang Xiu has been captured.”

“I never expected my nephew to be so useless—he calls himself the King of Spears, yet to make such a disastrous blunder is inexcusable. I cannot escape blame for this! But these traitors truly have nerves of steel, to actually take Lord Weiyang hostage…”

“Did you not hear what the youth in white said? They’re here to escort Feng’er into the city.” Dong Zhuo waved his hand, his face expressionless. Zhang Ji dared not speak further and withdrew.

The civil officials present might not have grasped the situation, but the Xiliang generals saw it clearly.

Though only twenty men had come, the aura each exuded made it plain that none were to be trifled with. Moreover, even Zhang Xiu, famed as the “King of Spears of Beidi” in the Xiliang army, had been taken captive. The warriors secretly readied themselves for action.

The green-canopied carriage drew ever nearer, until the Chang’an guards surrounded Zhang Yu and his party in a pouch-like formation—

“Grand Tutor, this is the traitor Zhang Yu! He has slaughtered our Xiliang soldiers and taken the young lady hostage! Order his execution at once!”

At Zhang Xiu’s shout, the civil officials fell into panic, and the soldiers and generals all drew their swords. Countless longbows rose along the city walls, forming a bloody maw ready to devour them all.

“Wait!” Zhang Yu cried, quickly stepping forward and bowing before Dong Zhuo. “This humble one, Zhang Yu of Zhongshan, comes to Chang’an at the command of His Majesty and the Grand Tutor!”

“Oh?” Dong Zhuo regarded him. “Are you the Zhang Du Kang who brewed the three famed wines?”

“…That is I.”

“Why have you taken my Feng’er hostage?”

“How would I dare to lay hands on Lord Weiyang?”

A ferocious gleam flashed in Dong Zhuo’s eyes, as if he would devour the youth whole. “How do you explain Zhang Xiu’s accusation?”

Zhang Yu nodded and smiled, clearly unbothered, already prepared: “Upon receiving the imperial summons from His Majesty and the Grand Tutor, we set out for Chang’an without rest. After days of travel, we reached Hongnong, paused briefly to recover, then pressed on. Just as Chang’an came into view, we encountered a fierce battle!

That fight shook heaven and earth, moved ghosts and gods to tears—utter carnage, blood flowing like rivers!

When I arrived with my men, corpses littered the field. General Zhang Xiu was fighting valiantly amid the chaos, but Lord Weiyang’s carriage was in grave peril. How could I stand by and do nothing?”

Zhang Yu recounted the scene with passionate gestures, dramatizing the urgency: “In that critical moment, without a second’s hesitation, I spurred my steed to the fore, used the ‘Wild Geese Landing on the Sand’ technique to fell the bandit chief, rescued Lord Weiyang, and helped General Zhang Xiu break free. However, General Zhang Xiu seemed somewhat resentful and spoke harshly to me, a newcomer. My devoted guard, eager to defend his master, gave him a beating. This, I admit, is my failure in discipline—I beg the Grand Tutor’s forgiveness!”

The officials and generals on both sides listened to the tale, curiosity piqued by the masked youth’s storytelling flair. A smile spread across Dong Zhuo’s plump face. “Feng’er, is this true?”

“Hahaha!” Dong Bai leapt down from the carriage and ran straight into Dong Zhuo’s embrace, laughing without restraint as she looked at Zhang Yu. “It’s exactly as he says!”

“Young Lady! Grand Tutor!” Zhang Xiu, agitated, tried to rush forward. “Don’t let this rascal twist the facts!”

“Zhang Xiu, what are you implying? Are you saying my Feng’er would lie to me?” Dong Zhuo frowned, and Dong Bai stuck out her tongue at Zhang Xiu.

“Grand Tutor, Zhang Xiu is loyal—perhaps you’ll permit him to explain…” Zhang Ji still cared for his nephew.

“Tell me—did you fight on the road?”

“Yes, but—”

“Were the corpses strewn about?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you speak out of turn to this youth?”

“Yes—”

“Then what more is there to say!” Dong Zhuo glared at him. Zhang Yu, smiling at the side, added, “Grand Tutor, there’s no need for anger. General Zhang Xiu, a seasoned warrior, was bested by my guard—naturally, he harbors resentment and would slander me. It’s perfectly understandable; I take no offense…”

“You—!” Zhang Xiu’s eyes blazed with fury.

“Still acting up!” Dong Zhuo thundered. “You call yourself the King of Spears and are renowned in my Xiliang army, so I trusted you with Feng’er’s protection. And this is the result! Had Zhang Yu truly been a traitor, would not my precious granddaughter already have been lost!?”

“Forgive me, Grand Tutor.” Zhang Ji fell to his knees in fright, and all the officials, as well as Zhang Yu’s party, bowed deeply. “Grand Tutor, calm your anger.”

Yet Zhang Xiu persisted. “Grand Tutor, do not be deceived by this knave!”

“Oh, Grandfather, if you don’t believe it, just let them fight again!” Dong Bai piped up. “If Zhang Yu wins, then there’s nothing more to say!”

“Excellent! Hahaha! As expected of my granddaughter—clever girl! Zhang Xiu, I’ll give you one last chance to prove yourself. Go and fight Zhang Yu.”

What? Who is Zhang Yu? Is that me?

Zhang Yu quickly said, “Grand Tutor, not I, but my bodyguard, Han Long…”

“I don’t care who—it’s to be settled here! Whoever wins, I’ll take their word!”

With this, Dong Zhuo pulled Dong Bai back to the city gate. The officials, the guards atop the walls, and the Xiliang troops surrounded them—all became spectators to the impending duel.

“Long, my safety and your sister’s happiness now rest in your hands…” Zhang Yu murmured.

Han Long saluted Zhang Xiu, drew his sword—the blade gleaming coldly, his whole being exuding the aura of a razor-sharp weapon.

Meanwhile, Zhang Xiu became one with his legendary spear, though his anger made his grip tremble.

“Prepare to die, wretch!”

“Hell with you!”

“Pfft—” Zhang Yu, moving to the side, stumbled at the outburst. “This kid’s learned all my bad habits, and not the good ones, too.”

The two opponents needed no probing; they clashed at once. Zhang Yu checked Zhang Xiu’s martial rating—eighty-six, a hair below Han Long’s. Still, an inch of reach means an inch of advantage; in an open field like this, the spearman clearly held the edge.

The long spear moved like a dragon, swift as the wind. Whenever Han Long pressed in close, Zhang Xiu would swing his spear to widen the gap, while Han Long tried repeatedly to slash at the spearhead, never giving Zhang Xiu an opening for a full attack.

Dozens of exchanges flashed by as if in a lantern show—each man’s mastery of his weapon at an extraordinary level, the contest growing into one of mutual respect, old grievances fading in the heat of battle.

Dong Zhuo, Zhang Yu, Zhang Ji, the officials, the Eighteen Riders—all watched, captivated. Especially Dong Bai, who stared, wide-eyed and unblinking, at the fierce struggle.

After another fierce bout, Zhang Xiu’s spear abruptly softened, seeming almost pliant as it entangled Han Long’s sword. Han Long gripped his hilt tightly, spinning with Zhang Xiu’s movements; finally, seizing an opening, he wrenched his blade back with all his might.

A sharp clang rang out—both spear and sword soared high into the sky, then plunged straight into the earth.

“Well done! Splendid!”

“No matter which of you speaks the truth,” Dong Zhuo looked from Zhang Xiu to Han Long, then at his granddaughter, “I, as Grand Tutor, will let bygones be bygones. Into the city!”