Chapter Forty-Nine: The Eighteen Riders of Yan and Yun
Hebei, the Prefect’s Residence of Pingyuan.
“Hahaha, I’ve won again!” That booming voice could only belong to one man. “Sir, ever since you arrived, the three of us brothers never have to suffer through the misery of needing a fourth player!”
“Yide! With the talents of Master Yuanhao, how could he possibly be here to amuse you?” Liu Bei feigned displeasure, and Zhang Fei wisely fell silent.
“That’s enough, Lord, Second General, Third General. We agreed to play only once every seven days. Let’s pack up for now.”
“Sir, it’s still early. Nothing pressing weighs on us lately. Why not—”
“No!” The thin, middle-aged scholar immediately bristled, his mustache quivering as he glared. “Though this pastime is pleasant, its harm runs deep! Third General, you must not let diversions erode your ambition and delay the Lord’s great cause!”
“It’s just a couple of rounds. How could that ruin my drive or hinder my brother’s plans? Too rigid—”
“My Lord! If you wish to indulge the Third General in such idle pleasures, then forgive me, but Feng will seek service elsewhere!”
These words were harsh indeed—nothing like a loyal subject. Even Guan Yu beside them looked displeased.
“Please, sir, calm yourself!” Liu Bei showed no irritation, but instead comforted him respectfully and wrapped up the jade tiles on the table. “To have your talents aiding me is already a fortune beyond words. How could I not obey your counsel? I know your advice is sound. My third brother is simply this way—I hope you’ll not hold it against him.”
“Hmph. You are too modest, my Lord! As the day is still young, let Feng accompany you in attending to urgent matters of state.”
As the two departed, Zhang Fei kicked the table, shattering the solid wood and sending jade tiles scattering across the floor.
“Second Brother, I can’t stand that servant’s attitude anymore. No wonder Han Fu didn’t want to employ him before. With someone like that, if not for Big Brother stopping me, I’d have beaten him to death long ago!”
“Third Brother,” Guan Yu sighed, “Big Brother… has it hard. Now that he has strategists by his side, as brothers, all we should do is support him.”
“If only our Jade Lad nephew were here, he wouldn’t dare act so rashly!”
But where is our Jade Lad now?
Since the five of them returned with the bodies of Zhang Er and Zhang Si, Zhang Shiping nearly succumbed to rage and grief. Zhang Yu had no doubt that if Wang Yong were still alive, his father would have spent everything to raise an army and avenge him.
After the two loyal servants were buried with honor, Zhang Shiping and his wife spoke with Zhang Yu at length in their room. Though the world was in chaos, their child had grown up and shown such talent—plainness was no longer possible in this life.
Unable to cage the golden canary, they could only strengthen its protection.
A few days later, at dawn, a small group arrived at the open grounds of the Zhang residence. Counting carefully, there were fourteen in total, led by none other than Xiahou Lan, who once guarded the stables.
“Lan greets the Young Master!”
“Greetings, Young Master!” the thirteen soldiers echoed in unison.
“Yu’er,” Zhang Shiping introduced from the pavilion, “these are brave and loyal heroes whom I’ve found for you through various channels. They are skilled in martial arts and trustworthy. From now on, your safety will be their charge.”
Zhang Yu looked at these fine men before him, feeling a surge of heroic spirit. “So even I, Zhang Sifan, have my own troops now? I finally have followers and bodyguards!”
He summoned the system and scanned the martial prowess of all fourteen. The highest was Xiahou Lan, at 81, and the lowest was still an impressive 69—
Wait!
Who was that?
Zhang Yu fixed his gaze on one man. The name shown on the screen was—Cao Xing.
Could this be the famed “Milky Way Archer,” the very one who shot Xiahou Dun in the eye?
Zhang Yu opened his information panel and saw—
[Cao Xing: General skilled in archery. One of Lü Bu’s eight elite commanders, he thwarted Hao Meng’s rebellion and is renowned for shooting Xiahou Dun’s left eye.]
Current stats:
Martial prowess—77
Leadership—64
Intellect—38
Political skill—26
Peak stats:
Martial prowess—84
Leadership—77
Intellect—48
Political skill—36
“These stats are already formidable for me, and his fame far surpasses Xiahou Lan’s! To instantly possess two bodyguards at commander level—where did my father find such guards? With my young hero Han Long, going out will be a breeze.”
“I must remind you,” Zhang Shiping lowered his voice, “our Zhang family has shown them kindness. If I ask them to sacrifice their lives for you, it is only right.”
“So?”
“So, they are not your brothers, nor your confidants.”
“They are your blades, your shields—fourteen lives to be surrendered before you suffer even a scratch.”
“My son, remember this.”
Every word tightened Zhang Yu’s heart. His gentle and doting father seemed to transform, ruthless and cold.
Indeed, those who survive chaotic times are never simple. Clearly, this threat to his life had touched his father’s most sensitive nerve.
Though his heart grew tense at his father’s change, it quickly turned to grateful warmth. Zhang Yu nodded to show his understanding, then called out to the four standing nearby:
“Han Long, Zhang Biao, Zhang Junbao, Zhang Wuji, come here!”
The four came to the pavilion.
“Closer, in front of me and father.”
They moved forward, standing before Zhang Yu and Zhang Shiping, their backs straight, facing the fourteen.
“They,” Zhang Yu stood atop the pavilion railing, pointing from Han Long and the others to the fourteen warriors, “are standing before you. Do you accept it?”
Zhang Shiping was puzzled, but said nothing. The fourteen did not understand Zhang Yu’s intent, until someone finally answered, “We accept!”
“Nonsense!” Zhang Yu suddenly roared, startling everyone present.
“I demand absolute obedience, not hypocrisy! If you have doubts, speak up. If reason fails, we settle it with strength. My subordinates must have blood and wolfish courage! You all carry heads on your shoulders—why wouldn’t you want to challenge them, bring them down? Just accepting it?”
Zhang Shiping stared, dumbfounded, watching his refined son command the scene so savagely. It felt as though his worldview had shattered.
“Now, tell me, do you accept it?”
“No!” The voices of all fourteen thundered through the courtyard.
From this day forward, I must learn to be a proper leader.
“Now let me tell you why you must accept.
They have followed me through life and death, saving me in chaos. You arrived later, standing behind them with no merits. Do you accept?”
“We accept!” The reply was as unified as before.
“Han Long!”
“Han Long, here!”
“If I order you all to obey his commands, will you?”
“We will! But we do not accept!” Seeing Han Long’s youthful face, all but Zhang Biao and the two older men cried out.
“Excellent! If you don’t accept, you still have no choice but to comply! I’ll give you a chance.”
“You may attack in groups of three—whoever defeats him first becomes the leader. Han Long, begin.”
The men exchanged glances. Two charged ahead, both with martial prowess around 70, and Han Long dispatched them with ease.
Then two more, then three, then another three. Han Long was never suited for the battlefield; his swordplay and skills were best in these small skirmishes.
At last, twelve had been defeated. Though Han Long was breathless, he stood before them like a mountain.
“No wonder he’s the young hero brought up by the Young Master. Xing is impressed. Ziyou, let’s—”
“Han Long is exhausted. If we two attack him now, it would be dishonorable. If there’s an opportunity, Lan would rather face him fairly. As for the leader’s position, let it be.”
After Xiahou Lan spoke, Cao Xing gripped his blade tightly, then relaxed, and said to Zhang Yu, “Young Master, we accept.”
Looking at these two promising commanders, Zhang Yu pondered, then declared:
“From today, you will share a new identity and a common name—The Eighteen Riders of Yan and Yun.
One day, you will be proud of it. And I, too, will be proud of you.”