Chapter 88: The Battle of the Boundary Bridge (Part Two) — On the Brink of Eruption

As summer arrived, the early mornings and evenings became the most suitable times for any pursuit. Drinking, admiring flowers, and composing essays were all best enjoyed during these hours.

Thanks to the system in his possession, Zhang Yu's calligraphy was now flawless—even the great calligrapher Cai Yong would nod in silent approval upon seeing it. At this moment, Zhang Yu was seated amidst a bamboo grove, savoring the quiet and coolness of dawn, diligently writing something. Yet, as he wrote, his face revealed a trace of puzzlement.

“Is this myth story... really that toxic?”

Since Cai Yan had departed in haste yesterday, he had anxiously checked the Bond Chart. Her affection toward him had plummeted from a favorable seventy-two straight down to fifty-two, her attitude now marked by a rare silver aura—firm and unyielding.

“Could it be that the tale of a general seeking his beloved reminded her of Wei Zhongdao? A woman’s heart is a needle at the bottom of the sea; such things are not impossible. But what does thinking of Wei Zhongdao have to do with me? I never intended to marry you.”

Though Zhang Yu felt pity for Cai Yan’s plight, he had only wanted to shield her from the hardships of history—matters of love hadn’t crossed his mind. After all, he still held certain modern notions: with Xiao Zhenluo, Ying’er, and Han Yan already by his side, that was quite enough.

He did not consider himself fickle, nor was he the type to become infatuated with every beautiful woman he met. That was why he felt nothing romantic toward Diao Chan, and had no intention of desperately courting Cai Yan’s affection. Feelings, after all, must come naturally.

Having settled on this tone for the “inexplicable loss of favor” incident, Zhang Yu turned his attention to more pressing matters.

Last night, Cai Yong had sent word again, informing him that his poems from the banquet were now being recited throughout Chang’an. Even Zhang Yu hadn’t realized how much his reputation had grown; it was already incomparable to the past.

After all, in this ancient era, one could not simply check how many people had viewed or liked a work. Living secluded in a mansion was almost akin to being cut off from the world.

Having come to regard Zhang Yu as a nephew, Cai Yong had first praised his latent promise as a literary leader of the younger generation, then gently pointed out the precariousness of his growing fame.

After all, with only a handful of poems, his reputation was precarious. He had yet to tie himself to classical studies, his scholarship was lacking in depth and accumulation, and though he bore the title of imperial brother and had gained recognition among the scholar-gentry through the Cai family’s banquet, his origins as the son of a merchant would always be an easy target for critics.

Even the magnanimous Lord Cao was constantly reviled as “descendant of eunuchs” until he flew into a rage and brandished his sword against men like Bian Rang.

The second, and most crucial point, was that Zhang Yu still lacked a prose work capable of establishing himself in the literary world. Talent in poetry alone merely marked him as gifted; to truly persuade his peers, he needed an essay that would shine through the ages.

Even Cai Yong remarked, “Now the name of Jade Lord is renowned in Chang’an, and your novel style in poetry seems to lead the literary trend, but there are those who say you are ‘flashy but insubstantial’...”

“An essay? Your only chance is during my skill’s cooldown period. I do not produce essays, I am but the transporter of fine works.”

With paper, brush, and fine ink prepared in the bamboo grove, Zhang Yu mused mischievously as he began to craft a new masterpiece.

Aside from drinking, flower admiring, and writing, there was one other task well suited to dawn and dusk: killing.

That is, waging war.

In the lands of Yan and Zhao, vast and boundless, two armies confronted each other like tigers.

“Master, Wen Chou requests permission to engage!”

“Not today.”

“You did not see, yesterday I nearly captured that villain! If not for the intervention of that silver-spear rider on a white horse, Gongsun Zan’s head would already be in my hands!”

Wen Chou’s tone brimmed with regret. Guo Tu stepped forward, saying, “Master, if I am not mistaken, the ‘white horse, silver spear’ described by General Wen Chou must be Zhao Yun of Changshan.”

“Zhao Yun? Who is he?”

“‘Do not fear the road ahead for lack of friends; in all the world, who does not know you?’ How could such a man be unknown?” Guo Tu replied with a smile.

“The Jade Lord’s sworn brother?”

“The very one. As General Wen Chou said, his skill in arms is no less than his own—a first-rate warrior. If he could be recruited...”

“On the battlefield, with swords drawn and bows bent, how would you win him over?”

“Why not use the Jade Lord—”

“Enough!” Yuan Shao slapped the long table, startling Guo Tu into silence.

“First, he is still in Chang’an and has not returned. Even if he did, he is recognized by His Majesty as the emperor’s brother. When have I, Yuan Shao, ever stooped to such tricks?”

“Back then, Pan Wushuang...” Guo Tu grumbled in his heart.

“What’s more, if Zhao Yun chooses Gongsun Zan over me, why should I seek to recruit him? Not one Zhao Yun, even ten or a hundred—no matter how many, I will crush Gongsun Zan!”

With this bold declaration, the whole assembly’s morale soared. Yan Liang stepped forward again, “Master, Yan Liang requests to fight!”

“Qu Yi has already sworn an oath to achieve victory today; let us await his success. There’s no need for you to join the battle.” Yuan Shao waved him off, then remembered something and addressed Yan Liang, “I hear the Black Mountain bandits in the west are stirring—send someone to keep an eye on them.”

“Yan Liang obeys!”

Beyond the main camp, upon the battlefield.

Gongsun Zan’s thirty thousand elite soldiers formed a mighty central phalanx, advancing step by step. Fresh from their great victory at Dongguang, where they smashed three hundred thousand Yellow Turbans, beheaded thirty thousand, and captured seventy thousand more, these troops were veritable titans of their time!

On either side of the formation, five thousand cavalrymen served as wings. Cavalry was Gongsun Zan’s greatest asset; should he defeat Yuan Shao in a single stroke, there would be no one left under heaven capable of standing against him.

Yet the most dazzling sight in this land was the thousand-plus white horses.

Standing in the center, Gongsun Zan’s face was a mix of pride, anger, and dominance—he could not forget the humiliation he had suffered the previous day.

Now, his White Horse Volunteers had arrived.

This army had followed him in campaigns beyond the frontier, victorious in every battle. Even the nomads, masters of the saddle, fled at the mere sight of them, spreading word far and wide: “Beware the white horses!”

With the White Horse Volunteers at his back, defeat was unthinkable.

Cavalry already had a vast advantage over infantry, and his enemy’s foot soldiers were fewer in number—though they appeared well-trained and elite, there would be no suspense in this battle. The shame suffered by the White Horse General would be washed away, thoroughly and completely.

Stroking his short beard, Gongsun Zan gazed into the distance at Yuan Shao’s command tent, a sneer on his lips as he regarded it as prey already in his net.

His eyes then returned to the foremost ranks of the White Horse Volunteers, where a tall, upright figure stood, and a complicated emotion flickered across his face.

“A formidable general—what a pity. After what you witnessed of my humiliation yesterday, I cannot allow you to stay.”

Zhao Yun was in high spirits. He felt he had found his true lord, and his gratitude toward his sworn brother grew ever deeper.

He knew that with his abilities, he could find a place anywhere, but he had not expected to be placed in the elite White Horse Volunteers at his very first service under Gongsun Zan.

And as the vanguard, no less—sharp as a spear, keen as a blade, swift as an arrow’s tip!

This was the highest recognition of his martial prowess.

He tightened his grip on the silver spear in his hand—a gift from his sworn brother.

“My brother has won fame for his poetry; today, I shall prove your judgment was right!”