To Luoyang (2)
That night, sleep eluded Kang Minju. Rising from his bed at last, he stepped out of the tent and drew in the frigid winter air deep into his lungs, gazing up at the ink-black sky. Only the cold starlight flickered indifferently, but his mind burned hot as if a massive furnace had been lit within.
Liu Bei will make his choice in the end.
Liu Bei, Xuan De. He was no man to rot away his life content with a piddling post like county magistrate of Anxi. No, even if he wished to, the world would not let him. The imperial blood of the Han dynasty coursed through his veins to the marrow. His innate nature could never turn a blind eye to the people's blood and tears. And with the era's brutal fate shoving him forward, demanding a hero...
He had no choice but to head for Luoyang.
The question was when—and how.
As Guan Yu had warned, plunging into Luoyang now would be like carrying reeds into a fire. But the "true future" Minju knew was far more brutal. While others seized prime territories, scooped up talents, and expanded their forces exponentially, Liu Bei was always shackled by righteousness and justification, lagging a beat behind. The result? Decades of grueling wandering and crushing defeats.
I need to lure Lu Bu away, bind Zhang Liao to our side, and somehow connect with that monster Jia Xu.
Minju slowly clenched his fists, hard as iron.
Lu Bu. Posterity branded him a "bastard with three fathers," the symbol of betrayal. Yet no other inhuman beast in all the Central Plains matched his martial prowess. And then there were Zhang Liao, Jia Xu, Li Jue, Guo Si, Gao Shun—the precious talents languishing under Dong Zhuo.
Staying a half-baked local warlord? I'd just end up as fodder for Yuan Shao or Cao Cao. The only way to survive is overwhelming unification of the realm.
That was why Minju aimed to hook the great prize: Lu Bu.
But bringing Lu Bu under Liu Bei was no easy task. Even so, it had to be done.
It's fine. I can do this.
He had his own scheme. An ace up his sleeve to draw Lu Bu to Liu Bei's banner.
Without hesitation, he rose and headed straight for the command tent of Zou Jing, the Paro School Captain in charge of this punitive force.
As expected, Zou Jing was still awake. The vast tent was strewn with a massive map of the northern regions and Jizhou, alongside scattered bamboo slips. In the corner, a brazier emitted a smoky, warming heat.
At the sound of someone entering, Zou Jing looked up. Recognizing the hulking figure of Zhang Fei, he narrowed his eyes in puzzlement.
"Zhang Yide? What brings you at this deep hour of the night?"
Minju strode in without preamble or pleasantries, clasping his fists heavily in salute.
"I have urgent business to discuss privately with you, School Captain. Forgive my intrusion."
Zou Jing set down his brush and stared piercingly at Minju. He couldn't shake the uncanny dissonance this man evoked. Outwardly a fierce, bandit-chief brute of a general—yet those eyes occasionally flashed with an inexplicable depth, a chilling profundity. Covered in Yellow Turban blood, swinging his snake spear like a madman, then suddenly surveying the entire battlefield like a go master— that eerie composure. And calm.
This was why Zou Jing had always kept a close watch on Zhang Fei.
"Speak. If you're seeking me at this hour, it won't be idle chatter."
Minju cut straight to the point, no fluff.
"Soon, our eldest brother will very likely set his sights on Luoyang."
"Very likely?"
"Yes. He hasn't shared his final decision with me yet. But I dare assert: he will go to Luoyang. As long as the suffering Emperor and people are there."
Zou Jing stroked his rough beard and snorted.
"And? What do you want from me?"
"Open that firmly shut door... for us, School Captain."
"You want me to pave the way?"
"You know it well. Luoyang today isn't a place where country bumpkins can just stroll in. Especially not local warlords, disgraced eunuchs, remnants of in-laws, and Dong Zhuo's Western Liang cavalry baring their fangs in a tangled frozen hell. Nobodies like our lightly known county magistrate and volunteer militia? Charge in blindly, and we'll be branded rebels before reaching the gates—or cut down like dogs."
Zou Jing nodded slowly, unable to refute. The words rang true a hundredfold. The imperial capital Luoyang had become a massive pit of condensed power poison after the Ten Attendants' turmoil. There, raw force mattered less than origins, solid connections, and justification—you couldn't even breathe without them.
Minju stepped closer. His unwavering gaze pinned Zou Jing.
"And... one more request."
"What?"
Minju drew a short breath. The real purpose for Luoyang. An event to serve as a bridgehead, expanding Liu Bei's forces in one stroke. For that, one essential condition was required.
"If possible on your end, School Captain, bridge a secret meeting for me with Lord Wang Yun."
The moment Wang Yun's name dropped, Zou Jing's eyes sharpened with killing intent.
"Lord Wang Yun?"
"Yes. That's right."
"Zhang Yide. Do you grasp the madness spilling from your mouth?"
"I know precisely."
Zou Jing shot to his feet, raising his voice.
"Lord Wang Yun is a core minister of the court! Luoyang's streets crawl with tens of thousands of Western Liang cavalry on patrol, Dong Zhuo's lackeys with eyes and ears in every corner. And you—a fresh bumpkin warrior from the sticks—ask me to arrange a private meet with such a titan? You'd need ten lives and still fall short."
"That, I know too."
"Knowing that, why this reckless demand?"
A heavy silence blanketed the tent. Only the sharp crack of glowing charcoals in the brazier, spitting embers.
Minju met Zou Jing's furious, baffled stare head-on, emphasizing each word.
"To save the realm."
Zou Jing let out a disbelieving scoff.
"Ha! Fine rhetoric!"
"No shallow pretense."
Minju's voice deepened. The mockery faded from Zou Jing's face, hardening into tension. Zhang Fei's eyes held not a speck of tremor. This wasn't the hot-blooded folly of a young warrior. It was the gaze of one who'd already cast his life—several times over—beyond the scales into pitch darkness, a near-mad resolve.
Zou Jing glared long at the giant before slumping back into his seat, speaking slowly.
"...You're a truly bizarre, strange man."
"I'll take that as high praise."
"Don't misunderstand. I haven't agreed yet."
"By morning, you will."
"Hah."
Zou Jing exhaled a long, exasperated laugh.
"What do you plan to discuss with Lord Wang Yun?"
"I can't say now. But it will be vital to the realm's future. I'm certain."
"I thought you just a brute. But your guts are as thick as they come."
Minju didn't reply. After rubbing his brow in deep thought, Zou Jing swept the worn map on the table aside roughly.
"Fine. If you're staking your life, I'll pull every string I have."
"My thanks, School Captain."
"But mark this: the imperial capital Luoyang is a demon's lair beyond your bandit-slaying camps. Sharper blades than flashing steel are soft smiles, wine cups, and sweet whispers behind curtains—they claim more necks."
In the shadows, Minju's thick lips curled faintly upward.
"I'll remember, School Captain."
His resolve was set long ago.
The next morning.
Liu Bei, who had spent the night sleepless, summoned his two brothers to his tent at dawn. Dim dawn light filtered through the tent flap, the hour still too early for full daylight.
Liu Bei was already clad impeccably in his worn but neat armor. On the table, documents for his Anxi posting were neatly arranged, ready for departure at any moment.
Seeing their eldest brother's face, firmer than yesterday, Minju knew instinctively. The die was cast.
Liu Bei spoke first.
"Last night... I wrestled with bone-deep anguish through the sleepless hours."
Guan Yu and Minju approached silently, kneeling.
"Yunchang, you're right—getting swept into Luoyang's vortex now might be suicide, reeds to the flame. But... Yide, as you said, without witnessing with our own eyes where this era's mighty current rushes, we'll forever be frogs in a well."
Liu Bei gazed at his brothers with deep, gentle eyes.
"Above all... Though I scraped by weaving mats, a wretched soul, I cannot erase the imperial blood in my veins. With the House of Han trampled by a mere courtier's greed, vomiting blood—turning my back for a petty local post out of self-preservation... Liu Xuan De's nature will never allow it."
Guan Yu closed his eyes, then opened them. All discontent washed away.
At last.
Liu Bei declared to us.
"We go to Luoyang."