Chapter 3: Making Our Name (Part 2)
The moment Zou Jing's name and title were revealed, the lively camp—buoyant with the afterglow of victory and the haze of alcohol—froze solid in an instant.
The soldiers' foolish grins vanished from their faces. Some hastily set down their wine cups, while others fumbled to straighten their clothes and edged backward awkwardly.
An imperial officer. And not just any—a Paro School Captain dispatched straight from Luoyang to suppress the Yellow Turbans. To these volunteer militiamen, who had taken up spears only after wielding farm tools in some backwater village, the regular army might be a welcome savior. But they were also uncomfortable overseers, yanking the leash whenever they pleased.
After all, these officials doled out credit for victories—yet if they felt like it, they could snatch it all away like bandits.
'We shed the blood, but they'll show up at the end, grab the head prize, and etch their names in glory. Plenty of those bastards out there.'
Kang Minju knew this all too well from his readings of Romance of the Three Kingdoms and other history books. The soldiers' instinctive fear was no exaggeration.
But Liu Bei, standing by the campfire, was different. He read their tension in a heartbeat and extended a hand behind him—a silent gesture of reassurance—before stepping forward.
His face, illuminated by the flickering flames, still wore a gentle smile, but his eyes were crystal clear, unyielding as steel.
"You've come a long way—our thanks for your hard journey. As you see, this humble camp offers little in the way of proper welcome, but we've prepared a seat to wet your throat."
Zou Jing dismounted and slowly scanned Liu Bei from head to toe. Frayed battle robes, armor scarred and worn in places, the leader of some rural volunteer band with no official rank to his name. On the surface, nothing impressive.
Yet the heavy air of this camp—thick with the stench of blood and dust—and the way hundreds of soldiers gazed in awe at Liu Bei and the two towering figures flanking him spoke of something far beyond a ragtag band of mercenaries.
After a moment, Zou Jing gave a curt nod.
"The welcome is fine. But we have official business. I'd like to speak with you and your two brothers alone."
At those words, Guan Yu's brow twitched faintly behind Liu Bei.
Up to now, Minju had been racking his brain internally, piecing together what must have happened in Liu Bei's camp during the Yellow Turban Rebellion based on his historical knowledge.
'Yellow Turban uprising... next up...'
Liu Bei spoke first. "Understood."
"Brother."
Guan Yu called softly, but Liu Bei just nodded briefly—as if to say it was fine—and offered no further reply.
Guan Yu, accepting his brother's will, turned to Zhang Fei with a murmur. "Yide, let's go."
"...Yes."
Kang Minju's steps grew even more awkward.
The three moved with Zou Jing to a quiet grove edge, away from the camp's clamor. A few attendants followed with torches, but a single gesture from Zou Jing sent even them retreating to a distance.
In the pitch-black darkness, the only light was the swaying torch flames and the distant red glow of the camp's bonfires.
Amid the silence broken only by crackling firewood, Zou Jing spoke first, his voice heavy.
"I heard about the battle you fought today from my scouts before we arrived. The Yellow Turban remnants have been ravaging villages around here, even disrupting commanderies in You Province—that's why I was marching my army to crush them. But when we got here, their vanguard was already shattered."
His sharp gaze rode the torch shadows to brush Minju's broad shoulders.
"Especially you—the one who charged their lines like a shooting star on horseback and took the enemy general Zheng Yuanzhi's head in a single stroke."
Minju's throat tightened, swallowing hard. He forced a nonchalant glare and replied, "Just got lucky."
A humble Zhang Fei? To Liu Bei and Guan Yu, this was utterly alien. They might have worried he'd injured his head when he blacked out in battle.
Still, better than acting like a brat in front of an imperial officer, so the mood passed quietly.
Guan Yu stroked his thick beard beside him, adding in a low, firm voice, "No mere luck lets a man pierce tens of thousands and fell their leader. My brother's valor is heaven-sent."
Guan Yu framed Zhang Fei's humility as prowess. A faint spark of interest and admiration flickered in Zou Jing's eyes.
This red-faced warrior seemed taciturn at first, but every word carried the weight of a mountain.
Liu Bei, standing calmly between these two fearsome tigers without a hint of intimidation, clasped his hands and bowed deeply.
"We merely followed righteousness with our meager strength to protect the suffering people. We sought no glory, but if it's the court's command, we'll gladly obey."
A heavy silence settled over the woods. At the end of that brief yet endless quiet, the corner of Zou Jing's mouth curved upward.
"Good. As the rumors from Tak County say. Whether you possess the vessel to one day be called the First Lord remains to be seen, but you're no ordinary glory-hungry brigands. I've confirmed it with my own eyes."
Liu Bei's clear gaze wavered ever so slightly. Minju caught the subtle shift.
First Lord was a lofty title far too grand for the mat-seller Liu Bei right now. But for a captain leading imperial troops to utter it meant he saw them as an extraordinary force worthy of high regard.
Zou Jing rummaged in his robes and drew out a short bamboo slip from his sleeve.
"Combining the Tak County magistrate's report with the feats I've witnessed today, I'll submit your merits to the court in Luoyang. Crushing these savage Yellow Turbans and saving the people is no small deed. Even a minor county post should be within reach—a proper office on the court payroll, however modest."
An official position. Until now, the band led by Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei was a volunteer militia at best—verging on armed vagrants at worst. They had justice on their side to save the people, but lacked the legitimacy to sway the world.
But secure even one post bearing the emperor's name, and everything changed. They could raise banners openly, recruit freely, manage incoming grain legally, and stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other warlords in talks—a powerful political foundation.
Credibility, one might say.
Liu Bei's breath trembled faintly. Suppressing his excitement, he bowed deeply and quietly.
"Your heavenly grace humbles us. This Liu Bei vows to repay this undeserved favor with his very bones ground to dust."
"Don't call it grace. It's simply the just reward for the merits you've bled for."
Zou Jing cut in firmly, stripping away any personal sentiment. Kang Minju shuddered inwardly.
'One of my department profs was exactly that type.'
Zou Jing glanced around once, then lowered his voice further.
"But that minor post won't be your end. The Yellow Turban spark lit by Zhang Jiao has spread far wider and deeper than we thought. Even if we've broken their vanguard here today, tomorrow starving peasants in yellow turbans will rise in another village."
He wasn't wrong. Zou Jing continued with resolve etched on his face.
"At dawn tomorrow, I'll sweep this region clean, combing every inch from Beiping and Tak County to the treacherous passes toward Guangyang. If your volunteers join forces with my army, we'll pacify You Province far swifter."
His gaze asked the question. With an official post promised, would they fight alongside him?
Liu Bei answered without a second's hesitation. "Of course we'll join you. How can court and folk stand apart when beheading thieves who squeeze the people's lifeblood?"
Guan Yu slammed his Green Dragon Crescent Blade into the earth with a thud and nodded heavily. "We can't stand by with eyes wide open while vermin harm the innocent."
Zou Jing's eyes finally turned to Minju, the largest among them. "Zhang Yide. You who took the enemy general—what say you?"
Minju swallowed a deep internal sigh. "We'll... join you!"
Zou Jing burst into hearty laughter. "Hahaha! As the rumors say—a fierce general to command the realm. I look forward to your exploits tomorrow."
Thus, their path was set.
When the three returned to camp, the soldiers watched their lips with anxious eyes—half fear, half hope.
To reassure them, Liu Bei climbed onto a boulder serving as a makeshift platform and spoke at once.
"Brothers, hear me! Captain Zou Jing has highly praised our feats today! Moreover, he'll submit directly to the Luoyang court, securing us a fitting official post!"
The soldiers' eyes bulged.
"And from tomorrow, our army formally joins the imperial forces to wipe out the Yellow Turban remnants across You Province. No longer are we wanderers!"
The frozen camp now buzzed with shock and joy. Soldiers pinched each other's cheeks in disbelief, murmuring face-to-face.
Soon, one excited soul couldn't hold back and shouted first. "We're... we're fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the imperial army?!"
"Our generals' merits have finally reached the court!"
"Long live! Long live General Liu Bei! General Guan! General Zhang!"
That night, Tak County's camp boiled over once more. But this heat was utterly different from the earlier drunken chaos.
It was the massive hope surging from men who, crawling in the dirt their whole lives, had glimpsed a brilliant 'future' for the first time—not mere relief at survival or victory's thrill.
Yet for Kang Minju, whether to embrace this was a deep dilemma.
'Feels like the prologue just wrapped up.'
His fate, thrust into greater battlefields ahead, already weighed on him heavily.