Chapter Fifty-Five: Dong Zhuo the Coward Flees

Hulao Pass!

“What? Someone has broken through Hulao Pass and reached the outskirts of Luoyang…” When Dong Zhuo received this news, his shock was so great that he nearly leapt out of his seat.

“Prime Minister, Minister Li suspects that those who seized Hulao Pass are none other than Sun Jian and the Governor of Youzhou, Zifan. These two are no mere drunkards or gluttons!” The messenger presented Li Ru’s letter and quietly withdrew.

“Prime Minister, what should we do now?” Colonel Xu Rong inquired, fists clasped in salute. Dong Zhuo shook his head with unwillingness. “Now that the grand coalition of the eighteen warlords is on the move, we cannot face them head-on. But each has his own ambitions, and we can defeat them one by one… Zhao Ling, Xu Rong, you two will stay behind to block these eastern curs. Guo Si, Zhang Ji, Fan Chou, Yang Ding, and my son Fengxian—you will gather your soldiers and return to Luoyang with me. Capture the ringleader first; with the young emperor in our hands, they won’t dare act recklessly…”

“Yes, Prime Minister!”

The safety of Luoyang holds the fate of our Xiliang army. Tonight, I will personally lead our main force through Hulao Pass and hurry to Luoyang. All other units must delay the coalition forces in turn.

Night was falling…

After setting up camp, Sun Jian hurried to find Zifan. “We have just received word that the old traitor Dong Zhuo already knows our army has reached Luoyang’s gates. He is marching through the night with his main force. The Xiliang cavalry is formidable—should we ambush them along the route and annihilate their army?”

Zifan shook his head and sighed. “Dong Zhuo has likely anticipated this. He will have taken precautions within his ranks. If we go, our efforts will be wasted. Once he reaches Luoyang, Li Ru will surely advise him to seize the emperor—then it will be even harder for us to strike. Dong Zhuo knows we haven’t attacked the city; perhaps he’s waiting for us to try an ambush and intends to lure us into a trap.”

Sun Jian hesitated. “That… is entirely possible.”

“So, let’s first test Dong Zhuo’s reaction,” Zifan said, eyes narrowing. “Brother Zifan, how should we go about it?” Sun Jian had learned to expect the unexpected from Zifan, for who knew what scheme he would devise next.

We can dispatch a small detachment to probe their response. I think the three brothers Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei, being unmatched in martial prowess, are well-suited to intercept Lü Bu’s attack. Would the three generals undertake this in my stead?” Zifan asked with a smile.

“That servant with three surnames—I've long wanted to meet him!” Zhang Fei retorted. “No matter if he’s a demon or a beast, today I’ll take his head!”

Guan Yu, gripping his Green Dragon Crescent Blade, stroked his beard, eyes narrowed as he looked to Liu Bei, anticipation written on his face.

“It would be rude to refuse,” Liu Bei agreed after some thought. If they could claim Lü Bu’s head, it would greatly enhance their prestige among the coalition and aid their future recruitment.

“Why has the vanguard stopped?” Dong Zhuo asked, his tone sharp.

“Prime Minister, our vanguard has been harassed by enemy cavalry—over a hundred men have been wounded!” reported the scout.

“It must be Zifan’s men again, always foiling my plans. How many did he bring this time?” Dong Zhuo grumbled, though he showed little true anger.

“Prime Minister, there were about a hundred enemy horsemen; they approached our vanguard, shot a volley of arrows, then withdrew,” the messenger replied.

“Hmph! Only a hundred riders? Ignore them. Advance to Luoyang without delay! Vanguard, move out!” Just as the order was given, the vanguard was attacked again—Zifan led his black cavalry, shot two volleys, and vanished like a ghost.

“Prime Minister, this is Zifan deliberately delaying our march,” Lü Bu said, bowing from horseback.

“Then have the main army move quickly. If we are harassed again by small enemy cavalry units, Fengxian, you will take five hundred men and destroy this so-called hundred-rider detachment. Crush their arrogance!” Dong Zhuo, anxious to return to Luoyang, had no patience left, but his hatred for Zifan burned ever fiercer.

“Yes, foster father!” Lü Bu accepted the order and rode ahead.

Columns of sand surged forward, as if an invisible giant hand were peeling back layer after layer of the desert. Ahead, figures flickered, banners snapped in the wind, and war drums thundered.

Lü Bu immediately spurred his men forward, only to find Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei already waiting. Liu Bei saluted, “We have been awaiting you,” and without further words, led his men in battle against Lü Bu.

Elsewhere, Zifan led his main force to charge the heart of Dong Zhuo’s Xiliang army. The enemy, caught off guard, was quickly cut to pieces. The soldiers fought desperately, blades flashing, blood flowing; as one fell, another took his place. Some, even as they collapsed, shouted their slogans, the scene steeped in tragic heroism.

The drums and horns roared to the heavens, the shouts of battle shook the earth. As the two armies clashed, Zifan led his black cavalry at the forefront. After several fierce charges, the Xiliang troops were swiftly routed.

“Ahhhh!” The rear ranks fell into chaos, breaking even worse than the front. Dong Zhuo, trembling with rage, drew his sword and hacked the rail of his war chariot in half.

“Prime Minister, what should we do? It seems our force of 130,000 has been thrown into disarray and routed by Zifan’s mere ten thousand!” his commanders cried out in panic.

“What to do? What to do? You ask me? Hold the troops steady and keep advancing! Once we reach open ground, Zifan will not dare attack further.” Dong Zhuo glared at Zifan, his eyes bloodshot.

Zifan estimated the distance to Dong Zhuo’s front lines—several hundred yards separated them, but the densely packed Xiliang warriors ahead were still a major obstacle.

“No use hesitating—kill our way through!” Zifan muttered, rubbing his forehead. With a cold shout, he brandished his spear and charged straight toward Dong Zhuo’s central command.

“That fat traitor with the long beard—Dong Zhuo! Come and meet your death!” Zifan’s thunderous roar exploded in Dong Zhuo’s ears, making his obese body shudder.

“My lord… Long beard… Fat man… Could he mean you?” Li Ru, usually so sharp-tongued, was terrified, his voice shaking. Cold sweat broke out on Dong Zhuo’s back. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Zifan charging at him with reckless abandon. With a metallic ring, Dong Zhuo drew his sword—not to fight, but to slice off his carefully cultivated long beard atop his horse.

“If I cut off my beard, he won’t recognize me, will he?” Dong Zhuo felt a moment’s relief, but soon, Zifan’s voice echoed behind him again.

“There! The fat man in golden armor and black robes—don’t run!”

“Oh heavens, he’s after me again!” Dong Zhuo was nearly in tears.

On horseback, in a flustered panic, he stripped off his impressive black robe and golden armor and threw them to the ground…