Chapter Nineteen: The Martial Tournament at the Training Grounds

The two men removed the ruined stone table and replaced it with a new one, settling down once more.

“By the way, Yide, have you seen two men recently? One stands about seven and a half feet tall, his ears hang to his shoulders, his arms reach past his knees, and his gaze can encompass his own ears. His face is like polished jade, his lips painted with balm. The other is nine feet tall, his beard stretches two feet long; his face is crimson like a ripe date, lips vivid as if colored, eyes like a phoenix’s, brows like silkworms at rest.”

Zhang Fei thought for a moment, then shook his head. “My lord, I’ve never seen anyone who looks like that.”

“Is that so?” Liu Yao replied casually. “It seems neither Liu Bei nor Guan Yu has yet arrived at Zhuojun. Guan Yu, oh Guan Yu, I hope you’re not with Liu Bei. With your loyalty, you would never betray him—so when the time comes, I’ll have to deal with both of you.” A flicker of murderous intent flashed in his eyes.

Zhang Fei, sharp-eyed, caught this detail and grew angry. “My lord, do these two men have a vendetta with you? Old Zhang will go find them and take care of them right now!” He made to rush out.

Liu Yao hurriedly stopped him, half laughing, half crying. “Yide, it’s nothing—I was just asking.”

“Oh, is that so, my lord.” Zhang Fei scratched his head sheepishly. He quickly said, “My lord, then I’ll go dismiss the staff, sell the manor, and follow you home.”

“Good.”

After several days, Zhang Fei, through much effort, finally managed to sell the manor to a family who truly cherished the place. On the day of their departure, Zhang Fei, Liu Yao, Shi A, and ten personal guards prepared to head to Ji County.

As they left, Zhang Fei kept looking back at the manor that no longer belonged to him, an expression of reluctant farewell on his face.

“Yide, enough—what’s there to regret? If you wish, we can come back someday, buy up all the land around here, and build an even grander manor,” Liu Yao consoled him.

Zhang Fei was never one for sentimentality; Liu Yao’s words quickly restored his spirits, and the party set off for Ji County. At that moment, Liu Yao suddenly sensed another gaze full of murderous intent directed at him. When he turned, he saw nothing—no shadow, no figure. Liu Yao shook his head and ignored it.

Behind a wall where they had just been, a man stood, his ears hanging past his shoulders, arms reaching below his knees, his face twisted in resentment.

After several days of travel, the group arrived at Ji County and headed straight for the training grounds, where Huang Zhong and two others were drilling the troops. When the three saw Liu Yao at the grounds, they hurried over and saluted. “Greetings, my lord.”

“No need for formality. This is our newest member, Zhang Fei, known as Yide, a warrior unmatched by thousands. The three of you are Gao Shun, styled Gongxiao; Taishi Ci, styled Ziyi; and Huang Zhong, styled Han Sheng. Han Sheng is the strongest fighter in our army,” Liu Yao introduced them.

The four exchanged bows, signifying their acquaintance. Yet Zhang Fei’s eyes burned with fighting spirit as he stared at Huang Zhong. True enough, Zhang Fei turned and saluted Liu Yao. “My lord, Old Zhang would like to spar with Captain Huang.”

Liu Yao glanced at Huang Zhong, who nodded. “Very well, you two may test your skills, but stop short of harm.”

“Yes, sir.”

Huang Zhong quickly mounted his horse at the grounds, and Zhang Fei chose a steed as well. These horses were not the likes of the prized Red Hare or Shadowless, but purebred Dayuan horses—enduring and swift, each worth twenty gold coins.

The two urged their mounts forward, facing each other. “Captain Huang, please grant me your instruction,” Zhang Fei saluted.

“You are too kind,” Huang Zhong replied, returning the gesture.

Impatient, Zhang Fei charged first, wielding his eight-foot long serpent spear and thrusting at Huang Zhong. Huang Zhong raised his broadsword to parry; instantly, the clash of weapons rang out, deafening and fierce.

Zhang Fei’s spear, true to its name, measured eight feet—over four meters. He was an anomaly; such a long weapon was not easily handled, as most warriors used spears of about six feet. Likely, only Zhang Fei could master such a weapon. Long weapons had their advantages—greater reach—but their drawback was lack of agility.

Huang Zhong’s broadsword was half as long as Zhang Fei’s spear. Yet in the hands of Huang Zhong, the blade whirled up and down, blossoming into dazzling forms and forcing Zhang Fei into a scrambling defense.

The two clashed for over a hundred rounds. In the end, Huang Zhong’s skill prevailed. At thirty-something years old, Huang Zhong was at his physical peak, his experience outstripping Zhang Fei’s by far.

Zhang Fei, only twenty-four or twenty-five, had not yet reached the full extent of his strength, nor had he accumulated enough experience. Ultimately, Huang Zhong struck Zhang Fei’s spear aside, defeating him.

“Thank you for letting me win,” Huang Zhong said, halting at once and bowing to Zhang Fei.

“Hahaha, Yide, do you see now? There’s always someone stronger, always another mountain beyond,” Liu Yao laughed, having intended for Zhang Fei to lose this match to teach him a lesson.

“My lord, I understand,” Zhang Fei replied, a bit dejected.

“Come now, Yide, don’t take it to heart. Han Sheng is older and more seasoned; losing to him is no shame. Next time, you can win it back. Besides, we’re all on the same side—there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Liu Yao encouraged him.

“Heh, my lord, Old Zhang gets it,” Zhang Fei grinned, then fixed his gaze on Huang Zhong. “Captain Huang, next time I’ll defeat you for sure.”

“I’m always ready,” Huang Zhong laughed, returning the salute.

Men as straightforward and loyal as Zhang Fei were well-suited to military life. He quickly blended into the group.

“My lord, you promised Old Zhang that the fine wine would be plentiful. Now, is it time for…” Zhang Fei said, grinning shamelessly.

“Haha, Yide, you remember only the wine? Well, today we’ll drink in your honor—come, let’s return to the governor’s residence for a feast,” Liu Yao laughed heartily.

“Heh, my lord, Old Zhang has been longing for those treasured wines you spoke of,” Zhang Fei said, his eyebrows dancing with delight.

“Yide, let me tell you, the wine at the lord’s estate can’t be found anywhere else—it’s unique,” Taishi Ci interjected. Taishi Ci’s own bold nature made him fast friends with Zhang Fei.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Zhang Fei nearly drooled at the thought.

“My lord, I’ll skip the feast. I have to keep training the Vanguard Camp—half a year is tight,” Gao Shun saluted and departed.

Zhang Fei’s face fell; he thought Gao Shun was excluding the newcomer.

Seeing this, Liu Yao quickly explained, “Yide, don’t take it to heart. Gongxiao is truly busy. And another thing—he never drinks, and is usually quiet. It’s not aimed at you.” Liu Yao was keen to prevent discord among his men.

Sure enough, hearing Liu Yao’s explanation, Zhang Fei’s expression brightened, and he returned to his cheerful self, hooking his arm around Taishi Ci and heading off for a drink. Liu Yao could only shake his head in resignation.

Time flew by; half a year passed in a blink. It was now September of the year 181, autumn setting in. The cavalry of the Wuhuan were about to cross into the borders of Youzhou. The war between Youzhou and the Wuhuan was about to begin.