Chapter 80: Making Plans at Guangzong

Liu Yao’s eyes were as sharp as blades as he fixed his gaze on Ye Yuan. “You claim you are Zhang Jue, yet remain silent. Is it that you dare not speak? Do you remember our encounter in Youzhou? Do you recall what we discussed then?”

Ye Yuan, drenched in sweat, could not possibly answer, for he had no knowledge of any exchange between Liu Yao and Zhang Jue—indeed, the two had never met at all.

“What’s the matter? Can’t respond? And yet you dare claim to be Zhang Jue? Zhang Jue is dead, is he not? That’s why you, this impostor, now stand here. Hah! Good riddance—rebels and traitors like him deserve nothing less. Had he fallen into my hands, I’d have beheaded him in public, left his corpse exposed for ten days, and dug up his ancestors’ graves as a warning to others. In the future...”

Liu Yao continued to heap insults upon Zhang Jue, attempting to shatter Ye Yuan’s will.

As expected, before Liu Yao could finish, Ye Yuan, already trembling with fear and anxiety, utterly lost control. Upon hearing his benefactor so reviled, he could bear it no longer. He roared in fury, “I will not allow you to slander the Great and Virtuous Master! The Great and Virtuous Master is not dead—he is only gravely ill and bedridden... Ah!”

Before Ye Yuan could finish, a piercing scream rang out. Zhang Bao, his face contorted with rage, drew his sword and plunged it into Ye Yuan’s heart. Ye Yuan fell dead at once.

But Zhang Bao was already too late. Ye Yuan’s words, like a thunderclap, had reached the ears of the Yellow Turbans.

“Hahaha! Zhang Jue is gravely ill—his days are numbered!” Liu Yao burst out laughing. With a wave of his hand, the ten thousand soldiers behind him raised their voices in a unified shout.

In this superstitious era, it was no surprise that so many had been swept up by Zhang Jue’s rhetoric and joined the rebels. Now, with the thunderous roar of ten thousand men, half the city of Guangzong heard the news of Zhang Jue’s failing health. The rumor spread swiftly, from one to ten, ten to a hundred—and soon all of Guangzong would know.

The blow to the Yellow Turbans’ morale was immense. Doubt crept into every heart. If even the man they revered as a living god could fall ill and face death, was this not a sign of Heaven’s punishment? Did it mean their rebellion was a grave mistake, and that they ought to surrender to the Han forces, beg Heaven for forgiveness, and atone for their sins?

“Brothers, do not heed Liu Yao’s slander! The Great and Virtuous Master is unharmed—he merely needs time to recover!” Zhang Liang, seeing the situation deteriorate, hurried to reassure his followers.

But even with Zhang Liang’s efforts, a shadow of doubt had already been sown within each person’s heart.

Liu Yao laughed, calling out, “People of Guangzong! Hear me well! Zhang Jue’s end is near—this is Heaven’s punishment upon you. I give you three days to consider: surrender, and I will forgive your crimes; persist in your defiance, and you shall be executed without mercy!”

Once again, Liu Yao’s words struck at the very hearts of every Yellow Turban, for who among them wished to die?

“Sound the retreat,” he ordered. His objective had been accomplished; there was no reason to linger. Now, all he needed was for the Yellow Turbans to descend into chaos, collapsing from within—then Guangzong would soon be his.

“Liu Yao, you cur!” Zhang Bao glared venomously at Liu Yao’s departing figure, wishing he could kill with a look. But gripped by more pressing concerns, he knew he must quell the unrest among the Yellow Turbans. Otherwise, Guangzong would be lost, and he and his brothers would not survive.

Within the main tent of the Han army, Liu Yao sat at the head, with Huangfu Song and the others arrayed below. All present had heard the news of Zhang Jue’s critical illness, and excitement coursed through the tent—victory was within reach. Their respect for Liu Yao grew ever deeper.

“Your Highness, why grant the Yellow Turban rebels three days to consider? Does that not give them time to prepare?” Sun Jian asked, puzzled.

Liu Yao smiled. “Wentai, do not worry. I did promise them three days, but did I say we would not attack during that time?” His intention was clear: first, to give the rebels hope, for cornered men fight with desperate strength; second, to lull them into complacency, creating an opportunity for a surprise attack.

Sun Jian suddenly understood. “Your Highness is most wise—it was I who spoke out of turn.” With that, he withdrew.

“Gentlemen, I plan to launch a surprise attack on Guangzong at midnight tomorrow. Is there any objection?” Liu Yao’s narrowed eyes carried an unmistakable threat, particularly toward Yuan Shu and Yuan Shao, whom he feared might interfere.

“We obey Your Highness’s commands unto death!” they chorused. Liu Yao’s plan was sound—and with his hand resting on the Chixiao Sword, none dared cause trouble, for they knew Liu Yao was not one to show mercy.

Satisfied, Liu Yao turned to Guo Jia. “Fengxiao, military matters are your specialty—why not take command of the operation?”

Guo Jia, suppressing his emotion, replied, “I dare not refuse.” Liu Yao’s trust was evident.

Huangfu Song and the others dared not object—after all, they still worried about the sword at Liu Yao’s side. As for Zhang Fei, Zhao Yun, and the rest, they were well aware of Guo Jia’s abilities.

“General Huangfu, General Zhu—on the night of the third day, you each will lead thirty thousand troops to assault the north and west gates. Remember: feign attack only, but ensure those gates remain sealed tight—no Yellow Turban must escape,” Guo Jia instructed calmly.

“We accept your orders,” Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun replied, bowing.

“General Dong, and the two Inspectors Yuan, on the third night you will also lead thirty thousand men to assault the east gate. If you are the first to breach Guangzong, you will earn great merit,” Guo Jia continued.

“We accept your orders,” the three replied in unison. Dong Zhuo was elated—for among the commanders, he, Huangfu Song, and Zhu Jun were the strongest, and with the others feigning attack, he saw his chance to seize the greatest glory.

As for Yuan Shu and Yuan Shao, they cared little. They were in Guangzong merely to burnish their reputations. Whether they earned merit or not was of little concern—once back in Luoyang, Yuan Feng’s influence would guarantee them a fine reward, regardless of their actual deeds. There was no need to risk their lives.

“Captain Cao, Captain Sun—tomorrow at midnight, you will lead the remaining twenty thousand to attack the east gate. If you are the first to breach Guangzong, you too will earn great merit,” Guo Jia said, a knowing smile on his lips.

“We accept your orders,” Sun Jian and Cao Cao replied, thrilled.

Guo Jia then turned to Liu Yao. “My lord, Captains Cao and Sun have the fewest men. I suggest you, along with Generals Gao and Huang, lead five thousand shock troops to support them.”

Liu Yao understood Guo Jia’s intent. “Granted.”

He then issued his final order. “All of you may leave and prepare. Tomorrow, Guangzong shall fall.”

“Yes, my lord,” they answered, departing and leaving Liu Yao alone with his trusted men.