Chapter 84: Zhang Bao Breaks Through the Siege

South Gate of Guangzong.

By now, Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang had already arrived at the southern gate with over forty thousand of their Yellow Turban followers, joining forces with the garrison and another ten thousand rebels stationed there, forming a Yellow Turban army sixty thousand strong.

“Open the gates! Everyone, charge out!” Zhang Bao commanded loudly.

Outside the southern gate, Dong Zhuo, along with Yuan Shao and Yuan Shu, were locked in fierce combat. Though they had taken heavy losses, the Yellow Turbans defending the southern gate were on the verge of collapse, and the city was about to fall. The thought of seizing such a great achievement for themselves spurred them on, oblivious to the fact that their own progress was the slowest—on the other three fronts, the coalition had already breached Guangzong.

Just as they were about to storm into the city, a sudden and unexpected turn occurred: the city gates of Guangzong swung open of their own accord, and a great host of Yellow Turbans surged out from within.

Caught off guard, Dong Zhuo’s forces suffered considerable casualties at the hands of the Yellow Turbans. Dong Zhuo himself had only brought thirty thousand men, of whom over ten thousand had already fallen in the assault; now, barely twenty thousand imperial troops remained—not nearly enough to match the sixty thousand Yellow Turbans.

Dong Zhuo, his survival instincts kicking in, was about to order a retreat when he noticed that these Yellow Turbans showed no intention of fighting at all, but were instead flooding southward in a desperate flight. Only then did Dong Zhuo realize that Guangzong had already fallen and that these rebels were actually fleeing for their lives.

At that moment, Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang happened to race past Yuan Shu, bedraggled and in disarray. Yuan Shu’s eyes gleamed with sudden inspiration. He had not intended to distinguish himself today, but now, seeing such an opportunity, he rushed forward without hesitation.

“Zhang Bao, villain! Yuan Shu is here—dismount and surrender at once!” he shouted, stabbing toward Zhang Bao with his sword.

Zhang Bao, already frustrated, grew enraged at Yuan Shu’s words. He had never even heard of this Yuan Shu and figured he could not be anyone of consequence—yet he dared to shout at him? Fuming, Zhang Bao leveled his spear and thrust it toward the oncoming Yuan Shu. “Yuan Shu, wretch! Die!” he roared, his spear flying ahead of Yuan Shu’s sword and hurtling straight for his face.

As the spear drew ever closer, Yuan Shu’s bravado turned to terror. Inwardly, he lamented, “This is the end for me.” Regret for meddling in such an affair filled his heart.

At that critical moment, a three-pointed, double-edged blade swept in from the right, knocking Zhang Bao’s spear aside so that it merely grazed Yuan Shu’s hair, severing his topknot and sending his hair tumbling loose—a most humiliating sight.

“My apologies for arriving late and frightening you, my lord. Please forgive me,” the wielder of the three-pointed blade said, appearing at Yuan Shu’s side.

Yuan Shu, spared from death, finally caught his breath and gratefully acknowledged his savior. “Thank heavens you arrived in time, Fuyi, or I would surely have perished.”

The newcomer was Ji Ling, Yuan Shu’s stalwart general—a master of the sixty-five-pound three-pointed, double-edged blade who, in history, could hold his own against Guan Yu for over thirty rounds. Fiercely loyal to Yuan Shu, Ji Ling was the rare exception to his master’s notoriously cruel treatment of his subordinates; Yuan Shu cared greatly for Ji Ling, no doubt because the general had repeatedly saved his life from peril.

Seeing such a formidable warrior before him, Zhang Bao realized this was no easy foe. If he got bogged down here, he might not escape at all. Without another thought for Yuan Shu and Ji Ling, he spurred his horse and fled south toward Julu.

Ji Ling, concerned for Yuan Shu’s safety, dared not pursue and could only watch as Zhang Bao escaped.

Yuan Shu, recovering from the shock, realized Zhang Bao had slipped away and flew into a rage. Never in his life had he been so humiliated. “Fuyi, after him! Kill Zhang Bao and avenge my disgrace!”

But even as Ji Ling prepared to give chase, a swarm of Yellow Turbans surrounded them, making escape impossible. Enraged, Yuan Shu could only slash desperately at those around him, watching helplessly as Zhang Bao slipped away before his very eyes.

Not far off, Yuan Shao was also engaged in fierce combat. Seeing Yuan Shu’s sorry state, he could not help but gloat—it always delighted him to see his cousin brought low.

“Don’t let Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang escape!” Dong Zhuo, too, spotted the fleeing leaders and roared after them, only to be quickly engulfed by the Yellow Turbans, unable to take a single step forward. Not everyone possessed the skill to take a head amid ten thousand soldiers.

Thus, in this breakout, Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang abandoned two more divisions—leaving behind twenty thousand men—and continued toward Julu with the remaining forty thousand. Dong Zhuo, Yuan Shao, and Yuan Shu, reinforced by Huangfu Song and Zhu Jun from the north and west gates, annihilated over twenty thousand Yellow Turbans before regrouping and pursuing Zhang Bao.

There was only a single road between Julu and Guangzong.

By now, dawn was breaking. In the faint light, a great host could be seen approaching from afar.

It was the forty thousand Yellow Turbans led by Zhang Bao and Zhang Liang. Throughout the night, they had been relentlessly pursued by Huangfu Song’s forces and had only just managed to put some distance between themselves and their pursuers. Now, with Julu in sight, Zhang Bao was elated—he would reach safety before Huangfu Song caught up, and his life might be spared.

Yet in the next instant, Zhang Bao’s joy was crushed. Before he could even glimpse the walls of Julu, his eyes fell upon a force of five thousand well-armed cavalry, arrayed and ready for battle. Before the cavalry stood two generals—one clad in black, the other in white—and between them a frail-looking youth in a scholar’s robes.

“Ha ha ha! General of the Earth, General of Man, by the order of my lord, we have been waiting here for some time!” the youth laughed.

“It’s you!” Zhang Bao cried, his pupils contracting in disbelief. He recognized all three: the two generals were none other than Zhang Feiyu and Zhao Yun, commanders under Liu Yao, and the scholarly youth could only be Guo Jia. The hope that had just rekindled in Zhang Bao’s heart was snuffed out at once.

Zhang Liang, seeing the five thousand ironclad cavalry before him, could only smile bitterly. He knew full well the might of Liu Yao’s cavalry, and his own forty thousand battered troops were no match for them—especially with Huangfu Song’s army pressing from behind.

“Did your lord Liu Yao foresee we would try to escape this way?” Zhang Liang asked with a wry smile.

Guo Jia nodded. “Indeed, my lord predicted it long ago and sent us to wait for you. You two have nowhere left to run. It is best to surrender.”

Resigned, Zhang Bao nodded. He had accepted his fate and was ready to obey Zhang Jiao’s order to submit. In a pleading tone, he said, “We two know our crimes are grave and are prepared to die. But before we do, may I ask one favor?”

“What is it?” Guo Jia inquired.

“It matters not if we die, but I do not wish the forty thousand brothers behind us to perish with us. I beg you to spare their lives,” Zhang Bao pleaded sincerely. Indeed, a man’s words are kindest when death draws near.

“No!” came a furious shout before Guo Jia could even respond. The cry rang out from the rear of the Yellow Turbans, heralding the arrival of Huangfu Song’s main force. At their head rode Yuan Shu and Ji Ling.

It was, of course, Yuan Shu who had objected so vehemently. Never before had he been so humiliated, and he was determined to vent his wrath on the very men responsible. Only by slaughtering this rabble could he quench his burning resentment.