Chapter 18: Don't Scream, It's a Kidnapping

White Horse Temple.

It was first constructed in the eleventh year of Yongping, during the Later Han dynasty.

Legend has it that Emperor Ming of Han, Liu Zhuang, dreamt one night of a golden figure coming from the West. He then dispatched envoys to the west to seek the Buddha and his teachings. The Han envoys returned to Luoyang accompanied by Indian monks, bringing back Buddhist scriptures carried on a white horse.

To commemorate the white horse that bore the scriptures, the temple was named White Horse Temple.

It was a time of chaos; the common people suffered, and incense offerings at temples flourished more than ever.

A constant stream of pilgrims came and went, some seeking peace, some wealth, others praying for rebirth in the blissful Buddhist lands.

Outside the temple gates.

“Big Brother, I’ve found out. The veiled woman in white inside the Mahavira Hall, making her vow, is the adopted daughter of the Minister over the Masses.”

Chen Cong stretched lazily, spat out the blade of grass he’d been chewing, stood up, and clapped Shi A on the shoulder.

A wandering swordsman as a scout—quite fitting for the task.

“Well done, Second Brother. Stick with me, and perhaps someday you’ll be a marquis.”

Shi A laughed awkwardly. “You’re joking, Big Brother.”

A joke? Once Boss Cao seizes the young emperor, bestowing a marquisate would be a matter of a word.

But Chen Cong didn’t elaborate. A title only counts when it’s granted; before that, promises are nothing but empty talk.

“All right, gather the brothers and head back. I’ll go meet the Minister’s adopted daughter.”

“Big Brother,” Shi A hesitated, “there are many servants from the Minister’s household. You—”

“No matter.”

As if he’d fear the Minister’s lackeys, having already taken down Huang Zhong.

Moreover, after the failed assassination of the Director, it was certain someone would investigate. If they discovered a nest of wandering swordsmen from the Heroic Pavilion consorting with Cao Cao’s rebellious son-in-law...

Chen Cong didn’t care about Wang Yun’s fate, but he could not turn his back on Shi A.

After all, they were sworn brothers—Shi A called him Big Brother, and that mattered.

He dismissed Shi A and the group of swordsmen.

Fastening his treasured sword, Chen Cong hefted a wooden chest onto his shoulder and strode into White Horse Temple.

…

“Great…”

“Great…”

“Damn, what were the next two characters again!”

Chen Cong, who’d never applied himself to his studies, now found himself stumped. Of the three gilded characters above the hall, he only recognized the first.

Guessing, he supposed the last was “Hall.” Was the middle character “Majestic”? He couldn’t be sure.

“The young lady is making a vow. Idlers, stay back!”

A group of armored guards surged forward outside the hall, and the burly leader frowned, blocking Chen Cong as he tried to approach.

Instead of anger, Chen Cong felt a surge of joy at the rebuke.

The young lady was making a vow, surrounded by servants—this had to be the Mahavira Hall.

Peering in, he indeed saw a veiled woman kneeling on a cushion before the Buddha, hands clasped in prayer.

He wondered when Wang Yun had become so wealthy, with household servants helmeted and armored, each tall and imposing.

By comparison, servants in the Cao household seemed utterly lacking.

But then, Wang Yun was one of the Three Excellencies. It made sense that his household would be grand.

“Your young mistress has a fine figure,” Chen Cong said breezily, clapping the burly man on the shoulder.

The big man stared in shock, looking at Chen Cong as if he were mad.

In the next instant, he drew his steel blade and pressed it to Chen Cong’s shoulder.

“What lowborn scoundrel would dare speak so rudely of the young mistress!”

Chen Cong grinned, brushing the blade aside with two fingers. As the onlookers gathered, he adopted a rakish air.

With a clear voice, he declared, “A graceful lady is a gentleman’s desire. Is it wrong to praise her beauty?”

The guard’s eyes turned cold. He waved his hand, and dozens of men drew their swords, surrounding Chen Cong.

“Name yourself, or die!”

“Listen well! I am the nineteenth-generation descendant of the Marquis of Quni, current head of the Linji Chen clan—Chen Cong, also known as Chen Zining.”

Chen Zining?

The big man sheathed his blade.

He recognized the name—Cao Cao’s son-in-law, the valiant Cavalry Commandant. Not someone to kill lightly.

Who would have thought he’d be such a flamboyant scoundrel?

“Don’t seek death. Get lost!”

Chen Cong sneered, “You ignorant brute, incapable of romance. I won’t waste words on you. Step aside, or else…”

“Oh?” the big man laughed, “And what will you do?”

The setup was complete.

Chen Cong wasted no more words. He struck, his fist smashing into the guard’s face, knocking him senseless with a single blow.

The surrounding guards drew their swords in shock.

“Protect the young mistress—kill him!”

Chen Cong darted among them like a fish, using fists, feet, shoulders, elbows, even his head as weapons.

He avoided using his sword for fear of accidentally killing someone. With the sharpness of Tai’e, he could have sent them all weeping in moments.

But he was here to cause trouble, not to make enemies. Cao Cao would still have to apologize to the Minister’s household; it wouldn’t do to kill anyone here.

It was worth noting that Wang Yun’s servants were truly skilled, wielding their blades with discipline, no less able than the old soldiers who had once taught Chen Cong his own martial arts.

Unarmed and weighed down by his chest, it took considerable effort for Chen Cong to lay all of them low.

‘Diao Chan, little sister, your brother is here!’

“That man…” Among the crowd, the veiled woman frowned, a flash of disgust in her eyes.

To snatch a respectable woman in broad daylight—truly despicable!

“Miss, don’t look. That man is in big trouble. Let’s go quickly,” her maid whispered.

Above the hall, the gilded sign glowed: “Hall of the Great Buddha,” as if mocking the fickleness of fate.

Inside, the girl cowered at the feet of the Buddha statue like a frightened doe, seeking comfort in the presence of the divine.

The fine veil had long since fallen away during the commotion, revealing a delicate face, as fresh and pure as a lotus in June.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Her voice was as gentle as an orchid in a secluded valley—soothing, enchanting, a true siren for those who loved beautiful voices.

Chen Cong dropped his chest and studied the girl intently.

It seemed, perhaps, that Diao Chan’s beauty was slightly inferior to Cao Rong’s?

Could the Lioness of Hedong truly be so stunning?

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m only here for your beauty—er, no, not wealth, just beauty!”

At these words, the girl’s face turned pale, her lashes trembling with fear.

“You… my grandfather is the Grand Preceptor. You—”

“Pah, isn’t that—wait!” Chen Cong’s eyes widened suddenly. “Your grandfather is Dong Zhuo?”

Dong Bai nodded.

“You’re not Diao Chan—you’re Dong Bai?!”

“Who is Diao Chan?”

Meeting Dong Bai’s bewildered gaze, Chen Cong closed his eyes in agony.

Ruined, utterly ruined!

He had mistaken Dong Bai for Diao Chan, and worse, had foolishly given his real name.

Was it still possible to go back and silence every witness?

No, there were too many bystanders—he couldn’t even remember them all, much less kill them.

Chen Cong wanted to slap himself.

So close to success, and he had blundered at the last moment!

He had hoped to seize the Heroic Pavilion and proclaim Cao Cao’s righteous attempt to assassinate Dong Zhuo to the world.

By using Wang Yun’s hand, he could have made the announcement at court as well.

A perfect two-pronged strategy to control public opinion—Cao Cao would have become a legend.

Now, having abducted Dong Bai, everything was in chaos.

Before Cao Cao could even attempt the assassination, Dong Zhuo would want him dead.

For now, there were two choices.

Either warn Cao Cao to flee at once, or—

Chen Cong looked at Dong Bai, cowering in the corner, and a ruthless thought took hold.

Or go all the way—since he had already abducted Dong Bai, at least he now had a hostage. If he played his cards right, perhaps he could still turn the tables.

Chen Cong put on a stern face, pointed at the chest, and barked, “You! Get in!”

Dong Bai shook her head desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks, shrinking even closer to the Buddha statue.