Chapter 19: Borrowing the Blade!

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”
The man spun around in a rage, ready to continue his tirade, only to discover there was no one behind him.
“Am I seeing things?”

A gust of wind swept through the city.
Breaking into a run at full speed, Chen Cong was scarcely slower than a galloping steed.
In less than the time it takes for half a stick of incense to burn, he had raced all the way to the Heroes’ Tower, even arriving before Shi A and the other knights-errant.
“Brother? When did you get back?”
Shi A felt his mind reel.
Just a stick of incense earlier, Chen Cong had urged them to go on ahead.
Now, he turned around and saw Chen Cong inside the Heroes’ Tower?
Chen Cong gulped down half a jar of cold water, catching his breath.
“No time to talk. Second Brother, quickly take your men and seal off the Grand Preceptor’s mansion—don’t let anyone in or out. And find a way to summon Cavalry Captain Cao Cao here to the Heroes’ Tower.”
“Brother, are you joking? We knights-errant can’t even get past the Upper East Gate. How are we supposed to seal off the Grand Preceptor’s mansion?” Shi A was bewildered.
He’d always suspected Chen Cong was up to something big, but never imagined Chen Cong would think so highly of him.
Chen Cong slapped his forehead.
He’d gotten carried away!
Too many martial arts novels had warped his thinking—he kept mistaking these knights-errant for heroic figures who could leap across rooftops.
In truth, they were little more than reckless gangsters.
Then again...
Did it matter?
If they couldn’t get through the Upper East Gate, then neither could anyone else.
If Shi A and his men couldn’t reach the Grand Preceptor’s mansion, so be it—as long as no one else could either, the message couldn’t be delivered that Dong Bai had been abducted.
The Heroes’ Tower was perfectly situated, just outside the Upper East Gate.
Chen Cong was confident that he’d outrun everyone who knew he had taken Dong Bai—they were all behind him.
“Here’s what you do: First, find a way to block the Upper East Gate. Second, prepare three fast horses. Third, invite my father-in-law here to the Heroes’ Tower. And finally, send someone to the Cao residence to fetch my three weapons. Can you manage that?”
Shi A looked at Chen Cong, gritted his teeth, and said, “I can!”
“Good!” Chen Cong hefted the wooden chest again, then turned back and said, “If this succeeds, Brother will see you ennobled within seven years. If not, you can have my head.”
“Brother...”
Shi A was on the verge of tears.
He finally believed Chen Cong wasn’t just boasting outside White Horse Temple earlier.
Following this man could really lead to a noble title.
Why?
He spoke so easily of sealing off the Grand Preceptor’s mansion—the Grand Preceptor’s mansion!
There had only ever been people ennobled by the Demon King Dong, never anyone bold enough to lock down his house.
And to block the Upper East Gate—that vital artery between the inner and outer palace, traveled exclusively by high officials and nobles, none of whom these knights-errant could afford to offend!
They dealt in trades that risked the lives of nine generations; one false step and their whole clan would be annihilated. If they survived this, not being ennobled would be the real miracle.
“By the way, where’s the Minister’s mansion?”
“Go through the Upper East Gate and head inward—I’ve never actually been.”

“All right, write the three words for the Minister’s mansion in my palm.”
Once bitten, twice shy.
Chen Cong had just paid dearly for his ignorance, and finally learned his lesson.
He resolved to study and learn to read when he got back.
A beauty in every book, a mansion of gold in every volume—Emperor Zhao Heng may have been an average ruler, but he’d spoken the truth there.
...
Shi A had no status, and couldn’t get through the Upper East Gate. But for Chen Cong, it was no trouble at all.
He was the son-in-law of Cao Cao, a loyal member of the Grand Preceptor’s faction by birth.
Sure enough,
The guard at the gate merely verified his identity and didn’t even check the box before letting him through.
With the characters for “Minister’s mansion” written on his palm, Chen Cong searched all the way and finally found the grand estate near the southern palace wall.
Red walls, blue tiles—far more splendid than Cao’s own residence.
Worthy of the Three Excellencies indeed.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Who’s there? Bringing bad news?” The door opened a sliver, revealing half a face.
“It’s me, Chen Cong.”
The servant glanced at him, then slammed the door shut.
His master hated these wolves and tigers most of all; for others, he might show some courtesy, but for a powerless lackey, there was no need for pleasantries.
Moments later, the door opened again—or rather, collapsed.
If words fell on deaf ears, virtue must do the talking.
Chen Cong withdrew his foot, brushing dust from his leg. “I need to see Wang Yun. Now.”
“Uh...” The servant swallowed hard, not daring to meet Chen Cong’s eyes.
“My lord is...”
Chen Cong had no patience for excuses. He stepped forward, seized the servant with one hand, and said coldly, “I don’t care if your master is out, visiting, ill, or dead. If I don’t see him within a cup of tea’s time, you will die.”
The servant felt a chill down his spine and quickly shook his head. “I’ll go inform him right away.”
“No need. Just take me to him.”

In a side hall of the Minister’s mansion,
Chen Cong entered to find Wang Yun and several companions weeping together, snatches of phrases like “using the birthday as a pretext,” “the emperor shamed,” “national traitor,” and “four hundred years of Han” floating in the air.
Truly, timing was everything.
Chen Cong immediately thought of Cao Cao’s plot to borrow a blade.
The same Wang Yun, the same pretext of a birthday gathering to conspire with court officials, the same tears.
This time, however, Cao Cao had let Chen Cong make the entrance; he himself was absent.
What had Boss Cao said back then?
Ahem!
“All these great men, yet behaving like frightened girls! You could weep from dusk till dawn—will your tears kill Dong the traitor?”
At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, the entire hall fell silent, all eyes turning in shock to the young man who had somehow appeared among them.
Wang Yun recovered first, sternly demanding, “Who are you, speaking so recklessly?”
Chen Cong wasted no words, flipping open the chest to reveal the unconscious Dong Bai inside.

Wang Yun was puzzled. “And who is this?”
“The traitor Dong Zhuo’s granddaughter, Dong Bai.”
The side hall instantly erupted into chaos.
“Minister Wang, forgive me. I have pressing affairs and must take my leave.”
“Forgive me, Minister. I am struck with a sudden stomach ailment and must take my leave.”
“Minister...”
Every one of these men was an expert in patriotic rhetoric, each playing the role of the Han loyalist to perfection.
But when it came to risking their own necks, most chose to flee.
Of course,
Those who stayed were not necessarily paragons of loyalty and self-sacrifice—only, having played the loyalist so well, it would be awkward to leave now.
Silently, Chen Cong unfastened the Tai’a sword at his waist and planted it in the ground.
In a loud voice he declared, “It’s too late to leave now, gentlemen. Now that you know of my plot, we are all grasshoppers tied by the same string—either we live and die together, or you die right now!”
As the word “die” fell, Chen Cong drove the Tai’a sword deep into the flagstone floor.
What a fierce youth!
Wang Yun’s heart stirred. He raised a hand to calm the others and approached Chen Cong.
“What brilliant plan have you, young man?”
“Nothing much. My father-in-law, Cao Cao, stoops to serve the traitor only to kill him. Yet Dong Zhuo wears soft armor at all times—an ordinary sword cannot harm him. But if Minister Wang would lend us the family’s ancestral Seven-Star Sword, my father-in-law could take the traitor’s head and hang it at the palace gate in an instant. Then, with this girl as hostage, I can ensure my father-in-law’s safe escape.”
The first half, Wang Yun listened to with shining eyes. The second half, he dismissed with a sneer, thinking the youth too naive.
While Dong Zhuo lived, Dong Bai was a valuable hostage. Once Dong Zhuo was dead, who would care about his granddaughter?
By then, this father-in-law and son-in-law would be doomed.
But if Cao Cao had the courage, Wang Yun was more than happy to let another do the dirty work.
Once Dong Zhuo was dead, and Cao Cao—the would-be assassin—was also dead, he, Wang Yun, who had risked lending the treasured sword, would be hailed as the greatest loyalist of the Han.
When that day came, with the young emperor still in need of guidance, the court would be his to command!
Wang Yun quietly made note of the names of those who had tried to leave, then summoned a servant.
“Very well, young man, you are loyal and brave. Wang Fu, fetch the treasured sword from the secret chamber for our guest.”
A moment later,
A trusted servant brought out the Seven-Star Sword.
Chen Cong accepted the blade and bowed to Wang Yun.
“For the sake of the Han dynasty, I ask that you seal the gates, Minister, and keep these gentlemen here for the night.”
“Of course.”
...
...
“Jin’er, why has the carriage stopped?”
“Jin’er?”
Getting no answer from her maid, Diao Chan was about to lift the curtain and look outside when a blade pierced the window, stopping three inches from her throat.
Then, a man’s deep voice sounded outside the carriage.
“If you want to die, keep going forward. If you want to live, turn around now.”