Chapter 69: The wind begins at the slightest stir of green, the waves form from the gentlest ripple

Page 1/3

Early in the morning: rising, dressing, washing, practicing martial arts, eating breakfast, feeding the horse.

A perfectly ordinary routine.

Yet, when applied to Chen Cong, every step seemed oddly out of place.

“Blackie, eat up, you’ll need your strength soon.”

Jueying munched on the finest feed, snorting suspiciously as he eyed his master.

Outside the stable.

Except for Huang Zhong, who was out leading troops, not a single general of the Cao camp was missing from the fence. Even the registrar Mi Heng had come. Their large eyes lined up in a row, all filled with confusion.

“That man... is that Chen Zining? He’s feeding his horse himself?”

Xiahou Dun hesitated, hardly able to believe his own eyes.

In his mind, Chen Cong always treated Jueying like a goat—letting it graze wherever, whether someone fed it or not depended on fate. Sometimes, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d secretly act as Chen Cong’s groom and feed the horse himself.

“It’s hard to say. I heard from Chen Yi that this fellow was up at dawn, just sitting on his couch, lost in thought.”

Xu Chu rumbled out the latest gossip he’d picked up.

“Do you think he’s lost his senses after being provoked by Lu Bu?” Cao Hong whispered.

“I don’t think so. I saw him this morning—he spoke perfectly normally,” said Yue Jin.

All the rough men turned at once, fixing Yue Jin with a hard stare.

“What did he say?” Cao Ren asked.

“He said, ‘Good morning, Brother Le.’”

Yue Jin beamed with pride as he finished, as if daring anyone in the camp to claim greater honor.

Hiss!~

All present sucked in a cold breath, their worry deepening as they turned their eyes away.

Yue Jin felt insulted, shouting in frustration, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean? I am older than Chen Zining, right? Why shouldn’t he call me Brother Le?”

Mi Heng replied dryly, “And when was the last time he called you ‘Brother Le’?”

“When I first joined our lord, and taught him—”

Yue Jin suddenly stopped, realization dawning.

This was Chen Cong! Unless he needed something from you, when would he ever be polite?

He called Yuan Shao, the alliance leader, ‘Old Yuan.’ He called the Grand General of the court ‘Sweetwater Yuan’ behind his back.

The only one he ever greeted properly, calling ‘Father-in-law’ with bowed head, was their lord.

So what made Yue Jin think he merited special treatment?

“Well, aren’t you all up early? Morning, everyone.”

Chen Cong led his horse past, smiling and greeting the crowd. The group of rough men froze instantly into statues.

In front of the camp.

Page 2/3

The personal guards brought forth his armor.

Chen Cong did not rush. He spread his arms wide and stood quietly, letting them fasten every strap with meticulous care.

He swung a crimson cloak over his shoulders, letting it billow in the wind.

He picked up his long spear, slung his hard bow, mounted Jueying, and with a crisp shout, galloped away.

Below the city gate.

The assembled lords had been waiting since dawn. In the distance, a single horse thundered forward, its rider clad in black armor and a heavy helmet—formidable as a god.

Cao Cao stood at the forefront, worry shadowing his eyes, just like any parent seeing a child off to war.

“Zining, must you really go?”

Yuan Shao too looked anxious, sincerely advising, “Indeed. Now that Lu Bu has returned the Grand Tutor’s head, would it not be wiser to avoid the clash? All’s fair in war, after all.”

Chen Cong smiled calmly, sitting tall atop his mount, and saluted with a fist: “A true man does not break his word. I may have never bested Lu Bu before, but today... today I will be victorious!”

Seeing persuasion futile, the two parted to let him pass.

As Yuan Shao waved his hand, thunderous war drums broke out atop the wall, soldiers shouted in unison, and fifty strong men heaved open the massive city gates.

Yuan Shao saluted: “Then, we wish you victory, Zining.”

Chen Cong returned the salute. “Thank you.”

...

Before the ranks of Xiliang, eight thousand Flying Bear cavalry sat their horses in tight formation, like a giant beast crouching upon the earth.

Dong Zhuo, rarely seen out of his carriage, sat astride a tall warhorse, speaking quietly.

“Fengxian, do not be reckless. Better to slay Chen Cong with a hidden arrow—much safer.”

Lu Bu laughed wildly. “Does foster father think I will lose?”

Dong Zhuo had witnessed that epic battle himself.

In his heart, he did not believe that the ‘Flying General,’ who once faced three tigers alone, would lose to the ‘Bandit Chen.’

What’s more—

Just yesterday, the Flying Bear scouts had reported that in their fierce duel, Lu Bu had subtly blocked any clear shot, and firing regardless would have risked hitting him.

So Dong Zhuo relented.

Though the splendor of Luoyang had worn away his martial pride, he could still understand Lu Bu’s.

“Very well. I’ll keep eight thousand Flying Bears in formation here for you, to guard your back. Should the enemy make any move, not one will escape alive!”

Lu Bu saluted deeply. “Thank you, foster father!”

“Good! My son is a hero—drink!”

The order rang out.

Eight thousand Flying Bears raised their spears high and roared as one.

“General, divine might!”

“General, divine might!”

“General, divine might!”

Their voices shook the earth, no less than the tens of thousands at Hulao Pass.

Page 3/3

Lu Bu saluted again, then picked up his halberd, mounted Red Hare, and spurred his horse forward.

...

Amidst the clash of black and red, old rivals stood once more, ten paces apart.

Chen Cong steadied the restless Jueying and looked at Lu Bu in earnest.

A purple-gold coronet bound his hair in three locks, a robe of red cotton from Xichuan adorned with a hundred flowers, beast-faced armor, an ornate lion belt, a bow and halberd in hand—just as dazzling as ever.

“It’s been a long time, Fengxian.”

Lu Bu started, then burst out angrily, “Your words on the city wall still ring in my ears, shameless cur! Do not address me by my courtesy name. I am ashamed to know you!”

“Hahaha, Fengxian, you are as forthright as ever. We each serve our own lord, words are but weapons. I remember the days when you were full of vigor—why such anger now?”

Yes, why the anger?

Lu Bu slowly raised his halberd, the notch on its shaft drawing his thoughts to the past.

What had he been so angry about, all this time?

Was it really Chen Cong’s brazen claim to be the best?

He’d seen many boastful generals, yet only Chen Cong could truly provoke him.

Or was it the insult from the city wall, when Chen Cong disregarded their old friendship?

No.

They each served their master. Zhang Fei called him a ‘three-surnamed slave,’ yet he had not been so enraged.

In the end, it was his own heart that had wavered.

He no longer believed himself the mightiest warrior in the land.

Once, Chen Cong rode a ragged horse, wore simple clothes, and dared fight him to the death.

He’d taken a direct blow from Lu Bu’s halberd—and survived.

And now?

He’d leapt atop Sishui Gate, faced fifty thousand Liang cavalry alone with a single blade, survived more than ten arrows, his fearful reputation spreading far and wide.

Lu Bu knew he could not do this, yet he could not let go.

He was Lu Bu! He had never bowed to anyone beneath heaven, not in the past, not now, nor ever would!

He did not regret leaving this threat alive. He simply wanted, with his own hands, to reclaim what he had lost.

His eyes opened anew.

Lu Bu’s presence changed utterly; the rage was gone from his face, replaced by a surging, towering fighting spirit.

He hefted the halberd and pointed it at Chen Cong, enunciating each word:

“Lü Bu, of Jiuyuan, Wuyuan Commandery!”

Chen Cong laughed thrice, twirled his spear to the side:

“Chen Cong, of Qiao County, Pei Commandery!”

With a shout, the two spurred their warhorses forward. Thunder crashed; spear and halberd clashed at a single point.