Volume One: The Hidden Dragon in the Abyss, Chapter Twenty-Eight: Cao Cao and Liu Bei

Liu Heng did not answer, his gaze resting calmly on the distance. Cao Cao’s words had precisely peeled back the ornate facade of the "Grand Coalition," revealing the tangled, duplicitous reality beneath.

Cao Cao turned his head, scrutinizing Liu Heng.

"Boyu," he whispered, his voice dropping low, "the traitor Dong Zhuo acts against the mandate of heaven; the Han Dynasty is as precarious as a pile of eggs! In this moment of life and death, only thunderous measures can cleanse the chaos and quell the national crisis!"

He paused, his tone sharpening. "Though I am of little talent, I am willing to lay down my life for this cause, to be the first to draw a three-foot blade for the sake of the world! I wonder, Boyu... would you join me?"

Thunderous measures! Quell the national crisis!

These words struck Liu Heng’s heart with force.

He turned abruptly to meet Cao Cao’s deep, piercing gaze. In the depths of those eyes, there might have been a naked hunger for power, but there was no denying that Cao Cao possessed a precise, ruthless judgment of the current situation.

This was Cao Cao—an ambitious hero destined to carve a path through the mountains of corpses and seas of blood that defined this chaotic era.

Liu Heng remained silent.

The wind swept across the banners atop the camp gate, snapping in the air. As he looked into the heavy darkness of the night, he seemed to see the city of Luoyang.

Was the young Emperor Xian, Liu Xie, sitting in terror upon his cold throne? What thoughts were hidden behind that youthful face? And those veteran officials loyal to the Han—what torments were they enduring at this very moment?

Did the "thunderous measures" Cao Cao spoke of truly target Dong Zhuo, or the supreme imperial power itself?

Cao Cao was a man of deep schemes. He once claimed he only wished to be a Marquis of Dingyuan for the Han, and he never declared himself emperor throughout his life. Yet, Liu Heng never considered him a loyal subject; an ambitious hero is always suspicious, and his nature would not change.

The faint light of the lamp within the tent reflected in Liu Heng’s eyes. He spoke slowly, his voice low and clear: "Brother Mengde, your grand ambition is truly admirable. However, Luoyang is not Hua Xiong, to be defeated in a single stroke. Dong Zhuo commands the tiger-and-wolf armies of Xiliang, and he has just deposed the Emperor to install a new one. A thunderous strike would indeed be gratifying, but if the foundation is not secure—and as you said, the atmosphere in this coalition camp is strange—it may not be a blessing for the state."

He paused, meeting Cao Cao’s eyes directly. "The immediate priority is to grasp the troops in one's hands and stand firmly on the land beneath one's feet. I hold the Sanfu region; looking east to Luoyang, guarding against the Qiang and Hu to the north, and soothing the Bashu to the south—this is the spine of the nation, and it must not be lost! If the foundation is solid, one can advance to save the throne or retreat to defend oneself. This is my long-term plan."

"Foundation... Sanfu..."

Cao Cao chewed on these words, the smile on his face fading slightly. A flicker of sharp, subtle light crossed his eyes, only to be buried again by deeper thoughts.

Liu Heng’s answer contained no passionate agreement, no evasive pretense; it was a cold, pragmatic assessment of reality.

This confirmed his previous judgment: this young member of the imperial clan, holding real power in the Sanfu, was no mere talker of empty ideals. He was not to be compared to the likes of Liu Yu or Liu Biao; he was a hero of the world!

"Hahaha!"

Cao Cao suddenly laughed, a short, meaningful sound. "Boyu is truly far-sighted; I have learned much! Foundation, foundation... indeed, it is the root of all things!"

He reached out and patted Liu Heng’s shoulder, a casual gesture that nonetheless held an unspoken weight. "The night is deep; rest well, Boyu. If you ever need my humble assistance, you need only command it!"

With that, he turned and left without waiting for a reply, leaving the echo of "you need only command it" hanging in the cold night air.

Liu Heng stood still, watching the direction in which Cao Cao disappeared. Mengde, oh Mengde, are these words of "command" sincere, or a probe?

He exhaled slowly, the chill of the night air seeping into his collar. The sharpness and ambition of Cao Cao...

"My Lord, it is late and the air is cold. You should return to the tent," a deep, resonant voice spoke from behind him. Dian Wei’s burly figure appeared silently in the shadows of the tent entrance.

Liu Heng nodded and turned.

Just then, footsteps approached from another direction.

These were not the deliberately restrained, steady steps of Cao Cao, but more composed, yet tinged with an imperceptible sense of caution. They drew near, accompanied by low voices.

"Big Brother, this Sili Colonel certainly has airs. He wouldn't see anyone all day, and we've been waiting here until the middle of the night..." a loud voice complained in a hushed tone.

"Third Brother! Quiet!" another voice commanded sternly, clear and steady, carrying an unquestionable authority. "We are before the tent of a high-ranking official of the imperial clan; how can you be so reckless!"

"Yes, Second Brother..."

The loud-voiced man muttered something and fell silent.

Liu Heng felt a stir in his heart and looked toward the sound. Three figures were approaching.

The leader was not particularly burly, perhaps even a bit thin, wearing a faded black cloth robe that had been washed until it was nearly white. The sword at his waist was of a common design. Yet, his gait was steady, his back straight as a pine, possessing a natural air of dignity. His face was lean, and his ears were somewhat large, though not to the point of touching his shoulders. He wore a furrowed brow, carrying a weight that would not lift.

It was Liu Bei, Liu Xuande, whom he had seen during the day.

Two steps behind him followed two men. The one on the left stood nine feet tall with a two-foot beard; his face was the color of a ripe date, his lips vibrant, with phoenix eyes and silken eyebrows—a majestic and awe-inspiring appearance. Dressed in a parrot-green war robe, he moved with an indomitable spirit. One hand rested lightly on his sword, the other hung naturally, his gaze calm as water. It was Guan Yu.

The one on the right had a leopard-like head, round eyes, and a bristly beard. He was even more robust and fierce than Guan Yu. Dressed in black martial attire, he moved with the force of a tiger. His round eyes were wide open, looking at Liu Heng with electricity, unashamedly sizing him up—especially when he saw Dian Wei behind Liu Heng, his gaze turning instantly fiery. It was Zhang Fei.

They stopped ten paces from Liu Heng’s tent. Liu Bei took a deep breath, straightened his attire, and his expression grew even heavier. He stepped forward and bowed deeply to Liu Heng, his posture respectful and sincere: "Liu Bei of Zhuo Commandery, I apologize for this late-night intrusion and for disturbing your rest. I pray for your forgiveness!"

Guan Yu clasped his hands in a meticulous gesture and said in a deep voice, "Guan Yu offers his respects."

Zhang Fei followed suit, his gesture broad and his voice still booming: "Zhang Fei greets the Sili Colonel!" His round eyes, however, remained locked on Dian Wei.

Liu Heng looked at this combination, so different from Cao Cao’s, and felt a surge of emotion. Seen briefly during the day and now up close, the three brothers of the Peach Garden were distinct in temperament yet formed a seamless whole. The genuine respect in Liu Bei’s heart and the sorrow etched into his brow could not be fake.

He returned the salute with a gentle smile: "Brother Xuande, there is no need for such formalities. My name is Liu Heng, courtesy name Boyu. We are both of the imperial clan; perhaps you are a few years my senior in terms of lineage? Just call me Boyu. The night is cold; please, come into the tent to talk."

He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.

Liu Bei’s eyes flashed with a hint of being flattered. He bowed again: "For Boyu to show such favor, I am... overwhelmed!"

He straightened up and entered the tent, with Guan Yu and Zhang Fei following.

The tent was small and sparsely furnished. A single oil lamp sat on the central low table, barely pushing back the darkness. Dian Wei stood like a statue at the entrance, arms crossed.

Liu Heng invited Liu Bei to sit opposite him; Guan Yu stood behind his brother like a pine tree. Zhang Fei, however, could not sit still; his burly frame seemed cramped on the small mat, and his gaze frequently flickered toward Dian Wei, full of eagerness.

Once seated, Liu Bei scanned the simple room and looked at Liu Heng. The lamplight fell on his lean face, adding a touch of weariness and gravity. He remained silent for a moment, as if choosing his words, and finally spoke in a low, tragic voice: "Boyu," he called, his tone heavy, "during the day, your warriors killed Hua Xiong and raised the morale of our coalition. I was... deeply moved and filled with admiration!"

He paused, his tone turning somber: "Yet, though Hua Xiong is gone, the traitor Dong Zhuo remains! In Luoyang, evil shadows block the sun! Dong Zhuo’s ambition knows no bounds; he dares to depose the Emperor! The four-hundred-year foundation of the Han, the glorious mandate of heaven, has been trampled by this villain! The ancestral temples are covered in dust..."

At this, Liu Bei’s voice trembled. He instinctively raised his hand, his wide sleeves shaking, and a thin film of moisture appeared in his eyes.

"Though I am of little talent and humble origins, I have never forgotten that the blood of Emperor Gaozu flows in my veins! Every time I think of this, my heart feels as if it were being torn by knives!"

Liu Bei’s voice rose, his eyes burning as he stared at Liu Heng, his sincerity overflowing: "Boyu! We are of the same clan, connected by blood! In this moment of life and death for the Han, I... I dare to beg you!"

He pressed his hands onto the cold table, leaning forward as if placing all his hope in this request: "I beg you, for the sake of the country, please extend a helping hand! Only if the imperial clan works together can we turn the tide and support the collapsing pillars! The Han... the Han has drifted so far; I truly cannot bear to see it fall!"

At the end of his words, he was choked with suppressed sobs.

The tent fell into a deathly silence, save for the faint crackling of the lamp wick. Zhang Fei had long since stopped looking at Dian Wei, his fists clenched, staring fixedly at his brother’s trembling back. Guan Yu stood solemn, but his phoenix eyes burned with cold anger and deep sorrow.

Liu Bei’s heartfelt words were dripping with blood, each one piercing the heart. The pain of the Han’s decline and the frustration of being unable to act were genuine.

Liu Heng watched the future Emperor Zhaolie quietly. He wasn't sure if Liu Bei’s words were performative or truly sincere.

*The Han is adrift... I cannot bear to see it fall...*

Liu Heng repeated these words in his heart. The image of Liu Bei before him overlapped with the figure from his memories—the man who wandered for half his life, always hoisting the banner of the "Imperial Clan," and finally founding his kingdom in the west. And the "Belt Decree" that had not yet occurred...

A complex emotion surged within him. Was it admiration? Compassion? Or a deep sigh for this fated trajectory?

He took a slow breath, met Liu Bei’s hopeful and sorrowful eyes, and spoke in a calm voice: "Brother Xuande."

"The decline of the Han is not the work of a single day. Dong Zhuo’s arrogance is not the only source of the evil."

Liu Heng’s voice was steady: "The great mansion is collapsing; rotten wood cannot support it. The world is in turmoil, and heroes rise, all seeking to seize the deer. In this so-called 'righteous army,' many have gathered at Suanzao, but how many truly care for the Han?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Guan Yu and Zhang Fei before returning to Liu Bei’s tense face: "However, when a great mansion collapses, it does not necessarily crumble into dust. When waves roar, there is not always no path to survival."

His voice dropped, filled with certainty: "Brother Xuande, remember this. In this chaotic age, even an isolated subject or a neglected descendant can find a way to thrive! The key is—"

He raised his right hand, pointing his index finger into the air: "Grasp the blade in your hand, and stand firmly on the land beneath your feet! Keep the Han banner in your heart and have a foundation for your actions! No matter where you go, no matter how difficult it becomes, as long as the blade in your hand is sharp and the land beneath your feet is stable, as long as the human heart does not die and the cause remains, the fire of the Han will never be extinguished! Eventually... it will set the plains ablaze!"

"Keep the Han banner in your heart, have a foundation for your actions! ...The fire of the Han will never be extinguished!"

Liu Bei repeated these words, the moisture in his eyes trembling. His hands on the table turned white from the pressure, but his body straightened involuntarily.

"Good! What a 'keep the Han banner in your heart, have a foundation for your actions!' What a 'the fire of the Han will never be extinguished'!"

Liu Bei looked up, his voice trembling with excitement. He bowed deeply to Liu Heng again: "Boyu’s golden words are like a thunderclap! I... have been enlightened! This meeting today has benefited me for a lifetime! If I make any progress in the future, it will all be due to your guidance today!"

He straightened up and looked at Guan Yu and Zhang Fei: "The night is very late; I dare not disturb your rest any longer." Liu Bei clasped his hands in farewell, his tone sincere. "I take my leave! Please, take care, Boyu!"

"Brother Xuande, go slowly." Liu Heng rose to see them off.

Liu Bei bowed once more and turned toward the tent exit with Guan and Zhang. As Zhang Fei passed Dian Wei, he paused. His round eyes burned with fighting spirit, and he let out a low, provocative grunt.

Dian Wei, who had been silent, raised his eyelids, and a brilliant light shot from his eyes! He didn't speak, but stared back at Zhang Fei, letting out a cold grunt, and an invisible pressure suddenly filled the air!

Zhang Fei’s round eyes widened. Instead of fear, he looked like a powder keg being lit! He growled, "Good man!"

He lunged forward, his fan-sized hand reaching out like lightning to grab Dian Wei’s muscular forearm! He wanted a contest of strength!

"Third Brother!"

Liu Bei and Guan Yu shouted simultaneously.

But Zhang Fei’s hand had already connected! A fierce light flashed in Dian Wei’s eyes. Instead of dodging, he sat firmly in a horse stance, his arm muscles turning hard as iron! Two hands, both containing immense power, collided!

"Ugh—!"

"Hmph!"

Two suppressed grunts sounded at once. There was no fancy technique, only the most primitive, pure contest of strength!

Guan Yu’s expression changed, his right hand instantly pressing onto his sword hilt. Liu Bei also stepped forward in alarm.

The stalemate lasted only a brief moment!

Zhang Fei’s black face flushed red, the veins on his forehead bulging! Dian Wei’s burly body was as steady as a rock, the tendons on his neck straining!

The next instant, as if by mutual agreement, they both pulled back!

Zhang Fei shook his numb right hand, glaring at Dian Wei, not with anger but with a hearty laugh: "Hahaha! Good strength! I, Zhang, am impressed! Refreshing! Truly refreshing!"

Dian Wei stood where he was, unmoved, slowly relaxing his grip, his muscles returning to normal. He looked at Zhang Fei, the fierce light in his eyes fading into a look of pure appreciation for a worthy opponent. He gave an almost imperceptible nod and let out a dull response: "Hmph."

Liu Bei was in turmoil, but maintained his composure, bowing to Dian Wei: "You are a warrior of great courage. My third brother is reckless; please do not take offense."

He turned back to Liu Heng with a complex expression and bowed deeply: "You have hidden dragons and crouching tigers under your command, Boyu. I... bid you farewell!"

Liu Heng returned the salute: "Go slowly, Brother Xuande."

Liu Bei said no more and left the tent with the still-excited Zhang Fei, who kept looking back at Dian Wei, and the thoughtful Guan Yu. Their figures quickly vanished into the shadows of the flickering campfires.

Liu Heng sat back down behind the table, not looking at Dian Wei. He extended a finger and lightly flicked the dancing wick. The faint flame struggled for a moment before stubbornly stabilizing, casting a small circle of light.

Liu Heng stared at that weak but unextinguishable light. He recalled Cao Cao’s meaningful "you need only command it," Liu Bei’s "heart for the Han," and the clash of strength just now...

Foundation... The land of Sanfu was his root, and it could not be lost. Yet, was merely defending that land enough in the face of the impending upheaval?

Dong Zhuo’s deposition of the Emperor, the change in Luoyang, the "righteous army" in Suanzao filled with duplicitous souls—Yuan Shao, Yuan Shu, Cao Cao, Gongsun Zan... and the newly emerged Liu Bei...