Chapter 83: Vengeance

The place where Zhang Xiu’s army had assembled was actually some distance from the bridge and riverbank. The area at the end of the bridge was open and unobstructed, with no signs of ambush; it seemed Zhang Xiu had no intention of attacking while the enemy was mid-crossing. Perhaps he planned to strike when Cao Cao’s main force was halfway across, but Cao Cao was no fool—he would never allow his entire army to cross at once, but rather in stages.

First, a small detachment would cross to secure the riverbank. If Zhang Xiu launched an attack, they would immediately retreat; if not, the troops would slowly cross, like ants moving house. This gentle, gradual approach would continue until, by the time Zhang Xiu realized something was amiss, most of Cao Cao’s force would have crossed the river. At that point, any attack would be too late.

One must admit that ancient warfare was a complex game of strategy. In many ways, it resembled the Battle of Feishui—though that famous encounter was eight thousand against eighty thousand, while this was six thousand against fifteen thousand, a difference not only in numbers but in scale and significance.

Cao Cao first dispatched two thousand men across the river; Zhang Xiu did not respond. These two thousand formed up on the riverbank, slowly advancing toward Zhang Xiu’s army. Both sides arrayed themselves in a line, about a quarter mile apart, with spearmen at the front and sword-and-shield men covering the flanks, facing each other in tense opposition.

Once the vanguard had stabilized its position, Cao Hong led another three thousand across the river. At this moment, Zhang Xiu’s soldiers grew restless, pushing forward in a dense mass. However, behind Cao Cao’s vanguard lay five hundred hidden archers, who, upon seeing Zhang Xiu’s advance, immediately readied their bows. As one of the northern warlords, Cao Cao’s forces were well supplied with archers and arrows; a volley of arrows rained down, forcing Zhang Xiu’s troops to retreat.

Cao Hong then completed the crossing, and soon five thousand of Cao Cao’s troops occupied the west bank of the River Tuan, with their numbers steadily increasing. Suddenly, a large contingent of soldiers appeared on the hills, archers shooting down in a continuous barrage—Zhang Xiu’s ambush, numbering about two thousand.

“Hmph.”

Cao Cao gave a cold laugh, turning to his officers. “Zhang Xiu is but a child. I anticipated his strategy—pass my command, have the army continue crossing!”

“Yes, sir!”

Han Hao, Li Zheng, Cao Chun, and other mid-level officers relayed his orders, directing the troops to advance. The rear of Cao Cao’s army began crossing, while the vanguard pressed forward. Both sides exchanged arrows, but with sword-and-shield bearers on each side, casualties were minimal.

However, Cao Cao’s large-scale advance forced Zhang Xiu’s troops to retreat, widening the gap on the left bank of the River Tuan. Soon, a great mass of Cao Cao’s soldiers had gathered on the west bank—over twelve thousand had crossed.

At this point, Cao Cao’s forces were somewhat stretched. He had brought thirty thousand to Nanyang; Cao Ren took four or five thousand, Yue Jin another four or five thousand, and the battle at Wan City had cost him another four or five thousand. Thus, Cao Cao now had only fifteen thousand troops, and he had just sent Yu Jin with three thousand north to flank Zhang Xiu, leaving him with twelve thousand.

With seven to eight thousand already across, even Cao Cao himself was now on the far bank, occupying the entire river beach and advancing steadily. He did not intend to attack directly, since two thousand Xiliang troops lay in ambush on the hills to the left—charging straight ahead would mean suffering heavy casualties under their arrow rain.

Cao Cao planned to delay. Once Yu Jin’s flanking force arrived and cut off Zhang Xiu’s retreat, he would attack, pincer Zhang Xiu from both sides, and annihilate him.

“It’s time to avenge Dian Wei and his men,” Cao Cao said, his eyes cold as he gazed ahead. He had heard Zhang Xiu had claimed Dian Wei’s head; in this battle, he not only intended to recover their bodies, but to destroy Zhang Xiu and avenge Dian Wei.

Soon, Cao Cao’s army pressed closer, and Zhang Xiu’s troops, unable to withstand the pressure, retreated step by step. As they drew farther back, the Cao troops moved closer to the left hills. Cao Hong glanced northward—there was still no sign of Yu Jin on the vast plains—then approached Cao Cao.

“Brother,” he said.

“Hmm.”

“Zhang Xiu is retreating; Yu Jin hasn’t arrived yet. If we pursue, the ambush on the hills will shoot arrows at us.”

“Then send men around the back of the hill and wipe out his ambush,” Cao Cao replied coldly. “I had thought Zhang Xiu would attack while we were mid-crossing, but it seems I overestimated his courage. There’s no need to wait for Yu Jin.”

Cao Cao had sent Yu Jin with three thousand to flank not only to cut off Zhang Xiu’s retreat but also to prevent an attack during the crossing. The River Tuan was no great river, but in spring flood it was swift and could only be crossed by bridge. If his vanguard had only just crossed and Zhang Xiu launched a full attack, destroying the bridge and cutting off his advance, it would be disastrous.

Thus, Cao Cao had decided on a flanking maneuver—if Zhang Xiu did not destroy the bridge immediately, then when his troops had crossed and gained a foothold, they could coordinate with Yu Jin and rout the enemy.

As Zhang Xiu planned an ambush on the far bank, Cao Cao responded in kind, sending probing detachments; if Zhang Xiu destroyed the bridge, they could retreat with minimal losses. Unexpectedly, Zhang Xiu’s reaction was sluggish—he remained passive, retreating as more and more of Cao Cao’s troops crossed, eventually seizing the bridgehead and pressing forward.

In this situation, a frontal attack no longer required Yu Jin; only without Yu Jin to cut off the retreat, it would be impossible to annihilate Zhang Xiu, for he could simply flee. Pursuing routed, armorless enemies without cavalry was difficult.

Therefore, Cao Cao planned to first suppress the hill ambush, then wait for Yu Jin’s arrival, and finally launch a full assault from both west and east, pincer Zhang Xiu and destroy him.

With most of Cao Cao’s forces across, Cao Hong dispatched three thousand troops to circle around the hills from the riverbank, climb the hill, and eliminate the ambush.

But at this very moment, a resonant horn sounded; over a thousand troops suddenly appeared atop the left hill, joining the original two thousand ambushers. A barrage of arrows rained down, slaughtering Cao Cao’s detachment, who fled in panic.

“Cao Cao!” Shen Chen shouted from horseback, holding a loudspeaker, “Do you remember me?”

Cao Cao, at the bridgehead, was about four hundred meters from Shen Chen, seeing only a distant speck and unable to hear clearly. He was puzzled. “Who is that?”

A rider galloped out, stopping at the foot of the hill, and shouted, “The Grand Minister asks: who are you?”

Shen Chen sneered, “Tell Cao Cao to come himself.”

“You’re nothing—how could you expect to see the Grand Minister just by asking?”

(Page 2/3)

The rider replied.

Shen Chen said coldly, “Tell Cao Cao: I am Shen Chen of Huangmen Pavilion, Xiangben County, Donghai State, Xuzhou. The heads of Cao Ren and Yue Jin are his payment for the tens of thousands of Xuzhou’s people and the hundreds of villagers at Huangmen Pavilion—today, I will take Cao Cao’s head to settle the debt.”

What?

The rider was shocked, hurrying back to report. Soon he returned to Cao Cao, dismounting in agitation. “Grand Minister, that man says he is Shen Chen of Huangmen Pavilion, Xiangben County, Donghai State, Xuzhou, and he also said...”

“What else?” Cao Cao frowned; the name sounded familiar, as if he’d heard it before.

“He said... General Cao Ren and General Yue Jin’s heads are your payment to Xuzhou’s tens of thousands of people and the hundreds of villagers of Huangmen Pavilion...”

The rider trembled as he relayed the message.

If Cao Ren and Yue Jin had truly died, the blow to Cao Cao would be as severe as the deaths of Dian Wei and Cao Ang. Though Dian Wei and Cao Ang meant more to Cao Cao, Cao Ren and Yue Jin were also devoted generals, especially Cao Ren, his cousin; if he were truly dead, Cao Cao would be grief-stricken beyond measure.

Indeed, upon hearing the news, Cao Cao’s mind went blank; he sat motionless on horseback, lost in shock.

“Grand Minister, Grand Minister,” Han Hao, Li Zheng, and others called anxiously.

Cao Chun was also stunned, then dismounted, wildly kicking the rider. “You wretch, spreading nonsense and shaking the troops! How could my brother die in Nanyang? Guards, drag him out and behead him!”

In truth, Cao Chun’s status was not high at this time—he was twenty-seven, had followed Cao Cao since the Chenliu uprising, but only became commander of the Tiger and Leopard Cavalry in the tenth year of Jian’an. Until then, he served as Cao Cao’s bodyguard, a mid-level officer, and as a civil official, not a martial one; he was an assistant advisor.

Thus, he had no authority to order the execution of a fellow bodyguard. Yet his status was special—Cao Ren’s younger brother, Cao Cao’s cousin—so the surrounding soldiers were troubled, exchanging uneasy glances, unwilling to intervene but also unwilling to carry out the order.

After a commotion, the rider was battered and bleeding from Cao Chun’s kicks. Cao Cao recovered, suppressing his grief, and said gravely, “Zi He, cease. He only relayed another’s words—what fault is there? You have assaulted a comrade without cause; after the battle, you will answer to ten lashes.”

Cao Chun, in tears, retreated a few steps, collapsed to the ground, and sobbed, “Brother, my brother... my brother can’t be dead, can he?”

“Take him away.”

Cao Cao rode forward, coldly, his guards following. The troops parted to make way, and soon he was at the front line.

Cao Hong, who had led the assault on the hill, returned, driven back by arrows, still unaware of Cao Ren and Yue Jin’s deaths. Seeing Cao Cao at the front, he rode over.

“Brother, Zhang Xiu suddenly gained over a thousand ambushers.”

“I know.”

Cao Cao nodded. At the front, the distance to the hill was now less than a quarter mile, about 150 meters, just out of arrow range. At this distance, both sides could vaguely see each other. Cao Cao gazed at the hill—he saw, atop the slope, about ten yards above the ground, a man on horseback looking down at him.

The man wore a white silk robe, without a cap, his hair tied with a cord. He looked young, about the age of Cao Pi, though slightly taller.

“Shen Chen... Shen Chen?” Cao Cao repeated the name twice, his eyes flaring with intensity as he looked up at Shen Chen and shouted, “You are Shen Chen!”

He finally remembered—Shen Chen of Huangmen Pavilion, Xiangben County, Donghai State, Xuzhou, the child prodigy he had once ordered Cao Ren to dispose of.

Back then, his army threatened Huaibei, and most of Xuzhou’s people had not fled, suffering massacre. Only Xiangben County had evacuated most of its population, and upon inquiry, he learned that an eight-year-old child had guessed his strategy and warned the people, saving them from disaster.

Cao Cao was astonished. As a lover of talent, he had initially wanted to welcome the Shen family to his camp. Yet, with Lü Bu’s sudden attack, he had to return to Yanzhou, fearing Tao Qian would get Shen Chen and hinder his conquest of Xuzhou. So, when he ordered Cao Ren to cover the retreat, he also told him to eliminate the child, to prevent future trouble.

Unexpectedly, Cao Ren failed, losing an ear, which he never forgot, always seeking to trample Huangmen Pavilion in revenge.

Three years had passed. Cao Cao, busy every day, had seen countless people and handled endless affairs. More importantly, he had never met Shen Chen; aside from Cao Ren occasionally mentioning him, he had no clear impression.

At first, hearing the name, he hadn’t reacted—shocked by the deaths of Cao Ren and Yue Jin, his mind went blank. Now, regaining composure, he looked up, teeth clenched, eyes blazing.

“It is I,” Shen Chen replied, gazing at him coldly. “Cao Cao, your trusted generals Dian Wei, Cao Ren, Yue Jin, and your kin Cao Ang, Cao Anmin are dead. Does your heart ache?”

Cao Ren and Yue Jin were dead?

Cao Hong was horrified.

“Did you kill them?” Cao Cao asked. He had suspected, unable to contact Cao Ren and Yue Jin, and had been increasingly uneasy. Now, the truth was revealed—his words trembled with disbelief, though reason told him it was true. He looked up at the hill, voice shaking, hand to his brow, barely able to stand.

Shen Chen sneered, “I killed them? Was it not you? If you hadn’t coveted beauty, would Dian Wei, Cao Ang, and Cao Anmin have died? If you hadn’t massacred Xuzhou and killed my kin in Zengyang, why would I oppose you?”

(Page 3/3)

“Just tell me, did you kill them?” Cao Cao’s figure trembled, struggling to remain upright, his gaze fixed, eyes wild enough to devour.

Shen Chen met his gaze, unafraid, eyes sharp. “You slaughtered Xuzhou in the name of avenging your father; why should I not kill Cao Ren and Yue Jin in the name of vengeance?”

“So, you killed them?”

“I killed them,” Shen Chen nodded. “I personally cut off Cao Ren’s head, threw his body into the latrine, and cast Yue Jin’s corpse into the river—by now, fish and shrimp may have consumed him.”

“How dare you slay my confidants!” Cao Cao roared, his face twisted in rage; it was clear he was at the peak of fury.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Shen Chen replied coldly. “Just because your name is Cao Cao? Because your family produced palace attendants and grand ministers, and your pedigree is noble? Is your life worth more than the lives of common people? Tell me—what crime did the tens of thousands in Xuzhou commit? What crime did the hundred villagers of Huangmen Pavilion commit? What gave you the right to slaughter them, to leave countless families in ruin?”

Cao Cao drew his sword, pointing at Shen Chen, shouting, “Those who oppose me, why should I not kill them?”

“Hahaha, the same old line—those who follow me prosper, those who resist perish. How ridiculous! Your power allows you to slaughter at will, but the weak cannot strike back.”

Shen Chen laughed, “In the end, you’re nothing but a selfish thief—harsh on others, lenient on yourself, never considering anyone but yourself. The lives of countless people mean nothing to you; to achieve your goals, you never care about others’ survival. If you act this way, why shouldn’t others do the same to you?”

Cao Cao shouted, “You lowborn wretch, how dare you compare yourself to Zixiao and Wenqian? Even if I killed your hundred kin, they would not equal one finger of my generals!”

Even if I killed your hundred kin, they would not equal one finger of my generals?

Shen Chen was stunned.

Over a hundred lives.

Worth less than a finger of Cao Ren or Yue Jin?

“Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.”

He laughed, unable to contain it, tears streaming down his face.

Yes.

Yes!

We are humble, common folk.

You are exalted, noble families.

So in your eyes, the millions of commoners are less than the wild grass by the roadside.

The tens of thousands in Xuzhou, living souls, are far less noble than your kinsmen.

Just like Yuan Shu and Wang Can, those sons of high houses—they never care for the common people, never consider their lives.

But Cao Cao.

Have you ever heard—

Water can carry a boat, but it can also overturn it.

The greatness of the people—how could you comprehend?

History is never created by you, Cao Cao.

But by countless common folk.

Without the people,

You are nothing.

Without the people,

You are but a worm with a hollow pedigree.

Shen Chen laughed until his tears dried, raised his head, and, looking down at Cao Cao, summoned all his strength and shouted,

“Cao Cao, today I stand before you.”

“Let me show you.”

“We humble commoners—can we kill the noble families like yours?”

“Loose the arrows!”

He shouted fiercely, “Avenge our fathers and kin!”

“Vengeance!”

Over a thousand fierce warriors from Huangmen Pavilion appeared atop the hill, bows drawn, unleashing a thunderous roar.