132 The Courage of a Hero (Part 1)

"Ziqi / Young Master Luan / Brother Yi, when shall I see you again?" On the same night, Cai Yan, Diao Chan, and Zhen Mi, separated by great distances, cast their longings toward the full moon.

In truth, Luan Yi did not know when he would meet those three soulmates again. He currently lacked even the time to indulge in thoughts of them. Day after day, his backside rarely left the saddle; the moments he dismounted to rest could be counted on one hand. Between long-distance raids, there was only killing and pursuit. He had lost count of how many men had perished by his hand—it was at least eight hundred, if not a thousand. On the day he personally slew Peng Tuo, the soldiers of the Great Han revered him as a deity—the God of War of the Han.

Luan Yi would never forget the grandeur of that day.

Following the reinforcement of their troops in Runan, Bo Cai had personally led his army to surround the Han imperial forces. The two armies arrayed their formations outside an ancient city northwest of Runan.

The enemy commander, Peng Tuo, brandished a great saber and rode to the front to issue a challenge. Though his vocabulary was crude, his insults were as vile as they could be, pointedly directed at Luan Yi. "Can the son of a lowly merchant dare to call himself a general? Has the Han court run out of men?" With those words, tens of thousands of rebel soldiers erupted in mocking laughter.

Huangfu Song snorted coldly and bellowed, "What of it if he is a merchant? What of it if he is a scholar? Do merchants lack men of virtue? Tao Zhu Gong (Fan Li, who helped Gou Jian destroy Wu) 'amassed vast fortunes three times in nineteen years,' and Zi Gong traded wealth between Cao and Lu. Both were engaged in commerce, yet both are remembered as men of wisdom. Though Ziqi comes from a merchant family, he is overflowing with talent, proficient in both literature and martial arts. Our Emperor’s grace is vast; His Majesty, cherishing Ziqi’s brilliance, has entrusted him with grave responsibilities. Ziqi has not failed that grace; within half a year, he has shattered the rebel forces in Jinan, Yanzhou, and Qingzhou, eradicating over a hundred thousand traitors. His Majesty is a judge of character who appoints men based on talent. Mindful of Ziqi’s great merits, he has promoted him three ranks in half a year, vaulting him into the position of a young general standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Great General Huo. The people of the world are convinced, and the officials of the court are in awe. What right do you vermin have to mock him!"

Huangfu Song’s words, backed by historical precedents, facts, and figures, left Peng Tuo red-faced and speechless.

"Hmph... empty words. You have puffed Luan Yi up to the heavens. If he is truly valiant, let him fight me! We shall see the truth with our own blades!" Peng Tuo postured, his expression dripping with disdain.

Luan Yi’s eyes widened in fury as he tightened his grip on the reins. *Very well, Peng Tuo, you wish to goad me?*

Just then, a general flashed out from behind Zhu Jun, cupping his hands. "Uncle, there is no need for the General Who Conquers the East to go himself. This nephew can take his head."

Luan Yi recognized this man; he was Zhu Jun’s distant nephew, named Zhu Li. Proficient in archery and horsemanship, he wielded a golden tiger-head spear with great dexterity and had inherited much of Zhu Jun’s true skill. He was undoubtedly a fierce warrior.

Zhu Jun, clearly confident in his nephew’s martial arts, nodded at Zhu Li and urged, "Be careful!"

Zhu Li agreed and spurred his horse into the fray.

"The pale-faced Luan Yi is as timid as a mouse, not daring to step forward, so he sends another to his death! Very well! I shall take this boy's head, and then I will slay Luan Yi next!" Peng Tuo said, pointing his blade at Luan Yi.

"Audacious traitor, cease your insults." Zhu Li leveled his spear and charged.

"Well met!" Peng Tuo rode to meet him.

*Clang... Thud!*

"So fast!" Luan Yi had not even seen how Peng Tuo struck. As the horses crossed, Zhu Li tumbled from his mount, a massive gash across his abdomen, his blood and entrails spilling onto the earth.

Peng Tuo rode to the side of the corpse, raised his blade, and severed the head. Pointing his blood-stained weapon at Luan Yi, he boasted, "This boy died in your stead!"

The words struck Luan Yi’s heart like a needle. *Died in your stead... in your stead... died...* The phrase echoed endlessly in his ears. *Yes... if I had been the one to charge, Zhu Li would not have died!*

Only then did Zhu Jun’s wail ring out. "Li'er..." Though Zhu Li was a distant nephew, Zhu Jun had always treated him like his own son, teaching him everything he knew, raising him as his successor. His grief was profound. "Traitor! I will not stand under the same heaven as you!"

Zhu Jun raised his spear to take revenge, but Luan Yi held him back. "General! Do not lose your composure. You are a Central General of the Han, the leader of this army; you cannot engage in combat yourself. Let me handle this beast for you!"

"Fourth Brother / General / Leader, you must not!" Dian Wei, Zhang Fei, Huang Zhong, Zhao Yun, Taishi Ci, and Xu Chu advised against it. Guan Yu stroked his beard in thought.

"Brother Yi, think twice!" Xu Shu also urged, "As the lead commander, you must oversee the army. How can you risk yourself in a duel?"

Luan Yi replied with grim determination, "Rest assured! I know what I am doing!"

"But..." Xu Shu wanted to persuade him further, but Guan Yu interjected, "Let the Fourth Brother go! A treasured sword must eventually be unsheathed; if kept in its scabbard too long, it will rust. Besides, the Fourth Brother possesses innate divine strength that few mortals can withstand. Peng Tuo will not be his match. As a precaution, Hansheng can keep watch; if anything goes wrong, rescue him immediately."

Huang Zhong nodded gently, his fingers instinctively hooking onto his purple-gold tiger-head bow.

Seeing that the others had no more to say, Luan Yi roared, "Then I shall go!" He tapped the horse's flank with the shaft of his lotus hammer and clamped his legs tight. The horse, feeling the sting, reared up, and with a shrill neigh, charged into the battlefield like an arrow released from a string.

*Anything go wrong?* How could anything go wrong? Luan Yi would not allow it. He still had so much left to do; he wanted to live, to return home to pay respects to his grandfather, to see his parents, to marry Cai Yan, Diao Chan, Cui'er, and perhaps... even Zhen Mi!

National righteousness and patriotic sentiment vanished from his mind, replaced by vivid images of his loved ones, his lovers, and—the Holy Mother?

Luan Yi did not even know why he suddenly thought of that statue, a fusion of Nüwa and Guanyin, and the deity he had fabricated and manipulated with his own hands. In a daze, he felt that perhaps, while brainwashing others, he had washed his own mind as well, developing a dependence on a faith that did not exist at all.

Reason told him the Holy Mother was fake; yet, his emotions kept asking: *What is real? Is reality real? Is this world real? True and false, false and true; Zhuangzi dreams of the butterfly, and the butterfly dreams of Zhuangzi! The truth is false, and the false is true—the Holy Mother exists, she exists within your heart.*

"Holy Mother, protect me!" Luan Yi prayed silently. After the prayer, he miraculously found his mind exceptionally clear. All distracting thoughts vanished, and the world itself seemed purified. The deafening roar of the crowd and the thunderous drums faded. Everything before his eyes seemed to disappear, leaving only Peng Tuo. His sharp eyes measured the distance between them like a ruler.

Twenty paces, fifteen paces, one foot five inches. Ten paces, two feet three inches. Closer, closer still. Luan Yi could feel the muscles in his body tensing, tighter and tighter. The great hammer rose above his head, tilting back 20 degrees, 30 degrees, 45 degrees. "Hah..."

The lotus hammer flew from his grip, whistling through the air as it struck toward Peng Tuo’s face.

Peng Tuo was indeed a warrior among the Yellow Turbans, seasoned by countless battles. Even at such short range, he captured the path of the incoming hammer. Pulling the reins, he urged his horse to move sideways, dodging the blow with incredible agility. He then launched his own bronze saber, aiming to slash at Luan Yi’s waist. The speed of the blade was even faster than when he had killed Zhu Li.

This was where the difference in strength between commanders became apparent.

Driven by clear thinking and animal-like intuition, Luan Yi retracted his hammer in a flash, holding it before his chest, miraculously blocking Peng Tuo’s strike.

A thunderous *clash* rang out. Peng Tuo’s horse let out a pained cry and backed away three steps.

Luan Yi also retreated three steps, steadied himself, and sat tall in the saddle.

Though both had retreated three steps, the reality was vastly different. Luan Yi had been forced back while improvising a block after his own attack missed, whereas Peng Tuo had struck with his full force after a charge.

The gap was clear. Peng Tuo was shocked. "Hiss... truly divine strength!"

Peng Tuo’s expression grew grave. It seemed he would have to use every ounce of his skill. "Take this!" This time, Peng Tuo took the initiative. He swung his saber casually, but the blade followed a treacherous path, aiming for Luan Yi’s backhand, making it extremely difficult to block. However, this was a move Guan Yu had once used against Luan Yi. Familiar with the maneuver, Luan Yi performed a cross-whip, spinning his hammer 180 degrees over his head, gripping it with both hands to parry the blade. He deflected the strike, leaned back, flipped the hammer again, and swung it horizontally with crushing force.

Peng Tuo could not dodge and was forced to take the blow head-on. *Bang!* Peng Tuo’s horse stumbled back five full steps. Luan Yi was also shaken back, but this time, he only retreated two steps.

Peng Tuo steadied himself and charged again. "Die!" This time, he poured his entire strength into the blow.

"Hah!" The saber and hammer collided, the shafts clashing as they locked into a test of strength.

Peng Tuo was broad-shouldered and thick-limbed, his arms as stout as flagpoles, muscles bulging with veins popping out.

Compared to him, Luan Yi appeared lean. Though tall, he was of average build, not thick-set. Peng Tuo’s fan-sized hands could have easily circled Luan Yi’s upper arm—they were completely disproportionate.

Yet, in this lopsided trial of strength, the brawny Peng Tuo was defeated in an instant. Luan Yi bellowed, "Get away!" Peng Tuo felt as if he had been struck by a giant bear; his mind went blank as he toppled backward.

Luan Yi seized the chance to swing his hammer at Peng Tuo’s chest. Peng Tuo was decisive; he rolled off his horse to dodge, slashing at the ankles of Luan Yi’s mount as he fell.

*Neigh!* Two pained cries rang out. Peng Tuo’s horse was struck by the lotus hammer and collapsed, blood flowing like a stream from its mouth, its back a mangled mess of flesh. Luan Yi’s horse was still alive, but two of its hooves were crushed, and it collapsed to the ground, kicking helplessly. Fortunately, Luan Yi dismounted in time; otherwise, he would have been left covered in dust or suffered broken limbs from the horse’s thrashing.