Chapter 066: History or Legend

Boom! The thunder that had been brewing for so long finally exploded.

The pitch-black sky was heavy with clouds.

A flash of lightning, sharp as a silver serpent, split the heavens in a blaze of pale white, as if to tear the very sky asunder.

The rain poured down even harder… A group of men, about a dozen in all, arrived at the mountain gate.

They sat astride their horses, all clad in the garb of Jingzhou soldiers.

Red tunics, red armor, weapons in hand.

At their head, a burly man leapt from his horse and strode purposefully into the temple.

“Who goes there!” The moment the black-faced giant entered the temple, he sensed something amiss.

It was clear he was on guard, and his skills were not lacking.

One foot had only just touched the ground, the other still suspended, when his body spun in place and with a swift motion, he drew a seven-foot blade.

Weapon in hand, held before his chest, the black-faced giant’s expression was one of wariness, as if facing a mortal foe.

His reaction instantly affected his companions.

They too drew their weapons, closing ranks and fixing their gazes on the main hall.

“Jingzhou men—so there are some here who aren’t afraid to die!” As a deep, thunderous voice rang out, Dian Wei and Wei Yan strode from the great hall.

The two regarded the soldiers at the gate with cold indifference. Dian Wei sneered, then turned to Wei Yan. “Wen Chang, it seems Jingzhou is not the only place to breed true men of valor.”

Wei Yan dragged his Dragon Sparrow blade behind him with pride. “A rabble of worthless curs, not worth a thought,” he replied coolly.

The black-faced giant flushed with rage. “Who are you calling worthless curs?”

“Who else but you lot, dead men walking?” Wei Yan laughed, stepping down the stone stairs.

Rain lashed his body, but he seemed utterly unfazed.

Still full of arrogant disdain, he spoke in a chilling voice, “Since you’re so eager to die, let me send you on your way.”

His utter disregard enraged the black-faced giant.

With a roar, he challenged, “We’ll see who’s the dead man here!”

There was a flash of steel—before his words had faded, the black-faced giant charged forward.

Dian Wei stood motionless, while Wei Yan still dragged his Dragon Sparrow blade, unmoving.

Only as the black-faced giant charged did Wei Yan chuckle, spinning the heavy blade in his hand. A spray of rain scattered as the blade whirled.

Through the curtain of rain, a ribbon of cold light shot forth, meeting the giant’s blade with a ringing clash.

Both men were fast.

After the first strike, the sound of steel chimed again and again. Rain, falling between them, seemed held back by an invisible hand, scattering in strange patterns and pouring down beside them.

Wei Yan and the black-faced giant both staggered back.

But it was clear Wei Yan had the upper hand; he steadied himself after three or four steps.

The black-faced giant retreated more than ten paces before regaining his footing, his grip trembling slightly on his blade, eyes wide with shock.

Cao Peng and Deng Ji stood at the entrance, watching the exchange.

Wang Mai was at their side; Xiahou Lan had not appeared, remaining inside to safeguard Lady Zhang and the others.

“This man is formidable!” Cao Peng couldn’t help but praise in a low voice.

Though his own skills were lacking, his eye for talent surpassed Wang Mai’s.

To Wang Mai, the black-faced giant was clearly suppressed by Wei Yan, not worth concern.

But Cao Peng noticed that Wei Yan’s right hand, hidden behind him and gripping his blade, was not entirely steady either.

Dian Wei glanced at Cao Peng and grinned. “Afu, you have a sharp eye—this man is nearly Wei Yan’s match, though slightly inferior.”

Transformation! The black-faced giant was also a skilled fighter, at the very threshold of transformation.

Cao Peng suddenly realized there was much about this era he did not yet grasp.

He had thought himself well-versed in the heroes of this age, but… The Maobo he’d met in Zhang’s Peach Orchard was clearly a master.

And this black-faced giant, able to fight Wei Yan to a standstill—could he be another legend? As he pondered, Wei Yan suddenly shouted, “Black devil! I underestimated you. To think such a man existed in little Jiyang. Who are you? Dare you give your name? Beneath my treasured blade, none die nameless… I am Wei Yan of Yiyang!”

Wei Yan, too, found it odd.

These men’s attire marked them as Jingzhou troops.

And local Jingzhou soldiers in this area must only be from the main camp at Nine Maidens City…

The black-faced giant’s gear was not that of a high-ranking officer, perhaps a squad leader at most.

Logically, if he were one of the main camp’s experts, even if he did not know him, Wei Yan would have some impression.

Wei Yan, in the Nine Maidens City camp, was known for seeking out the strong; any formidable character, he would remember. Yet this man was a stranger.

Moreover, the black-faced giant’s companions were clearly not green recruits.

Their formation, their spacing, their combat readiness all revealed veterans—men who had seen battle, killed, and survived hard fights.

To men like Dian Wei and Wei Yan, it was easy to distinguish battle-hardened soldiers from rookies.

In this, at least, Cao Peng was far inferior.

Wei Yan’s question was a probe.

The black-faced giant paused, clearly unused to exchanging names after crossing blades.

Yet, accustomed or not, he held deep respect for Wei Yan.

After all, Wei Yan’s skill surpassed his own.

“I do not change my name in action or in repose. I am Zhou Cang of Mount Turfu.”

“Mount Turfu? Zhou Cang?” The unusual style of introduction betrayed his origins—Zhou Cang was no ordinary man.

A mountain bandit… the classic code words of those who lurked along the mountain paths.

But wasn’t Mount Turfu in Fuyang? What was he doing in Jiyang? As Wei Yan puzzled over this, Cao Peng at the temple door fell into confusion.

Zhou Cang? This man was Zhou Cang? The name was all too familiar to Cao Peng.

The blade-bearer before Lord Guan, said to possess the strength of a thousand men, a famed warrior of the Three Kingdoms.

Though called a blade-bearer, he was in truth a lieutenant under Guan Yu.

Zhou Cang was supposedly a remnant of the Yellow Turbans, who turned bandit on Woniu Mountain before joining Guan Yu.

But in actual history, there was no such figure as Zhou Cang… How had he appeared?

There were many theories about the Old City Meeting in Romance of the Three Kingdoms—some placed it in Runan, others near Dongjun.

But most believed the Old City of the meeting lay in Nanyang Commandery, southwest of Ye County.

If that were so, Zhou Cang’s bandit lair should have been in Lushan or perhaps within Yingchuan.

So why was he here in Jiyang? Cao Peng was at a loss.

Was this history, or the world of the novel? Or perhaps, had his own arrival as a butterfly changed things, causing this so-called butterfly effect?

He’d known Wang Meng was a chieftain, a Yellow Turban.

But had never connected Zhou Cang with Wang Meng.

Mount Turfu…

“Brother Wei, don’t attack!” Cao Peng suddenly shouted, halting Wei Yan.

He stepped forward and called loudly, “Zhou Cang, do you know Wang Meng?”

“You are…” Zhou Cang hesitated, and at that instant, Cao Peng was certain of his origins.

Without waiting for further reply, he beckoned Wang Mai forward.

“My father is Wang Meng. Have you come at his request?”

“You’re… the Chieftain’s son?” Zhou Cang’s eyes bulged in astonishment.

“I am Wang Mai. Where is my father?”

“You’re truly the young chieftain?” Zhou Cang, after a moment’s hesitation, suddenly beamed and tossed his blade aside. “I am Zhou Cang, brought here by the chieftain himself.”

Only now did Cao Peng finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Dian Wei seized his arm. “Afu, this man is one of ours?”

“Yes, reinforcements summoned by Meng Bo… When my brother-in-law and I went to the Nine Maidens City camp, we worried something might happen, so we asked Meng Bo to find his old subordinates.

I never expected it would be this man—ha, he’s one of us!” As he spoke, a question surfaced in Cao Peng’s mind.

If he took Zhou Cang away now, who in the future would bear the blade for Lord Guan?

Every Romance of the Three Kingdoms enthusiast has a penchant for collecting famed followers—Cao Peng was no exception.

But he lacked the means to recruit such men.

Yet, just because he couldn’t, didn’t mean others wouldn’t.

At this time, Guan Yu’s reputation was not yet illustrious.

There was no battle at Hulao Gate, no three heroes facing Lü Bu; no slaying of Hua Xiong over hot wine; no beheading of Yan Liang or Wen Chou; no famed solitary ride for a thousand miles…

Such a Guan Yu would hardly inspire Zhou Cang’s devotion.

To speak plainly, at present, Guan Yu was still living under Cao Cao’s shadow, not yet a great figure.

But beside Cao Peng stood a man who was his equal, if not his superior—Dian Wei!

At this moment, Cao Cao had only just established himself as protector of the Emperor, acclaimed by all.

And Dian Wei, as his martial commander, was not only highly ranked, but had faced the mighty Lü Bu—known as the fiercest under heaven—without being bested, his fame widespread.

Cao Peng’s mind was already spinning with ideas.

Wang Mai, meanwhile, rushed down the steps to Zhou Cang, grasping his arm. “Where is my father? Where is he now?”

Zhou Cang replied, “Young chieftain, do not worry.

To cover your retreat, the chieftain took some men and split from us, drawing away the pursuers.

You do not know—he had planned to act at Longtan, to rescue the eldest of the Cao family.

But we waited at Longtan for ages and saw no sign of the government troops.

Later, we captured a deserter and learned you had already made your move ahead.

By the time we caught up, you were gone.

Then the government troops arrived, and the chieftain feared you would be pursued, so he stayed behind to cover your escape.”

“Then now… Afu, my father won’t be in danger, will he?”

Though Wang Mai was usually composed, he was now clearly anxious, turning to Cao Peng. “My father went to draw off the troops—will he get caught?”

Zhou Cang laughed. “Young chieftain, rest easy. Those government soldiers are no match for the chieftain. In the old days, we swept through Nanyang Commandery, and tens of thousands of government troops could not bring us down.

The chieftain has more experience than I—he will be fine.”

“But what if…” Though Zhou Cang tried to reassure him, Wang Mai could not calm down. He hurried to Cao Peng, pleading, “Afu, should we go look for my father?”

Suddenly, Cao Peng was filled with guilt.

Upon hearing Zhou Cang’s name, he had forgotten about Wang Meng entirely…

It was Wang Meng who had come to help them.

Yet he himself…

Cao Peng realized he had changed much since his rebirth.

In his former life, he would never have been so self-centered.

But now… it seemed he had grown selfish.

“Tiger-head, don’t worry.” Cao Peng grabbed Wang Mai’s arm, pausing in thought before saying, “Meng Bo should be safe. Even if we go searching now, we would have no way to find him.

Let’s wait until the rain stops. If he hasn’t returned by then, we’ll go look for him. When the weather clears, it will be easier to search than running blindly now.”

Cao Ji also stepped out, gently comforting Wang Mai.

“Chief Zhou!” Cao Peng cupped his hands to Zhou Cang. “When you and Meng Bo parted, did he leave any instructions?”

Zhou Cang answered, “The chieftain said, if he had not returned by nightfall, we were not to wait for him.”

“Doesn’t that mean my father…” Wang Mai’s anxiety spiked again, his cries urgent.

Cao Ji frowned deeply, saying, “Afu, waiting like this may not be wise—we should search for him.”

“No need!”

“What?” Dian Wei suddenly spoke, “Someone is approaching—just a few. It should be those you mentioned.”

Before his words had faded, the sound of urgent hoofbeats echoed from beyond the mountain gate…