Chapter 70: The Tyrant's Triple Toss

Cao Peng was not the sort to retaliate for every slight, but neither could he be called magnanimous, like a prime minister whose heart could bear the weight of a ship. Especially when it came to matters of principle—Cao Peng held such things in the highest regard. If not for this sense of principle, in his previous life he would not have thrown himself so desperately into his work, only to see his family ruined and destroyed in the end. Now, in this new life, Cao Peng tried to cast aside those principles. Yet some things, once etched into the bones and fused to the soul, cannot be discarded merely because one wishes it so.

To Cao Peng, the man named Cheng was someone who deserved to die.

He had humiliated his mother, slandered the woman who was now his mother in this life, and forced his parents to flee their home, wandering in hardship. If that was not a capital crime, what was? If not for this, Cao Peng would have felt no more than anger at Cheng’s extortion and banditry on the road. But with this enmity, and with Cheng delivered into his hands, how could Cao Peng show the slightest mercy?

Wang Meng and Cao Ji both recognized the man named Cheng. After a brief exchange, they understood the full story.

When they saw Dian Wei preparing to face the enemy alone, Cao Ji spoke solemnly: “Brother Dian, that’s not right. This trouble stems from my son—how can we let you stand alone? Let’s do it this way: Old Wang and I will stay, and the others can guard the wagons and move ahead. What do you say?”

Dian Wei broke into a laugh at these words. This whole family, it seemed, bore responsibility with courage.

He said nothing more, just nodded slightly.

Cao Peng glanced at his father, inwardly marveling: My old man is far from foolish. Perhaps hardship once made him timid, but deep down, he possessed a unique instinct for survival—perhaps even better than Cao Peng’s own. Along the way, Cao Ji had never tried to curry favor with Dian Wei; sometimes he even argued with him. Someone else might have taken offense, but not Dian Wei. He liked men of forthright spirit; to him, such men were true heroes. And now, Cao Ji had, almost without realizing it, drawn closer to Dian Wei and won his regard. To say Cao Ji was timid would not be wrong, but to say he lacked cunning or resourcefulness would be a grave mistake.

Father is not a simple man.

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As Cao Peng reflected on all this, the sound of hooves in the distance drew rapidly nearer.

“Stop right there, rebels! Stop right there, rebels!”

The shouting grew louder and clearer, and soon a troop of riders swept into view, dozens at the front, followed by a detachment of infantry. Leading them was a young officer, handsome in face, with delicate brows and white teeth, but with eyes that were long and narrow, lips thin and cold—a man whose countenance bespoke a sharp and unkind nature. He rode at the fore, mounted and brandishing a long spear.

From afar, seeing Dian Wei and the others standing across the road, the young officer straightened with excitement.

“Knaves, halt! I am Cheng Moyan, County Commandant of Langling. Dismount and bind yourselves at once, or what are you waiting for?”

Such arrogance from a mere county commandant was truly astonishing.

Dian Wei laughed, “Such swagger from a petty county commandant?”

At this, Cao Peng and his companions burst into hearty laughter.

Seeing Dian Wei and the others so dismissive, Cheng Moyan’s anger burned. He had practiced martial arts since childhood, and wielded a fine spear. In Wu Yin County, he was already known as “the Spear of Zhongyang”—a small but notable reputation.

Later, when Cao Cao marched on Nanyang, the Censor-in-Chief Cao Hong led his troops to Wu Yin, joining forces with Xiahou Dun, Prefect of Henan. Cheng Moyan’s father, Cheng Yao, then county magistrate of Wu Yin, saw the might of Cao’s army and, without hesitation, surrendered the city. Perhaps wishing to calm the populace, or for other reasons, Cao Cao valued Cheng Yao highly, transferring him to serve as county magistrate of Langling.

Cheng Moyan accompanied his father to his new post and easily became County Commandant of Langling. If Langling had been a prestigious county, he never could have gained such a position; but as it was a minor post, no one paid much attention.

According to Cao Cao’s thinking: Cheng Yao was a native of Nanyang—appointing him to Langling would both keep open the trade routes between Runan and Nanyang, and attract talent from Jingxiang. See, such a man could govern a county under my rule; if you truly possess talent, come forth and I will surely employ you. That was Cao Cao’s intent. He did not expect that no sooner had he left than Cheng Yao began his mischief.

Cheng Moyan was used to arrogance. Seeing Dian Wei and the others treat him with disdain, how could he not be incensed? Before he left, his father had warned him: If these men dare act so brazenly in broad daylight, they must have something to rely on. You’d best ascertain their background before making any move. If they have no backing, capture and kill them; if they do, we must discuss further. But by now, Cheng Moyan had forgotten his father’s advice.

“Knaves, you court death!”

Though Cheng Moyan understood that he and his father were newcomers to Langling with no foundation, their prospects depended on the one who held real power behind them. To curry favor with that person, they needed wealth—something they sorely lacked. This was the true reason for Cheng Yao’s extortion and oppression: to win favor with their patron. At the same time, they needed to demonstrate their authority, lest they fail to awe their subordinates. The men before them were the perfect targets for establishing their power.

Thinking this, Cheng Moyan could not be bothered to argue further with Dian Wei. He spurred his horse, leveled his spear, and charged. He had great confidence in his spearwork; the weapon sang as it thrust forward.

Dian Wei sneered, about to ride out to meet him, but Wang Meng, behind him, had already spurred his horse into action.

In his hand was an iron spear weighing thirty-six catties, which whistled through the air as he brought it down upon Cheng Moyan.

“Brother Dian, why use a butcher’s blade to kill a chicken? Let me try my hand.”

Everyone harbors their own ambitions, and Wang Meng was no exception. Now that he had decided to spend the rest of his days in Cao’s camp, and though he had formed a relationship with Dian Wei, he knew that without skill, he would achieve little. Wang Meng understood his own situation and realized this was his best chance to prove himself to Dian Wei. So, without waiting for Dian Wei’s command, he charged ahead.

The two riders met head-on. Wang Meng’s iron spear struck down with tremendous force.

In terms of technique, Wang Meng’s spearwork was not as refined as Cheng Moyan’s—one was formally trained, the other self-taught, and the difference was obvious. But Wang Meng was tall and powerful, with far more experience in deadly combat than Cheng Moyan. In years past under Zhang Mancheng, Wang Meng was famed for his reckless courage and disregard for death. There’s a saying: “The bold fear the reckless, the reckless fear those who do not value their lives.” No matter how skilled Cheng Moyan was, faced with Wang Meng’s lethal ferocity, he quickly lost his composure. His first thrust might have killed Wang Meng, but Wang Meng’s blow could just as easily have crushed his skull. How could his bright future be compared with that of a mere outlaw? Hastily, Cheng Moyan changed tactics and raised his spear in defense.

But in doing so, he fell right into Wang Meng’s rhythm.

There was a resounding clang, and the horses screamed. The two spears clashed, and Wang Meng clearly had the upper hand. Cheng Moyan’s horse reared and staggered backward, while Cheng Moyan himself was left with numb arms from the shock.

What strength this man possesses!

As the thought flashed through his mind, Wang Meng was already upon him again. Though his earlier thrust had been deflected, Wang Meng had never lost control of the fight. He pressed his attack, urging his horse forward, the iron spear tracing an arc through the air, whistling down with a savage gust. The onslaught was as relentless as a storm, giving Cheng Moyan nowhere to retreat.

In a single exchange, Wang Meng struck more than a dozen times, forcing Cheng Moyan steadily backward.

“The Overlord’s Triple Sweep?”

Dian Wei murmured in recognition. He knew Wang Meng’s technique—a method relying on overwhelming strength.

The so-called “Overlord’s Triple Sweep” was said to have been created by Xiang Yu, the Hegemon-King of Chu. It demanded great strength, speed, and ruthless intent. Legend had it that when Xiang Yu was besieged at Gaixia, he showed no fear in the face of encirclement, but led his men through the enemy ranks, slaughtering Han troops by the hundreds. This was the famed “Overlord’s Triple Sweep.” No matter how many soldiers the Han army threw at him, none could withstand even a single exchange.

Whether the legend was true could no longer be verified. Most generals knew of the Overlord’s Triple Sweep, but to wield it skillfully was rare. Too many natural gifts were required: great strength, a fearless and ferocious style of fighting. Many could attempt the technique, but few could master it. Dian Wei himself could perform the Triple Sweep, and even better than Wang Meng, yet seeing Wang Meng use it now still made his eyes light up.

Wang Meng had reached the peak of his abilities and was rich in combat experience. Once the battle fell into his rhythm, the outcome was already decided.

In a flash, Cheng Moyan blocked thirteen consecutive thrusts, sweat pouring down as his limbs grew weak. His courage was gone; he dared not continue. After desperately parrying Wang Meng’s thirteenth blow, Cheng Moyan cried out, wheeled his horse, and tried to flee.

At that very instant, Wang Meng urged his horse forward and shouted with thunderous force, “Where do you think you’re going, little scoundrel?”

He swung his iron spear in a full arc; Cheng Moyan, startled by the roar like a peal of thunder, hesitated a split second too long. The great spear came crashing down upon his head. With a sickening crack, Cheng Moyan’s skull was shattered.

In the same moment that Wang Meng won the fight, Dian Wei let out a mighty roar.

“Are you all waiting to die? Move, or do you seek death?”

His shout, drawn from the depths of his lungs, exploded like thunder across the sky. The militia who had chased after them with Cheng Moyan felt their scalps prickle and their ears ring; the horses of the cavalry reared and whinnied in terror.

“The county commandant is dead!”

No one knew who shouted first, but in an instant the militia turned and fled. The cavalry in front, at least, had their horses, and so fared better; but the foot soldiers who had just arrived, seeing their commander’s brains dashed out, dropped their weapons, tossed them aside, and ran for their lives.

Dian Wei exhaled and called, “Brother Wang, let them go.”

He shook his head with a wry smile. “We must have made quite a spectacle… I wonder who this magistrate of Langling is. Man Baining has always been stern, loyal, and intolerant of evil—how could he allow such men to seize high office?”

Cao Peng asked, “Man Baining?”

Dian Wei nodded. “Man Chong, styled Baining, Prefect of Runan.”

With that, he shook his head again. “It seems when we pass through Pingyu, I’ll have to pay a visit to Man Chong and inquire about the situation in Langling.”

Pingyu served as the seat of the Runan commandery.

Cao Peng smiled faintly. “I fear that magistrate of Langling will not let the matter rest so easily.”